Castles

(Джулия Гарвуд - "Замки")

– прим. Lady Morgana

Prologue

England, 1819

He was a real lady killer.

The foolish woman never had a chance. She never knew she was being stalked, never guessed her secret admirer's real intent.

He believed he killed her with kindness. He was proud of that accomplishment. He could have been cruel. He wasn't. The craving eating away at him demanded to be appeased, and even though erotic thoughts of torture aroused him to a fever pitch, he hadn't given in to the base urge. He was a man, not an animal. He was after self-gratification, and the chit certainly deserved to die, yet he'd still shown true compassion. He had been very kind-considering.

She had, after all, died smiling. He deliberately caught her so by surprise he only glimpsed one quick spasm of terror in her cow brown eyes before it was over. He crooned to her then, like any good master would croon to his injured pet, letting her hear the sound of his compassion all the while he was strangling her, and he didn't stop his song of sympathy until the killing was finished and he knew she couldn't hear him.

He hadn't been without mercy. Even when he was certain she was dead, he gently turned her face away from him before he allowed himself to smile. He wanted to laugh, with relief because it was finally over, and with satisfaction because it had gone so very well, but he didn't dare make a sound now, for somewhere in the back of his mind lurked the thought that such undignified behavior would make him seem more monster than man, and he certainly wasn't a monster. No, no, he didn't hate women, he admired them-most anyway-and to those he considered redeemable, he was neither cruel nor heartless.

He was terribly clever though. There wasn't any shame in admitting that truth. The chase had been invigorating, but from start to finish he had been able to predict her every reaction. Granted, her own vanity had helped him immensely. She was a naive chit who thought of herself as worldly-a dangerous misconception-and he had proven to be far too cunning for the likes of her.

There had been sweet irony in his choice of weapons. He had planned to use his dagger to kill her. He wanted to feel the blade sink deep inside her, craved the feel of her hot blood as it poured over his hands each time he slammed the knife into her soft, smooth skin. Carve the fowl, carve the fowl. The command echoed in his mind. He hadn't given in to his desire, however, for he was still stronger than his inner voice, and on the spur of the moment he decided not to use the dagger at all. The diamond necklace he'd given her was draped around her neck. He grabbed hold of the expensive trinket and used it to squeeze the life out of her. He thought the weapon was most appropriate. Women liked trinkets, this one more than most. He even considered burying the necklace with her, but just as he was about to pour the clumps of lime over her body he'd gathered from the cliffs to hurry the decay, he changed his inclination and put the necklace in his pocket.

He walked away from the grave without a backward glance. He felt no remorse, no guilt. She'd served him well and now he was content.

A thick mist covered the ground. He didn't notice the lime powder on his boots until he had reached the main road. He wasn't bothered by the fact that his new Wellingtons were probably ruined. Nothing was going to blemish his glow of victory. He felt as though all his burdens had been lifted away. But there was more, too-the rush he'd felt again, that magnificent euphoria he'd experienced when he had his hands on her… Oh, yes, this one was even better than the last.

She'd made him feel alive again. The world was once again rosy with choices for such a strong, virile man.

He knew he would feed on the memory of tonight for a long, long while. And then, when the glow began to ebb, he would go hunting again.

Chapter 1

Mother Superior Mary Felicity had always believed in miracles, but in all of her sixty-seven years on this sweet earth, she had never actually witnessed one until the frigid day in February of 1820 when the letter arrived from England.

At first the mother superior had been afraid to believe the blessed news, for she feared it was trickery on the devil's part to get her hopes up and then dash them later, but after she had dutifully answered the missive and received a second confirmation with the Duke of Williamshire's seal affixed, she accepted the gift for what it truly was.

A miracle.

They were finally going to get rid of the hellion. The mother superior shared her good news with the other nuns the following morning at matins. That evening they celebrated with duck soup and freshly baked black bread. Sister Rachael was positively giddy and had to be admonished twice for laughing out loud during evening vespers.

The hellion-or, rather, Princess Alesandra-was called into the mother superior's stark office the following afternoon. While she was being given the news of her departure from the convent, Sister Rachael was busy packing her bags.

The mother superior sat in a high-backed chair behind a wide desk as scarred and old as she was. The nun absentmindedly fingered the heavy wooden beads of her rosary, hooked to the side of her black habit, while she waited for her charge to react to the announcement.

Princess Alesandra was stunned by the news. She gripped her hands together in a nervous gesture and kept her head bowed so the mother superior wouldn't see the tears in her eyes.

"Do sit down, Alesandra. I don't wish to talk to the top of your head."

"As you wish, Mother." She sat on the very edge of the hard chair, straightened her posture to please the superior, and then clasped her hands together in her lap.

"What do you think of this news?" the mother superior asked.

"It was the fire, wasn't it, Mother? You still haven't forgiven me that mishap."

"Nonsense," the mother superior replied. "I forgave you that thoughtlessness over a month ago."

"Was it Sister Rachael who convinced you to send me away? I did tell her how sorry I was, and her face isn't nearly as green anymore."

The mother superior shook her head. She frowned, too, for Alesandra was inadvertently getting her all riled up over the reminders of some of her antics.

"Why you believed that vile paste would remove freckles is beyond my understanding. However, Sister Rachael did agree to the experiment. She doesn't blame you… overly much," she hastened to add so the lie she was telling would only be considered a venial sin in God's eyes. "Alesandra, I didn't write to your guardian requesting your leave. He wrote to me. Here is the Duke of Williamshire's letter. Read it and then you'll see I'm telling you the truth."

Alesandra's hand shook when she reached for the missive. She quickly scanned the contents before handing the letter back to her superior.

"You can see the urgency, can't you? This General Ivan your guardian mentions sounds quite disreputable. Do you remember meeting him?"

Alesandra shook her head. "We visited father's homeland several times, but I was very young. I don't remember meeting him. Why in heaven's name would he want to marry me?"

"Your guardian understands the general's motives," the mother superior replied. She tapped the letter with her fingertips. "Your father's subjects haven't forgotten you. You're still their beloved princess. The general has a notion that if he marries you, he'll be able to take over the kingdom with the support of the masses. It's a clever plan."

"But I don't wish to marry him," Alesandra whispered.

"And neither does your guardian wish it," the superior said. "He believes the general won't take no for an answer, however, and will take you by force if necessary to insure his success. That is why the Duke of Williamshire wants guards to journey with you to England."

"I don't want to leave here, Mother. I really don't."

The anguish in Alesandra's voice tugged at the mother superior's heart. Forgotten for the moment were all the mischievous schemes Princess Alesandra had gotten involved in over the past years. The superior remembered the vulnerability and the fear in the little girl's eyes when she and her ailing mother had first arrived. Alesandra had been quite saintly while her mother lived. She had been so very young-only twelve-and had lost her dear father just six months before. Yet the child had shown tremendous strength. She took on the full responsibility of caring for her mother day and night. There was never any possibility her mother would recover. Her illness destroyed her body and her mind, and toward the end, when she had been crazed with her pain, Alesandra would climb into her mother's sickbed and take the frail woman into her arms. She would gently rock her back and forth and sing tender ballads to her, her voice that of an angel. Her love for her mother had been achingly beautiful to see. When at last the devil's torture was finished, her mother died in her daughter's arms.

Alesandra wouldn't allow anyone to comfort her. She wept during the dark hours of the night, alone in her cell, the white curtains surrounding her cubicle blocking out none of her sobs from the postulants.

Her mother was buried on the grounds behind the chapel in a lovely, flower-bordered grotto. Alesandra couldn't abide the thought of leaving her. The grounds of the convent were adjacent to the family's second home, Stone Haven, but Alesandra wouldn't even journey there for a visitation. "I had thought I would stay here forever," Alesandra whispered.

"You must look upon this as your destiny unfolding," the mother superior advised. "One chapter of your life is closing and another is about to open up."

Alesandra lowered her head again. "I wish to have all my chapters here, Mother. You could deny the Duke of Williamshire's request if you wished, or stall him with endless correspondence until he forgot about me"

"And the general?"

Alesandra had already thought of an answer to that dilemma. "He wouldn't dare breach this sanctuary. I'm safe as long as I stay here."

"A man lusting for power will not care if he breaks the holy laws governing this convent, Alesandra. He certainly would breach our sanctuary. Do you realize you are also suggesting I deceive your dear guardian?"

The nun's voice held a note of reproach in it. "No, Mother," Alesandra answered with a little sigh, knowing full well that was the answer the nun wished to hear. "I suppose it would be wrong to deceive…"

The wistfulness in her voice made the mother superior shake her head. "I will not accommodate you. Even if there was a valid reason…"

Alesandra jumped on the possibility. "Oh, but there is," she blurted out. She took a deep breath, then announced, "I have decided to become a nun."

The mere thought of Alesandra joining their holy order sent chills down the mother superior's spine. "Heaven help us all," she muttered.

"It's because of the books, isn't it, Mother? You want to send me away because of that little… fabrication."

"Alesandra…"

"I only made the second set of books so the banker would give you the loan. You refused to use my funds, and I knew how much you needed the new chapel… what with the fire and all. And you did get the loan, didn't you? God has surely forgiven me my deception, and He must have wanted me to alter the numbers in the accounts or He never would have given me such a fine head for figures. Would he, Mother Superior? In my heart, I know He forgave me my bit of trickery."

"Trickery? I believe the correct word is larceny," the mother superior snapped.

"Nay, Mother," Alesandra corrected. "Larceny means to pilfer and I didn't pilfer anything. I merely amended."

The fierce frown on the superior's face told Alesandra she shouldn't have contradicted her, or brought up the still tender topic of the bookkeeping.

"About the fire…"

"Mother, I have already confessed my sorrow over that unfortunate mishap," Alesandra rushed out. She hurried to change the subject before the superior could get all riled up again. "I was very serious when I said I would like to become a nun. I believe I have the calling."

"Alesandra, you aren't Catholic."

"I would convert," Alesandra fervently promised.

A long minute passed in silence. Then the mother superior leaned forward. The chair squeaked with her movement. "Look at me," she commanded.

She waited until the princess had complied with her order before speaking again. "I believe I understand what this is really all about. I'm going to give you a promise," she said, her voice a soothing whisper. "I'll take good care of your mother's grave. If anything should happen to me, then Sister Justina or Sister Rachael will tend to it. Your mother won't be forgotten. She'll continue to be in our prayers every day. That is my promise to you."

Alesandra burst into tears. "I cannot leave her."

The mother superior stood up and hurried over to Alesandra's side. She put her arm around her shoulders and patted her. "You won't be leaving her behind. She will always be in your heart. She would want you to get on with your life."

Tears streamed down Alesandra's face. She mopped them away with the backs of her hands. "I don't know the Duke of Williamshire, Mother. I only met him once and I barely recall what he looked like. What if I don't get along with him? What if he doesn't want me? I don't want to be a burden to anyone. Please let me stay here."

"Alesandra, you seem determined to believe I have a choice in the matter and that simply isn't true. I too must obey your guardian's request. You're going to do just fine in England. The Duke of Williamshire has six children of his own. One more isn't going to be a bother."

"I'm not a child any longer," Alesandra reminded the nun. "And my guardian is probably very old and weary by now."

The mother superior smiled. "The Duke of Williamshire was chosen and named guardian over you years ago by your father. He had good reason for naming the Englishman. Have faith in your father's judgment."

"Yes, Mother."

"You can lead a happy life, Alesandra," the mother superior continued. "As long as you remember to use a little restraint. Think before you act. That's the key. You have a sound mind. Use it."

"Thank you for saying so, Mother."

"Quit acting so submissive. It isn't like you at all I have one more bit of advice to offer you and I want your full attention. Do sit up straight. A princess does not slump."

If she sat any straighter, she thought, her spine might snap. Alesandra thrust her shoulders back a bit more and knew she'd satisfied the nun when she nodded.

"As I was saying," the mother superior continued. "It never mattered here that you were a princess, but it will matter in England. Appearances must be kept up at all times. You simply cannot allow spontaneous actions to rule your life. Now tell me, Alesandra, what are the two words I've asked you again and again to take to heart?"

"Dignity and decorum, Mother."

"Yes."

"May I come back here… if I find I don't like my new life?"

"You will always be welcomed back here," the mother superior promised. "Go now and help Sister Rachael with the packing. You'll be leaving in the dead of night as a precautionary measure. I'll wait in the chapel to say my good-bye."

Alesandra stood up, made a quick curtsy, then left the room. The mother superior stood in the center of the small chamber and stared after her charge for a long while. She had believed it was a miracle the princess was leaving. The mother superior had always followed a rigid schedule. Then Alesandra came into her life, and schedules became nonexistent. The nun didn't like chaos, but chaos and Alesandra seemed to go hand in hand. Yet the minute the strong-willed princess walked out of the office, the mother superior's eyes filled with tears. It was as though the sun had just been covered with dark clouds.

Heaven help her, she was going to miss the imp and her antics.

Chapter 2

London, England, 1820

They'd called him the Dolphin. He'd called her the Brat, Princess Alesandra didn't know why her guardian's son Colin had been given the nickname of a sea mammal, but she was well aware of the reason behind his nickname for her. She'd earned it. She really had been a brat when she was a little girl, and the only time Colin and his older brother, Caine, had been in her company, she'd misbehaved shamefully. Granted, she had been very young-spoiled, too-a natural circumstance given the fact that she was an only child and was constantly being doted upon by relatives and servants alike. But her parents had both been gifted with patient natures, and they ignored her obnoxious behavior until she finally outgrew the temper tantrums and learned a little restraint.

Alesandra had been very young when her parents took her with them to England for a short visit. She had only a vague memory of the Duke and Duchess of Williamshire, didn't remember the daughters at all, and only had a hazy recollection of the two older sons. Caine and Colin. They were both giants in her mind, but then she had been very little and they had both been fully grown men. Her memory had probably exaggerated their size. She was certain she wouldn't be able to recognize either brother in a crowd today. She hoped

Colin had forgotten her past behavior as well as the fact that he'd called her a brat. Getting along with Colin would make everything so much easier to endure. The two duties she was about to undertake were going to be difficult, and having a safe haven at the end of each day was really quite imperative.

She had arrived in England on a dreary Monday morning and had immediately been taken to the Duke of Williamshire's country estate. Alesandra hadn't been feeling well, but believed her queasy stomach was due to anxiety. She was quick to recover, for she was welcomed into the family with sincerity and affection. Both the duke and duchess treated her as one of their own. Her awkwardness soon dissipated. She wasn't given special consideration, and was even allowed to speak her own mind every now and again. There was only one argument of substance between Alesandra and her guardian. He and his wife were going to escort her to London and open their town house for the season. Alesandra made over fifteen appointments, but just a few days before they were scheduled to leave for the city, both the duke and duchess became quite ill.

Alesandra wanted to go alone. She insisted she didn't want to be a bother to anyone and suggested that she rent her own town house for the season. The duchess had palpitations over the mere thought, but Alesandra held her ground. She reminded her guardian she was an adult, after all, and she could certainly take care of herself. The duke wouldn't hear of such talk. The debate raged for days. In the end it was decided that Alesandra would take up residence with Caine and his wife, Jade, while she was in London.

Unfortunately, just the day before she was supposed to arrive, both Caine and Jade came down with the same mysterious ailment currently afflicting the duke and duchess and their four daughters.

The only choice left was Colin. If Alesandra hadn't already scheduled so many appointments with her father's associates, she would have stayed in the country until her guardian had recovered. She didn't want to inconvenience

Colin, especially after hearing from his father about the terrible past two years he'd had. She imagined the last thing Colin needed now was chaos. Still, the Duke of Williamshire had been most insistent that she avail herself of his hospitality, and it wouldn't have been polite for her to refuse her guardian's wishes. Besides, living with Colin for a few days might make the request she was going to have to make of him easier.

She arrived on Colin's doorstep a little past the dinner hour. He had already gone out for the evening. Alesandra, her new lady's maid, and two trusted guards crowded into the narrow black and white tiled foyer to present her note from the Duke of Williamshire to the butler, a handsome young man named Flannaghan. The servant couldn't have been more than twenty-five years of age. The surprise of her arrival obviously rattled him, for he kept bowing to her, blushing to the roots of his white-blond hair, and she wasn't at all certain how to ease his discomfort.

"It is such an honor to have a princess in our home," he stammered out. He swallowed hard, then repeated the very same announcement.

"I hope your employer feels the way you do, sir," she replied. "I don't wish to be an inconvenience."

"No, no," Flannaghan blurted out, obviously appalled by the very idea. "You could never be an inconvenience."

"It's good of you to say so, sir."

Flannaghan swallowed hard again. In a worried tone he said, "But Princess Alesandra, I don't believe there's room for all of your staff." The butler's face was burning with embarrassment.

"We'll make do," she assured him with a smile, trying to put him at ease. The poor young man looked ill. "The Duke of Williamshire did insist I bring along my guards, and I couldn't travel anywhere without my new lady's maid. Her name's Valena. The duchess personally chose her for me. Valena has been living in London, you see, but she was born and raised in my father's homeland. Isn't it a wonderful coincidence she applied for the position? Yes, of course it is," she answered before Flannaghan could get a word in.

"Because she's only just been hired, I can't let her go. It wouldn't be at all polite, would it? You do understand. I can see you do."

Flannaghan had lost track of what was being explained to him, but he nodded agreement anyway just to please her. He was finally able to tear his gaze away from the beautiful princess. He bowed to her lady's maid, then ruined his first show of dignified behavior by blurting out, "She's just a child."

"Valena's a year older than I am," Alesandra explained. She turned to the fair-haired woman and spoke to her in a language Flannaghan had never heard before. It sounded a little like French to him, yet he knew it wasn't.

"Do any of your servants speak English?" he asked.

"When they wish to," she answered. She untied the cord at the top of her white fur-lined burgundy cloak. A tall, muscled guard with black hair and a menacing look about him stepped forward to take the garment from her. She thanked the man before turning back to Flannaghan. "I would like to get settled in for the night. The journey here took most of the day, sir, because of the rain, and I'm chilled to the bone. It was horrid outside," she added with a nod. "The rain felt like sleet, didn't it, Raymond?"

"Aye, it did, Princess," the guard agreed in a voice surprisingly gentle.

"We're all really quite exhausted," she told Flannaghan then.

"Of course you're exhausted," Flannaghan agreed. "If you'll follow me, please," he requested. He started up the stairs with the Princess at his side. "There are four chambers on the second level, Princess Alesandra, and three rooms on the floor above for the servants. If your guards will double up…"

"Raymond and Stefan will be happy to share quarters," she told him when he didn't continue. "Sir, this is really just a temporary arrangement until Colin's brother and his wife recover from their illness. I'll move in with them as soon as possible."

Flannaghan took hold of Alesandra's elbow to assist her up the rest of the stairs. He seemed so eager to help that she didn't have the heart to tell him she didn't require his assistance. If it made him happy to treat her like an old woman, she would let him.

They had reached the landing before the servant noticed the guards weren't following. The two men had disappeared toward the back of the house. Alesandra explained that they were looking around the lower level to familiarize themselves with all of the entrances to the house and would come upstairs when they were finished.

"But why would they be interested…"

She didn't let him finish. "To make it safe for us, sir."

Flannaghan nodded, though in truth he still didn't have any idea what she was talking about.

"Would you mind taking over my employer's room tonight? The linens were freshly changed this morning and the other chambers aren't ready for company. There's only Cook and me on staff, you see, because of the difficult financial time my employer is suffering through, and I didn't see the need to put linens on the other beds because I didn't know we would…"

"You mustn't worry so," she interrupted. "We'll make do, I promise."

"It's good of you to be so understanding. I'll move your things into the larger guest room tomorrow."

"Aren't you forgetting Colin?" she asked. "I would think he'll be irritated to find me in his bed."

Flannaghan imagined just the opposite, and immediately blushed over his own shameful thoughts. He was still a bit shaken, he realized, and surely that was the reason he was acting like a dolt. The surprise of his guests' arrival was not the true cause of his sorry condition, however. No, it was Princess Alesandra. She was the most wonderful woman he'd ever met. Every time he looked at her, he forgot his own thoughts. Her eyes were such a wondrous shade of blue. She had the longest, and surely the darkest, eyelashes he'd ever noticed, too, and her complexion was exquisitely pure. Only a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose marred her skin, but Flannaghan found that flaw absolutely wonderful.

He cleared his throat in an attempt to unscramble his thoughts. "I'm certain my employer won't mind sleeping in one of the other chambers tonight. There is a good chance he won't even come home until tomorrow morning anyway. He went back to the Emerald Shipping Company to do some paperwork, and he often ends up spending the night there. The time, you see, gets away from him."

After giving her the explanation, Flannaghan began to tug her along the corridor. There were four rooms on the second level. The first door was wide open and both she and Flannaghan paused at the entrance.

"This is the study, Princess," Flannaghan announced. "It's a bit cluttered, but my employer won't allow me to touch anything."

Alesandra smiled. The study was more than cluttered, for there were stacks of paper everywhere. Yet it was still a warm, inviting room. A mahogany desk faced the door. There was a small hearth on the left, a brown leather chair with a matching foot rest on the right, and a beautiful burgundy and brown rug took up the space in between. Books lined the shelves on the walls, and ledgers were stacked high on the wooden file cabinet tucked in the corner.

The study was an extremely masculine room. The scents of brandy and leather filled the air. She found the aroma quite pleasant. She could even imagine herself curled up in front of a roaring fire in her robe and slippers reading the latest financial reports on her holdings.

Flannaghan tugged her along the hall. The second door was to Colin's bedroom. He hurried ahead of her to open it.

"Is your employer in the habit of working such long hours?" Alesandra asked.

"Yes, he is," Flannaghan answered. "He started the company several years ago with his good friend, the Marquess of St. James, and the gentlemen have had a struggle staying afloat. The competition is fierce."

Alesandra nodded. "The Emerald Shipping Company has an excellent reputation."

"It does?"

"Oh, yes. Colin's father wishes he could purchase shares. It would be a sure profit for investors, but the partners won't sell any stock."

"They want to maintain complete control," Flannaghan explained. He grinned then. "I heard him say just that to his father."

She nodded, then walked into the bedroom, dismissing the topic. Flannaghan noticed the chill in the air and hurried over to the hearth to start a fire. Valena skirted her way around her mistress to light the candles on the bedside table.

Colin's bedroom was every bit as masculine and appealing as his study. The bed faced the door. It was quite large in size and was covered with a dark chocolate brown quilt. The walls had been painted a rich beige color, an appropriate backdrop, she thought, for the beautiful pieces of mahogany wood furniture.

Two windows flanked the headboard posters and were draped with beige satin. Valena removed the ties holding the material away from the window panes so the room would be closeted from the street below.

There was a door on Alesandra's left that led into the study, and another door on her right, next to a tall, wooden privacy screen. She walked across the chamber, pulled the door wide, and found an adjoining bedroom. The colors were identical to those of the master suite, though the bed was much smaller in size.

"This is a wonderful house," she remarked. "Colin chose well."

"He doesn't own the property," Flannaghan told her. "His agent got him a good price on the rental. We'll have to move again at the end of the summer, when the owners return from the Americas."

Alesandra tried to hide her smile. She doubted Colin would appreciate his servant giving away all of his financial secrets. Flannaghan was the most enthusiastic servant she'd ever encountered. He was refreshingly honest, and Alesandra liked him immensely.

"I'll move your things into the adjoining room tomorrow," Flannaghan called out when he noticed she was looking into the other chamber. He turned back to the hearth, tossed another log on the budding fire, and then stood up. He brushed his hands on the sides of his pant legs. "These two rooms are the larger bed chambers," he explained. "The other two on this floor are quite small. There's a lock on the door," he added with a nod.

The dark-haired guard named Raymond knocked on the door. Alesandra hurried over to the entrance and listened to his whispered explanation.

"Raymond has just explained that one of the windows in the salon below has a broken latch. He would like your permission to repair it."

"Do you mean now?" Flannaghan asked.

"Yes," she answered. "Raymond's a worrier," she added. "He won't rest until the house is secure."

She didn't wait for the servant's permission but nodded to the guard, giving him her approval. Valena had already unpacked her mistress's sleeping gown and wrapper. Alesandra turned to help just as Valena let out a loud yawn.

"Valena, go and get your sleep. Tomorrow will be time enough to unpack the rest of my things."

The maid bowed low to her mistress. Flannaghan hurried forward. He suggested the maid take the last room along the corridor. It was the smallest of the chambers, he explained, but the bed was quite comfortable and the room was really rather cozy. He was certain Valena would find it suitable. After bidding Alesandra good night, he escorted the maid down the hall to help get her settled.

Alesandra fell asleep a scant thirty minutes later. As was her usual habit, she slept quite soundly for several hours, but promptly at two o'clock in the morning she awakened. She hadn't been able to sleep a full night through since returning to England, and she'd gotten used to the condition. She put on her robe, added another log to the fire, and then got back into bed with her satchel of papers. She would read her broker's report on the current financial status of Lloyd's of London first, and if that didn't make her sleepy, she'd make a new chart of her own holdings.

A loud commotion coming from below the stairs interrupted her concentration. She recognized Flannaghan's voice and assumed from the frantic edge to his tone that he was trying to soothe his employer's temper.

Curiosity got the better of her. Alesandra put on her slippers, tightened the belt around her robe, and went to the landing. She stood in the darkness of the shadows, but the foyer below her was ablaze with candlelight. She let out a little sigh when she saw how Raymond and Stefan were blocking Colin's way. He was turned away from her, but Raymond happened to look up and spot her. She immediately motioned for him to leave. He nudged his companion back to his station, bowed to Colin, and then left the foyer.

Flannaghan didn't notice the guards' departure. He didn't notice Alesandra either. He never would have gone on and on if he'd known she was standing there listening to his every word.

"She's just what I imagined a real princess would be," he told his employer, his voice reeking with grating enthusiasm. "She has hair the color of midnight, and it's full of soft curls that seem to float around her shoulders. Her eyes are blue, but a shade of blue I've never seen before. They're so brilliant and clear. And you're certain to tower over her. Why even I find myself feeling like a giant, a bumbling one at that, when she's looking directly up at me. She has freckles, milord." Flannaghan paused long enough to take a breath. "She's really wonderful."

Colin wasn't paying much attention to the servant's remarks about the princess. He had been about to put his fist into one of the strangers blocking his way and then toss both men back into the street when Flannaghan had come running down the stairs to explain that the men came from the Duke of Williamshire. Colin had let go of the bigger of the two men and was now once again sorting through the stack of papers in his hands, looking for the report his partner had completed. He hoped to God he hadn't left the thing at the office, for he was determined to transfer the numbers into the ledgers before he went to bed.

Colin was in a foul mood. He was actually a little disappointed that his butler had interfered. A good fistfight might have helped him get rid of some of his frustration.

He finally found the missing sheet just as Flannaghan started in again.

"Princess Alesandra is on the thin side, yet I couldn't help but notice how shapely her figure is."

"Enough," Colin ordered, his voice soft, yet commanding.

The servant immediately stopped his litany of Princess Alesandra's considerable attributes. His disappointment was apparent in his crestfallen expression. He'd only just warmed to his topic and knew he could have gone on and on for at least another twenty minutes. Why, he hadn't even mentioned her smile yet, or the regal way she held herself…

"All right, Flannaghan," Colin began, interrupting his servant's thoughts. "Let's try to get to the bottom of this. A princess just decided to take up residence with us? Is that correct?"

"Yes, milord."

"Why?"

"Why what, milord?"

Colin sighed. "Why do you suppose…"

"It isn't my place to suppose," Flannaghan interrupted.

"When has that ever stopped you?"

Flannaghan grinned. He acted as though he'd just been given a compliment.

Colin yawned. Lord, he was tired. He wasn't in the mood to put up with company tonight. He was exhausted from too many long hours working on the company books, frustrated because he couldn't make the damn numbers add up to enough of a profit and extremely weary fighting all the competition. It seemed to him that every other day a new shipping company opened its doors for business.

Added to his financial worries were his own aches and pains. His left leg, injured in a sea mishap several years ago, was throbbing painfully now, and all he wanted to do was get into his bed with a hot brandy.

He wasn't going to give in to his fatigue. There was still work to be done before he went to bed. He tossed Flannaghan his cloak, placed his cane in the umbrella stand, and put the papers he'd been carrying on the side table.

"Milord, would you like me to fetch you something to drink?"

"I'll have a brandy in the study," he replied. "Why are you calling me your lord? You've been given permission to call me Colin."

"But that was before."

"Before what?"

"Before we had a real princess living with us," Flannaghan explained. "It wouldn't be proper for me to call you Colin now. Would you prefer I call you Sir Hallbrook?" he asked, using Colin's knighted title.

"I would prefer Colin."

"But I have explained, milord, it simply won't do."

Colin laughed. Flannaghan had sounded pompous. He was acting more and more like his brother's butler, Sterns, and Colin really shouldn't have been at all surprised. Sterns was Flannaghan's uncle and had installed the young man in Colin's household to begin his seasoning.

"You're becoming as arrogant as your uncle," Colin remarked.

"It's good of you to say so, milord."

Colin laughed again. Then he shook his head at his servant. "Let's get back to the princess, shall we? Why is she here?"

"She didn't confide in me," Flannaghan explained. "And I thought it would be improper for me to ask."

"So you just let her in?"

"She arrived with a note from your father."

They had finally gotten to the end of the maze. "Where is this note?"

"I put it in the salon… or was it the dining room?"

"Go and find the thing," Colin ordered. "Perhaps his note will explain why the woman has two thugs with her."

"They're her guards, milord," Flannaghan explained, his tone defensive. "Your father sent them with her," he added with a nod. "And a princess would not travel with thugs."

The expression on Flannaghan's face was almost comical in his awe of the woman. The princess had certainly dazzled the impressionable servant.

The butler went running into the salon in search of the note. Colin blew out the candles on the table, picked up his papers, and then turned to the steps.

He finally understood the reason for Princess Alesandra's arrival. His father was behind the scheme of course. His matchmaking attempts were becoming more outrageous, and Colin wasn't in the mood to put up with yet another one of his games.

He was halfway up the steps before he spotted her. The banister saved him from disgrace. Colin was certain he would have fallen backward if he hadn't had a firm grasp on the railing.

Flannaghan hadn't exaggerated. She did look like a princess. A beautiful one. Her hair floated around her shoulders and it really did look as dark as midnight. She was dressed in white, and, Lord, at first sight, she appeared to be a vision the gods had sent to test his determination.

He failed the test. Although he gave it his best effort, he was still powerless to control his own physical reaction to her.

His father had certainly outdone himself this time. Colin would have to remember to compliment him on his latest choice-after he'd sent her packing, of course.

They stood staring at each other for a long minute. She kept waiting for him to speak to her. He kept waiting for her to explain her presence to him.

Alesandra was the first to give in. She moved forward until she stood close to the top step, bowed her head, and then said, "Good evening, Colin. It's good to see you again."

Her voice was wonderfully appealing. Colin tried to concentrate on what she had just said. It was ridiculously difficult.

"Again?" he asked. Lord, he sounded gruff.

"Yes, we met when I was just a little girl. You called me a brat."

That remark forced a reluctant smile from him. He had no memory of the encounter, however. "And were you a brat?"

"Oh, yes," she answered. "I'm told I kicked you-several times, in fact-but that was a very long time ago. I've grown up since then and I don't believe the nickname is appropriate now. I haven't kicked anyone in years."

Colin leaned against the banister so that he could take some of the weight off his injured leg. "Where did we meet?"

"At your father's home in the country," she explained. "My parents and I were visiting and you were home from Oxford at the time. Your brother had just graduated."

Colin still didn't remember her. That didn't surprise him. His parents were always entertaining houseguests and he'd barely paid any attention to any of them. Most, he recalled, were down on their luck, and his father, kindhearted to a fault, took anyone begging assistance into his home.

Her hands were demurely folded together and she appeared to be very relaxed. Yet Colin noticed how white her fingers were and knew she was actually gripping them together in either fear or nervousness. She wasn't quite as serene as she would have him believe. Her vulnerability was suddenly very apparent to him, and he found himself trying to find a way to put her at ease.

"Where are your parents now?" he asked.

"My father died when I was eleven years old," she answered. "Mother died the following summer. Sir, would you like me to help you collect your papers?" she added in a rush, hoping to change the subject.

"What papers?"

Her smile was enchanting. "The ones you dropped."

He looked down and saw his papers lining the steps. He felt like a complete idiot standing there with his hand grasping air. He grinned over his own preoccupation. He really wasn't any better than his butler, he thought to himself, and Flannaghan had an acceptable excuse for his besotted behavior. He was young, inexperienced, and simply didn't know better.

Colin should have known better, however. He was much older than his servant, in both years and experience. But he was overly weary tonight, he reminded himself, and surely that was the reason he was acting like a simpleton.

Besides, she was one hell of a beauty. He let out a sigh. "I'll get the papers later," he told her. "Exactly why are you here, Princess Alesandra?" he asked bluntly.

"Your brother and his wife are both ill," she explained. "I was to stay with them while in the city, but at the last minute they became indisposed and I was told to stay with you until they are feeling better."

"Who gave you these instructions?"

"Your father."

"Why would he take such an interest?"

"He's my guardian, Colin."

He couldn't contain his surprise over that little bit of news. His father had never mentioned a ward to him, although Colin guessed it wasn't any of his affair. His father held his own counsel and rarely confided in either one of his sons.

"Have you come to London for the season?"

"No," she answered. "Although I am looking forward to attending some of the parties and I do hope to see the sights."

Colin's curiosity intensified. He took another step toward her.

"I really didn't want to cause you any inconvenience," she said. "I suggested I rent my own town house or open your parents' London home, but your father simply wouldn't hear of it. He told me it wasn't done." She paused to sigh. "I did try to convince him. 'Tis the truth I couldn't outargue him."

Lord, she had a pretty smile. It was contagious too. He found himself smiling back. "No one can outargue my father," he agreed. "You still haven't explained why you're here," he reminded her.

"I haven't, have I? It's most complicated," she added with a nod. "You see, it wasn't necessary for me to come to London before, but it is now."

He shook his head at her. "Half-given explanations make me crazed. I'm blunt to a fault-a trait I picked up from my partner, or so I'm told. I admire complete honesty because it's so rare, and for as long as you are a guest in my home, I would appreciate complete candor. Are we in agreement?"

"Yes, of course."

She was clutching her hands together again. He must have frightened her. He probably sounded like an ogre. God only knew he was suddenly feeling like one. He was sorry she was so obviously afraid of him, yet pleased, too, because he'd gotten his way. She hadn't argued with him over his dictate, or tried to act coy. He absolutely detested coyness in a woman.

He forced a mild tone of voice when he asked, "Would you mind answering a few pertinent questions now?"

"Certainly. What is it you wish to know?"

"Why are there two guards with you? Now that you've reached your destination, shouldn't they be dismissed? Or did you think I might withhold my hospitality?"

She answered the last of his question first. "Oh, I never considered you would deny me lodging, sir. Your father assured me you would be most gracious to me. Flannaghan has his note for you to read," she added with a nod. "Your father also insisted I retain my guards. Both Raymond and Stefan were hired by the mother superior of the convent where I used to live to travel with me to England, and your father insisted I keep them on. Neither guard has family back home to miss, and both are very well paid. You really shouldn't worry about them."

He held his exasperation. She was looking so earnest now. "I wasn't worried about them," he replied. He grinned then and shook his head again. "Do you know, trying to get answers out of you is proving to be very difficult."

She nodded. "Mother Superior used to say the very same thing to me. She considered it one of my greatest flaws. I am sorry if I confuse you. I don't mean to, sir."

"Alesandra, my father's behind this scheme, isn't he? He sent you to me."

"Yes and no."

She quickly held up her hand to waylay his frown. "I'm not hedging. You're father did send me to you, but only after he found out Caine and his wife were ill. I don't believe there was a scheme involved, however. As a matter of fact, your father and your mother wanted me to stay in the country until they were recovered enough to escort me to the city. I would have, too, if I hadn't made all of my appointments."

She sounded sincere. Colin still scoffed at the notion that his father wasn't behind this plan. He'd seen him at the club only a week before and he'd been perfectly healthy then. Colin remembered the inevitable argument too. His father had oh so casually brought up the topic of marriage, then become relentless as he once again nagged Colin about taking a wife. Colin had pretended to listen, and once his father had wound down, he told him he was determined to remain alone.

Alesandra didn't have any idea what was going through Colin's mind. His frown was making her nervous, however. He certainly seemed to be a suspicious sort. He was a handsome man, she thought to herself, with rich, auburn-colored hair and more green- than hazel-colored eyes. They had fairly sparkled when he smiled. He had an adorable little dimple, too, in the left side of his cheek. But, heavens, his frown was fierce. He was even more intimidating than the mother superior, and Alesandra considered that an impressive feat.

She couldn't stand the silence long. "Your father planned to speak to you about my unusual circumstances," she whispered. "He was going to be very straightforward about the matter."

"When it comes to my father and his plans, nothing's ever straightforward."

She arched her shoulders back and frowned at him. "Your father is one of the most honorable men I've ever had the pleasure to know. He's been extremely kind to me, and he only has my best interests at heart."

She was sounding incensed by the time she finished her defense of his father. Colin grinned. "You don't have to defend him to me. I know my father's honorable. It's one of the hundred or so reasons why I love him."

Her stance relaxed. "You're very fortunate to have such a fine man for a father."

"Were you as fortunate?"

"Oh, yes," she answered. "My father was a wonderful man."

She started backing away when Colin came up the rest of the steps. She bumped into the wall, then turned and slowly walked down the hall to her room.

Colin clasped his hands behind his back and fell into step beside her. Flannaghan was right, he thought to himself. He did tower over Alesandra. Perhaps his size intimidated her.

"You don't have to be afraid of me."

She came to a quick stop and turned to look up at him. "Afraid? Why in heaven's name would you think I was afraid of you?"

She'd sounded incredulous. Colin shrugged. "You backed away rather hastily when I reached the landing," he pointed out. He didn't mention the fear he'd glimpsed in her eyes or the fact that she'd been wringing her hands together. If she wanted to pretend she wasn't afraid, he'd let her have her way.

"Well, I'm not very afraid," she announced. "I'm not used to… visiting while in my nightgown and wrapper. In fact, Colin, I'm feeling quite safe here. It's a nice feeling. I have been a little jumpy lately."

She blushed, acting as though her confession was embarrassing her.

"Why have you been jumpy?" he asked.

Instead of answering his question, she turned the topic. "Would you like to know why I've come to London?"

He almost laughed then and there. Hadn't he been diligently trying to find out just that for the past ten minutes? "If you want to tell me," he said.

"I really have two reasons for my journey," she began. "They're both equally important to me. The first involves a mystery I'm determined to solve. I met a young lady by the name of Victoria Perry over a year ago. She stayed at the Holy Cross convent for a spell. She was touring Austria with her family, you see, and she became quite ill. The sisters at Holy Cross are well known for their nursing skills, and once it was determined that Victoria would recover, her family felt it safe to leave her there to recuperate. She and I became fast friends, and after she returned to England, she wrote to me at least once a month, sometimes more. I do wish I'd saved the letters, because in two or three of them she made references to a secret admirer who was courting her. She thought it was all very romantic."

"Perry… where have I heard that name?" Colin wondered aloud.

"I don't know, sir."

He smiled. "I shouldn't have interrupted you. Please continue."

She nodded. "The last letter I received was dated the first of September. I immediately wrote back, but I didn't hear another word. I was concerned, of course. When I reached your father's home, I told him I was going to send a messenger to Victoria to request an audience. I wanted to catch up on all the latest happenings. Victoria led such an exciting life and I so enjoyed her correspondence."

"And did you get your audience?"

"No," Alesandra answered. She stopped and turned to look up at Colin. "Your father told me about the scandal. Victoria was supposed to have run off with a man from a lower station. They were married in Gretna Green. Can you imagine such a tale? Her family certainly believes it. Your father told me they've disowned her."

"Now I remember. I did hear about the scandal."

"None of it's true."

He raised an eyebrow over the vehemence in her voice. "It isn't?" he asked.

"No, it isn't," she said. "I'm a good judge of character, Colin, and I assure you Victoria wouldn't have eloped. She simply isn't the sort. I'm going to find out what really happened to her. She may be in trouble and need my help," she added. "Tomorrow I shall send a note to her brother, Neil, begging an audience."

"I don't think the family will want their daughter's embarrassment drudged up again."

"I shall be most discreet."

Her voice reeked with sincerity. She was a dramatic thing, and so damned beautiful it was difficult to pay attention to anything she said. Her eyes mesmerized him. He happened to notice she had her hand on the doorknob to his room. He was further distracted by her wonderful scent. The feint smell of roses floated in the air between them. Colin immediately took a step back to put some distance between them.

"Do you mind that I'm sleeping in your bed?"

"I didn't know you were."

"Flannaghan's going to move my things into the adjoining chamber tomorrow. He didn't think you would be coming home tonight. It's just for one night, sir, but now that he's had time to put linens on the bed next door, I'll be happy to give you your bed back."

"We'll change in the morning."

"You're being very kind to me. Thank you."

Colin finally noticed the dark smudges under her eyes. The woman was clearly exhausted and he'd kept her from her sleep by grilling her.

"You need your rest, Alesandra. It's the middle of the night."

She nodded, then opened the door to his bedroom. "Good night, Colin. Thank you again for being so hospitable."

"I couldn't turn my back on a princess when she's down on her luck," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" She didn't have the faintest idea what he meant by that remark. Where had he gotten the idea she was down on her luck?

"Alesandra, what was the other reason for coming to London?"

She looked confused by the question. The second reason must not have been very important, he decided. "I was merely curious," he admitted with a shrug. "You mentioned you had two reasons and I wondered… never mind. Go to bed now. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well, Princess."

"I remember the reason now," she blurted out.

He turned back to her. "Yes?"

"Would you like me to tell you?"

"Yes, I would."

She stared up at him a long minute. Her hesitation was obvious. So was her vulnerability. "Do you want me to be honest with you?"

He nodded. "Of course I do."

"Very well then. I'll be honest. Your father suggested I not confide in you, but since you have insisted upon knowing and I did promise I would be honest…"

"Yes?" he prodded.

"I've come to London to marry you."

~

He was suddenly hungry again. It was peculiar to him the way the craving burst upon him all at once. There was never any warning. He hadn't thought about a hunt in a long, long while, and now, at the midnight hour, while he was standing in the doorway of Sir Johnston's library listening to the latest gossip about the prince regent, sipping his brandy with several other titled gentlemen of the ton, he was nearly overwhelmed with his need.

He could feel the power draining away from him. His eyes burned. His stomach ached. He was empty, empty, empty.

He needed to feed again.

Chapter 3

Alesandra didn't get much sleep the rest of the night. The expression on Colin's face when she had blurted out her second reason for coming to London had made her breath catch in the back of her throat. Lord, he'd been furious. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to block the image of his anger long enough to fall back to sleep.

So much for honesty, she thought to herself. Telling the truth hadn't served her well at all. She should have kept silent. Alesandra let out a loud sigh. No, she had to tell the truth. Mother Superior had drummed that fact into her.

Her thoughts immediately returned to Colin's expression of fury. How could a man with such an adorable dimple in his cheek have eyes so frigid? Colin could be dangerous when he was riled. She really wished his papa had mentioned that important fact to her before she had embarrassed herself so thoroughly and infuriated Colin so completely.

She dreaded her next encounter with him. She took her time getting dressed. Valena assisted her. The maid kept up a constant chatter while she brushed Alesandra's hair. She wished to know all the details of her princess's day. Was she going out? Would she wish her maid to accompany her? Alesandra answered her questions as best she could.

"We may have to find another lodging after today," she remarked. "I shall share my plans with you as soon as I've formulated them, Valena."

The maid finished buttoning the back of Alesandra's royal blue walking dress just as a knock sounded at the door.

Flannaghan requested the princess join his employer in the salon as soon as possible.

Alesandra didn't think it would be a good idea to keep him waiting. There wasn't time to braid her hair, and she didn't want the bother anyway. She didn't have a lady's maid while living at the convent and found the formality a nuisance. She had learned to do for herself.

She dismissed Valena, told Flannaghan she would be downstairs in just a moment, and then hurried over to her valise. She pulled out the notecard her guardian had given her, brushed her hair back over her shoulders, and then left the room.

She was ready to take on the dragon. Colin was waiting for her in the salon. He stood in front of the hearth, facing the door, with his hands clasped behind his back. She was relieved to notice he wasn't scowling. He looked only mildly irritated with her now.

She stood in the entrance, waiting for him to invite her to join him. He didn't say a word for a long while. He simply stood there staring at her. She thought he might be trying to get his thoughts under control. Or his temper. She could feel herself blushing over his close scrutiny, then realized she was being just as rude scrutinizing him.

He was a difficult man not to notice. He was so attractive. He had a hard, fit body. He was dressed in fawn-colored riding buckskins, polished brown high boots, and a sparkling white shirt. His personality came through in the way he wore his apparel, she decided, because Colin had left the top button of his shirt undone, and he wasn't wearing one of those awful starched cravats. He was obviously a bit of a rebel who lived in a society of conservatives. His hair wasn't at all fashionable. It was quite long-shoulder length at least, she guessed-although she couldn't tell the exact length because he had it secured behind his neck with a leather thong. Colin was definitely an independent man. He was tall, muscular in both shoulders and thighs, and he reminded Alesandra of one of those fierce-looking frontiersmen she'd seen charcoal sketches of in the dailies. Colin was wonderfully handsome, yes, but weathered-looking too. What saved him from being unapproachable, she decided, was the warmth of his smile when he was amused.

He wasn't amused now.

"Come in and sit down, Alesandra. We have to talk."

"Certainly," she immediately replied.

Flannaghan suddenly appeared at her side. He took hold of her elbow to assist her across the room. "That isn't necessary," Colin called out. "Alesandra can walk without assistance."

"But she's a princess," Flannaghan reminded his employer. "We must show her every courtesy."

Colin's glare told the butler to cease his comments. Flannaghan reluctantly let go of Alesandra.

He looked crushed. Alesandra immediately tried to soothe his injured feelings. "You're a very thoughtful man, Flannaghan," she praised.

The butler immediately latched on to her elbow again. She let him guide her over to the brocaded settee. Once she was seated, Flannaghan knelt down and tried to smooth her skirts for her. She wouldn't allow his help.

"Is there anything more you require, Princess?" he asked. "Cook will have your breakfast ready in just a few more minutes," he added with a nod. "Would you care for a cup of chocolate while you wait?"

"No, thank you," she replied. "I do need a pen and inkwell," she added. "Would you be kind enough to fetch them for me?"

Flannaghan ran out of the salon to see to the errand.

"I'm surprised he didn't genuflect," Colin drawled out.

His jest made her smile. "You're fortunate to have such a kindhearted servant, Colin."

He didn't reply. Flannaghan came rushing back inside with the items she requested. He placed the pen and inkwell on a narrow side table, then picked up the table and carried it over to her.

She thanked him, of course, and that bit of praise made him blush with pleasure.

"Close the doors behind you, Flannaghan," Colin ordered. "I don't want to be interrupted."

He was sounding irritated again. Alesandra let out a little sigh. Colin wasn't a very accommodating man.

She turned her full attention to her host. "I've upset you. I really am sorry…"

He wouldn't let her finish her apology. "You haven't upset me," he snapped.

She would have laughed if she'd been alone. The man was upset, and that was that. His jaw was clenched, and if that wasn't a giveaway to his true feelings, she didn't know what was.

"I see," she agreed just to placate him.

"However," he began in a clipped, no-nonsense tone of voice, "I believe we should settle a few pertinent issues here and now. Why in heaven's name did you think I would marry you?"

"Your father said you would."

He didn't even try to hide his exasperation. "I'm a grown man, Alesandra. I make my own decisions."

"Yes, of course you're a grown man," she agreed. "But you'll always be his son, Colin. It's your duty to do whatever he wants you to do. Sons must obey their fathers, no matter how old they are."

"That's ridiculous."

She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. Colin held on to his patience. "I don't know what kind of bargain you struck with my father, and I'm sorry if he made promises on my behalf, but I want you to understand I have no intention of marrying you."

She lowered her gaze to the notecard she held in her hands. "All right," she agreed.

Her quick agreement, given in such a casual tone of voice, made him suspicious. "You aren't angry over my refusal?"

"No, of course not."

She glanced up and smiled. Colin looked confused. "I'm disappointed," she admitted. "But certainly not angry. I barely know you. It would be unreasonable for me to be angry."

"Exactly," he agreed with a quick nod. "You don't know me. Why would you wish to marry me if you…"

"I believe I've already explained, sir. Your father instructed me to marry you."

"Alesandra, I want you to understand…"

She wouldn't let him finish. "I accept your decision, sir."

He smiled in spite of himself. Princess Alesandra looked so forlorn.

"You won't have any trouble finding someone suitable. You're a very beautiful woman, Princess."

She shrugged. She was obviously unaffected by his compliment.

"I imagine it was difficult for you to ask me," he began then.

She straightened her shoulders. "I didn't ask," she announced. "I simply explained to you what your father's primary objective was."

"His primary objective?"

He sounded as though he was laughing at her. She could feel herself blushing with embarrassment. "Do not mock me, sir. This discussion is difficult enough without having you ridicule me."

Colin shook his head. His voice was gentle when he spoke again. "I wasn't mocking you," he said. "I realize this is difficult for you. I hold my father responsible for both your discomfort and mine. He will not give up on trying to find a wife for me."

"He suggested I not say anything at all about marriage to you. He said you tend to develop a rash whenever that word is used in your presence. He wanted me to give you time to get to know me before he explained what he wanted. He thought… you might learn to like me."

"Look, I already like you," he said. "But I'm not in a position to marry anyone right now. In five years, according to my schedule, I'll be in a strong financial position and will be able to take a wife."

"Mother Superior would like you, Colin," Alesandra announced. "She loves schedules. She believes life would be chaotic without them."

"How long did you live in this convent?" he asked, anxious to turn the topic away from marriage.

"Quite a while," she answered. "Colin, I'm sorry, but I can't wait for you. I really must get married right away. It's unfortunate," she added with a sigh. "I believe you would make an acceptable husband."

"And how would you know that?"

"Your father told me so."

He did laugh then. He couldn't help himself. Lord, she was an innocent. He noticed she was clutching the notecard in her hands then and immediately forced himself to stop. She was already embarrassed. His laughter was only adding to her discomfort.

"I'll talk to my father and save you that ordeal," he promised. "I know he put these ideas into your head. He can be very convincing, can't he?"

She didn't answer him. She kept her gaze on her lap. Colin suddenly felt like a cad because he had disappointed her. Hell, he thought to himself. He wasn't making any sense.

"Alesandra, this bargain you made with my father surely involved a profit. How much was it?"

He let out a low whistle after she told him the exact amount. He leaned back against the mantel and shook his head. He was furious with his father now. "Well, by God, you aren't going to be disappointed. If he promised you a near fortune, then he's going to pay. You kept your part of the bargain…"

She raised one hand for silence, unconsciously mimicking the mother superior's behavior.

Colin obeyed without even realizing it. "You misunderstand, sir. Your father didn't promise me anything. I promised him. He wouldn't accept my bargain, however, and was in fact appalled I even suggested paying for a husband."

Colin laughed again. He was certain she was jesting with him.

"This isn't at all humorous, Colin. I must get married in three weeks' time, and your father is simply helping me. He's my guardian, after all."

Colin needed to sit down. He walked over to the leather chair facing the settee and sprawled out.

"You're going to get married in three weeks?"

"Yes," she replied. "And that is why I asked your father's assistance."

"Alesandra…"

She waved the notecard in the air. "I asked for assistance in preparing a list."

"A list of what?"

"Suitable candidates."

"And?" he prodded.

"He told me to marry you."

Colin leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees, and frowned at her. "Listen carefully," he ordered. "I'm not marrying you."

She immediately reached for the pen. She dipped it into the inkwell, then drew a line across the top of her notecard.

"What did you just do?"

"I crossed you off."

"Off what?"

She looked exasperated. "My list. Do you happen to know the Earl of Templeton?"

"Yes."

"Is he a good man?"

"Hell, no," he muttered. "He's a rake. He used his sister's dowry to pay off a few of his gambling debts, but he still haunts the tables every night."

Alesandra immediately dipped the pen into the inkwell again and scratched through the second name on her list. "It's peculiar your father didn't know about the earl's gambling vice."

"Father doesn't go to the clubs anymore."

"That would explain it," she replied. "Heavens, this is turning out to be more difficult than I anticipated."

"Alesandra, why are you in such a hurry to get married?"

Her pen was poised in the air. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, her concentration directed on her notecard.

He repeated his question. "You told me you had to get married in three weeks' time. I wondered why."

"The church," she explained with a quick nod. "Colin, do you know the Marquess of Townsend perchance? Does he have any horrible vices?"

His patience was gone. "Put the list down, Alesandra, and start answering my questions. What in God's name does the church have to do with…"

She interrupted him. "Your mother already reserved it. She made all the other arrangements, too. She's the most wonderful lady, and heavens, she's so organized. It's going to be a beautiful wedding. I do hope you can attend. I've decided against a large wedding, much to your parents' frustration, and settled instead on small and intimate."

Colin wondered if his father realized his ward was out of her mind. "Let me get this straight," he began. "You've taken care of all the arrangements without a man to…"

"I can't take the credit," she interrupted. "As I just explained, your mother did all the work."

"Aren't you approaching this from the wrong angle? It's usual to find a groom first, Alesandra."

"I agree with you, but this isn't a usual circumstance. I simply must get married right away."

"Why?"

"Please don't think me rude, but since you've decided against marrying me, I think it's best you not know anything more. I would still appreciate your help, however, if you're inclined to give it."

Colin didn't have any intention of letting the matter drop. He would find out the real reason why she needed to get married, and he'd find out before the day was over. He decided to use a little trickery now and ease back to his question later.

"I would be happy to assist you," he said. "What is it you need?"

"Would you please give me the names of five-no, make that six-suitable men? I'll interview them this week. By Monday next, I should have settled on someone."

God, she was exasperating. "What are your requirements?" he inquired mildly.

"First, he must be honorable," she began. "Second, he must be titled. My father would twist in his grave if I married a commoner."

"I'm not titled," he reminded her.

"You were knighted. That qualifies."

He laughed. "You've left out the most important requirement, haven't you? He'll have to be wealthy."

She frowned at him. "I believe you've just insulted me," she announced. "Still, you don't know me at all well and for that reason I'll forgive you your cynicism."

"Alesandra, most women looking for husbands want to live a comfortable life," he countered.

"Rich isn't important to me," she replied. "You're as poor as a serf and I was willing to marry you, remember?"

He chafed over her bit of honesty. "How would you know if I'm rich or poor?"

"Your father told me. Do you know, Colin, when you frown, you remind me of a dragon. I used to call Sister Mary Felicity a dragon, though I was too cowardly to say it to her face. Your frown is every bit as fierce, and I do believe the nickname is more appropriate for you."

Colin refused to let her bait him. He wasn't going to let her switch topics either. "What else do you require in a husband?"

"He'll have to leave me alone," she replied after a moment's consideration. "I don't want a man who… hovers."

He laughed again. He immediately regretted that action when he saw her expression. Hell, he'd hurt her feelings. Her eyes got all teary, too.

"I don't particularly want a wife who would hover either," he admitted, thinking his agreement would ease her hurt.

She wouldn't look at him. "Would a rich woman appeal to you?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "I determined a long time ago to make my own fortune without any outside help, and I mean to keep that promise to myself. My brother has offered to lend my partner and me funds and of course my father has also offered to help."

"But you refused them," she countered. "Your father believes you're too independent."

Colin decided to change the subject. "Will your husband share your bed?"

She refused to answer him. She lifted her pen again. "Begin your list, please."

"No."

"But you said you would help me."

"That was before I realized you were out of your mind."

She put the pen back on the table and stood up. "Please excuse me."

"Where are you going?"

"To pack."

He chased her to the door. He took hold of her arm and turned her around to face him. Damn, he really had upset her. He hated to see the tears in her eyes, especially since he knew he was the cause of her distress.

"You're going to stay here until I decide what to do with you," he said, his voice gruff.

"I decide my future, Colin, not you. Let go of me. I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"You're staying here."

He added a glare to his order so she would back down. It didn't work. She wouldn't be intimidated. In truth, she glared back. "You don't want me, remember?" she challenged.

He smiled. "Oh, I want you all right. I'm just not willing to marry you. I'm being completely honest with you and I can see from your blush I've embarrassed you. You're too damn young and innocent for this ridiculous game you've taken on. Let my father…"

"Your father is too ill to help me," she interrupted. She jerked her arm away from his hold. "But there are others who will come to my aid. You needn't be concerned."

He couldn't explain why he felt insulted, but he did. "Since my father is too ill to see to his duty of looking out for you, the task falls on my shoulders."

"No, it doesn't," she argued. "Your brother, Caine, will act as my guardian. He's next in line."

"But Caine's conveniently ill too, isn't he?"

"I don't believe there is anything convenient about his illness, Colin."

He didn't argue the point with her, and in fact pretended he hadn't heard her. "And as your guardian during this period of family illness, I will decide where you go and when. Don't give me that defiant look, young lady," he ordered. "I always get my way. By nightfall I'll know why you think you have to get married so quickly."

She shook her head. He grabbed hold of her chin and held her steady. "God, but you're stubborn." He tweaked her nose, then let go of her. "I'll be back in a few hours. Stay put, Alesandra. If you leave, I'll come after you."

Raymond and Stefan were both waiting in the foyer. Colin walked past the two guards, then stopped. "Don't let her leave," he ordered.

Raymond immediately nodded. Alesandra's eyes widened. "They're my guards, Colin," she called out. Damn, he'd treated her like a child when he'd tweaked her nose and talked so condescendingly to her, and now she was behaving like one.

"Yes, they are your guards," Colin agreed. He opened the front door, then turned back to her. "But they answer to me. Isn't that right, boys?"

Both Raymond and Stefan immediately nodded. She was a bit piqued, and almost blurted out her opinion of his high-handed methods.

Dignity and decorum. The words echoed in her mind. She could feel the mother superior standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. It was a ridiculous feeling, of course, for the nun was an ocean away. Still, her lectures had taken root. Alesandra forced a serene expression and simply nodded agreement.

"Will you be gone long, Colin?" she inquired, her voice quite calm.

He thought she sounded hoarse. She looked like she wanted to shout at him. Colin smiled. "Probably," he answered. "Will you miss me?"

She matched his smile. "Probably not."

The door closed on his laughter.

Chapter 4

She didn't miss him at all. Colin didn't come home until well after the dinner hour. Alesandra was thankful he stayed away because she didn't want his interference, and the man certainly did seem to interfere.

She was kept busy with her appointments. She spent the remainder of the morning and all afternoon entertaining her father's old friends. They called, one after another, to pay their respects and to offer her assistance while she was in London. Most of the visitors were titled members of the ton, but there were also artists and laborers as well. Alesandra's father had had a wide range of friends. He had been an excellent judge of character, a trait she believed she had inherited, and she found she liked every one of his friends.

Matthew Andrew Dreyson was her last appointment. The elderly, potbellied man had been her father's trusted agent in England, and he still handled some of Alesandra's assets. Dreyson had held the coveted position of subscriber on the rolls of Lloyd's of London for over twenty-three years. His standards as a broker were of the very highest. He wasn't just ethical; he was also clever. Alesandra's father had instructed his wife, who in turn had instructed his daughter, that in the event of his death Dreyson should be leaned upon for financial advice.

Alesandra invited him to stay for dinner. Flannaghan and Valena served the meal. The lady's maid did most of the work, however, as Flannaghan was busy listening to the financial discussion at the table. He was astonished that a woman would have extensive knowledge of the marketplace, and made a mental note to tell his employer what he had overheard.

Dreyson spent a good two hours going over various recommendations. Alesandra added one of her own, then completed her transactions. The broker used only her initials when placing his slips before the underwriters at Lloyd's, because it was simply unthinkable for a woman to invest in any venture. Even Dreyson would have been appalled if he'd known the suggestions she gave him actually came from her, but she understood the man's prejudice against women. She'd gotten around that obstacle by inventing an old friend of the family she called her Uncle Albert. She told Dreyson the man wasn't really related to her, but she held such great affection for him she'd begun to think of him as her relative years ago. To ensure Dreyson wouldn't try to investigate the man, she added the mention that Albert had been a close personal friend of her father's.

Dreyson's curiosity had been appeased by her explanation. He didn't have any qualms about taking stock orders from a man, although he did comment more than once how odd it was that Albert allowed her to sign her initials as his ambassador. He wanted to meet her adviser and honorary relative, but Alesandra quickly explained that Albert was a recluse these days and wouldn't allow company. Since he'd moved to England, he found visitors a distraction to his peaceful daily routine, she lied. Because Dreyson was making a handsome commission on each order he placed with the underwriters, and because Uncle Albert's advice to date had been quite on the mark, he didn't argue with the princess. If Albert didn't wish to meet him, so be it. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate his client. Albert, he decided, was simply eccentric.

After dinner they returned to the salon, where Flannaghan served Dreyson a glass of port. Alesandra sat on the settee across from her guest and listened to several amusing stories about the subscribers who haunted the floors of the Royal Exchange. She would have loved to see for herself the gleaming hardwood floors cluttered with wooden stalls they called boxes where the underwriters conducted their business. Dreyson told her about a quaint custom that had begun way back in 1710, referred to as the Caller in the Room. A waiter, he explained, known as the Kidney, would step up into what looked very like a pulpit and read the newspapers in a loud, clear voice while the audience of gentlemen sat at their tables and sipped their drinks. Alesandra had to be content to picture the events in her mind, however, as women were not allowed in the Royal Exchange.

Colin came home just as Dreyson was finishing his drink. He tossed his cloak in Flannaghan's direction, then strode into the salon. He came to a quick stop when he spotted the visitor.

Both Alesandra and Dreyson stood up. She introduced the agent to her host. Colin already knew who Dreyson was. He was impressed, too, for Dreyson's reputation was well known in the shipping community. The broker was considered by many to be a financial genius. Colin admired the man. In the cutthroat business of the market, Dreyson was one of the very few who put his clients' affairs above his own profits. He was actually honorable, and Colin considered that a remarkable quality in an agent.

"Have I interrupted an important meeting?" he asked.

"We were finished with our business," Dreyson replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," the broker continued. "I've been following the progress of your company and I must compliment you. From ownership of three ships to over twenty in just five years' time is quite impressive, sir."

Colin nodded. "My partner and I try to stay competitive," he said.

"Have you considered offering shares to outsiders, sir? Why, I myself would be interested in investing in such a sound venture."

Colin's leg was throbbing painfully. He shifted positions, winced, and then shook his head. He wanted to sit down, prop his injured leg up, and drink until the ache went away. He wasn't about to pamper himself, however, and shifted positions again until he was leaning against the side of the settee, then forced himself to think about the conversation he was engaged in with the agent.

"No," he announced. "The shares in the Emerald Shipping Company are fifty-fifty between Nathan and me. We aren't interested in outsiders gaining possession."

"If you ever change your mind…"

"I won't."

Dreyson nodded. "Princess Alesandra has explained you are acting as her temporary guardian during the family illness."

"That is correct."

"You've been given quite an honor," Dreyson said. He paused to smile at Alesandra. "Protect her well, sir. She's a rare treasure."

Alesandra was embarrassed by Dreyson's praise. Her attention was turned, however, when the broker asked Colin how his father was doing.

"I've just seen him," Colin replied. "He's really been quite ill, but he's on the mend now."

Alesandra couldn't hide her surprise. She turned to Colin. "You didn't…" She stopped herself just in time. She was about to blurt out the obvious fact that Colin hadn't believed her and had in fact tried to catch his father in a lie. She found his behavior shameful. Private affairs, however, should never be discussed in front of business associates. She wasn't about to break that sacred rule, no matter how pricked she was.

"I didn't what?" Colin asked. His grin suggested he knew what she was about to say.

She kept her expression serene, but the look in her eyes had turned frigid.

"You didn't get too close to your father or your mother, did you?" she asked. "I believe the illness might be the catching kind," she explained to Dreyson.

"Might be?" Colin was choking on his laughter.

Alesandra ignored him. She kept her gaze directed on the agent. "Colin's older brother visited his father for just an hour or two several days ago, and now he and his dear wife are both ill. I would have warned the man, of course, but I had gone out riding, and by the time I returned, Caine had come and gone."

Dreyson expressed his sympathy over the family's plight. Both Alesandra and Colin walked with the agent to the entrance. "I'll return in three days, if that fits your schedule, Princess Alesandra, with the papers ready for your signature initials."

The broker left a moment later. Colin closed the door after him. He turned around and found Alesandra just a foot away, glaring up at him. Her hands were settled on her hips.

"You owe me an apology," she announced.

"Yes, I do."

"When I think how you… you do?"

The bluster went out of her anger. Colin smiled. "Yes, I do," he said again. "I didn't believe you when you said my brother and my father were both too ill to watch out for you."

"You had to find out for yourself, didn't you?"

He ignored the anger in her voice. "I admit I believed it was all a scheme," he told her. "And I really thought I'd be bringing my father back with me."

"For what purpose?"

He decided to be completely honest. "To take you off my hands, Alesandra."

She tried to hide her hurt feelings from him. "I'm sorry my staying here is such an inconvenience for you."

He let out a sigh. "You shouldn't take this personally. It's just that I'm swamped with business matters now and I don't have time to play guardian."

Colin turned to his butler before she could tell him she most certainly did take his remarks personally.

"Flannaghan, get me a drink. Something hot. It was damned cold riding today."

"Serves you right," Alesandra interjected. "Your suspicious nature is going to get you into trouble someday."

He leaned down until his face was just inches away from hers. "My suspicious nature has kept me alive, Princess."

She didn't know what he meant by that remark. She didn't like the way he was frowning at her either, and decided to leave him alone. She turned to go up the stairs. Colin followed her. He could hear her muttering something under her breath, but he couldn't catch any clear words. His concentration was too scattered to pay much attention to her remarks anyway. He was thoroughly occupied trying not to notice the gentle sway of her hips or acknowledge how enticing he found her sexy little backside.

She heard a loud sigh behind her and knew he was following her up the stairs. She didn't turn around when she asked, "Did you look in on Caine, too, or did you accept your father's word that your brother was also ill?"

"I looked in on him."

She whirled around to frown at him. She almost bumped into him. Since she was on the step above, they were now eye to eye.

She noticed how tanned his face was, how hard his mouth looked, how his eyes sparkled green with his incredible smile.

He noticed the sexy freckles on the bridge of her nose.

Alesandra didn't like the path her thoughts were taking. "You're covered with dust, Colin, and probably smell like your horse. You need a bath."

He didn't like her tone of voice. "You need to quit glaring at me," he ordered, his voice every bit as curt as hers had been. "A ward shouldn't treat her guardian with such disrespect."

She didn't have a ready comeback for that statement of fact. Colin was her guardian for the time being, and she probably should be respectful. She didn't want to agree with him, however, and all because he had made it perfectly clear he didn't want her there.

"Is your brother feeling better?"

"He's half dead," he told her quite cheerfully.

"You don't like Caine?"

He laughed. "Of course I like my brother."

"Then why did you sound so happy when you said he was half dead?"

"Because he really is sick and isn't in league with my father and his schemes."

She shook her head at him, turned around again, and ran up the rest of the steps. "Is his wife feeling any better?" she called over her shoulder.

"She isn't as green as Caine is," Colin answered. "Thankfully their little girl wasn't exposed. She and Sterns stayed on in the country."

"Who is Sterns?"

"Their butler-turned-nanny," he explained. "Caine and Jade will remain in London until they're recovered. My mother's feeling better, but my sisters still can't keep anything in their stomachs. Isn't it odd, Alesandra, that you didn't get sick?"

She wouldn't look at him. She knew she was responsible and hated having to admit it. "Actually, now that I think about it, I was a little bit ill on the journey to England," she remarked casually.

He laughed. "Caine's calling you The Plague."

She turned around to look at him again. "I didn't deliberately make everyone sick. Does he really blame me?"

"Yes." He deliberately lied just to tease her.

Her shoulders slumped. "I had hoped to move in with your brother and his wife tomorrow."

"You can't."

"Now you think you're going to be stuck with me, don't you?"

She waited for his denial. A gentleman, after all, would have said something gallant, even if it was a lie, just to be polite.

"Alesandra, I am stuck with you."

She glared at him for being so honest. "You might as well accept the situation and try to be pleasant."

She hurried down the hallway and went into his study. He leaned against the door frame and watched her collect her papers from the table by the hearth.

"You aren't really upset because I didn't believe my family was ill, are you?"

She didn't answer him. "Did your father talk to you about my circumstances?"

The fear in her eyes surprised him. "He wasn't up to a long talk."

She visibly relaxed.

"But you're going to tell me about your circumstances, aren't you?"

He kept his voice low, soothing. She still reacted as though he'd just shouted at her. "I would prefer your father explain.",

"He can't. You will."

"Yes," she finally agreed. "I will have to be the one to tell you. You're blocking Flannaghan's way," she added, her relief obvious over the interruption.

"Princess Alesandra, you have a visitor. Neil Perry, the Earl of Hargrave, is waiting in the salon to speak to you."

"What does he want?" Colin asked.

"Neil is Victoria 's older brother," she explained. "I sent a note this morning requesting him to call."

Colin walked over to his desk and leaned against it. "Does he know you want to question him about his sister?"

Alesandra handed Flannaghan her papers, asked him to please put them in her room, and then turned back to Colin. "I didn't exactly explain the purpose of the meeting."

She hurried out of the room so Colin wouldn't have time to berate her for using trickery. She ignored his summons to come back inside and went down the hallway to her room. She had made a list of questions to ask Neil and she didn't want to forget any of them. The sheet of paper was on her nightstand. She folded it, smiled at Flannaghan, who was straightening her bed covers, and hurried downstairs.

Flannaghan wanted to announce her. She wouldn't let him. Neil was standing just inside the salon. He turned when Alesandra reached the foyer and bowed low in greeting.

"I do appreciate you coming so soon," she began as soon as she had finished with her curtsy.

"You mentioned the matter you wished to discuss was quite important, Princess. Have we met before? I feel sure that if we had met, I certainly would have remembered."

Victoria 's brother was trying to be charming, Alesandra supposed, but the smile he gave her looked more like a sneer. The Earl of Hargrave was only an inch or two taller than she was and he held himself so rigid it appeared his clothing had been starched stiff. Alesandra couldn't see any resemblance in his thin face to Victoria other than the color of his eyes. They were the same shade of brown. Victoria had gotten the pleasing features in the family, however. Her nose was short, straight. Neil's was long, very like a hawk's, and extremely narrow. Alesandra thought he was a thoroughly unattractive man and she found his nasal voice to be grating.

Appearances, she reminded herself, meant nothing. She prayed Neil had a sweet disposition like his sister. He looked persnickety. She hoped he wasn't.

"Please come inside and sit down. I wanted to talk to you about a matter that concerns me and beg your indulgence with a few questions."

Neil nodded agreement before turning to walk across the room. He waited until she had taken her place on the settee and then sat down in the adjacent chair. He folded one leg over the other, stacked his hands on top of one knee. His nails, she noticed, were quite long for a man and immaculately manicured.

"I've never been inside this town house," Neil remarked. He looked around the room. There was scorn in his voice when he added, "The location is marvelous, of course, but I understand it's just a rental."

"Yes, it is," she agreed.

"It's terribly small, isn't it? I would think a princess would require more suitable quarters."

Neil was a snob. Alesandra was trying not to dislike the man, but his remarks were making it difficult. He was Victoria 's brother, however, and Alesandra needed his assistance in locating her friend.

"I'm very happy here," she remarked, forcing a pleasant tone of voice. "Now then, sir, I wanted to talk to you about your sister."

He didn't like hearing that announcement. His smile faded immediately. "My sister is not a topic for discussion, Princess Alesandra."

"I hope to change your mind," she countered. "I met Victoria last year," she added with a nod. "She stayed at the Holy Cross convent with me when she became ill on her journey. Did she by chance mention me?"

Neil shook his head. "My sister and I rarely spoke to one another."

"Really?" Alesandra couldn't hide her surprise.

Neil let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. " Victoria lived with our mother. I have my own estate," he added, a hint of a boast in his voice. "Of course, now that she's gone to God knows where, mother has moved in with me."

He started tapping his fingers on his knee, his impatience apparent.

"I apologize if this is difficult for you to talk about, but I'm concerned about Victoria. I don't believe she would ever run off and get married."

"Don't be concerned," he countered. "She isn't worth anyone's concern. She made her bed…"

"I don't understand your callous attitude. Victoria could be in trouble."

"And I don't understand your attitude, Princess," Neil retaliated. "You haven't been in England long and you therefore don't understand what a scandal can do to one's social standing. My mother was almost destroyed by Victoria 's thoughtless actions. Why, for the first time in fifteen years, she wasn't invited to Ashford's bash. The humiliation sent her to bed for a month. My sister threw it all away. She is and always has been a fool. She could have married anyone she wanted. I know of at least three titled gentlemen she turned down. Victoria only thought about herself, of course. While our mother was worrying and fretting over a good match, she was sneaking out the back door to meet her lover."

Alesandra struggled to hold on to her temper. "You can't know that for certain," she argued. "As for the scandal…"

She never got to finish her argument. "You obviously don't care about a scandal either," Neil muttered. "No wonder you and my sister got along so well."

"Exactly what are you implying?" she asked.

"You're living in the same house with an unattached man," he said. "There're whispers going around already."

Alesandra took a deep breath in an attempt to control her temper. "Exactly what are these whispers?"

"Some are saying Sir Colin Hallbrook is your cousin. Others believe he's your lover."

She dropped her list in her lap, then stood up. "Your sister rarely mentioned you to me and now I understand why. You're a despicable man, Neil Perry. If I weren't so concerned about Victoria 's welfare, I would throw you out this minute."

"I'll take care of that chore for you."

Colin made the announcement from the entrance. He was leaning against the door frame, his arms folded casually across his chest. He looked relaxed, but his eyes… oh, Lord, his eyes showed his fury. Alesandra had never seen Colin so angry. She shivered in reaction.

Neil looked startled by the interruption. He quickly recovered, awkwardly unfolded his legs, and stood up.

"Had I known the true reason you wished to see me, I never would have come here. Good day, Princess Alesandra."

She couldn't take her gaze off Colin long enough to speak to Neil. She had the oddest notion Colin was getting ready to pounce.

The notion proved true. Flannaghan held the door open for their guest. Colin moved to stand next to his butler. His expression was masked, and for that reason Neil had no idea that he really meant to throw him outside.

If she'd blinked, she would have missed it. Neil only had time to let out a squeal of indignation that sounded very like a pig's howl of distress. Colin grabbed him by the hack of his neck and the back of the waistband to his trousers, lifted him up, and threw him outside. Neil landed in the gutter.

Alesandra let out a little gasp, picked up her skirts, and went running to the front door. Flannaghan let her see the Earl of Hargrave sprawled out on the street before he shut the door.

She whirled around to confront Colin. "Now what am I going to do? I doubt he'll come back here after the way you tossed him out, Colin."

"The man insulted you. I can't allow that."

"But I need him to answer my questions."

He shrugged. She threaded her fingers through her hair in an agitated action. She couldn't decide if she was pleased or pricked at Colin. "What did I do with my list?"

"Which list, Princess?" Flannaghan asked.

"The list of questions I was going to ask Neil."

She went hurrying back into the salon, bent down, and found the sheet of paper under the settee.

Flannaghan and Colin watched her. "Princess Alesandra is a firm believer in lists, milord," Flannaghan said.

Colin didn't make any remark on that bit of information. He frowned at Alesandra when she passed him and went up the steps.

"I won't allow you to invite Perry back here, Alesandra," he called out, still burning with irritation over the pompous man's snide remarks.

"I certainly will invite him back," she called over her shoulder. "This is as much my home as it is yours while you're acting as my guardian. I'm determined to find out if Victoria is all right, Colin, and if that means putting up with her horrid brother, then put up with him I will."

Colin turned to his butler. "Don't let him in. Understand?"

"Perfectly, milord. It is our duty to protect our princess from slanderers."

Alesandra had already turned the corner above the stairs and therefore didn't hear Colin's order or Flannaghan's agreement. She was thoroughly weary of men in general and Neil Perry in particular. She decided to put Victoria 's brother out of her mind for the time being. Tomorrow would be soon enough to decide what to do next.

Valena was waiting for her mistress in her bedroom. She and Flannaghan had already moved Alesandra's things from Colin's room into the adjoining chamber.

Alesandra sat down on the side of the bed and kicked her shoes off. "It looks as though we're going to have to stay here a few more days, Valena."

"Your trunks arrived, Princess. Shall I begin unpacking?"

"Tomorrow's soon enough. I know it's still early, but I believe I'll go to bed now. You needn't stay to help me."

Valena left her alone. Alesandra took her time getting ready for bed. She felt quite drained from today's meetings. Speaking to so many of her father's friends and hearing the wonderful stories about him made her miss both her father and her mother. Alesandra might have been able to control her mood if Neil hadn't proven to be such a self-serving, cruel-hearted man. She wanted to shout at the man and tell him he should be thankful he had a mother and a sister to love. Perry wouldn't understand, or care, she imagined, for he was like so many other people she'd met who took their families for granted.

Alesandra gave in to self-pity within minutes. She didn't have anyone who truly cared about her. Colin had let it be known she was just a nuisance, and her real guardian, though far more gentle and understanding than his son, probably considered her a nuisance, too.

She wanted her mama. Her memories of firmly life didn't comfort her now. They made her ache with her loneliness. She went to bed a few minutes later, hid under the covers, and cried herself to sleep. She awakened in the middle of the night, didn't feel any better about herself or her circumstances, and, heaven help her, she started weeping again.

Colin heard her. He was also in bed. He couldn't get to sleep, however. The throbbing in his leg kept him wide awake. Alesandra wasn't making much noise, but Colin was attuned to every sound in the house. He immediately tossed the covers aside and got out of bed. He was halfway across the chamber before he realized he was stark naked. He put on a pair of pants, reached for the doorknob, and then stopped.

He wanted to comfort her, yet at the same time he knew he would probably be embarrassed because he'd heard her crying. The sounds were muffled, indicating to him she was trying to be as quiet as possible. She didn't want to be overheard, and he knew he should respect her privacy.

"Hell," he muttered to himself. He didn't know his own mind anymore. He wasn't usually so indecisive. His instincts were telling him to distance himself from Alesandra. She was a complication he wasn't ready to take on.

He turned around and went back to his own bed. He finally admitted the real truth to himself. He wasn't just protecting Alesandra from embarrassment. No, he was also protecting her from his own lecherous ideas. She was in bed, probably only wearing a thin nightgown, and, damn it all, if he got close, he knew he would touch her.

Colin gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. If the little innocent next door had any idea what he was thinking, she would have her guards doing sentry duty around her bed.

Lord, he wanted her.

~

He killed a whore. It had been a mistake. It hadn't been at all satisfying. The rush of absolute power and excitement were missing. It took him days of reflecting upon the problem before he came up with a suitable explanation. The surge came only after a satisfying hunt. The whore had been too easy, and although her screams excited him, it still wasn't the same. No, no, it was the cleverness he had to call upon to lure the bait. It was the seduction of the innocent by the master. Those were the key elements that made all the difference. The whore had been dirty. She didn't deserve to sleep with the others. He tossed her into a ravine and left her for the wild animals.

He needed a lady.

~

Colin was gone by the time Alesandra came downstairs the following morning. Flannaghan and Raymond sat with her at the dining room table while she sorted through the huge stack of invitations that had arrived that morning. Stefan was sleeping now because he'd taken the night watch. Alesandra didn't believe it was necessary for anyone to stay up all night, but Raymond, the senior of the two guards, wouldn't listen to her. Someone always had to be on the alert in case of trouble, Raymond argued, and since she had placed him in charge, she really should let him do things his way.

"But we are in England now," she reminded the guard again.

"The general isn't to be taken lightly," Raymond countered. "We got here, didn't we? He could have sent men on the next available ship."

Alesandra quit arguing with him then and turned her attention to the mound of invitations.

"It's astonishing to me that so many found out so soon I was in London," she remarked.

"I'm not surprised," Flannaghan replied. "I already heard from Cook who heard from the butcher that you're causing quite a stir. I'm afraid there's a bit of gossip attached to your name because you're staying here, but the fact that you have a lady's maid and two guards with you has taken the sting out of the remarks. There's also a rather amusing bit of talk… nonsense really…"

Alesandra was in the process of pulling a note out of an envelope. She paused to look up at Flannaghan. "What bit of nonsense?"

"It's believed by some that you and my employer are related," he explained. "They think Colin's your cousin."

"Neil Perry mentioned that," she said. "He also said that there are others who believe Colin's my lover."

Flannaghan was properly appalled. She reached out and patted his hand. "It's all right. People will believe what they want to believe. Poor Colin. He can barely stand to have me around as it is, and if anyone refers to me as his cousin, heaven only knows what he'll do."

"How can you say such a thing?" Flannaghan asked. "Milord adores having you here."

"I'm impressed, Flannaghan."

"Why is that, Princess?"

"You've just told the most outrageous lie with a straight face."

Flannaghan didn't laugh until she smiled. "Well, he would adore having you here if he wasn't so busy worrying about his ledgers," he remarked.

He was trying to save face, Alesandra supposed. She nodded, pretending agreement, and then turned her attention back to her task. Flannaghan begged to help. She gave him the duty of affixing her seal to the envelopes. Her crest was most unusual. Flannaghan had never seen anything like it. There was a clear outline of a castle and what appeared to be an eagle or falcon atop one turret.

"Does the castle have a name, Princess?" Flannaghan asked, intrigued by the amazing detail.

"It's called Stone Haven. My father and mother were married there."

She answered every question put to her. Flannaghan's jovial mood lightened her own. He was incredulous when he heard she owned not one but two castles, and his expression made her laugh. He really was a delightful man.

They worked together all morning long, but when the bell chimed one o'clock Alesandra went upstairs to change her gown. She told Flannaghan only that she was expecting more company and wanted to look her best.

Flannaghan didn't think the princess needed to change a thing. It simply wasn't possible for her to become any more beautiful than she already was.

Colin came home around seven that evening. He was stiff and irritable from sitting at his desk at the shipping offices for such long hours. He carried his heavy ledgers under his arm.

He found his butler sprawled out on the steps leading upstairs. It was Raymond who opened the front door for him.

Flannaghan looked done in. "What happened to you?" Colin asked.

The butler roused himself from his stupor and stood up. "We had company again today. The princess didn't give me any warning. I'm not faulting her, of course, and she did tell me she was going to have callers, but I didn't realize who, and then he was here with his attendants and I spilled the tea Cook prepared. After he left, a dock worker appeared at the door. I thought he was after begging, but Princess Alesandra heard me tell him to go around to the back door and Cook would give him something to eat. She intervened. Why, she was expecting the man, and do you know, milord, she treated him with the same respect as the other."

"What other?" Colin asked, trying to sort through the servant's bizarre explanation.

"The prince regent."

"He was here? I'll be damned."

Flannaghan sat back down on the steps. "If my uncle Sterns gets wind of my disgrace, he'll box my ears."

"What disgrace?"

"I spilled tea on the prince regent's jacket."

"Good for you," Colin replied. "When I can afford it, you're getting a raise."

Flannaghan smiled. He'd forgotten how much his employer disliked the prince regent. "I was quite rattled by his presence, but Princess Alesandra acted as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She was very dignified. The prince regent wasn't his usual pompous self either. He acted like a besotted schoolboy. It was apparent to me he has great affection for the princess."

Alesandra appeared at the landing above. Colin looked up and immediately frowned. A tightness in his chest made him realize he'd quit breathing.

She looked absolutely beautiful. She was dressed in a silver and white gown that shimmered in the light when she moved. The cut of the dress wasn't overly revealing, but there was still a hint of flesh visible at the top of her neckline.

Her hair was pinned up with a thin white ribbon threaded through her curls. Wisps of hair curled at the base of her neck.

She looked breathtakingly beautiful. Every nerve in Colin's body reacted to the sight of her. He wanted to take her into his arms, kiss her, taste her…

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" He snapped out the question in a general's tone of voice. Anger hid his lust-or so he hoped.

Her eyes widened over the hostility in his demand. "To the opera," she answered. "The prince regent insisted I take his box tonight. I'm taking Raymond with me."

"You're staying home, Alesandra," Colin stated.

"Princess, you cannot expect me to go inside the opera and sit near the prince regent," Raymond said, somewhat plaintively for such a large, fearsome man.

"He won't be there, Raymond," she explained.

"I still can't go inside. It wouldn't be proper. I'll wait by the carriage."

"You aren't going anywhere without me," Colin announced. He added a hard glare so she would understand he meant what he said.

Her smile was radiant. He realized then she'd had no intention of dragging Raymond into the opera house. She'd cleverly tricked him into accommodating her.

"Do hurry and change, Colin. We don't want to be late."

"I hate the opera."

He sounded like a little boy complaining about having to eat his vegetables. She didn't have a bit of sympathy for him. She didn't particularly like the opera either, but she wasn't going to admit that fact to him. He'd want to stay home then, and she really couldn't insult the prince regent by not using his box.

"Too bad, Colin. You already gave me your promise to go. Do hurry."

Alesandra lifted the hem of her gown and came down the stairs. Flannaghan watched her with his mouth gaping open. She smiled when she passed him.

"She moves like a princess," Flannaghan whispered to his employer.

Colin smiled. "She is a princess, Flannaghan."

Colin suddenly quit smiling. Alesandra's dress was a little lower on top than he'd realized. Up close he could see the swell of her bosom.

"You're going to have to change your gown before we go anywhere," he announced.

"Why would I want to change?"

He muttered something under his breath. "This gown is too… enticing. Do you want every man there boldly staring at you?"

"Do you think they will?"

"Hell, yes."

She smiled. "Good."

"You want to attract their notice?" He sounded incredulous.

She looked exasperated. "Of course I want to attract their notice. I'm trying to find a husband, remember?"

"You're changing your gown."

"I'll keep my cloak on."

"Change."

Flannaghan's neck was beginning to ache from turning his head back and forth during the heated debate.

"You're being ridiculous," she announced. "And acting terribly old-fashioned."

"I'm your guardian. I'll act any damned way I want to act."

"Colin, be reasonable about this. Valena went to a great deal of trouble and time to get all the wrinkles out."

He didn't let her finish. "You're wasting time."

She shook her head at him. She wasn't going to give in, no matter how intimidating his scowl became.

He walked over to her. Before she knew what he was going to do, he grabbed hold of the bodice of her dress and tried to pull the material up to her chin.

"Every time I think your dress needs some adjustment, I'm going to haul it up, just like this, no matter where we are."

"I'll change."

"I thought you might."

As soon as he let go of her, she turned and ran up the steps. "You're a horrible man, Colin."

He didn't mind her insult. He'd gotten his way, and that was all that mattered. He'd be damned if he'd let the unattached predators ogle her.

It didn't take him long to wash and dress in formal attire. He was back downstairs in less than fifteen minutes.

She took much longer. She was coming down the stairs again when Colin sauntered in from the dining room. He was eating a green apple. He stopped when he saw her on the staircase. His gaze lingered on the bodice of her gown for a long minute, then he nodded his approval. He smiled with satisfaction. She thought he might very well be gloating over his victory. It was apparent he found the forest green gown suitable. It wasn't, though. The cut of the bodice was a deep V, but she'd cleverly stuffed a piece of lace down the middle to appease her guardian.

She didn't choose the gown to deliberately provoke Colin. The dress was the only other option left to her. The other gowns were too wrinkled to wear, and Valena had only just finished getting the creases out of this one.

Colin certainly looked dashing. Black suited him. He tugged on his starched white cravat and devoured his apple at the same time.

He still looked incredibly sexy. The fabric of his jacket was stretched tight across his broad shoulders. His pants were indecently snug, and Alesandra couldn't help but notice the bulge of muscle in his thighs.

Colin seemed preoccupied for most of the ride to their destination. Alesandra sat across from him in the small carriage with her hands folded together in her lap. His legs crowded her into one corner, and in the darkness his size was far more intimidating. So was his silence.

"I didn't realize you were friends with the prince regent," he remarked.

"He isn't my friend. I only just met him today."

"Flannaghan told me the prince was taken with you."

She shook her head. "He was taken with what I am, not who I am."

"Meaning?"

She let out a little sigh before answering. "It was an official call, Colin. The prince came because I'm a princess. He doesn't know me personally at all. Now do you understand?"

He nodded. "Most of society will embrace you because of what you are, Alesandra. I'm pleased you understand the shallowness that may exist in the friendships offered to you. It shows you have maturity."

"Maturity? No, it shows cynicism."

He smiled. "That too."

Several minutes passed in silence. Then Colin spoke again. "Did you like him?"

"Who?"

"The prince."

"I don't know him well enough to form an opinion."

"You're hedging, Alesandra. Tell me the truth."

"I was being diplomatic," she replied. "But I'll give you an honest answer. No, I didn't particularly like him. There, are you happy now?"

"Yes. Your answer proves you're a good judge of character."

"Perhaps the prince has a kind heart," she remarked, feeling guilty because she'd admitted she hadn't liked him.

"He doesn't."

"Why don't you like him?"

"He broke his word-a promise made to my partner," Colin explained. "The prince regent held a large treasury belonging to Nathan's wife, Sara, and after a time he decided to keep it for himself. It was dishonorable."

"That is shameful," she agreed.

"Why didn't you like him?"

"He seemed… full of himself," she admitted.

Colin snorted. "He's full of…" He stopped himself from using the crude word he was thinking of and substituted another. "Vinegar."

The carriage came to a rocking stop in front of the Royal Opera House. Alesandra adjusted her white gloves, her attention fully on Colin. "I never would have allowed him entrance into your home if I'd known what he'd done to your partner. I apologize to you, Colin. Your home is your castle, where only friends should be invited."

"You would have refused him?"

She nodded. He winked at her. Her heart immediately started pounding a wild beat. Dear God, he was a charmer.

Raymond had ridden with the driver in front of the carriage. He jumped down from his perch and opened the door for them.

Colin got out first, then turned to assist Alesandra. Her cloak opened when she reached for his hand. The handkerchief she'd stuffed into the bodice shifted, and when she stepped to the pavement, the lace fell out.

He caught it. He took one look at her provocative neckline and started glaring at her.

He was furious with her. She tried to back away from his frown and almost fell over the curb. Colin grabbed her, then turned her around until she was facing the carriage door. He stuffed the bit of lace back into her dress.

She suffered through the humiliation, matching him frown for frown. Their gazes held for a long minute before she finally gave in and turned away.

Colin adjusted her cloak over her shoulders, hauled her into his side, and turned back to the steps. She guessed she should be thankful he hadn't made a scene, and she didn't think anyone had noticed their little confrontation. He had blocked her from the view of the crowd going inside the opera house. Yes, she should have been thankful. She wasn't, though. Colin was acting like an old man.

"You've spent too much time with your ledgers, sir. You really need to get out more often. Then you'd notice my gown isn't at all inappropriate. It's actually quite prim."

She didn't appreciate his snort of disbelief. She felt like kicking him. "You've taken this duty as guardian to heart, haven't you?"

He kept his arm anchored on her shoulders as they went up the steps. She kept trying to shrug him away from her. Colin was determined to be possessive, however, and she finally gave up.

"Alesandra, my father entrusted me with your care. It doesn't matter if I like this duty or not. I'm your guardian and you'll do as I order."

"It's a pity you aren't more like your father. He's such a sweet, understanding man. You could learn a lesson or two from him."

"When you quit dressing like a trollop, I'll be more understanding," he promised.

Her gasp sounded like a hiccup. "No one has ever dared to call me a trollop."

Colin didn't remark on that outraged statement. He did smile, though.

Neither one said another word to the other for a long, long while. They were escorted to the prince regent's box and took their seats side by side.

The opera house was filled to capacity, but Colin was certain only Alesandra watched the performance. Everyone else watched her.

She pretended not to be aware of their stares. She impressed the hell out of Colin, too. She looked so beautifully composed. Her posture was ramrod straight, and she never once turned her attention from the stage. He could see her hands, however. They were clenched tight in her lap.

He moved a little closer to her. Then he reached over and covered her hands with one of his. She didn't turn her gaze to him, but she latched on to his hand and held tight. They stayed like that through the rest of the performance.

The white starched cravat around his neck was driving him crazy. He wanted to tear the thing off, prop his feet up on the railing overlooking the stage, and close his eyes. Alesandra would probably have heart palpitations if he dared to behave so shamefully. He wouldn't embarrass her, of course, but, God, how he hated all the pretense associated with the ton's affairs.

He hated having to sit in the prince regent's box, too. Nathan would bellow for a week if he found out. His partner disliked their ruler even more than Colin did, for it was his wife who had been cheated out of her inheritance by the not-so-noble prince.

The god-awful opera he was being subjected to didn't improve his cranky disposition. He did close his eyes then, and tried to block out the sounds of screeching coming from the stage.

Alesandra didn't realize until the performance was over that Colin had fallen asleep. She turned to ask him if he had enjoyed the opera as much as she had, but just as she was about to speak, he started to snore. She almost laughed. It took all she had to keep her expression composed. The opera really had been dreadful, and in her heart she wished she could have slept through the ordeal. She would never admit such a thing to Colin, however, for the simple reason that she knew he would gloat.

She nudged him hard with her elbow. Colin came awake with a start.

"You really are impossible," she told him in a whisper.

He gave her a sleepy-eyed grin. "I like to think I am."

It simply wasn't possible to offend him. She gave up trying. She stood up, took hold of her cloak, and turned to leave the box. Colin followed her.

There was a crush of people in the foyer below. Most were waiting to get a closer look at her. Alesandra found herself surrounded by gentlemen begging an introduction. She lost Colin in the shuffle, and when she finally located him again, she saw he was surrounded by ladies. One, a gaudy redheaded woman with exposed bosoms down to her knees, was hanging on Colin's arm. The woman kept licking her upper lip, and Alesandra was reminded of a hungry alley cat that had just spotted a bowl of cream.

Colin appeared to be the woman's snack. Alesandra tried to pay attention to what was being said to her by a gentleman who'd introduced himself as the Earl of something or other, but her gaze kept returning to Colin. He looked very happy with all the attention he was getting, and for some strange reason that notice infuriated Alesandra.

It hit her all at once, this unreasonable burst of jealousy. And, Lord, it was the most horrible feeling. She simply couldn't stand to see the woman's hand on Colin's arm.

She was more disgusted with herself than with Colin. Since the moment she'd arrived in England, she'd been trying to behave the way she thought a princess should behave. The mother superior's two sainted words, dignity and decorum echoed in her mind. Alesandra remembered the nun's warning to avoid spontaneous actions. She'd pointed out over ten examples of trouble that had resulted because of her spur-of-the-moment ideas.

Alesandra let out a sigh. She guessed marching over to Colin's side and ripping that horrible woman's hand off his arm would qualify as a spontaneous action. Further, she knew the gossip tomorrow would make her sorry for her action.

It felt as though the foyer was closing in on her. No one appeared to be in a hurry to leave. More and more people crowded into the tiny area to see who was there and to be seen.

She desperately needed fresh air. She excused herself from the gentleman requesting an audience with her by giving him permission to send her a note, then slowly made her way through the throng of people to the front doors.

She didn't care if Colin followed her or not. She went outside. She paused on the front step, took a deep breath of the not-so-fresh city air, and put on her cloak. Colin's carriage was directly below her. Raymond spotted her right away. He jumped down from his perch, where he'd been waiting with the driver.

Alesandra lifted the hem of her gown and started down the steps. Someone grabbed hold of her arm. She thought it was Colin finally catching up with her. His grip stung. She tried to pull her arm away, then turned to tell him to lessen his hold.

It wasn't Colin. The stranger holding on to her was dressed in black from head to foot. He wore a cap that covered most of his brow. She could barely see his face.

"Let go of me," she commanded.

"You must come home with us now, Princess Alesandra."

A chill settled around her heart. The man had spoken to her in the language of her father's homeland. She understood what was happening then. She tried not to panic. She pulled back and tried to run, but she was captured by another man from behind. He was hurting her with his fierce hold. Alesandra was suddenly too furious to think about the pain. With his friend's assistance, the man started to drag her back toward the side of the building. A third man appeared out of the shadows of the stone columns in front of the opera house and ran down the steps to stop Raymond from interfering. Her guard was charging up the steps to protect her. Raymond landed the first punch, but the man he'd struck only staggered backward. Then he lashed out at her guard with something sharp. Alesandra saw the blood spurting down the side of Raymond's face and started screaming.

A hand clamped down over her mouth, cutting off the sound. She bit her attacker as hard as she could. He let out a howl of pain while he shifted his hold on her.

He was strangling her now. He kept telling her to quit her struggles or he would have to hurt her.

Alesandra was terrified. She couldn't breathe. She kept up her struggle, determined to get away from the horrible men and run to Raymond. She had to help him. He could be bleeding to death, and, dear God, this was all her fault. She should have listened to Raymond when he insisted the general's men would come after her. She should have stayed home… she should have…

She heard Colin before she saw him. A roar of fury unlike anything she'd ever heard before sounded in the darkness. The man anchoring her from behind was suddenly ripped away from her and tossed headfirst into one of the stone pillars. He collapsed to the ground like a discarded apple core.

Alesandra was coughing and gasping for air. The stranger holding on to her arm tried to pull her in front of him to use as a shield against Colin. He wouldn't allow that. He moved so quickly, Alesandra didn't have time to help. Colin's fist slammed into the man's face. Her attacker's cap went flying in one direction, and he went flying down the steps. He landed with a thud at Raymond's feet. Alesandra's guard was fully occupied circling his adversary, his concentration totally centered on the gleaming knife he held in his hand.

Colin moved in from behind. The man turned to lash out at him. Colin kicked the blade out of his hand, moved forward again, and grabbed hold of his arm. He twisted it into an unnatural position. The bone snapped, and that horrid sound was followed by a scream of pain. Colin was not finished with his victim, however. He shoved him headfirst into the back of the carriage.

Alesandra came running down the steps. She used the handkerchief from the bodice of her gown to stem the flow of blood pouring from the deep cut in Raymond's right cheek.

Colin didn't know if there were others ready to strike or not, and in his mind Alesandra wasn't going to be safe until she was home.

"Get inside the carriage, Alesandra. Now."

His voice was harsh with anger. She thought he was furious with her. She hurried to do as he commanded, but tried to take Raymond with her. She put his arm around her shoulder, braced herself for his weight, and whispered for him to lean on her.

"I'll be all right, Princess," Raymond told her. "Get inside. It isn't safe for you here."

Colin pulled her away from the guard. He half lifted, half tossed her into the carriage, then turned to help Raymond.

If the guard had been in any condition to look after Alesandra, Colin would have stayed behind to get some answers out of the bastards who'd dared to touch her. Raymond had lost quite a bit of blood, however, and now looked close to collapse.

Colin let out a low expletive, then got inside. The driver immediately whistled the horses into a full trot.

Alesandra sat next to the guard. "I don't understand why no one helped us," she whispered. "Couldn't they see we were in trouble?"

"You were the only one outside, Princess," Raymond answered. He slumped into the corner of the carriage. "It happened too fast. Why wasn't your escort with you?"

Raymond turned his head to glare at Colin when he asked his question. The handkerchief he held to his cheek was turning bright red. He adjusted the cloth against the cut, then turned to look at her.

She folded her hands together in her lap and lowered her gaze. "This is all my fault," she said. "I was impatient and there was such a crowd inside. I wanted some fresh air. I should have waited."

"Damn right you should have waited."

"Please don't be angry with me, Colin."

"Where the hell was Hillman?"

"The earl you introduced me to before you left me?"

"I didn't leave you," he muttered. "Hillman was introducing you to some of his friends and I turned my back for one minute to say hello to a couple of business associates. Damn it, Alesandra, if you wanted to leave why didn't you tell Hillman to come and get me?"

"Nothing will be served by raising your voice to me. I accept full responsibility for what happened."

She turned to her guard. "Raymond, can you ever forgive me? I should have stayed home. I put you in danger…"

Colin interrupted. "You don't have to hide behind lock and key, Alesandra. You just shouldn't have gone outside without me."

"They would have attacked even if you'd been with me," she countered.

He gave her a speculative look. "Start explaining," he ordered.

"I will explain when you quit shouting at me."

He hadn't been shouting, but she was obviously too upset to notice. She'd taken her white gloves off. He watched as she folded the pair into a square and turned back to Raymond. She ordered Raymond to use the gloves for his bandage now that the handkerchief was saturated with blood.

"Damn it, Alesandra, you could have been hurt."

"And so could you, Colin," she responded. "Raymond needs a physician."

"I'll send Flannaghan over to fetch Winters as soon as we get home."

"Is Winters your personal physician?"

"Yes. Alesandra, did you know the men who attacked?"

"No," she answered. "At least, not by name. I know where they came from, though."

"They're fanatics," Raymond interjected.

Alesandra couldn't bear to look at Colin's frown. She leaned back against the cushion of the seat and closed her eyes. "The men are from my homeland. They want to take me back."

"For what purpose?"

"To marry their bastard general," Raymond answered. "Begging your pardon, Princess, for using that word in your presence, but Ivan is a bastard to be sure."

Colin had to wait to ask additional questions because they'd reached his town house. He wouldn't let Alesandra leave the safety of the carriage until he had the front door opened and had shouted for Stefan. Stefan came outside to assist Raymond, and Colin took hold of Alesandra.

A good hour was spent seeing to Raymond's care. Colin's physician lived just three blocks away and was thankfully home for the evening. Flannaghan brought him back in Colin's carriage.

Sir Winters was a white-haired man with brown eyes, a gentle voice, and an efficient matter.

He believed thugs were responsible for the attack. No one set him straight on that misconception.

"It isn't safe to go anywhere in London anymore, what with the mob of ruffians roaming the streets. Something has got to be done, and soon, before every decent man and woman is killed."

The physician stood in the center of the foyer, his hand on Raymond's jaw as he studied the damage done to his cheek and lamented the condition of London's streets.

Colin suggested Raymond sit at the dining room table. Flannaghan carried in extra candles so the physician would have enough light.

The cut was cleaned with a foul-smelling liquid, then stitched together with black thread. Raymond never once flinched during the painful ordeal. Alesandra flinched for him. She sat next to the guard, and when Winters applied the needle to his flesh, she reached over and took hold of Raymond's hand.

Colin stood in the doorway, watching. His attention was centered on Alesandra. He could see how upset she was. There were tears in her eyes and her shoulders were shaking. Colin fought the urge to go and comfort her.

Alesandra was such a gentle, compassionate woman, and Colin could well see her vulnerability, too. She was whispering something to the guard but he couldn't make out the words. He walked forward, then came to an abrupt stop when he understood what she was saying.

Alesandra was giving her promise that nothing further would happen to the guard. Ivan, she said, would not make such a terrible husband, after all. She told the guard she'd given the matter considerable consideration and had decided to return to her homeland.

Raymond didn't look too happy with her promises. Colin was furious. "You will not decide anything tonight, Alesandra," he commanded.

She turned to look up at him. The anger in his voice surprised her. Why did he care what she decided?

"Yes, Princess," Raymond said, drawing her attention. "Tomorrow will be soon enough to decide what should be done."

Alesandra pretended agreement. She had already made up her mind, however. She wasn't going to let anyone else get hurt because of her. Until tonight she hadn't realized the lengths the general's supporters would go to in order to accomplish their goal. And if Colin hadn't intervened, Raymond might have been killed.

Colin could have been injured, too. Oh, yes, she had made up her mind on the matter.

Winters finished his work, gave instructions, and then took his leave. Colin poured Raymond a goblet full of brandy. The guard downed the contents in one long swallow.

As soon as Raymond went upstairs to bed, Flannaghan took over his nightly ritual of checking all the locks on the windows and doors to make certain the house was secure.

Alesandra tried to go to her bedroom, but Colin intercepted her just as she was reaching for her doorknob. He took hold of her hand and pulled her along with him back to the study. He didn't say a word to her, just nudged her inside and then pulled the door closed behind him.

The time had come to explain in full her unusual circumstances, she supposed. She walked over to the hearth and stood there warming her hands with the heat of the fire Flannaghan had thoughtfully prepared.

Colin watched her, but he didn't say a word. She finally turned around to look at him. He was leaning against the door with his arms folded across his chest. He wasn't frowning and he didn't look at all angry-just thoughtful.

"I put you in danger tonight," she whispered. "I should have explained everything right away."

She waited for him to agree with that statement of fact. He surprised her by shaking his head. "This is as much my fault as yours, Alesandra. I could have insisted you explain your circumstances. I was too caught up in my own affairs to pay much attention to you. I've been remiss as your guardian. That, however, has changed. You're going to tell me everything, aren't you?"

She gripped her hands together. "None of this is your fault, sir. I didn't believe I would be staying here long enough to bother you with my problems, especially after you explained you had no intention of getting married for a long while. I also believed the general would send an ambassador to request my return. I misjudged, you see. I thought he would be civilized. He isn't. He's obviously determined… and desperate."

Tears came into her eyes. She took a deep breath to try to gain control of her emotions. "I'm so sorry for what happened tonight."

Colin took mercy on her. "You weren't responsible."

"They were after me," she argued. "Not Raymond or you."

Colin finally moved. He walked over to the chair behind his desk, sat down, and propped his feet up on the nearby footrest.

"Why does this general want you to come home?"

"It isn't my home," she corrected. "I wasn't even born there. My father was king, you see, until he married my mother. She was English and considered an outsider. Father stepped down so he could marry her and his younger brother, Edward, became ruler. It was all very polite."

Colin didn't remark on her explanation and she didn't have any idea what he was thinking. "Would you like me to continue?" she asked, her worry obvious.

"I want you to explain why the general wants you to come home," he repeated.

"My father was loved by his subjects. They didn't condemn him because he married my mother. In fact, they found it all very romantic. He did give up his kingdom for her, after all, and everyone who met my mother adored her. She was a dear, kindhearted woman."

"Do you resemble your mother in appearance?"

"Yes."

"Then she was also a beautiful woman, wasn't she?"

He had just given her a compliment, but she had difficulty accepting it. Her mother had been so much more than simply beautiful.

"A compliment shouldn't make you frown," Colin remarked.

"My mother was beautiful," she said. "But she also had a pure heart. I wish I was more like her, Colin. My thoughts are rarely pure. I was so angry tonight I wanted to hurt those men."

He found his first smile. "I did hurt them," he reminded her. "Now please continue with your explanation. I'm anxious to hear the rest of this."

"My father's brother died just last year and the country was once again thrown into turmoil. There seems to be a notion held by some that I should come home. The general wants marriage and believes he'll be able to secure the throne if I become his wife."

"Why does he believe that?"

She let out a sigh. "Because I'm the only surviving heir to the throne. Everyone has conveniently forgotten my father abdicated. As I said before, he was well loved by his subjects and that love…"

She didn't go on. Colin was intrigued by the faint blush on her cheeks. "And that love what?" he asked.

"Has been transferred to me," she blurted out. "At least, that is what Sir Richards of your War Department explained to me, and all the letters I've received over the years from the loyalists would confirm his supposition."

Colin straightened in his chair. "You know Sir Richards?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. "He has been quite helpful to me. Why do you look so surprised? Is something wrong? You reacted with quite a startle at the mention of his name."

He shook his head. "How is the head of England's security section involved in this?"

"Then you know Sir Richards too?"

"I work for him."

It was her turn to look startled. And appalled. "But he runs the secret… Colin, if you work for him you must be involved in dangerous work. What do your parents think of this double life you lead? Oh, sir, no wonder you have no wish to marry. Your wife would worry all the time. Yes, she would."

Colin regretted telling her the truth. "I used to work for him," he qualified.

She could tell he was lying to her. The proof was in his eyes. They'd gone… cold, hard. She decided not to argue with him. If he wanted her to think he wasn't involved with the Security Section, she would pretend to believe him.

"How and why did Sir Richards get involved?"

His irritated tone of voice pulled her back to the primary topic. "He came to see me just the day before your father became ill. He and his associates-or superiors, as he referred to them-wish me to marry General Ivan."

"Then he knows the general?"

She shook her head. "He knows of him," she explained. "Sir Richards considers Ivan the lesser of two evils."

Colin let out a low expletive. She pretended she didn't hear it. "Sir Richards told your father the general would be easier to control. England wants the continuation of imports and the general would certainly look upon your country as a friend if I had been convinced by your leaders to marry Ivan. There is another man eager to snatch the throne and Sir Richards believes he's more ruthless. He also believes he wouldn't cooperate with trade agreements."

"So you're the sacrificial lamb, is that right?"

She didn't answer him.

"What did my father say to Sir Richards?"

She started twisting her hands together. "The director can be very persuasive. Your father listened to his argument and then promised to consider the matter. After Richards left, he decided against the marriage."

"Why?"

She lowered her gaze to her hands, saw how red her skin had become, and immediately relaxed her grip. "I cried," she confessed. "I'm ashamed to admit that, but I did cry. I was very upset. Your mother became furious with your father and I was the cause of a heated argument. That made me feel even more miserable. I felt I was disappointing everyone by being selfish. My only excuse is that my parents had such a happy marriage and I wanted to find that same kind of joy. I didn't believe I would ever find love or happiness married to a man who only wanted me for political gain. I've never met the general, but Raymond and Stefan have told me stories about him. If half of what they said is true, he's a very self-indulgent man."

Alesandra paused to take a deep breath. "Your father has a soft heart. He couldn't stand to see me upset. And he had made a promise to my father to take care of me."

"So he decided you should marry me."

"Yes," she answered. "It was his hope, but he wasn't counting on it. Otherwise your mother would have had your name written down on the invitations. Understand, sir, I was being fanciful when I told your father I wanted to marry for love. I realize that isn't possible now, given the urgency of finding a husband, and so I decided I would consider the marriage a business arrangement. In return for the use of my considerable inheritance, my husband would go his way and I would go mine. I thought I would travel… and in time, perhaps, go back to Holy Cross. It was very peaceful there."

"Hell."

She didn't know what to make of that muttered blasphemy. She frowned in reaction and then said, "I also hoped that eventually my husband and I would become friends."

"And lovers?" he asked.

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Anything is possible, Colin, given time and patience. However, I have had time to reevaluate my position. Granted, the gentlemen in England seem to be more civilized, and I had hoped to find one who was at least ethical, but tonight I realized none of it matters anymore. I'm going to cooperate. I'll marry the general. I've caused quite enough trouble. Perhaps in time this man will learn to… soften in his attitudes."

Colin snorted. "A snake doesn't ever stop slithering. He won't change, and you aren't going to marry him. Got that?"

She shivered over the harshness in his voice. "I want your agreement, Alesandra."

She wouldn't give it. She kept picturing the blood pouring down Raymond's face. "I won't be the cause of any more…"

"Come here."

Alesandra walked over to stand in front of his desk. He motioned her closer with the crook of his finger. She edged her way around the side and stopped when she was just a foot away from him.

"The general would give up his plan and leave me alone if I had a husband… wouldn't he?"

The combination of fear and hope in her voice bothered the hell out of him. She was too young to have such worries. Alesandra should be as scatterbrained and as giddy as his younger sisters.

Damn it all, she was in need of a champion. He reached out and took hold of her hands. She realized she was gripping them together again. She tried to relax. She couldn't.

"Marriage to the general is out of the question. Are we agreed on that?"

He squeezed her hands until she nodded. "Good," he remarked then. "Have you left anything out in your explanation?"

"No."

Colin smiled. "No one bucks the head of security," he remarked then, referring to Sir Richards.

"Your father did."

"Yes, he did, didn't he?" He was inordinately pleased with his father. "I'll talk to Richards tomorrow and see if we can't get his support."

"Thank you."

His nod was quick. "Since my family is responsible for you, I'll set up a meeting with my father and my brother as soon as they're feeling well again."

"For what purpose?"

"To figure out what the hell to do with you."

He'd meant the remark as a jest of sorts. She took it to heart. She jerked her hands away from his. His bluntness had offended her. Alesandra had an extremely tender nature. He considered suggesting she learn to toughen her emotional hide, then decided not to offer that advice because she would probably take that as an insult too.

"I will not become a burden."

"I didn't say you were."

"You implied it."

"I don't ever imply. I always tell it the way it is."

She turned and walked toward the door. "I believe it's time to reevaluate."

"You've already done that."

"I'm going to again," she announced.

A wave of nausea caught Colin by surprise. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His stomach growled, too, and he assumed his sudden weak condition was due to the fact that he had skipped dinner.

He forced himself to think about her last remark. "What are you going to reevaluate now?"

"Our arrangement," she explained. "It isn't working out. I really believe I should find other lodgings tomorrow."

"Alesandra."

He hadn't raised his voice but the bite was still there in his hard tone. She stopped at the entrance and turned to look at him. She braced herself for his next hurtful bit of honesty.

He felt like hell when he saw the tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "You aren't a burden. Your current situation, however, is a mess. Wouldn't you agree with that evaluation?" he asked.

"Yes, I would agree."

Colin rubbed his brow in an absentminded action and was surprised to feel the perspiration there. He tugged on his cravat next. Damn, it was hot in the study. The fire from the hearth was putting out more heat than was necessary, he supposed. He thought about taking off his jacket but was too weary to go to the trouble now.

"It's a very serious situation, Colin," she added when he didn't respond to her earlier agreement.

"But it isn't the end of the world, is it? You're looking overwhelmed by it all."

"I am overwhelmed," she cried out. "Raymond was injured tonight. Have you already forgotten? He could have been killed. And you… you could have been hurt too."

He was frowning again. She was almost sorry she'd reminded him of the incident. She decided not to end the evening on such a sour note.

"I've forgotten my manners," she blurted out. "I should say thank you now."

"You should? Why?"

"Because you apologized," she explained. "I know it was difficult for you."

"And how would you know that?"

"Your voice got all gruff, and you were glaring at me. Yes, it was difficult. Yet you did say you were sorry. That makes your apology all the more pleasing to me."

She walked back over to his side. Before she lost her courage, she leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. "I still prefer your father for my guardian," she told him, hoping to gain a smile. "He's much easier to…"

She was searching for the right word. He gave it to her. "Manipulate?"

She laughed. "Yes."

"My four little sisters have worn him down. He's been turned into milk toast by all those women."

Colin let out a weary sigh and rubbed his brow again. He'd developed a pounding headache in the last few minutes, and he could barely concentrate on the topic at hand. "Go to bed, Alesandra. It's late and you've had quite a day."

She started to leave, then paused. "Are you feeling all right? Your face looks terribly pale to me."

"I feel fine," he told her. "Go to bed."

He told the lie easily. He didn't feel at all fine, however. He felt like hell. His insides were on fire. His stomach was reacting as though he'd just swallowed a hot piece of coal. His skin was clammy and hot, and he found himself thanking God he hadn't had much to eat tonight. The mere thought of food made him want to gag.

Colin was certain he would feel better once he had gotten some sleep. At one o'clock in the morning he was wishing he could close his eyes and die.

By three o'clock, he thought he had.

He was burning up with fever, and damn if he hadn't thrown up at least twenty times the paltry little apple he'd eaten before he left for the opera.

His stomach finally accepted the fact that there wasn't anything more to get rid of and settled down into a tight knot. Colin sprawled out on the bed, face down, with his arms spread wide.

Oh, yes, death would have been a treat.

Chapter 5

She wouldn't let him die. She wouldn't leave him alone either. The minute she was awakened by the sounds of retching coming from Colin's bedroom, she threw off her covers and got out of bed.

Alesandra didn't care about appearances. It didn't matter to her if going into his bedroom would be looked upon as inappropriate behavior; Colin needed her help, and he was going to get it.

By the time she put on her robe and went next door, Colin was back in his bed. He was sprawled out on his stomach on top of the covers. He was stark naked. She tried not to notice. Colin had opened both windows and the room was now so frigid with cold she could see her breath. The drapes billowed out like inflated balloons from the hard, spitting wind and rain coming through the windows.

"Dear God, are you trying to kill yourself?" she asked.

Colin didn't answer her. She hurried over to shut the windows before turning to the bed. Only one side of Colin's face was visible to her, yet that was quite enough for her to surmise from his tortured expression how miserable he was feeling.

It was a struggle, but she finally was able to tug the covers out from under him and then cover him up and properly tuck him in. He told her to leave him the hell alone. She ignored that order. She put the back of her hand to his forehead, felt the heat there, and immediately went to fetch a cold, wet cloth.

Colin was too weak to fight her. She spent the rest of the night with him, mopping his brow every five minutes or so and holding the chamber pot for him just as often. He wasn't able to throw up anything more, for his stomach was empty now, but he still made the most horrible gagging sounds trying.

He wanted water. She wouldn't let him have any. She tried reasoning with him, but he wasn't in the mood to listen to her. Thankfully he was too exhausted to get the water by himself.

"If you swallow anything, it's going to come right back up. I've had this illness, Colin. I know what I'm talking about. Now close your eyes and try to get some rest. You're going to feel better tomorrow." She wanted to give him a bit of hope, and for that reason she deliberately lied. If Colin followed the same course as everyone else, he was going to be miserable for a good week. Her prediction proved accurate. He wasn't feeling any better the following day, or the day after that. She personally tended to him. She wouldn't let Flannaghan or Valena into the chamber, fearing they would also catch the illness if they got too close to Colin. Flannaghan tried to argue with her. Colin was his responsibility, after all, and he should be the one to tend to him. It was his noble duty, he explained, to put himself at risk.

Alesandra countered with the explanation that she had already suffered with the illness and was therefore the only one suited to see to Colin's needs. It was highly doubtful she would get sick again. Flannaghan, however, would be taking a much greater gamble, and how would they all ever get along if he became too sick to take care of them?

Flannaghan was finally convinced. He was kept busy with the running of the household, and even took on the added duty of answering all of her correspondence. The town house was off-limits to all callers. The physician, Sir Winters, returned to look at Raymond's injury, and while he was there Alesandra consulted him about Colin's illness. The physician didn't go into Colin's bedroom, for he had no wish to contract the illness, but he left a tonic he thought might settle the patient's irritable stomach and suggested sponge baths to cool the fever.

Colin was a difficult patient. Alesandra tried to follow the physician's advice by giving Colin a sponge bath late that night when his temperature increased. She stroked his chest and arms with the cooling cloth first, then turned to his legs. He seemed to be asleep, but when she touched his scarred leg, he almost came off the bed.

"I would like to die in peace, Alesandra. Now get the hell out of here."

His hoarse bellow didn't affect her, for she was still reeling from the sight of his injured leg. The calf was a mass of scar tissue from the back of his knee to the edge of his heel. Alesandra didn't know how he'd come by the injury, but the agony he must have endured tore at her heart.

She thought it a miracle he could walk at all. Colin jerked the covers over his legs and told her again, though in a much more weary tone of voice, to leave his room.

There were tears in her eyes. She thought he might have seen them. She didn't want him to know the brief glimpse at his leg had caused that reaction. Colin was a proud, unbending man. He didn't want her pity, she knew, and he was obviously prickly about the scar.

Alesandra decided to turn his attention. "Your shouts are most upsetting to me, Colin, and if you continue to give me such harsh commands, I'll probably cry like a child. I won't leave, however, no matter how mean hearted you become. Now kindly give me your leg. I'm going to wash it."

"Alesandra, I swear to God, I'm going to toss you out the window if you don't leave me alone."

"Colin, the sponge bath didn't bother you at all last night. Why are you so irritable now? Is the fever higher tonight?"

"You washed my legs last night?"

"I did," she blatantly lied.

"What the hell else did you wash?"

She knew what he was asking. She tried not to blush when she answered him. "Your arms and chest and legs," she told him. "I left the middle alone. Do quit fighting me, sir," she ordered as she snatched his leg from under the cover.

Colin gave up. He muttered something atrocious under his breath and closed his eyes. Alesandra dipped the cloth into the cold water, then gently washed both legs.

Her composure never faltered, and it was only after she'd covered him up again that she realized he'd been watching her.

"Now then," she said with a sigh. "Don't you feel better?"

His glare was his answer. She stood up and turned away from him so he wouldn't see her smile. She put the bowl of water back on the washstand, then carried a goblet only half filled with water back over to her patient.

She handed him the drink, told him she would leave him alone for a little while, and then tried to do just that. He grabbed hold of her hand and held tight.

"Are you sleepy?" he asked her, his voice still gruff with irritation.

"Not particularly."

"Then stay and talk to me."

He moved his legs out of the way and patted the side of the bed. Alesandra sat down. She folded her hands together in her lap and desperately tried not to stare at his chest.

"Don't you own any nightshirts?" she asked.

"No."

"Cover yourself, Colin," she suggested then. She didn't wait for him to do as she ordered, but saw to the duty herself.

He immediately shoved the quilt back. He sat up, propped his back against the headboard, and let out a loud yawn.

"God, I feel like hell."

"Why do you wear your hair so long? It reaches your shoulders now. It looks quite barbaric," she added with a smile so he wouldn't think she was insulting him. "'Tis the truth, it makes you look like a pirate."

He shrugged. "It's a reminder to me," he said.

"A reminder of what?"

"Being free."

She didn't know what he was talking about, but he didn't look inclined to explain further. He turned the topic then by asking her to catch him up on business matters.

"Did Flannaghan remember to send a note to Borders?"

"Do you mean your associate?"

"Borders isn't an associate. He's retired from the shipping business these days, but he helps out when I need him."

"Yes," she answered. "Flannaghan did send a messenger and Mister Borders is taking care of business. Each evening he sends the daily report, and they're all stacked up on your desk for you to look over when you're feeling better. You also received another letter from your partner," she added with a nod. "I didn't realize the two of you had opened a second office across the sea. You'll soon be worldwide, won't you?"

"Perhaps. Now tell me what you've been doing. You haven't gone out, have you?"

She shook her head. "I've been taking care of you. I did write another note to Victoria's brother begging a second audience. Neil responded with a terse note, denying my request. I do wish you hadn't tossed him out."

"I don't want him coming back here, Alesandra."

She let out a sigh. He gave her a good frown. "You're stirring up unnecessary trouble."

"I promised to be discreet. I'm worried about Victoria," she added with a nod.

"No one else is," he countered.

"Yes, I know," she whispered. "Colin, if you were in trouble, I would do whatever it took to help you."

He was pleased with her fervent promise. "You would?"

She nodded. "We are like family now, aren't we? Your father is my guardian, and I try to think of you as a brother…"

"The hell with that."

Her eyes widened. Colin looked furious with her. "You don't want me to think of you as a brother?"

"Damned right I don't."

She looked crushed.

Colin stared at her with an incredulous expression on his face. The fever hadn't diminished his desire for her at all. Hell, he'd have to be dead and buried before he could rid himself of his growing need to touch her.

She didn't have a clue as to her own appeal. She sat so prim and proper next to him, wearing that virginal white gown that wasn't suppose to be the least bit provocative but still damn well was. The dress was buttoned up to her chin. He thought it was extremely sexy. So was her hair. It wasn't bound up behind her head tonight but fell in wild curls around her shoulders. She kept brushing the locks back over her shoulders in a motion he found utterly appealing.

Damned if he would let her think of him as her brother.

"Less than a week ago you were thinking of me as your future husband, remember?"

His unreasonable anger fueled her own. "But you declined, remember that?"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me, Alesandra."

"Don't raise your voice to me, Colin."

He let out a long sigh. They were both exhausted, he told himself, and surely that was the reason their tempers were so fragile tonight.

"You're a princess," he said then. "And I'm…"

She finished his sentence for him. "A dragon."

"Fine," he snapped. "A dragon then. And princesses don't marry dragons."

"Lord, but you're irritable tonight."

"I'm always irritable."

"Then it's a blessing we aren't going to marry each other. You would make me quite miserable."

Colin yawned again. "Probably," he drawled out.

She stood up. "You need to go to sleep now," she announced. She leaned over him and touched his forehead with her hand. "You've still got a fever, though it isn't as high as last night. Colin, do you dislike women who say I told you so?"

"Hell, yes."

She smiled. "Good. I remember telling you your suspicious nature would get you into trouble, and I was right, wasn't I?"

He didn't answer her. She didn't mind. She was too busy gloating. She turned and walked over to the door connecting the bedrooms. She wasn't quite finished goading him, however. "You just had to find out for yourself that Caine was really sick, and now look at you."

She pulled the door wide. "Good night, dragon."

"Alesandra?"

"Yes?"

"I was wrong."

"You were?" She was thrilled by his admission and waited to hear the rest of his apology. The man wasn't quite an ogre after all. "And?" she prodded when he didn't go on.

"You're still a brat."

Colin's fever continued to plague him for seven long days and nights. He awakened during the eighth night feeling human again and knew the fever was gone. He was surprised to find Alesandra in his bed. She was fully clothed and slept sitting up with her shoulders propped against the headboard. Her hair hung over her face, and she didn't move at all when he got out of bed. Colin washed, changed into a clean pair of britches, and then went back to the bed. He lifted Alesandra into his arms, and even in his weakened condition, it didn't take any effort at all. She was as light as air to him. He smiled when she snuggled up against his shoulder and let out a feminine little sigh. Colin carried her back to her own room, put her in bed, and covered her with a satin quilt.

He stood there staring down at her for a long while. She never opened her eyes. She was clearly exhausted from lack of sleep. He knew she had stayed by his side throughout most of the god-awful ordeal. Alesandra had taken good care of him, and, Lord, he didn't know how he felt about that.

He accepted that he was in her debt, but, damn it all, his feelings went far beyond gratitude. She was beginning to matter to him. As soon as he acknowledged that truth, he tried to think of a way to soften her impact on him. Now wasn't the time to get involved with any woman. Yes, the timing was all wrong, and he sure as certain wasn't going to push his own goals and dreams aside now for any woman.

Alesandra wasn't just any woman, though, and he knew, if he didn't get away from her soon, it would be too late. Hell, it was complicated. His mind was filled with such conflicting emotions. He didn't want her, he told himself again and again, and yet the thought of anyone else having her made his stomach turn.

He wasn't making any sense. Colin finally forced himself to move away from the side of her bed. He went back through his bedroom and continued on into his study. He had at least a month's work piled up now and it would surely take him that long just to transfer all the numbers into the ledgers. Burying himself in his work was just what he needed to take his mind off Alesandra.

Someone had done all the work. Colin was incredulous when he saw the ledgers. The entries were completely up-to-date, ending with today's shipping numbers. He spent an hour double-checking to make certain the totals were accurate, then leaned back in his chair to go through the stack of notes left for him to read.

Caine had obviously taken charge, Colin decided. He would have to remember to thank his brother for his help. It had to have taken him the full week, for there were over fifty pages of transfers added, and Colin hadn't been this current in over a year.

He turned his attention to his messages. Colin worked in his study from dawn until late afternoon. Flannaghan was pleased to see his employer was looking so much better. He carried up a breakfast tray and another tray of food at the noon hour. Colin had bathed and dressed in a white shirt and black britches, and Flannaghan remarked that the color was coming back to his lord's complexion. The servant hovered like a mother hen and soon drove Colin to distraction.

Flannaghan again interrupted him around three that afternoon to give him messages from both his father and his brother.

The note from the Duke of Williamshire was filled with concern for Princess Alesandra's safety. He'd obviously heard about the attack outside the Opera House. He requested a family meeting be set to settle Alesandra's future and asked that Colin let him know the minute he was feeling well enough to bring the princess to their London town house.

Caine's note was similar-confusing, too, for he made no mention of helping with the books. Colin thought Caine was simply being humble.

"It's good news, isn't it?" Flannaghan asked. "Your family has fully recovered. Cook talked to your father's gardener and he said everyone was feeling fit again. Your father has already ordered his town house opened and should be settled in by nightfall. The duchess is with him, but your sisters have been ordered to stay in the country for another week or two. Do you wish for me to send a messenger with the news of your recovery?"

Colin wasn't surprised by his servant's information. The grapevine between the households was always up to the minute with the latest happenings. "My father wants a family council, or did you already find that out from the gardener?" he asked dryly.

Flannaghan nodded. "I had heard, but I wasn't given a specific time."

Colin shook his head in vexation. "Set the meeting for tomorrow afternoon."

"At what time?"

"Two."

"And your brother?" Flannaghan asked. "Should I send a messenger to him as well?"

"Yes," Colin agreed. "I'm certain he'll want to be there."

Flannaghan hurried toward the door to see to his duties. He reached the entrance, then paused again. "Milord, is our home open to visitors yet? Princess Alesandra's suitors have been begging entrance all week."

Colin frowned. "Are you telling me the rakes are already camping out on my doorstep?"

Flannaghan flinched over the outrage in his employer's voice. "Word has spread like fire that we have a beautiful, unattached princess residing with us."

"Hell."

"Precisely, milord."

"No one is allowed entrance until after the meeting," Colin announced. He smiled then. "You seem as irritated as I am about Alesandra's suitors. Why is that, Flannaghan?"

The servant didn't pretend indifference. "I am as irritated," he confessed. "She belongs to us, Colin," he blurted out, slipping back to their casual relationship of using first names. "And it is our duty to keep those lechers away from her."

Colin nodded agreement. Flannaghan turned the topic just a little then. "What should I do about her father's business associate? Dreyson has sent a note each and every morning begging an audience. He has papers for her signature," he added. "But in one of the notes I chanced to read over Princess Alesandra's shoulder, Dreyson also insisted he had alarming news to give her."

Colin leaned further back in his chair. "How did Alesandra react to this note?"

"She wasn't at all upset," Flannaghan replied. "I questioned her, of course, and asked her if she shouldn't be a little concerned. She said Dreyson's alarm probably had something to do with a market downswing. I didn't know what she was talking about."

"She was talking about financial losses," he explained. "Send a note to Dreyson, too, telling him that he is invited to call on Alesandra at my father's town house. Set the time for three o'clock, Flannaghan. We should be through with family business by then."

The servant still didn't leave. "Was there something more you wanted?"

"Will Princess Alesandra be leaving us?" The worry in the servant's tone was evident.

"There is a good chance she'll move in with my father and mother."

"But, milord…"

"My father is her guardian, Flannaghan."

"That may be," the servant countered. "But you're the only one fit enough to watch out for her. Begging your pardon for being so blunt, but your father is getting along in years and your brother has his wife and child to look after. That leaves you, milord. 'Tis the truth, I would be very distressed if anything happened to our princess."

"Nothing's going to happen to her."

The conviction in his employer's voice appeased Flannaghan's worry. Colin was acting like a protector now. He was a possessive man by nature, stubborn, and just a little bit obtuse, in Flannaghan's estimation, because Colin was taking forever to come to the realization that he and Princess Alesandra were meant for each other.

Colin turned his attention back to his ledgers. Flannaghan coughed to let him know he wasn't quite finished bothering him.

"What else is on your mind?"

"I just thought I would mention… that is, the incident in front of the Opera…"

Colin shut his book. "Yes?" he prodded.

"It's affected her. She hasn't said anything to me, but I know she hasn't gotten over the incident. She's still blaming herself for Raymond's injury."

"That's ridiculous."

Flannaghan nodded. "She keeps apologizing to her guard and this morning, when she came downstairs, I could tell she'd been weeping. I believe you should have a talk with her, milord. A princess should not cry."

Flannaghan sounded like an authority on the topic of royalty. Colin nodded. "All right, I'll have a talk with her later. Now leave me alone. For the first time in months, I'm actually close to being caught up and I want to get today's totals entered. I don't wish to be disturbed until dinner."

Flannaghan didn't mind his employer's gruffness. Colin would take care of the princess, and that was all that really mattered.

The butler's cheerful mood was sorely tested the rest of the afternoon. He spent most of his time answering the front door and turning away potential suitors. It was a damn nuisance.

At seven o'clock that evening, Sir Richards arrived on their doorstep. He didn't request admission. The head of England's Security Section demanded to be let in.

Flannaghan ushered Sir Richards up the stairs and into Colin's study. The distinguished-looking gray-haired gentleman waited until the butler had taken his leave before speaking to Colin.

"You're looking none the worse for wear," he announced. "I wanted to look in on you to see how you're doing, of course, and also compliment you on a job well done. The Wellingham business could have gotten sticky. You handled it well."

Colin leaned back in his chair. "It did get sticky," he reminded the director.

"Yes, but you handled it with your usual tact."

Colin caught himself before he snorted with laughter. Handled with tact? How like the director to summarize in gentlemen's terms the necessary killing of one of England's enemies.

"Why are you really here, Richards?"

"To compliment you, of course."

Colin did laugh then. Richards smiled. "I could use a spot of brandy," he announced with a wave of his hand in the direction of the side bar against the wall. "Will you join me?"

Colin declined the offer. He started to get up to see to the director's request, but Richards waved him back to his seat "I can fetch it."

The director poured himself a drink, then went over to sit in the leather-backed chair facing the desk. "Morgan's going to be joining us in just a few minutes. I wanted to talk to you first, however. Another little problem has developed and I thought it might be just the task for Morgan to handle. An opportunity, you see, for him to get his feet wet."

"He's joining the ranks then?"

"He would like to be of service to his country," the director told him. "What do you think of him, Colin? Forget diplomacy and give me your gut reaction to the man."

Colin shrugged. His neck was stiff from leaning over the ledgers for so long and he rolled his shoulders, trying to work the knots out. "I understand he inherited title and land from his father a few years back. He's the Earl of Oakmount now, isn't he?"

"Yes," Sir Richards replied. "But you're only half right. The title and land came from an uncle. Morgan's father ran tail years ago. The boy was shuffled from one relative to another during the growing years. There was talk of illegitimacy and some think that was the reason the father abandoned the boy. Morgan's mother died when he was four or five."

"A difficult childhood," Colin remarked.

The director agreed. "It made him the man he is today. He learned to be clever early on, you see."

"You know more about his background than I do," Colin said. "All I can add is superficial. I've seen him at various functions. He's well liked by the ton."

The director took a long swallow of the brandy before speaking again. "You still haven't given me your opinion," he reminded Colin.

"I'm not hedging," Colin replied. "I honestly don't know him well enough to form an opinion. He seems likable enough. Nathan doesn't particularly like him, though. I do remember him making that remark."

The director smiled. "Your partner doesn't like anyone."

"That's true, he doesn't."

"Did he have specific reasons for disliking Morgan?"

"No. He referred to him as one of the pretty boys. Morgan's a handsome man, or so I'm told by the women."

"Nathan doesn't like him because of his appearance?"

Colin laughed. Sir Richards sounded incredulous. "My partner doesn't like charmers. He says he never knows what they're thinking."

The director filed that information away in the back of his mind. "Morgan has almost as many contacts as you have, and he would be a tremendous asset to the department. Still, I'm determined to take it slow. I still don't know how he'll handle himself in a crisis. I've invited him here to talk to you, Colin. There's another delicate matter you might want to consider handling for us. If you decide in favor of taking on the assignment, I'd like Morgan to get involved. He could do well to learn from you."

"I'm retired, remember?"

The director smiled. "So am I," he drawled out. "I've been trying to hand the reins over for a good four years now. I'm getting too old for this business."

"You'll never quit."

"And neither will you," Richards predicted. "At least not until your company can survive without your added income. Tell me this, son. Has your partner wondered yet where the additional funds are coming from? I know you didn't want him to know you've started helping the department out again."

Colin stacked his hands behind his neck. "He isn't aware," he explained. "Nathan's been occupied opening the second office. His wife, Sara, is due to have their first baby any day now. I doubt Nathan has had time to notice."

"And when he does notice?"

"I'll tell him the truth."

"We could use Nathan again," the director said.

"That's out of the question. He has a family now."

Sir Richards reluctantly agreed. He turned the topic back to the task he wanted Colin to accept. "About this assignment," he began. "It's no more dangerous than the last, but… ah, good evening, Princess Alesandra. It's a pleasure to see you again."

She stood just outside the entrance. Colin wondered how much she had overheard.

She smiled at the director. "It's good to see you again, sir," she replied in a soft whisper. "I hope I haven't intruded. The door was ajar, but if you're in the middle of a conference, I'll come back later."

Sir Richards hastily stood up and walked over to her. He took hold of her hand and bowed low. "You haven't intruded," he assured her. "Come and sit down. I wanted to talk to you before I left."

He latched on to her elbow and ushered her over to a chair. She sat down and smoothed her skirts while she waited for him to take his seat as well.

"I heard about the unfortunate incident outside the Royal Opera House," the director remarked with a frown. He sat down, nodded to Colin, and then turned his attention back to her. "Have you recovered from your upset?"

"There wasn't anything for me to recover from, Sir Richards. My guard was injured. Raymond required eight stitches in all, but they were removed yesterday. He's feeling much better now. Isn't that right, Colin?"

She kept her gaze fully directed on Sir Richards when she included Colin in the conversation. He didn't mind her lack of attention. He was fully occupied trying to hide his amusement. Sir Richards was blushing. Colin couldn't believe it. The hard-nosed, steel-hearted director of covert operations was blushing like a schoolboy.

Alesandra was mesmerizing the man. Colin wondered if she had any idea of her effect or if it was deliberate. Her smile was innocently sweet, her gaze direct, unwavering, and if she started in batting her eyelashes, then Colin would know the seduction wasn't quite so innocent after all.

"Have you had an opportunity to look into the other matter we discussed?" she asked. "I realize it was bold of me to ask anything of such an important man, Sir Richards, and I want you to know how grateful I am for your offer to send someone to Gretna Green."

"I've already taken care of that duty," the director replied. "My man, Simpson, only just returned last evening. You were correct, Princess. There isn't a record with either Robert Elliott or his rival, David Laing."

"I knew it," Alesandra cried out. She clasped her hands together as though in prayer and turned to frown at Colin. "Didn't I tell you so?"

Her enthusiasm made him smile. "Tell me what?"

"That Lady Victoria wouldn't elope. Your director has just confirmed my suspicions."

"Now, Princess, it's still a possibility-remote, of course-that she did marry there. Both Elliott and Laing keep accurate records so each can boast the number of weddings performed. It's a competitive thing, you see. However, they aren't the only men in Gretna Green who can marry a couple. Some less reputable gents just don't bother with records. They would fill out the certificate and hand it over to the husband. So you see, my dear, she still could have eloped after all."

"She didn't."

Alesandra was emphatic in that belief. Colin shook his head. "She's stirring up a hornet's nest, Richards. I've told her to leave it alone but she won't listen to me."

She frowned at Colin. "I am not stirring anything up."

"Yes, you are," Colin replied. "You're going to cause Victoria's family additional heartache if you pester them with questions."

His criticism stung. She bowed her head. "You must have a low opinion of me if you believe I would deliberately set out to hurt anyone."

"You didn't have to be so harsh with her, son."

Colin was exasperated. "I wasn't being harsh, just honest."

Sir Richards shook his head. Alesandra smiled at the director. She was pleased he'd taken her side.

"If he would only listen to my reasons for being worried, Sir Richards, he wouldn't be so quick to call my concern interference."

The director glared at Colin. "You wouldn't listen to her reasons? She makes a sound argument, Colin. You shouldn't judge without knowing all the facts."

"Thank you, Sir Richards." Colin snorted.

Alesandra decided to ignore the rude man. "What is our next step in this investigation?" she asked the director.

Sir Richards looked a bit confused. "Investigation? I hadn't thought of the problem in that light…"

"You said you would help me," she reminded the director. "You mustn't become discouraged so quickly."

Sir Richards looked to Colin for assistance. Colin grinned.

"It isn't a matter of giving up," Sir Richards said. "I'm just not certain what it is I'm investigating. It's a plain fact your friend did run off with someone and I believe Colin's correct when he suggests you let the matter go."

"Why is it a plain fact?"

"Victoria left a note," Sir Richards explained.

She shook her head. "Anyone could have written a note."

"Yes, but…"

"I had so hoped you would help me, Sir Richards," she interrupted. Her tone of voice sounded forlorn. "You were my last hope. Victoria could be in danger and she only has you and me to help her. If anyone can ferret out the truth, it's you. You're so intelligent and clever."

Sir Richards puffed up like a rooster. Colin had to shake his head. One compliment had turned the man into mush.

"Will you be satisfied if I can find a record of the marriage?"

"You won't find one."

"But if I do…"

"I'll let the matter rest."

Sir Richards nodded. "Very well," he agreed. "I'll start with her family. I'll send a man around tomorrow to talk to the brother. One way or another, I'll find out what happened."

Her smile was radiant. "Thank you so much," she whispered. "I should warn you, though. I sent a note to Victoria's brother and he refused to grant me another audience. Colin, you see, was rude to him and he obviously hasn't forgiven him."

"He won't refuse me," Sir Richards announced with a hard nod.

Colin had heard enough of what he considered a ridiculous topic. He didn't like the idea that the director of England's Security Section was lowering himself to snoop into another family's private affairs.

He was about to change the subject when Sir Richards's next remark caught his attention. "Princess Alesandra, after the cooperation you've given, looking into this delicate matter is the very least I can do for you. Rest easy, my dear. I'll have some answers for you before you leave England."

Colin leaned forward. "Back up, Richards," he demanded, his voice hard. "Exactly how has Alesandra cooperated?"

The director looked surprised by the question. "She didn't explain to you…"

"I didn't believe it was necessary," Alesandra blurted out. She hastily stood up. "If you'll excuse me now, I'll leave you two gentlemen alone to discuss your business."

"Alesandra, sit down."

Colin's tone suggested she not argue with him. She let out a little sigh and did as he ordered. She refused to look at him, however, and kept her gaze directed on her lap. She wanted to run and hide rather than talk about her decision, but that would be cowardly and irresponsible, and Colin deserved to know what had been decided.

Dignity and decorum, she thought to herself. Colin would never know how upset she was, and there was a bit of victory in that, wasn't there?

"Explain to me why Richards is so pleased with your cooperation."

"I've decided to return to my father's homeland," she explained in a bare whisper. "I'm going to marry the general. Your father has given his approval."

Colin didn't say anything for a long while. He stared at Alesandra. She stared at her lap. "All of this was decided while I was sick?"

"Yes."

"Look at me," he commanded.

She was close to bursting into tears. She took a deep breath and finally turned to look at him.

Colin knew she was upset. She was twisting her hands together and trying not to cry.

"She wasn't coerced," Sir Richards interjected.

"The hell she wasn't."

"It was my decision," she insisted.

Colin shook his head. "Richards, nothing has been decided. Understand? Alesandra is still reacting to the incident last week. Her guard was injured and she feels responsible."

"I am responsible," she cried out.

"No," he countered, his voice emphatic. "You were frightened."

"Does it matter what my reasons were?"

"Hell, yes, it matters," he snapped. He turned his attention back to the director. "Alesandra has obviously forgotten her promise to me last week."

"Colin…"

"Be silent."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Be silent? This is my future under discussion, not yours."

"I'm your guardian," he countered. "I decide your future. You seem to have forgotten that fact."

His scowl was as hot as the fire from a dragon's nostrils. She decided not to argue with him. He wasn't being at all reasonable, and if he didn't quit glaring at her she was definitely going to get up and leave the room.

Colin turned his attention back to the director. "Alesandra and I talked about this problem last week," he explained. "We decided she wouldn't marry the general. You can tell your associates in finance the deal's off."

Colin was so furious he barely noticed the director's nod of agreement as he continued on. "She isn't going to marry him. The general sounds like a real sweetheart, doesn't he? He sent a gang of cutthroats to kidnap his bride for him. A hell of a courtship, wouldn't you say? How I wish he'd come to England. I'd like to have a few minutes alone with the bastard."

Alesandra couldn't understand why Colin was getting so worked up. She had never seen him this angry. She was too astonished to be frightened. She didn't know what to say or do to calm him.

"He won't give up, Colin," she whispered, grimacing over the shiver in her voice. "He'll send others."

"That's my problem, not yours."

"It is?"

The fear he glimpsed in her eyes took away some of his anger. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. He deliberately softened his voice when he answered her. "Yes, it is."

They stared at each other a long minute. The tenderness in his expression made her want to weep with relief. He wasn't going to let her leave England.

She had to force herself to turn her gaze away from him so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. She stared at her lap, took a deep breath in an attempt to control her emotions, and then said, "I was trying to be noble. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt and Sir Richards said there was a chance for better trade agreements…"

"My associates believe the general would cooperate," Sir Richards interjected. "I personally don't hold with that nonsense. I'm of the same mind as Colin," he added with a nod. "The general isn't a man to be trusted. So you see, my dear, you don't have to be noble."

"And if Colin gets hurt?" she blurted out.

Both Sir Richards and Colin were astonished by that question. The fear was back in Alesandra's expression. Colin leaned back in his chair and stared at her. She wasn't afraid for her own safety; no, she was worried about him. He probably should have been irritated with her. He could take care of himself, and it was a bit insulting to know she was worried about him.

It was damned flattering, too.

Sir Richards raised an eyebrow and looked at Colin, waiting for him to answer her.

"I can take care of myself," Colin said. "I don't want you to worry, understand?"

"Yes, Colin."

Her immediate agreement pleased him. "Leave us now, Alesandra. Richards and I have other matters to discuss."

She couldn't get out of the room fast enough. She didn't even say good-bye to the director. Her conduct was most unladylike, but she didn't care. She was shaking so violently she could barely get the door closed behind her.

Relief made her knees weak. She sagged against the wall and closed her eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself.

She wasn't going to have to be noble and marry that horrible man after all. Colin had taken the decision out of her hands and she was so grateful she didn't mind at all that he'd been so angry. For some reason she couldn't define, Colin had decided to take the duty of guardian to heart. He had acted like a protector, and Alesandra was so thankful to have someone on her side she said a prayer of thanksgiving.

"Princess Alesandra, are you all right?"

She jumped a good foot. Then she burst into laughter. Flannaghan and another man she'd never met before stood just a few feet away from her. She'd not even heard their approach.

She could feel herself blushing. The stranger standing just behind the butler was smiling at her. She decided he probably thought she'd lost her mind. Alesandra moved away from the wall, forced herself to quit laughing, and then said, "I'm quite all right."

"What were you doing?"

"Reflecting," she replied. And praying, she silently added.

Flannaghan didn't know what she meant by that remark. He continued to stare at her with a perplexed look on his face. She turned to their guest. "Good evening, sir."

The butler finally remembered his manners. "Princess Alesandra, may I present Morgan Atkins, the Earl of Oakmount."

Alesandra smiled in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

He moved forward and took hold of her hand. "The pleasure is all mine, Princess. I've been most eager to meet you."

"You have?"

He smiled over the surprise in her eyes. "Yes, I have," he assured her. "You're the talk of London, but I imagine you realize that."

She shook her head. "No, I didn't realize," she admitted.

"The prince regent has been singing your praises," Morgan explained. "You mustn't frown, Princess. I've only heard wonderful things about you."

"What wonderful things?" Flannaghan dared to ask.

Morgan didn't take his gaze away from Alesandra when he answered the butler. "I was told she was very beautiful and now I know that story is true. She is beautiful-exquisite, in fact."

She was embarrassed by his flattery. She tried to pull her hand away from his, but he wouldn't let go.

"You have a delightful blush, Princess," he told her. He moved closer, and in the candlelight she could see the handsome silver threads streaking his dark brown hair. His eyes, a deep black brown color, sparkled with his smile. Morgan wasn't much taller than Flannaghan, but he seemed to overwhelm the butler. The aura of power surrounding him was probably due to his important position in society, she guessed. His title allowed him to be arrogant and self-assured.

The man was a charmer, however, who understood his own appeal. He knew he was making her uncomfortable under his close scrutiny, too.

"Are you enjoying your stay in England?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you."

Colin opened the door just as Morgan was asking Alesandra if he might be permitted to call on her the following afternoon. He immediately noticed Alesandra's blush. He noticed Morgan was holding her hand, too.

He reacted before he could stop himself. He reached out, grabbed hold of Alesandra's arm, and jerked her into his side. Then he draped his arm around her shoulders in an action she found terribly possessive and frowned at their guest.

"Alesandra's going to be busy tomorrow," he announced. "Go on inside, Morgan. The director's waiting to talk to you."

Morgan didn't seem to notice the irritation in Colin's tone of voice, or if he did notice, he chose to ignore it. He nodded his agreement, then turned his attention back to her.

"With your permission, Princess, I'll continue to try to convince your cousin to let me call on you."

As soon as she nodded agreement, he bowed to her and walked into the study.

"Do quit squeezing me, Cousin," Alesandra whispered.

He heard the laughter in her voice and looked down at her. "Where the hell did he get that idea? Did you tell him I was your cousin?"

"No, of course I didn't," she replied. "Will you unhand me now? I have to go back to my room to fetch my notecard."

He wouldn't let go of her. "Alesandra, why are you so damned happy?"

"I'm happy because it appears as though I won't have to marry the general," she said. She squirmed her way out of his grasp and went hurrying down the hallway. "And," she called over her shoulder, "I have a new name to put on my list."

As she ran down the hall, Morgan stepped out of the study and watched her-a devil-may-care smile upon his lips-until Colin's curt reminder called him back into the study.

~

All married women were unhappy creatures. The bitches all felt neglected by their husbands. They whined and complained, and nothing ever pleased them. Oh, he'd watched, he'd observed. The husbands usually ignored their wives, too, but he didn't fault them. Everyone knew mistresses were reserved for affection and attention; wives were simply necessary leeches to be used for the reproduction of heirs. One put up with a wife when one had to, rutted with her as often as necessary until she was carrying one's child, and then forgot about her.

He had deliberately ignored married women because he believed the hunt wouldn't amount to much. There wouldn't be any satisfaction gained in chasing a dog who wouldn't run. Still, this one intrigued him. She looked so miserable. He'd watched her for over an hour now. She was clinging to her husband's arm, and trying every now and then to say or do something to draw his attention. It was wasted effort. The gallant husband was thoroughly occupied talking to his friends from the clubs. He wasn't giving his pretty little wife any attention.

The poor little chit. It was obvious to anyone watching she loved the man. She was pitifully unhappy. He was about to change all that. He smiled then, his mind made up. The hunt was on again. Soon, very soon, he would put his new pet out of her misery.

Chapter 6

Colin stayed in conference with Sir Richards and Morgan for several hours. Alesandra ate her supper alone in the dining room. She stayed downstairs as long as she could manage without falling asleep, hoping Colin would join her. She wanted to thank him for showing such an interest in her future and ask him a few questions about the Earl of Oakmount.

She gave up the wait around midnight and went up to bed. Valena knocked on her door fifteen minutes later.

"You are requested to be ready to go out tomorrow morning, Princess. You must be ready to leave at ten o'clock."

Alesandra got into her bed and pulled the covers up. "Did Colin explain where we're going?"

The lady's maid nodded. "To Sir Richards's home," she answered. "On Bowers Street at number twelve."

Alesandra smiled. "He gave you the address?"

"Yes, Princess. He was very thorough in his instructions to me. He wanted me to tell you he doesn't wish to be kept waiting," she said with a frown. "There was something more he wanted me to… oh, yes, now I remember. The meeting scheduled for the afternoon with the Duke and Duchess of Williamshire has been canceled."