Thank you for the kind words and insightful reviews. Several of you asked about the chapter title. Newton's second law is "force equals acceleration times mass". Thad spun himself around (acceleration), put his body weight behind his fist (mass) to create enough force to bring down an older and heavier boy. It was supposed to show he is now acting on, rather than just re-acting, to his environment. Does that make sense? Anon, who mentioned Newton's third law with regards to Thad and Rose…..you made me laugh out loud. Not yet.

This is for the guest who wanted "just more Thad and Rose, please." It is now Monday, around ten a.m. in our couple's universe. Hope you enjoy!


So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.

Genesis 1:27

At ten minutes to ten, Rose pulled up the white Arabian in front of the Hunting Lodge, nestled in rolling, tree-covered hills about thirty minutes away from the Main house. Thad's grey horse was already tied to one of the hooks by the wall, resting its hoofs, swatting at flies. She jumped down, tied a rope around the mare's neck, securing her beside him.

She walked inside. It was a small, comfortable two-room lodge, with a kitchen, table, and a sitting area in the main room. Through the many windows, the forest gleamed in all its ancestral mystery. Our first parents had walked through such trees, and Rose, looking around, felt a little bit like Eva, fashioned from the rib of Man, and thrust into a world whose purpose for her she understood only imperfectly.

"Rose." Thad was standing by the fireplace, where he had brought a small fire to life. His expression lightened when he saw her, as if he hadn't been entirely certain she would come. He was dressed in his usual garb – simply cut black trousers and white shirt, accentuating his light skin and dark curls. The heavy muscles underneath the light fabric moved as he expertly manipulated the embers.

"I know it's warm, but I'm a big believer in atmosphere," he grinned, in response to her questioning look. He sat down the iron tongues in a metal bin, and walked over to her, helping her out of her jacket, which he placed on a hook by the wall.

"I hope the neckline is high enough," Rose smirked, to cover her unease. She was wearing her black Turkish riding trousers, and a ruffled white shirt, whose long, upstanding collar went almost up to her chin, flaring out to frame her pale face.

"Perfect," he approved, after sweeping his eyes over her. "You look lovely as always."

For once, there was no noticeable undertone to his words. It was as if he had reverted back to the warm and friendly companion he had always been to her, before she had left Texas over four years ago. There were moments – many moments– when she would have given anything to return to those simpler days.

"Did you eat before you came?" Rose noticed he had set a plate of cookies on the rough oak table, as well as a jar of what looked like cider.

"I ….tried to eat breakfast." In truth, she hadn't touched a bite since dinner, and had eaten very sparingly even then.

"Have some of these." He pushed the plate towards her, and poured her a glass of the cider.

"I ….don't think I can eat."

"Never have an important discussion on an empty stomach," Thad lectured, with a twist of his lips. "Drink the cider first." When she demurred, he laughed. "Rose. Humor me. Please." Rose reached for the cup, and grudgingly swallowed some of the sweet liquid. A pleasant warmth started to spread through her stomach. It was indeed cider …..hard cider. Probably brewed during the last harvest. "Good," he encouraged. "Now eat a few bites of the cookies."

She obeyed, and realized suddenly that she was ravenous. Within minutes, she had eaten up the whole plate. "How did you guess I was starving?" she asked Thad, still chewing.

"Personal experience," he said, blandly. "I found I didn't perform well under stress on an empty stomach. I also found that, if I forced myself to drink something sweet, and eat a few bites, my appetite suddenly returned."

She laughed. "How useful."

"There's more," he said, with seeming lightness.

"More cookies, or more good advice?"

"Both." The black eyes stared at her with disconcerting intensity. He shook his head. "I can't believe that you're here."

"Where else would I be?"

"Pretty much anywhere else in the world." Thad stood up from the table, and motioned her to the seating group in front of the fireplace. Rose sat down in an oversized, leather armchair that nearly swallowed her small form. He took the seat across from her, next to the fire. He looked at her intently. She realized once more just how large he was - and how graceful his powerful body. It filled her with something like foreboding.

"Now that that's done - how do you want to proceed?"

"I'm not sure," she said, hesitatingly.

He looked as if he had anticipated her answer. "If you will allow me, then." He waited for her nod. "You and I are here to talk about…..us. The ground rules for the discussion are as follows: no insults, no hurled objects - ask your mother sometimes-, and we promise to hear each other out. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she said, slightly annoyed that he apparently intended to run this like a business meeting. "Very ….. professional."

Thad laughed. "You haven't seen nothing yet." He pushed his unruly curls out of his eyes. "I've been running meetings for years, remember? It's always a good idea to spend almost as much time on frame as on content. If not more. If you and the other party don't agree on what needs to be discussed, and how it is to be discussed, you will - both end up disappointed."

Rose nodded. "I can see how that could happen." She didn't notice that his frame-setting also gave her an opportunity to settle her nerves.

He caught her lingering annoyance, but did not seem offended. "Tramples all over the romantic notions they feed you, about how this should work, doesn't it? But in reality, Rosey, relationships are no different than anything else in life worth having. They doesn't just….. happen. They requires skill, experience, forethought - and….candor to be successful. And candor isn't something they teach girls raised as you were. But …." his dark voice was suddenly intent, "we will need it, you and I. A lot of it. Because of the very great disparity in age, experience, and….background. Amongst ….other things."

Again, Rose felt a quiver of irritation, not realizing that what she heard as his strengths, were also his weaknesses, in equal measure. "You don't need to worry about me," she said, defensively. "Say what you like. I've seen - and heard -pretty much everything in my profession."

"Yes. That will certainly help. But you're still the product of a very sheltered upbringing, and very…. sheltering parents. If anything I say makes you uncomfortable, we will try to address it as we go along. But we do need to be ….plain."

He leaned forward, and held out his hand. After a brief hesitation, she stretched out her own. A surge of warmth flooded her, as her fingers touched his. He squeezed it gently, before releasing her again. "Did I mention how thrilled I am that you're here?" he murmured, his dark voice suddenly as soft as velvet. It was an intimate voice - a voice she had never heard him use before. A voice that belonged to a lover.

She flushed raspberry red and ducked her head, all annoyance suddenly forgotten.

He seemed to catch himself, and continued in a more normal tone. "I anticipate that we won't be able to cover everything today, Rosey. Or even most things. This will be an ongoing process. But I want do you to know that no matter how difficult it may be for both of us, there is no place I would rather be, than here, right now. With you."

She felt unbidden tears sting behind her lids. "Me either."

"Good." He was still looking at her intently. "Do you want to go first, or should I?"

"You."

"All right." He stood up, and she could see his face became cautious again. "Why did you never write to me, Rose? Your father wrote …. your mother….even Wade wrote. But you never did."

Rose stared at him. Her throat constricted. She couldn't speak.

Thad sat back down, and looked at her stricken face. With an effort, he calmed his breath. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'm getting ahead of myself already. Let's start with the fundamentals …..and go from there. All right?" She nodded. "When I was in Charleston …I thought, after our dance….that you cared for me. Was ….that true?"

She nodded again. He exhaled, as if he had still not been entirely certain. "And you …changed the next day because you'd seen Cherry come out of my room, not because -you had suddenly had second thoughts?"

Rose nodded affirmative once more, still not certain if she could trust her voice. Her heart was hammering inside her chest.

He considered his options, not wanting her to freeze again. "How ….long have you known you…cared?"

She swallowed, dryly, but she was able to speak. "The last week in Galveston. When we were ….sitting by the stables that night. When you ….told me we that we'd need…..Chaperones from now on. Do you remember?" He nodded. "It was then that I realized that ….." She stopped. She was not like her mother, who articulated emotions freely, as they arose in her breast, or like Thad, who seemed to regard them as something to be discussed in committee, labeled, and managed. Instead, she had all of her father's inherent distrust of exposing her innermost self.

"Rose. Please, say it." His dark voice was suddenly hypnotic in its intensity.

Perhaps fortunately in this case, she was still young enough to yield to a will stronger than her own. "I realized I was …..in love with you," she admitted, though somewhat defiantly. "But you acted so strangely that I … I thought….. I thought you didn't like me anymore."

He exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath. "Look at me, Rose." She lifted her head, but pride made it difficult to meet his gaze. "Do you remember the first night I found you by the Stables?"

She did remember. She cast her mind back to that night, many years ago. She had been about ….eleven.

He had walked slowly, lost in thought, not expecting to find anyone else here at this hour. But then he saw the young girl, sitting in exactly the same spot he always sat, her head tilted back, looking at the Stars.

"Rose?"

She had turned, startled. "Hi, Cousin Thad."

"What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, with an embarrassed smile. "I saw this nice place, and I decided to come here."

He had sat down beside her. "How extraordinary. I often come here myself, when I can't sleep."

"I like to look at the stars," she confessed, shyly. "There are so many of them….and they are so far away. I think about how big the Universe is, and how…. small my problems are compared to that vastness. And… I feel better."

"I remember."

"I'd always enjoyed spending time with you and your brothers, Rose. But that night…I knew…suddenly hearing my own thoughts so perfectly articulated by an eleven year old girl….that if you grew up to be an equally unusual woman - and were walking down the aisle in a beautiful white wedding gown - I didn't want the man waiting for you at the altar to be anyone other than me."

She stared. She had not expected such a momentous confession. The silence drew out between them.

Only his changed breathing betrayed his turmoil, but he gave her a quick, reassuring smile before he continued. "So we've now established …..that we both cared, and for quite some time. That's…progress." He took another quick, short breath. "Do you …..still care, Rosey?"

The huge blue eyes filled with tears. "Yes," she said softly. "I still care."

He exhaled. "God. So do I." He reached for her hand again, as if needing to ground himself. For the longest time, they simply sat there.

"More cookies?" he asked, finally, with a wavering smile.

She shook her head. "No, thanks."

He squeezed her hand. "Now that we both know how we… feel about each other, do you feel safe enough to move on to the more ….complicated issues?"

"I'm not sure," she said, honestly. Her heart started accelerating again. He was still holding her hand, and felt it tremble in his.

"Rose. Look at me."

She lifted her head, uncertainty battling defiance in her face.

"I had every opportunity to think little of your feelings for me over the last two years. I told myself that you didn't trust me. That you were …..merely toying with me, when you accepted another man's proposal a day after I left. And then, after I learned of the Cherry fiasco, I thought perhaps you had cared, briefly, but …out of sight, out of mind. Or that my birth mattered to you after all, more than you'd let on. Because you never wrote me."

She withdrew her hand. "Thad…." she said, miserably, "I…."

"And then….. your father wrote me," he said, softly, as if he hadn't heard. He captured her fingers again, and laced them with his. She felt his pulse resound through her body, a slow, steady, rhythm. "The first letter came after you broke off your engagement with Beau. He explained what had happened with Cherry, and that you were no longer to be married. I was still so angry, and hurt….that I threw it away after reading it. The next day, when I came back to the same spot, it was still there. I took it as a sign, and retrieved it. But I wasn't ready to acknowledge that it …meant something. So I didn't write back. In fact, your father wrote me a letter every week for months, before I finally gave in, and answered him."

"Daddy….wrote you? Every week?"

"Yes. And he didn't just write. He…opened up. About so many things. His mistakes and regrets. What happened with your mother. And mine. My childhood. Yours. Thomas Whiting. It was …. ….almost humbling, to be given such insight into that proud man's heart. It healed wounds that …I didn't even know were still open." He pushed back his curls again. "And each one would include something about you. What you were doing. That you had mentioned me, or asked about me. Every time I told myself that I was being a fool, that I should move on…..another letter would come. And I'd get enough hope, to wait a bit longer."

"I didn't know," she said, softly. She felt like crying.

"And then….." Thad turned away from her again, releasing her hand. "After nearly two years had passed….and I'd still heard nothing from you…..I convinced myself that your father was mistaken. That you didn't care after all. That I was wasting my life waiting for a woman who could care less about me. So I ….tried moving on. I let my friends and business associates know that I was finally interested in meeting their daughters, and sisters, and cousins, that they had always been trying to match me up with. You can say that I threw myself into the Houston social scene, with gusto."

Pain flickered in her face, warring with pride. "Did you meet anyone…. special?"

"They were …..nice girls, Rose. But they were not…you." He sat down again. "Nonetheless, I might have convinced myself that one, or the other was close enough. To make a home with, and to give me the children I craved. But then….."

"Then what?" she asked, anxiously.

"Your mother wrote me."

"Mother wrote you, too?"

He laughed. "Yes, I was somewhat astonished myself."

"What did Mother say?"

Thad grinned. "It was a short letter. Scarlett never did have much patience for writing. But it was….weighty, despite its brevity. She wrote that she hoped I could wait for you. She wrote that…..during the flood in France….. your one fear was that you would drown before you could tell me you loved me." Rose flushed, remembering the terror and the intimacy of those hours. "Suddenly….all those other girls- didn't look interesting anymore. And the Houston social scene ….. had to do without me again."

"I didn't know," she repeated, trying in vain to process this information.

"I wish ….you had told me, Rosey," he said, gently.

"So do I," she said, miserably. "But….." She found once more that she couldn't speak, and drew a deep, juddering breath.

He looked at her, taking in her pale, drawn face, intuiting she was already sufficiently overwhelmed by what he had just told her. "Do you want to stop here, for now? I don't want to overload us in a single setting."

She nodded shakily.

"All right," he said, gently, standing up. "We'll pick this up when we've both had some time to process. And to think."

She nodded with a gratitude that was not entirely free of suspicion. They both stood up, and Rose realized that the time to accomplish her other objective was running short.

"Thad….."

"What?"

"Now that we've…..I mean…..doesn't one normally…" she stopped herself, realizing she sounded like a bumbling schoolgirl. She tried once more. "Don't you want to…." She flushed again.

There was mirth in his eyes. "Kiss you? Of course I want to," he teased. "But in spite of your laudably high neckline, it may be a bit….. risky. After all, there's no one here but you and me."

"Please," she said, recklessly. "Do it anyways."

His eyes were suddenly alert. He lifted her chin to stare into her face. "Ah. I suspected it was something other than mad desire for me, which prompted you to seek me out that night. As much as I like to flatter myself about my …. attractions, and as much as I do believe that you love me, it was clearly something else that drove you into my room. What was it, Rose?"

So he knew. "I can't talk about it," she said, miserably.

He took a step back. "And you hoped that by….. taking you to my bed, I would solve that problem for you. Whatever it is."

"Perhaps." Pride battled with fear in her eyes.

"I see." Thad stepped to the table, and poured himself a glass of cider. He drank a long, draught, and set the cup back down. "We will need to talk about it at some point, Rose," he said, evenly, without looking at her. "Before we can proceed much further."

"I know. Maybe I need…more time."

He nodded, accepting her reluctance. "I love you, Rose. And I want us to work things out between us. I hope you know that."

"But couldn't you just….."

"Kiss you now?" He looked at her, and shook his head. "No, not now, Rosey. You see, I'm rather …. particular about the motivations of those that I kiss. I don't kiss girls, who want my kisses merely to avoid deeper issues. Call me….vain."

She tossed her curls defiantly. "And which motivations are acceptable to your Highness? Not that I care to know."

He grinned, the whole blast of his sensuality suddenly aflame in his gaze. Her eyes widened instinctively. "I'll kiss you when you feel you'll die if I didn't, Rosey," he murmured, through half-lowered lids. "And then… "

"Conceited much?" she flared.. Like her father, she hated feeling out of control even more than the average mortal.

"Very." He smirked at her again, and apparently considered the matter closed. He grabbed her jacket from the wall, and held it out for her, to help her back in. "Follow the same path that you came. I'll wait for about fifteen minutes before I leave as well. We probably shouldn't arrive back at the house at the same time. Just in case."

They walked outside to where she had tethered her horse. She felt a strange mixture of elation and dread. Elation that he had confessed he loved her. Dread, because she had avoided talking about the most troubling issues, and because she felt almost certain he had been avoiding things, as well. And, she thought glumly, he still hadn't kissed her.

Thad boosted her onto the white mare, sending her off with a smack on the horse's rump. As Rose trotted away, she suddenly remembered she'd forgotten to ask just what he had been discussing with Charlotte at the picnic. It wasn't jealousy - she was confident both he and Charlotte harbored no more than friendly interest in each other - but she couldn't help but feel she was missing something important. Something to do with her.

She briefly considered turning the horse around, and riding back. Then she sighed. Like many other things, it would keep for now.


Next up…..the mini Rhetts (or, to be more specific, Perry) have their eye on a girl.

PS: Of course Thad is so ready to let Rose of the hook here because he also has things he'd prefer to keep hidden.