Only Mine

Prologue

London 1867

«Marry you, elf?» Wolfe Lonetree laughed aloud as he twirled her across the dance floor. «Don’t be ridiculous. What would ahalfbreed mustang hunter do with an English aristocrat?»

«I’m Scots, not English,» Jessica Charteris said automatically.

«I know.» Wolfe smiled the way he used to years before, when he had tweaked her long braids to tease her. «You still rise to the bait just like a hungry trout.»

Concealing the urgency and fear that lay beneath her flirtatious exterior, Jessica tilted back her head and smiled up at Wolfe.

«It would be a perfect union,» she said coaxingly. «You have no need of heirs because you have neither lands nor titles to pass on. I have neither need of money nor desire for the marriage bed. We both enjoy silence and conversation together. We like to ride, to hunt, and to read in front of a fire. What more could be asked of a marriage?»

Wolfe’s delighted laughter drew more than one glance from the titled lords and ladies who graced Jessica’s twentieth birthday party. Wolfe ignored both the looks and the aristocratic company. The man they called the viscount’s savage had learned long ago that his place was in America, not in England with its titles and cold disdain of his illegitimate birth.

«Marry you.»

As Wolfe repeated the words again he shook his head, delighting in the company of the sprite whose hair was an auburn so deep that only direct sunlight revealed its hidden fire.

«Ah, elf, I’ve missed your quickness and mischief. I’ve laughed more in the few minutes I’ve been here than in the years without you. I’ll tell Lord Robert to bring you with him on his next hunting trip. Or perhaps your future husband is a sportsman. Lord Gore, is that his name? I have yet to meet your fiance. Is he here tonight?»

Fear made Jessica miss a step in the smooth waltz. Wolfe caught her and set her right with the same casual grace as he did everything.

«Forgive me,» he murmured. «I’m clumsy tonight.»

«You’re like a great dark cat, and you know it as well as I. It was my clumsiness, not yours.»

Though Jessica’s voice was light, Wolfe sensed something just beneath her glittering surface. He watched her with dark eyes as they waltzed, hardly able to credit what he was seeing. Gone was the thin child with ice-blue eyes, burning red hair, and quick laughter. In her place was a stunning young woman who had an uncomfortable effect on his senses, an effect he had refused to acknowledge for years.

«A clumsy elf?» Wolfe asked. «Not possible, little one. Like a marriage between ahalfbreed bastard and the Lady Jessica Charteris.» He grinned, showing strong white teeth against the darkness of his skin. «What a lively mind you have. I must compliment you on your wit.»

Jessica stumbled again, and again was caught by the easy strength of the man who was holding her within the civilized confines of the waltz. Yet even on the dance floor, Wolfe’s power was apparent. She had always thought of his strength as a refuge, even when she hadn’t been able to see him for years on end. She had lived on her memories, on the knowledge that there was one place on earth of refuge for her. Believing that had kept her from panic when her guardian insisted on the marriage to Lord Gore.

But now Wolfe’s refuge no longer seemed available to Jessica, leaving her fighting for her life. Alone.

Dear God, what will I do? Wolfe must agree to the marriage! How can 1 convince him?

«Your fingers are cold, Jessi.» Wolfe frowned. «You’re trembling. Are you ill?»

The concern in Wolfe’s expression and voice gave Jessica hope once more. He did care for her. She could see it in his unusual eyes, neither black nor yet blue, the color of deep twilight or sapphires in candlelight. She smiled with relief, not knowing how her smile lit her delicate face.

«‘Tisbut excitement at seeing you, Wolfe. When you didn’t answer Lady Victoria’s letter, I was afraid you had forgotten me.»

«How could I forget the redheaded elf who plagued me by sewing my sleeves shut so neatly that the stitches didn’t show? The elf who switched salt for sugar and laughed with such delight at the faces I made? The elf who hid in a haystack during a storm until I found her and promised to hold the thunder at bay?»

«Which you did quite well.» Unwittingly, Jessica moved closer to Wolfe as she had in the past, seeking the reassuring warmth of his body, the shelter of his strength. «Quite well indeed.»

«A matter of timing rather than control over the elements,» Wolfe said dryly, easing Jessica away from his body. «The storm was spent.»

«I called you Talks Back To Thunder for weeks afterward.»

«And I called you Hay Maiden.»

Jessica’s silver laughter drew approving glances from nearby dancers.

«Your laugh would make a stone smile,» Wolfe said.

«I have missed you, my Lord Wolfe. Surely you did not have to absent yourself for so long. The duchess’ heart healed within the half-year. You could have returned.»

«I’m not a lord. I’m the viscount’s savage, the bastard son of a Cheyenne woman and Lord Robert Stewart, Viscount of —»

Jessica’s small hand covered Wolfe’s mouth, cutting off his words. The gesture was as old as her understanding that his lack of legitimate birth laid him open to the same caustic thrusts from the English aristocracy that Jessica’s commoner mother and titled Scots father did.

«I won’t have you belittle my very best friend,» Jessica said firmly. «Elves have magical abilities. Youaremy Lord Wolfe. If you will save me from the ice storm outside, I will save you from the lecherous duchesses inside.»

Smiling, Wolfe looked over Jessica’s carefully coiffed head to the black night beyond Lord Stewart’s windows. Sleet gleamed dully with reflected light.

«You’re right,» he said. «It’s storming. It wasn’t when I stepped off the ship.»

«I always know when it’s storming,» Jessica said. «I used to watch the storms rake across the firth and count the seconds until they reached the house.»

Wolfe sensed rather than felt her repressed shudder. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the young woman who clung just a bit too tightly to him. Yet she wasn’t putting out any of the signals of a woman looking for a lover.

«Were you always afraid of storms?» he asked.

«I don’t remember.»

The lack of music in Jessica’s voice startled Wolfe. He had forgotten that she spoke rarely, if ever, of the nine years before the Earl ofGlenshire died and she became the ward of a distant cousin whom she had never met.

«Odd that you don’t remember.»

«Do you remember your boyhood among the Cheyenne?»

«The smell of a certain kind of wood smoke, the leap of a campfire against the night, chants and dances meant to call spirits…yes, I remember.»

«I bow to your superior memory.» Jessica smiled and glanced up through her lashes as she had been schooled to do by Lady Victoria. «Could we dance farther from the garden window? The draft is quite cool.»

Wolfe glanced at the graceful curve of Jessica’s neck and shoulders and the more intimate curves of breasts whose upper swell was barely sheathed in ice-blue silk. A smooth gold locket lay in the shadowed cleft between her breasts. He had given her that bit of jewelry just before he went to America to remove the Stewart family from the cuckolded duke’s wrath. Wolfe wondered if she carried her fiance’s picture in the locket.

Then Jessica took a breath and Wolfe’s eyes moved from the gold jewelry to the fine skin beneath it. It reminded him of warm cream. The scent of her was a rose garden beneath a summer sun, and her mouth was a pink bud from that same garden. She rested in his arms as lightly as a sigh.

She was a child eleven years younger than he was, and she was making him burn.

«If you’re chilly, Lady Jessica, next time wear a gown that covers more of your flesh.»

The coolness in Wolfe’s voice startled Jessica. He called her Lady Jessica only when he was angry with her. Perplexed, she looked down at the modest decolletage of her gown. No other woman in the room was so well-covered.

«What are you talking about, Wolfe? Lady Victoria was quite put out by the lines of my gown.»

«A rare show of good sense on her part,» he retorted.

Jessica laughed. «You mistook me. She wanted the neckline lowered, the waist drawn tight, and a much greater girth of crinoline. I preferred the French fashion, which lacks all those bothersome crinolines.»

Wolfe remembered Jessica running toward him when she first spotted him across the room. He had seen quite clearly the feminine curve of hip and thigh beneath the filmy cloth. It had been an unwelcome reminder that his elf was grown…and soon to become a lord’s wife.

«I didn’t want a huge weight of petticoats or pearls or diamonds,» Jessica continued. «Lady Victoria thought the dress and the jewelry too plain. She said I looked like a stick fetched by one of the hounds.»

«A stick,» muttered Wolfe, looking at the velvet shadow that lay between Jessica’s young breasts. «Your guardian is in need of spectacles.»

If another man had looked at Jessica in that way, she would have found an excuse to end the dance. But Wolfe was different. He was a man with no title, no need for heirs; he was not looking for a brood sow for his get.

Wind bellowed and hail scattered like shot across the glass. Shuddering with a fear whose source she remembered only in dreams and forgot before waking, Jessica tried to get closer to Wolfe. Even the reduced skirts of her modern ball gown prevented it. She stumbled for a third time, and again was caught by hands that were both powerful and gentle.

Around her the final strains of the waltz swirled, wrapping the room in music. It was almost midnight.

So little time left.

«Jessi, you’re shaking. What’s wrong? I thought you outgrew your fear of storms when you were ten.»

«Only because I knew you would protect me.»

«You survived quite well while I was gone,» Wolfe said dryly.

«Only because I knew you would come back. And you did.» Jessica looked up at Wolfe with a plea that was all the greater for its lack of artifice. «You must marry me, WolfeLonetree. Without you, I am lost.»

At first he thought she was teasing him again; then he realized that she meant every word. Automatically, he executed a graceful turn and released Jessica as the music ceased. She clung to his hand as she had at the end of their first dance only a few minutes before.

«Elf, you must let go of me,» Wolfe said quietly, looking down into the face that had become so unexpectedly, dangerously beautiful to him. «I’m not a lord and you are no longer a child. You are a lady of the realm whose engagement will soon be announced. One dance with the viscount’s savage will be tolerated. Two will elicit comments. Three will cause a scandal. We have danced twice. We will not do so again.»

«Wolfe,» she whispered.

It was too late. He bowed over her hand and turned away.

With eyes darkened by fear, Jessica watched Wolfe walk away. No matter how great the crush of people, he was easy to find. It was not his height, though he was taller than many men. Nor was it his looks, though he was undoubtedly handsome with his straight black hair, dark skin, and remote indigo eyes. What set Wolfe apart was his way of moving, a combination of strength and unconscious grace. He was a man thoroughly at home within his body in the way a hunting cat is at home within its own body.

Jessica needed that masculine strength, that self-assurance. The prospect of Wolfe’s return was all that had kept her from screaming as the net of circumstance and custom had drawn more tightly around her each day. Somehow she had to make Wolfe understand her need. She had made no joke when she proposed marriage to him. Far from it. She had never been more serious in all her twenty years.

A gust of wind moaned outside Lord Robert Stewart’s London house and rattled windowpanes. Winter was coming to an end but spring had not yet fully arrived, and now the seasons were fighting for supremacy, shaking the puny stone cities of man in their battle. Jessica’s heart squeezed with fear as the wind’s voice became a sustained, soul less howling that threatened her composure. Automatically, her hand went to the locket that held Wolfe’s likeness inside.

I’m safe. Wolfe won’t let me be hurt. I’m safe. Whatever stalks the storms can’t get to me.

The feel of the locket and the silent litany had soothed Jessica during the years when Wolfe had been exiled to America. Now he had come back…yet she felt more alone than she had ever felt since he had plucked her from her fragrant hiding place in the hay and held the storm at bay by calling to the thunder in the words of his Cheyenne mother.

Jessica laced her fingers together, concealing their trembling, but there was nothing she could do to conceal the pallor of her skin or the bleak desperation in her eyes.

«Come, is that a face with which to celebrate your birthday and your engagement to be married?» Lady Victoria asked in a voice that was as gentle as her eyes were shrewd.

«I want never to marry.»

Victoria sighed and caught one of Jessica’s cold hands between her own. «I know, sweet, I know. I kept your wishes in mind when I chose your husband. You will not be burdened by Lord Gore for long. He is old andoverfond of port. In a handful of years he will die. Then you will be a wealthy widow with your whole life in front of you.» She smiled thinly. «If you wish to be as scandalous as a French duchess, you may.»

«I would die before I let a man rut upon me.»

Rueful laughter was Victoria’s only reply. «Ah, Jessica. You should have been born to a staunch Catholic family and sent to a nunnery, but you were not. You are the only offspring of a Scots Protestant highland lass and a lowland earl. The title and lands passed elsewhere, leaving you no wealth of your own. You must marry. Lord Gore, whatever his drawbacks as a gentleman, has enough wealth to keep the Queen herself in luxury.»

«So you have told me. Often.»

«In the hope that someday you will listen,» retorted Victoria.

«In America slaves have been freed. Would that we in England treated our women so tenderly!»

A soft hand closed around Jessica’s chin. «Stubborn little Scots lass,» Victoria said. «But in this I am more stubborn even than you. You have enjoyed the perquisites of aristocracy. A common woman your age would have been tumbled and set to breeding years ago by the first lout who got beneath her skirts.»

Jessica’s mouth flattened.

«You were protected by my second husband and raised as gently as though you were a child of his own loins,» Victoria continued, her voice cool and relentless. «You were educated in managing a great house and a great fortune. Despite that dreadful American maid whom you imitate, you were taught to speak proper English and to be a proper lady. Now you must repay the generosity of your upbringing by producing an heir who will forever bind together the fortunes of the Viscount’s family and the wealth of Baronet Gore’s shipping empire.»

Long auburn lashes swept down, concealing the revulsion in Jessica’s eyes. «My lady, please —»

«No,» the older woman interrupted. «I have heard your pleas for much too long. I have spoiled you, but that is at an end. Your engagement to Lord Gore will be announced at midnight. You will marry within the month. If the old drunkard can coax his staff into readiness, you will produce an heir within a year and your duty will be fulfilled. Then you may live as you please.»

«OH, Lady Jessica,» Betsy said unhappily, «I don’t think you should go to Mr.Lonetree’s rooms.»

Jessica pushed away from the vanity where Betsy had been at work undoing her mistress’ elaboratejewelled coiffure and brushing out the long, silky hair. Normally, the ritual soothed Jessica, but tonight it had made her impatient. She began pacing the room like a caged cat. As she moved, the lacy peignoir which she wore while attending to her toilet billowed and rustled in pale shades of blue.

«There’s no choice.»

«But —»

«I won’t hear any more,» Jessica interrupted sharply. «You are forever telling me how women in America have more freedom in the choosing of their husbands and the living of their lives. If I must marry, I will choose my husband and live my life as it pleases me.»

«You aren’t American.»

«I shall be.» Jessica tied the peignoir’s robe around her waist with a firm yank. «American men don’t have titles or great wealth, so they don’t need heirs. I won’t have to endure revolting marital duties or ruinous pregnancies with an American husband.»

Hesitantly, Betsy said, «American men do like a warm bed, my lady.»

«Then they can sleep with hounds.»

«Oh dear. I fear I’ve led you astray. Just because American men aren’t titled doesn’t mean that —»

«No more arguing,» Jessica interrupted, putting her hands over her ears.

For a moment she stood very still, fighting the fear that threatened to choke her. The feel of Lord Gore’s sweating palms closing over her hand was too fresh, as was the memory of the lechery in his bloodshot eyes. The thought of those same hands touching her in the marriage bed made bile climb in Jessica’s throat.

A nightmare prowled just beneath her awareness, chilling her even as it strengthened her determination. She lowered her hands, straightened her spine, and headed for the door.

«My lady,» the maid began.

«Sweet Betsy, do shut up.» Jessica smiled at her maid with trembling lips. «Wish me well. If I succeed, you’ll get that trip to America I promised you three years ago.»

Jessica opened the door and stepped into the hall. Betsy’s low sound of distress was cut off by the soft thump of the closing door. Gathering the flyaway layers of silk in her hands, Jessica hurried toward the wing of the house where Wolfe’s rooms were. Fragrant oil lamps burned in stone niches in the hall, for Lord Robert was a great lover of tradition in the home. The illumination was dim, but that didn’t worry Jessica. She knew every alcove and corner of the great house.

Flinching when she passed windows where the storm beat in merciless demands for entrance, Jessica hurried through the huge stone house. She didn’t expect anyone else to be about, for she had waited until even the servants had gone to bed. She did avoid the library, however, for she knew the lord often gamed there until dawn with his friends.

Jessica hurried down another hall and ran lightly up a stairway. Just as she gained the top, she overran Lord Gore, who was considerably under the weather from port.

«Dear God,» she said, righting herself frantically.

Gore staggered, then caught himself by grabbing Jessica. Though drunk, he wasn’t beyond telling the difference between male and female flesh. Nor was he weak. When Jessica tried to twist free of him, his hands tightened. One hand dug into her breast. The other bruised her shoulder.

«Damn, but ‘tis my little lady.» Gore’s eyes narrowed as he dragged himself erect and focused on the silk and lace confection Jessica wore. «Very fetching, sweet. I’d not hoped to find you so eager for the marriage bed. Had I known, I’d have put less port under my hatches and got under yours sooner.»

«Let go of me!»

Gore ignored Jessica, intent only on getting closer to the soft, fragrant creature who was finally within his grasp. Part of Jessica’s peignoir ripped in her struggles to be free. He stared at her exposed breasts and tried to understand his good fortune at having found a fiancee who was so eager for him she sought out his rooms while the house slept.

«Just look at thosebubbies, by God,» he said heavily. «Lord Stewart drove a mean bargain for you, but it was worth it to theha’penny.»

Gore bent down to Jessica’s breasts, staggered, and ended up shoving her against the wall with a force that knocked her breathless. That was the only thing that kept her from crying out in pain as his teeth closed over one breast. Grunting with growing excitement, he ignored her struggles as he flattened her against the wall and fumbled to undo his pants. Desperately, Jessica remembered what Wolfe had taught her just before they parted four years ago. With a silent prayer she brought one knee up hard between Gore’s legs. Instantly, his hands fell away and he staggered backward.

Clutching her ruined peignoir around her body, her hair streaming like dark fire behind her, Jessica fled to Wolfe’s room. The door opened easily beneath her shaking hands.

Wolfe came out of the canopy bed in a single flowing movement. He had just enough time to recognize Jessica and drop his knife on the bedside table before she threw herself at his chest. Her arms locked around his bare waist and she shook as wildly as she had when he had found her huddled within a haystack.

Automatically, Wolfe lifted Jessica onto the bed and sat holding her close, trying to soothe her. A few feet away the storm beat mindlessly against stone and glass.

«Gently, little one,» Wolfe murmured. «You’re safe with me. The storm can’t get you now. You’re safe. Here, I’ll light the lamp so that you can see. The storm is out there and you’re in here.»

Wolfe leaned over, lit the lamp one-handed, and resettled Jessica in his lap.

«There, elf. Is that better? You can see that you’re safe, can’t you? You can see…sweet Jesus Christ!»

Wolfe fell silent, unable to speak. Jessica’s breasts were bared and shockingly beautiful despite the bright drops of blood and blue-black bruises forming on her skin.

From somewhere in the house, raised voices could be heard. Wolfe barely noticed. The realization that a man had broken Jessica’s soft skin with his teeth and bruised her delicate flesh with his fingers enraged Wolfe.

«What bloody bastard did this to you?» he asked savagely.

«Lord G-G —» Jessica took a long, shuddering breath and tried to still the shaking of her body so that she could speak. «Lord Gore.»

Very carefully, Wolfe pulled the torn ends of Jessica’s peignoir in place, covering her breasts. «Hush, elf.» He kissed her hair gently. «Hush, little one. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you again.»

«P-promise?»

«Yes.»

Jessica let out a broken sigh. For a few moments there was no sound but that of the wind and Jessica’s slowly calming breathing.

Gore burst into the room through the open door. His face was sweaty and he was somewhat less drunk than he had been, for pain could temporarily sober a man.

«You need a taste of the rod, you little baggage,» Gore said coldly, stalking toward the bed, «and you shall have it. Get yourarse out of that savage’s bed.»

Wolfe put Jessica aside and stood up in a single motion. For the first time she realized that Wolfe was naked from the waist up — and from the waist down, as well. Lamplight ran over his body, outlining the power that ran through him like leashed lightning.

«I take it you’re the bastard who mauled myJessi?» Wolfe asked in a soft voice.

Jessica forgot Wolfe’s nakedness as his voice sank into her. She had never heard that tone from him. She shivered and realized that Wolfe could kill — and he would, to defend her.

Before Gore could answer, Lady Victoria came rushing into the room, followed by a distraught Betsy.

«I’m sorry,» Betsy said, looking at Jessica. «I just couldn’t let you come to Mr.Lonetree’s room. The man has a wicked reputation with the ladies.»

«Fully earned, from the look of it,» Victoria said dryly, her gray eyes taking in Gore’s fury, Jessica’sdeshabille, and Wolfe’s nakedness. «Do cover yourself, Wolfe.»

Wolfe ignored Victoria. His hand snaked out and fastened around Gore’s throat. From the hallway came the babble of excited voices. Lord Robert Stewart’s was foremost.

«My dear lady, would you mind explaining what in the devil is — Wolfe! Good Christ, man!»

Robert slammed the bedroom door behind him, but the damage was already done; five lords of the realm had gotten a look into Wolfe’s bedroom. The scandal would be all over London by dawn.

Grimly, Lord Robert turned back to the five people who remained in the room. «Release Lord Gore.»

«I don’t think so,» Wolfe said evenly. «The man attackedJessi.»

«You are a liar as well as a bastard,» Gore said.

He would have said more, but Wolfe’s hand had contracted. Powerful fingers shut down Gore’s carotid arteries, rendering him unconscious with brutal efficiency. Reluctantly, Wolfe opened his hand and let Gore fall heavily to the floor.

«Dear God, Wolfe. You have killed him!» Victoria said in a horrified voice.

«In America I would have. Unfortunately, I’m not in America.»

«You shall be soon,» Robert said. «Damn! You have a gift for scandal, son.»

«It doesn’t come from my mother’s side,» Wolfe said coolly. «Scandal is a civilized notion.»

He turned back to see if Jessica was over her fright. He saw her eyes widen as her glance went down his body. She turned scarlet and looked away so quickly she almost lost her balance.

Calmly, Wolfe went to the dresser and pulled out a nightshirt. He hated the things, but he didn’t want to distress Jessica any further.

Gore began snoring. Robert spared him an irritated glance before he turned his attention to Jessica. He meant to make his voice kind, but he was too angry at losing his son again to be anything but blunt.

«Is Wolfe your paramour?»

The question brought back Gore’s drunken onslaught. Jessica went pale, then flushed with a force that made her feel dizzy. She put her burning face in her hands and shuddered, fighting for control, wondering if she was caught in one of her nightmares where the wind screamed with a woman’s voice and dawn was an eternity away.

«I can’t — Lord Robert — I —» Jessica said desperately, trying to make him understand that she couldn’t marry Gore. «Dear God. You have been so kind to me. I’m sorry.»

Her voice broke and she trembled. Her distress astonished both Stewarts, for Jessica had never shown anything but composure, even when she was a newly orphaned child.

«WhatJessi is trying to say,» Wolfe said coolly as he buttoned the shirt, «is that we aren’t lovers.»

«But you would have been, if Betsy had not come to me,» Victoria said. «You have wanted Jessica since her fifteenth summer.»

Even as Wolfe opened his mouth to deny it, he knew it was true. The sudden realization that he had wanted Jessica for years made it impossible to speak.

«Wolfe…» Victoria sighed wearily. «If you could not keep your cock in your breeches out of respect for your father, the least you could do is limit your attentions to married women and whores.»

«Enough, wife,» Robert said. «Wolfe is my son. He knows his duty.»

«Which is?» Wolfe asked quietly.

«You seduced Lady Jessica. You shall marry her.»

«There has been no seduction. Gore mauled her, she ran to my room in hysterics, and Gore followed. A minute later, Lady Victoria arrived.»

«Jessica?» Robert asked sharply. «If you are a virgin still, the engagement can be saved. Lord Gore is quite keen on you.»

Jessica held out her hands to Wolfe and whispered, «You promised…»

There was a shocked silence followed by Wolfe’s curt command. «Leave me with Jessica for a moment. And take that drunken swine with you.»

When Victoria started to protest, Robert simply grabbed Gore’s feet and dragged the man into the hall. Gore didn’t awaken. Victoria stepped over him. Betsy hurried after her employers. The door closed firmly. Before Wolfe could speak, Jessica sank to her knees in front of him.

«Please, Wolfe. I beg of you. Marry me. Don’t let that man have me.»

«Are you a virgin?» Wolfe asked tightly.

Jessica’s head snapped up. «Good God, yes! I can’t bear being touched by a man. It makes my stomach heave.»

«Then why were you coming to my room dressed — or rather, undressed — as you are?»

«It was what I was wearing when I realized I had to talk to you,» she said, perplexed. She held out her hand to him in silent plea. Despite the rigid control she exerted on her voice, her fingers trembled. «I came to ask you to save me from Lord Gore.»

«Consider yourself saved. No matter what my father thinks, I doubt that Gore will have you after tonight.»

«But another man might. Victoria will contract another marriage for me.»

For a moment Wolfe said nothing. He hated the thought of another man having Jessica, but there was nothing to be done for it. Even if the Stewarts permitted Wolfe to marry her, the match would be a disaster for him. No matter how much Jessica’s body tempted Wolfe, he knew she simply was all wrong as a wife for him.

«Finding a suitable husband for you is Lady Victoria’s duty,» Wolfe said tightly.

«No.Iwill lie beneath the ground before I lie beneath a man.»

Wolfe’s eyes narrowed at the certainty in Jessica’s voice. She would sooner die than couple with a man.

Any man.

«But you want me to marry you,» he said neutrally.

A smile trembled on Jessica’s lips. «You would never touch me like that. Men marry because they must have heirs. Women marry because they want wealth. You have no need of an heir and I have no need of wealth.»

A dangerous stillness came over Wolfe as Jessica’s words sank into him. «Even a bastard has…needs.»

«What doesbastardy have to do with it?» she asked with exasperation.

For a few taut moments, Wolfe said nothing. Then his breath rushed out in a soundless sigh as he understood that Jessica had meant no insult to him by assuming that a bastard wouldn’t want to couple with his wife; she simply didn’t realize that men wanted more than heirs from a marriage.

«Dear Wolfe,» Jessica said softly, touching the sleeve of his nightshirt. «Do marry me. We are good friends. We would have such fun living in America, hunting and fishing and eating by the campfire.»

«My God, you really mean that,» he said, stunned by the magnitude of her is understanding of what marriage was.

«Oh, yes.» She smiled as the cage of fear loosened around her heart. «I have never enjoyed being with anyone so much as you, my Lord Wolfe. Now we can be together again. What could be better?»

He said something profane, then ran his hand wearily through his black hair. «Did you set me up, Jessi? Did you send your maid to fetch Lady Victoria as a witness while you ran to my room looking like a girl on the way to her lover?»

Jessica shook her head vigorously. The motion made lamplight twist and run through her long hair like streamers of fire.

«No. I didn’t plan this.» She drew in a long, ragged breath. «But now that it has happened, I will swear on my mother’s grave that we have lain together. Then you’ll have to marry me. Then I’ll be free.»

«What of me? What of my freedom?»

Jessica looked up at Wolfe with clear, brilliant eyes. «I’ve thought of that, too. I won’t ask anything of you. You will be free to come or go as you please. If you want a shooting companion, I’ll hunt with you. If you want to travel alone, I won’t complain. If you want a special fly to lure trout, I’ll tie it for you.»

«Jessi —»

She talked right over Wolfe. «If you want my conversation, I’ll be there. If you want silence, I’ll leave the room. I’ll see that your house is well run and that only food you like is served. And when dinner is over I’ll warm your brandy glass in my hands until fragrance fills the crystal globe and then I will give it to you and we will sit together and no storms will ever come inside…»

The silence stretched and shimmered like a candle flame pulled by wind. Finally, Wolfe turned his back to Jessica because he couldn’t trust himself to look at her any longer and not lose his temper in a way that he had never done with any living creature.

«Jessi,» he said finally, softly. «The life you’re describing is the life of an English lord and lady. I’m not a lord. My wife will live in America. She won’t live the life of an aristocratic lady.»

«I love America. I’ve been sick with longing to see the tall grass and great buffalo again. I’ve missed the endless sky. Betsy has taught me American ways. When I’m with her, you can hear my British accent hardly at all. I’ve worked very hard at being American,» Jessica said earnestly. «I knew you wouldn’t want to live in England.»

Wolfe spun around. «Youdidtrap me!»

Jessica bent her head and looked at her tightly laced hands. «No, my Lord Wolfe. When I understood that Victoria meant to see me married, I tried to imagine belonging to a man. And I simply couldn’t imagine belonging to any other man but you, so I had to learn how to belong to you. I’ve thought about this quite a lot, you see.»

When Wolfe said nothing, she looked up at him again, her eyes luminous, pleading. «I don’t want to disappoint Lord Robert. I don’t want to lie to Lady Victoria. I don’t want to trap you into marriage.»

«But you will.»

«Only if I must.»

Wolfe said something shocking under his breath, but the words were lost in the sustained howling of the wind. Trembling despite her determination and straight spine, Jessica waited.

When Wolfe finally moved, it was so suddenly that she flinched. He went to the bedroom door, jerked it open, and was confronted by two pairs of anxious eyes. Betsy and the sleeping Gore had disappeared. Glancing from Wolfe’s shuttered expression to Jessica’s desperate composure, the Stewarts came into the bedroom and closed the heavy door behind them.

«Well?» Robert demanded.

«Lady Jessica is prepared to swear I’ve had her,» Wolfe said coldly. «I haven’t.»

Robert looked at Jessica. «Is that true?»

«I will marry Wolfe,» she said in a low voice, «or I will marry no man at all.»

«Bloody hell,» muttered the lord. He looked at Wolfe. «What are we to do?»

«Just what you’ve always done — give the spoiled little aristocrat what she wants.»

«You will marry her?»

«After a fashion,» Wolfe drawled. «Lady Jessica has some girlish romantic fancy about living in the West.»

«Hardly a fancy,» Jessica said. «I’ve been beyond the Mississippi. I know what awaits me.»

«Like hell you do,» Wolfe said. «You think it’s going to be one long hunting holiday. It won’t be. I can’t afford such things, and even if I could, I wouldn’t.»

Victoria looked from her stubborn ward to the savage planes of Wolfe’s face. She smiled and then began laughing softly. «Ah, Wolfe, your mind is as quick and sharp as a rapier. But Jessica is also quick, and as stubborn as Scots granite.»

Wolfe grunted. «I’m a hell of a lot harder than stone. Lady Jessica will soon realize that marriage to me isn’t some long hunting expedition complete with china, silver, and enough servants to curry the buffalo before they’re shot. If she lasts until we reach my home at the edge of the Rockies I’ll be surprised.»

Jessica’s back became even straighter as she heard the rage and derision in Wolfe’s voice. The look he slanted at her out of his dark eyes was no kinder.

«When she gets over her foolishness,» Wolfe said curtly, turning back to Victoria, «I’ll have the marriage annulled and return her to you the same way she came to me — completely untouched.»

«Oh, I hopenotcompletely,» Victoria said with amusement. «Teach the stubborn little nun not to fear a man. Then you will both be free.»

Wolfe turned his back on Victoria and looked at Jessica with cold indigo eyes. «It’s not too late to stop this farce, my lady. You’ll soon tire of being the common wife of a common man.»

«I shall not tire of being your wife.» It was a vow, and Jessica said it as such.

«Yes, you shall,» Wolfe said.

And that, too, was a vow.