long."
"Well, we won't worry about that right now. I'll send Travis up with your bag just as soon as I can. Rest, dear, and then we'll have supper."
Eugenia closed the door behind the young woman and stepped back into the hall. Well, Desirée and Travis were under the same roof. Now what should a matchmaking mother do?
***
Rose watched as the door shut, then ran over to the bedroom window. She tugged at the wooden frame until she managed to slide the pane of glass up. Quickly she stuck her head out and gazed in amazement at the orderly look of the place.
The sweet fragrance of flowers drew her attention to a wooden trellis entwined with climbing roses, their blossoms just below her window. Cattle bawled off in the distance, and occasionally she heard the snort of a horse. The Bar None was just about the biggest spread she'd ever seen. But then again, she'd never been on a working ranch, only heard about them.
And the house. Lord, this place was a mansion compared to some of the hellholes she'd been forced to live in. She stepped away from the window and glanced around the room, wondering what would it be like to grow up in a home like this. With a mother who probably baked cookies and sewed your clothes. What would it be like to sit down at a dinner table and glance across at both of your parents?
She shook her head, cleared her thoughts, and glanced around the room. She would never know, and she wouldn't be here long enough to find out. But for the short time she was here, why shouldn't she enjoy herself? After all, Eugenia seemed excited to have company, and Rose just knew that had to stick in Travis's craw. And she'd do just about anything to make this cowboy suffer. Just about anything.
An hour later Rose came back down the stairs. She had dusted off her only gown and taken a sponge bath in the water basin provided in her room. Overall she didn't think she looked too bad, for having ridden over a hundred miles on horseback. Her derriere was bruised and sore, but otherwise she'd fared pretty well, all things considered.
She walked through the parlor, her eyes taking in the splendid furniture, the classic revival-style couch, a Georgian gentleman's chair, and a lady's rocking chair. The room was elegantly furnished with a richness she'd never experienced in her twenty-one years.
Her eyes were drawn to the painting above the fireplace. The man's steely gaze caused her to stop and stare. Travis Burnett stared back at her, but he was older, more distinguished-looking. The same deep, rich brown eyes, the same arrogant nose and stubborn chin, stared back at her, and she knew this must be Thomas Burnett. Papa Burnett looked meaner than a bull in springtime. She felt as if he were returning her gaze, measuring her worth. And she couldn't help but tilt back her head and meet his gaze head on.
Strolling through the parlor, she lingered to admire the trinkets, wondering if her mother had ever owned a home as fine as this one. Finally, she reached the kitchen door and heard the raised voices. Her hand rested on the door as she listened to mother and son argue.
"Mother, Desirée is not a guest to be treated like royalty."
"Travis, I don't care what you think she's done, she is still a visitor in our home."
"You're the one who accused her of taking your ring."
"You're right, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stand by and let you take her to jail. She doesn't deserve to be locked up."
Rose put her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Jail! He wanted to take her back to jail! The memory of sitting in that cramped cell with four other women made her cringe.
"What do you want me to do with her? Slap her on the hand and say 'don't do it again'?"
"I want you to let her stay here at the ranch until the ring is found."
"How do you know we'll ever get the ring back?" he exclaimed. "That is no punishment."
"We'll get the ring back. And keeping her here will be punishment enough," Eugenia snapped.
"She stole your wedding