“I do.”
“Even though she hates you, us, for what we did to her.”
“Yes.”
“You're prepared to fight to earn her forgiveness.”
“I am.” The words surprised him even though they were true. He just hadn't thought about it like that before. But a glance at what he held in his hands told him that he really did want to earn Rose’s forgiveness. Or at least try.
For a long moment, Dragon was quiet. “Then don’t give up like I did.”
With that, the other man turned and disappeared into the room behind him, leaving Steel staring after him. As much as he wanted to tell Dragon not to give up on Cassandra, to take the time to accept that he had feelings for the woman and then do something about it, he also knew that until Dragon got to that place on his own, it was pointless.
Hurrying up the stairs and down several hallways to get to the room where Rose was staying, he unlocked the door, deciding they were doing away with that. Rose wasn't going to run, not yet anyway, and if he wanted to keep it that way, he had to show her that she really was there because it wasn't safe for her to go home, and not because she was a prisoner.
“Hey,” he said, feeling uncharacteristically awkward as he opened the door and found her sitting on the floor by the window playing cards. He’d already brought her breakfast this morning, so it wasn't the first time he had seen her today, but every time he laid eyes on her it was like a punch to the gut.
No amount of developing an obsession for his pretty little captive was going to change the facts that Dr. Gardnerhadmessed with their emotions and their ability to process them normally. Maybe it wasn't to the extent they’d always feared, but he knew he was never going to be the same as other men. There would always be a hardness, a coldness, a need for roughness as a release for his anger. Was that something Rose would be able to accept?
Was he kidding himself here?
The small smile she offered told him things weren't completely hopeless, but there was a restlessness in her gaze, and he knew he couldn’t keep her locked up forever. His little ladybug had lived most of her life as her brother’s prisoner, now he was doing the same thing to her.
If he kept it up indefinitely, he was going to crush her spirit, and that wasn't acceptable.
“Hey,” she replied, curiosity in her gaze as she eyed what he held in his hand. Still, she didn't ask about it, stubborn little thing that she was.
“Want to walk the grounds?”
For a second, pure need flared in her eyes, but she quickly tamped it down and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Thought I was to be kept in here until you found a use for me.”
That stubborn streak of hers had him chuckling. It was plain to see she wanted out of this room, was losing her mind locked in there, but she was going to pretend otherwise just so she didn't give him any edge.
“Come on, little ladybug, I packed us lunch.” He held up the picnic basket that he’d made for them. He’d bought it the other day when he was ordering things for Rose. Steel had no idea what had possessed him to do it, he wasn't the kind of guy who packed picnic lunches to eat in the garden, and yet … apparently, he was.
“Well …” She drew out the word, but he saw the tension in her muscles, how hard she was fighting against jumping up and running out of the room.
“Now, little ladybug.” He injected just enough order into his tone to make her automatically jump to her feet, and he knew from the flare of arousal in her forest green eyes that part of her liked submitting to him.
“Fine.” She huffed, but she basically bounced across the room to join him.
Together they left the room, heading downstairs, and when they stepped outside, Rose paused to drag in a huge lungful of air. He could tell by the way she winced that her cracked lungs protested the deep breath, but she didn't seem to care, repeating the process several times over.
“Coat,” he ordered, grabbing the one he’d left hanging just inside the front door and thrusting it into her hands.
“Yes,Dad,” she muttered under her breath as she shrugged into it.
“Gloves.” She rolled her eyes but stood still while he slipped the mittens onto her hands. It was a tight fit over the cast on her left hand, but it went on, and it would offer her protection from the cold.
“You take such good care of your prisoners,” she taunted, but there was amusement in her eyes as she watched him.
“Brat,” he said with a smirk, enjoying every second of her bratty behavior. “Scarf next.”
As he wrapped the woolen material around her neck, he let his knuckles brush across her skin, bumping the hollow of her neck where her pulse fluttered wildly. Rose sucked in a breath at the contact, and it felt like every drop of blood in his body flooded south.
With her sufficiently wrapped up against the cold, he guided her off the porch. As soon as the thin winter sunlight hit her face, Rose tilted it up, closing her eyes as she just stood there, taking more deep breaths.
Watching her enjoy the simple pleasure of the sun on her skin had him so hard, he had to palm himself to try to shift his jeans to a more comfortable position. As though somehow sensing the movement, Rose opened her eyes, her tongue darting out to sweep along her bottom lips as her gaze locked on his hand.
