Prince Charming

Chapter 2

They didn't take the news at all well. Alison, Jennifer, and Constance were too astonished to say a word, so they took turns screaming instead. Hampton and Morris were both obviously thrilled with the announcement. They cheered in unison. Jane bellowed a foul, unrepeatable blasphemy, which was only partially drowned out by William's immediate roar of denial.

Lucas ignored the chaos. He accepted Taylor's cloak from the butler, casually draped it around her shoulders, then caught hold of her hand again and went outside. She had to run to keep up with him. She didn't even have time to wave farewell to her friends. With her free hand, she grabbed hold of the hem of her gown so she wouldn't trip going down the stone steps.

He didn't slow his pace until they reached the circle drive. He stopped then, and after motioning to the driver to bring the carriage forward, he let go of her hand and half turned to look down at her.

She immediately set about straightening her appearance. She smoothed her hair back over her shoulders, readjusted her cloak, then reached into her pocket to get her gloves.

Her hands were shaking. Lucas noticed she had a difficult time getting her gloves on. She was obviously flustered, perhaps even a little afraid. He wondered if this was due to the way her friends and enemies reacted to her announcement or if he were in some way responsible. He considered asking her why she was trembling, then discarded the idea. She probably wouldn't like knowing he was aware of her discomfort.

In truth, he didn't know what to make of her. She was such a dainty, feminine thing, yet certainly a tone high-strung. She blushed just like a schoolgirl and couldn't look him in the eye. Her shyness amused him. He tried to picture her in the wilderness of Montana Territory and almost laughed out loud. Lady Taylor wouldn't last five minutes. He knew he was making a snap judgment based solely upon appearance. Still, he didn't think he was wrong. She looked as fragile and as exquisite as a piece of fine porcelain, an object to be admired from a distance but certainly not to be handled. Porcelain would easily shatter, and from his initial observation of the piece of fluff standing next to him, so would she. No, she couldn't possibly survive in the wild, and thank God, she would never have to be put to the test.

The sudden memory of Taylor using that ridiculous paper fan as a weapon to slap Merritt flashed into Lucas's mind. She certainly hadn't been timid then. Lucas frowned over the inconsistency.

Taylor finally gained enough courage to look up at him. She could feel herself blushing and wished to God she wasn't so transparent. The man had to believe she was a twit. God only knew she was feeling like one. She was determined to apologize to him no matter how embarrassing it was. She would have to admit she didn't remember his name, unfortunately.

Taylor caught him frowning down at her and immediately forgot all about apologies. She assumed he was irritated because she'd blurted out their secret. She felt guilty enough without his censure.

"Please don't be annoyed with me, sir. I know I shouldn't have told everyone we were married, but I was simply too flustered to think straight. William was saying such horrible things about you, and I kept waiting for you to defend yourself. I realize you've been trained from a very early age to be a gentleman at all times, but still, there are some situations where manners should be set aside. You really should learn to stand up for yourself. I believe protecting one's honor is more important than being gallant. Don't you?"

She waited a full minute for him to answer her. He remained stubbornly silent. She guessed that he didn't agree with her. She let out a little sigh to cover her nervousness. "Do think about what I just said. I believe in time you'll realize my suggestion has merit."

She had rendered him speechless. Lucas was simply too astonished to say anything. Never in his life had he ever been mistaken for a gentleman. And never had anyone ever tried to defend his honor. It was amusing and humbling. It was obvious to him from her earnest expression that she meant every word she'd said, and hell, should he set her straight now or wait?

The driver had finally negotiated the carriage through the clutter of vehicles lining the drive and the street beyond. It was still rocking to a stop when Lucas turned to open the door for Taylor. William's bellow and Taylor's whispered exclamation made him pause.

"Taylor, wait up."

"Oh, dear, now what does he want?"

She instinctively turned to look up at the steps. William was racing toward her, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to get to her.

Lucas's patience was wearing thin. "Get inside the carriage, Taylor," he ordered. His tone was filled with irritation. "I'll take care of him."

She ignored his command. "I really do wish he'd leave me alone, and I fully intend to tell him to do just that. You can't fight my battles for me, sir. I have to fight my own. Do you know I almost married him?" She paused to add a dramatic shiver, then continued on. "Can you imagine? I thank God almost hourly I escaped such a tragedy."

Lucas turned to her. He smiled when he saw the disgruntled expression on her face. "Hourly?" he repeated.

"Hourly," she confirmed with a nod.

William finally reached the bottom step. "Do remember my suggestion to stand up for yourself," Taylor whispered to Lucas.

"You aren't playing fair, Taylor," William began. He stopped no more than a foot or two away from her. "You haven't given me an opportunity to explain why I had to marry Jane. You owe me that much. After all the time I spent courting you…"

"I don't owe you anything, William. Go away and leave me alone. I have nothing more to say to you."

He acted as though he hadn't heard her. "We can go on like before. You'll see. I can make you forget I'm married."

Her gasp of outrage would have knocked her over if she hadn't grabbed hold of Lucas's arm. Her dramatic reaction made him want to laugh, but he didn't dare. He kept his gaze on Merritt when he spoke to Taylor. "I'll be happy to finish this discussion for you. Just say the word."

She shook her head.

"Tomorrow I'll call on you, early in the morning before Jane wakes up," William continued matter-of-factly. "You and I will find someplace quiet where we can talk. I have to make you understand. I know I hurt you. Still, that certainly wasn't sufficient reason for you to lie about getting married. Whatever were you thinking to make up such an outrageous tale?"

Taylor was too shocked by what William had just suggested to do more than glare at him. Good God, what had she ever seen in him? How had she ever believed he was attractive? His dark hair and green eyes no longer appealed to her. She used to find him a charmer. Now she thought of him as a smooth-talking devil. Lord, what an idiot she'd been. There wasn't anything attractive about William Merritt. He disgusted her, for he lacked all of the qualities she most valued: honor, integrity, and loyalty.

"You dare suggest I would continue associating with you after… after…" She was too indignant to go on. She had no wish to make a scene. Besides, nothing she could say would make him understand the grave insult he'd just given her. Did he really believe she would ever consider becoming his mistress?

The thought made her stomach turn. She could feel her face burning. Taylor shook her head, then turned around and reached for the door latch to the carriage. Lucas beat her to the task. He grabbed hold of her elbow to steady her, assisted her inside, and then started to get inside with her.

William took a step forward. "You shouldn't let him escort you home," he shouted so she would be certain to hear. "He's a bastard, you know, with a reputation as black as the devil's."

Taylor's temper ignited. She shoved the door wider. It would have slammed into Lucas's side if he hadn't reached out to hold it steady. He didn't want it to swing back into her face.

"You will not talk about my husband with such disrespect. Get out of my sight, William, and never dare speak to me again. You're a vile man, and I want nothing more to do with you."

After giving the cur what she considered a proper blistering, Taylor grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the door closed.

Lucas could hear her muttering. William was proving to be as dense as a mule. He refused to believe the truth. Lucas leaned against the side of the carriage, folded his arms across his chest, and simply waited to see what he would do next.

"You're overly distraught, Taylor. I understand how you feel. You think I abandoned you and that's why you lied about being married. First thing tomorrow morning, we'll have our talk. Then you'll forgive me."

Taylor gave up. She threw her hands up in vexation, then reached through the window to poke Lucas in the shoulder.

"Please get inside. I would like to leave now."

"Isn't it my turn yet?" Lucas asked. "I'm sure I could convince him."

William glared at Lucas. Lucas smiled back.

"I would rather you didn't get involved, sir," she called through the window.

"I'm already involved now that you're my wife, Taylor."

William let out a roar very like a wounded animal.

Taylor thought the squeal he made sounded like an injured pig. It was grating on the ears and most unpleasant.

The obtuse man had finally caught on to the truth, however. "You actually married him? Are you crazy? Don't you realize what you've done?"

Taylor pushed the door open again. She leaned out, intent on giving William one final blistering, but the look on her escort's face suggested she keep silent. His eyes had gone… cold. Taylor thought he probably wanted to avert a scene, and couples were already gathering on the steps, silently watching William make a fool of himself.

Hampton and Morris came running down the steps. Taylor forced a smile for their benefit and then sat back.

"Couldn't we please leave now?" she whispered, hoping her escort would hear her.

"Yes," Lucas agreed. He turned to get inside, but William's next words changed his mind.

"Good riddance to the both of you. How does it feel knowing I had her first, brother? You're getting my leftovers. She's fit only for a savage like you," he shouted.

Taylor was appalled by the slander. Then she saw her escort's expression. She became instantly frightened. God help her, she started shivering. She'd never seen anyone that angry before. He looked furious enough to kill someone. He'd turned into a barbarian right before her eyes.

"Now it's my turn."

She didn't like the sound of that. She vigorously shook her head, but Lucas ignored her.

William realized he'd gone too far when he saw the expression on Lucas's face. He instinctively stepped back, then turned to his left and then his right, looking for a means of escape. There wasn't any. Hampton, his face as white as flour, and Morris, his face as red as fire, deliberately blocked him on both sides. Neither man was going to let William go anywhere. They'd heard what he'd said about Taylor, and both men were still reeling with outrage.

Lucas towered over his half brother. He reached out, grabbed hold of William by his neck with one hand, half lifted him off the ground, and then slammed his fist into his face.

He continued to hold him up in the air when he spoke to him. "If you ever repeat such slander again, I'll come back here and kill you."

After giving the dark promise, he tossed him onto the curb. William collapsed to the ground with a loud thud.

Lucas smiled at Morris and Hampton. His voice was quite mild when he said, "You'll be sure to let me know if he ever says anything uncomplimentary about my wife, won't you, boys?"

"Yes, of course we will," Morris fervently promised.

Hampton nodded. He was fully occupied watching William struggle to his knees.

Lucas got into the carriage, pulled the door closed, and leaned back against the seat across from Taylor. He was smiling with satisfaction.

They were finally on their way. Taylor tried to squeeze herself into the opposite corner to put as much distance as possible between the two of them. It was a ludicrous goal, given the small dimensions inside the carriage and the large size of her escort, but Taylor wasn't thinking very logically at the moment. She was too busy fighting her panic. She took a couple of deep breaths in a bid to calm herself. It didn't help much, but she wanted to hide her nervousness from him. She did have her pride, after all.

"A gentleman doesn't settle disputes with his fists," she dictated.

She waited a long minute for him to offer his apology. He didn't say a word. She decided to prod him. "I do believe you broke William's nose. Have you nothing to say about that, sir?"

"God, it felt good."

"I beg your pardon?" she asked.

Lucas watched as she wrung her hands together with such agitation, she actually twisted her gloves off. He watched her for a long moment, then repeated his remark. "I said, it felt good. You wouldn't want me to lie to you, would you?"

"No, of course I wouldn't want you to lie to me. You aren't at all sorry?"

"No. I've wanted to hit him for a long while."

"Yes, but once the spontaneous, uncontrolled action was… finished, and you've had time to consider all the ramifications of such ungentlemanly conduct, haven't you concluded…"

She was going to ask him to admit he had a little regret for acting like a barbarian, but he never gave her time to finish her question.

"Wishes do come true," he drawled out. "That is my conclusion."

She let out a loud sigh. He decided to change the subject. "You couldn't remember my name, could you?"

There was a vast amount of amusement in his voice. She couldn't see his face now, for it was quite dark inside the carriage, but she strongly suspected he was smiling.

One day she, too, might find some humor in this situation. She didn't now, however, and furthermore she was appalled by the entire evening. Her own forgetfulness was at the top of her list of horrors to live down. Watching William get knocked to the ground came in second. She was feeling frightened again, and all because she was all alone with this man. Good God, she was married to a complete stranger.

"I'm not usually so forgetful," she said. "It's true, I couldn't remember your name, but that was only because I was flustered."

"What made you tell them…"

She didn't let him finish his question. "You are my husband, like it or not."

"I'm your legal guardian," he amended, for he liked the sound of that much better.

She shrugged. "You married me in order to become my guardian. That was part of the agreement, remember?"

He let out a sigh. "I remember."

He sounded irritated to her. She could only conclude he wasn't very happy about his circumstances. She tried not to take offense. She knew he didn't want to be married, her grandmother had told her so. It was, therefore, ridiculous for her to have hurt feelings. Why, she barely knew the man. Besides, she was still too busy battling her fear of the giant. She didn't have time for other worries.

How had she ever thought he was a gentleman? Lord, she'd instructed him to learn how to stand up for himself. Taylor could feel herself blushing. She was suddenly quite thankful it was so dark inside the vehicle.

Confront the fear, she thought. A free woman could do that, couldn't she?

She cleared her throat. "When you first spoke to William Merritt, the look in your eyes held my attention. You made me…"

"I made you what?" he asked, wondering over her sudden timidity.

"Worry," she blurted out. She couldn't bring herself to admit she'd been afraid. "I know he besmirched my character and that is why you struck him, but I got the feeling you disliked him before he said those unpleasant things about me. Is that true? Did you dislike him before…"

"I hate the son of a bitch."

He couldn't be more blunt than that, she supposed. She found herself smiling and couldn't imagine why. Her worry was making her daft, she supposed. "Is that the reason you married me? Were you thinking to get even with your brother for his past sins?"

"No," he answered. "I needed the money. Your grandmother made me an offer I couldn't walk away from. Getting even was an added incentive. Taylor, we probably should discuss how this arrangement is going to work. There hasn't been time until now."

"There isn't anything to discuss. I'll keep my end of the bargain. You needn't worry about that. I know you didn't want to get married. And that, you see, is one of the many reasons why my grandmother found you so appealing."

He didn't see. "You chose me because I didn't want to get married?"

"Yes." She didn't elaborate.

"That doesn't make sense, Taylor."

"It makes sense to me," she argued. "I wanted to be free, and being married to you would insure that goal. I certainly didn't want to get married. But there was Uncle Malcolm just waiting to take over, and Madam and I both knew that when she died, he would force me to marry someone he chose. I now have legal protection against my uncle," she added with a nod. "Because I carry your name. What is it, by the way?"

"Ross," he answered. "Lucas Ross."

She still didn't remember ever having heard the name before. She wasn't about to admit that truth, however. He was bound to think she was a complete imbecile. "Yes, of course. Lucas Ross. I remember now," she blatantly lied. "It's a very… American name, isn't it?"

He didn't have the faintest idea what she meant by that comment. The entire situation was ludicrous to him. He was both exasperated and amused by his bride. God, he was actually married to the woman, and now that he thought about it, he didn't know a damned thing about her. Except that she was an incredibly good-looking woman. And that, he told himself, shouldn't matter to him at all.

"In this day and age, no woman can be forced to marry against her will," he remarked.

She let out a rather unladylike snort. "Perhaps in America that is true, but not in England," she replied. "And certainly not when estates and factories and trusts are at issue. There are other circumstances you don't know about and really never have any need to know, sir. Suffice it to say that Madam chose you because she knew you would complete your end of the bargain and then go away. Once we get to Boston, I shall be quite all right. You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"

He could hear the concern in her voice. "No," he answered. "I haven't changed my mind."

"Good." She drew the word out. Lucas didn't know what to make of her. Hell, he didn't think she was old enough to even be called a woman. She was so young, so innocent looking. It was his duty to make certain she arrived in Boston safe and sound, hand her over to her legal advisors there, and then leave her.

The plan sounded just fine to him. "Are there people besides your legal advisors who will take over your care?"

"Take over my care? I'm capable of taking care of myself, Mr. Ross."

She sounded incensed. Lucas smiled. He had obviously pricked her temper with his poorly phrased question. He hadn't heard any fear in her outraged reaction, however, and filed that bit of information away for future use. When Taylor was angry, she forgot to be afraid.

And she was afraid all right, afraid of him. From the moment she had spotted him walking toward her in the ballroom, she'd become as frightened as a trapped rabbit. Yet hadn't he spotted relief as well? That didn't make any sense. How could she be frightened and relieved at the same time.

"I meant to ask you if you had relatives living in Boston," he said.

"Yes, I do," she answered. She deliberately failed to add the fact that the relatives in question were only two years old. He didn't need to know that particular.

"Good."

He sounded relieved. She tried not to become irritated. "Do women in America need to be taken care of like children?"

"Some do," he supposed.

"I don't," she announced. "I'm very self-sufficient. However, aside from relatives and financial advisors waiting for me, there are also a number of other bankers eager to help make my adjustment to Boston society easier. I'm certain someone has already found me suitable lodging. Where is your home, sir?"

"Don't call me sir. My name's Lucas."

"My name's Taylor." Oh, God, he already knew that. "I mean to say you have my permission to call me Taylor. You have a ranch somewhere in the wilderness, don't you?"

She was sounding worried again. Lucas wanted to put her at ease but couldn't figure out how he was ever going to accomplish that goal. She was as skittish as a young colt. The journey to America was going to take an eternity, he decided, if Taylor continued to act so timid around him.

"Didn't your grandmother fill you in on the particulars?"

"No," she answered. "There wasn't time. I understand she spent a good deal of time with you. You visited with her on many occasions before she decided to ask you to marry me. Isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"I only arrived back from Scotland this afternoon. You were there, waiting, and Madam said the minister was late for another engagement. She would have fretted if I had plied her with questions."

"So you married me without knowing anything at all about me?"

"Madam said you were acceptable," Taylor replied. "You don't know much about me either, unless Madam told you about my background, but since we won't be seeing one another once we reach Boston, it really doesn't matter, does it?"

"No," he answered. "I suppose it doesn't." He decided to answer her earlier question then. "I have a ranch in an area called Montana Territory, near the edge of the valley. It's isolated, sparsely populated now that the gold rush is over, and the only town around is just two streets wide and long. You would hate it."

"Why would you think I'd hate it?" she asked.

"The only society there is the Sunday gathering in front of the general store for the reading of the newspaper from Rosewood. There aren't any parties or balls. Survival's a lot more important there than society."

"And that is what appeals to you?" He didn't answer her. "What is the name of the town?"

"Redemption."

It sounded wonderful to her. "Could a person get lost there? Is there enough space to walk for a full day and never see another soul?"

If he thought her question odd, he didn't say. The carriage rocked to a stop near the street leading to the loading docks. The ship they would board was called the Emerald, a two-ton paddle wheel steamer moored in the center of the river. A small steam tender would convey the passengers to the ship.

Taylor was suddenly anxious to be on her way. It was well past one o'clock in the morning, yet the streets and pavement were teeming with activity. Their carriage was hindered from progressing any further by all the wagons, mail carts, and carriages ahead of them being unloaded of their letters, packages, and passengers.

"Are our suitcases already on board?" she asked. "Or must we find them in this clutter?"

"They're already in our stateroom."

"Our stateroom? Don't we have separate quarters, sir?"

She was trying hard not to panic again. Lucas wasn't paying any attention to her now, and that was a blessing, she thought. She knew she'd gone pale. She felt faint. Did the man expect to share her bed? Heavens, she hadn't considered that obscene possibility.

Lucas unlatched the door, pulled the drape back, and then turned to her.

"Your grandmother insisted the log show we shared the same quarters, Taylor. She wanted only one reservation written down. Feel like walking the rest of the way?"

She felt like running. She nodded instead. He got out of the vehicle, then turned to assist her. She left her cloak behind. He reached behind her to get the garment, saw her gloves were on the floor, and collected those as well, then turned to help her put her cloak on. Taylor seemed surprised she wasn't wearing her gloves and hastily put them in her pocket. She knew he was being extremely considerate with her, and that fact made her feel better. Perhaps he wasn't such a barbarian after all.

"Why didn't I notice how tall you were?"

She hadn't realized she'd asked the question until the words were out of her mouth and she couldn't take them back.

"You were standing on the step next to your grandmother's bed. I wasn't."

She barely heard his explanation. She was thoroughly occupied staring at him. He had a wonderful smile. And beautiful white teeth, she couldn't help but notice. Heavens, he even had a dimple in the side of his cheek. If that wasn't appealing, she didn't know what was. She let out a little sigh over her errant thoughts.

He glanced down, caught her staring up at him, and wondered what had come over her. She was blushing. She was such an innocent, he thought. Taylor looked mesmerized, almost dazed. What in thunder was the matter with her?

"What are you thinking about?" he asked

"You're very handsome," she blurted out. She immediately regretted telling him the truth. He looked exasperated with her. Her face felt as though it were burning. God, she wished she were more worldly, more sophisticated. "Of course, I'm a horrible judge of men," she hastily added. "You've probably figured that out by now."

"Why's that?"'

Now she was exasperated. "I was going to marry William," she reminded him.

He shrugged. She didn't know what that was supposed to mean. "I should hate all men, I suppose."

He laughed. "You're too young to hate anyone."

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Old enough to hate the world."

He was through discussing the matter. Lucas grabbed hold of her hand and started walking. She had to run to keep pace. Fortunately, the crowd swelled near the corner, and he was forced to slow down.

He had a firm grip on her hand. Taylor felt safe. It was an interesting feeling, overwhelmingly pleasant, actually, for she hadn't felt safe in such a long time. Things were looking much, much brighter.

They threaded their way through the chaos. The wharf was ablaze with light and activity. Carts piled high with trunks and suitcases stood unattended in the center of the street. Vendors shouted their prices and waved their wares as they pushed their way around the obstacles, while couples huddled together in a waiting line outside the ticketing office. Pickpockets darted in and out of the crowd, some as young as eight, others as old as eighty, but no one got within spitting distance of Taylor. Lucas wouldn't allow that. Men did gawk. They didn't touch. She noticed several gentlemen staring at her and believed her formal attire was drawing all the attention. With her free hand, she pulled the dark cape close and held the edges together against her chest.

Lucas noticed the action. "Are you getting cold?"

She shook her head. "I'm trying not to draw attention," she explained. "I'm not dressed appropriately for travel," she added when he continued to look down at her.

It wouldn't have mattered what she wore, Lucas decided. She couldn't change what she looked like. Her curly hair cascaded down her back. The color, as pure a gold as a stalk of prairie wheat, was like a beacon to anyone who happened to glance their way. Taylor was of medium height, yet she held herself like a tall, regal princess. There was a definite sensuality in her walk, too, Lucas had noticed that right away, and those were just a few of the hundred or so reasons why he didn't believe it was possible for her not to draw attention to herself. She was damned beautiful, and when she looked directly at a man with those big blue eyes, he might as well give up trying to do anything but stare back. Even if Taylor were dressed in beggar's britches and an oversized man's shirt, she would still attract notice and lustful stares.

He didn't like the attention she was getting any more than she did. He felt possessive and couldn't understand why. His reaction to her didn't make any sense, yet the need to protect her fairly overwhelmed him. Hell, he barely knew her. Yet she belonged to him. She was his wife now. And what in God's name was he going to do about that?

He was glaring down at her. His moods, she decided, were as contrary and unpredictable as the weather.

"I should have changed my gown after the ball," she announced for lack of anything better to say.

"It wouldn't have helped."

He sounded surly. He was still frowning something fierce, though Taylor was happy to notice the focus of his displeasure now seemed to be centered on a group of young men lounging against the metal hitching posts.

She didn't waste time speculating about his sudden change in mood, however, because they turned the corner then and she spotted the Emerald in the distance. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. The ship was a magnificent sight. The moon cast a golden glow upon the mighty vessel, making it appear mystical in size. White frothing caps from the churning waves of the Mersey slapped against the sides but the ship didn't appear to move at all. Why, the Emerald looked as sturdy as a mountain and as welcoming as a preacher on Sunday morning.

Taylor was awed by the sight. She came to a dead stop and stared in fascination. "Isn't it beautiful, Mr. Ross?"

The wonder in her voice made him feel like smiling. He looked at the ship, then turned back to her. "Yes, she is beautiful," he agreed.

"She must weigh at least five thousand tons."

"Not quite two," he corrected. "We aren't in church, Taylor. You don't have to whisper."

She hadn't realized she'd been whispering; she laughed over her own behavior. "She's very majestic looking, isn't she?" she remarked in a louder tone of voice.

Lucas didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm. He had sailed on larger, more impressive ships, but the look of pleasure he saw on her face made him keep that bit of information to himself.

Taylor was turning out to be a bit of a puzzle. He knew she came from an extremely wealthy family and, therefore, he assumed she'd had every advantage. Yet now she acted as though this were her first journey into the big city. She wasn't a country farm girl, but damned if she weren't acting like one.

She caught him staring down at her. "Am I gawking, Mr. Ross?"

"Just a little."

She smiled. "I fear I'm not very sophisticated," she admitted.

"Have you never left England before?"

"I've gone to Scotland many, many times," she replied. "But I've never gone on the ocean. I'm looking forward to the experience."

"Let's hope you don't get seasick."

"Oh, I won't. I'm a very strong woman," Taylor boasted. "I never get sick."

He gave her a look that suggested he didn't believe her. She decided to turn the topic. "My grandfather Taylor and his brother-in-law, Andrew, sailed on the original Emerald. Andrew was too young to remember the adventure, but Grandfather was full of stories about life aboard ship and his friendship with the notorious nearsighted pirate named Black Harry. Have you ever heard of him, Mr. Ross?"

Lucas shook his head. "Do your grandfather and your uncle know you're sailing on yet another Emerald?"

"I told Uncle Andrew, and he gave his blessing. Grandfather Taylor died over ten years ago, but in my heart I'm certain he knows. I believe he watches out for me. You may laugh, if you're inclined, but I think of him as my protector. He won't let anything happen to me."

He was married to a crazy woman. Lucas didn't know what to say in response to such foolish beliefs. He was a realist. She obviously wasn't. Such naivete would get her killed in the wilderness. But she wasn't going to Montana Territory, he reminded himself. She was going to Boston. It was civilized there and somewhat safe.

Still, to his way of thinking, she needed a live protector, not a ghost. "Did you say your uncle Andrew knows? Does that mean he's alive?"

"He's very much alive," she replied. "He lives in the Highlands of Scotland. He's considered the black sheep of the family," she added with a good deal of pride in her voice. "Madam often worried I would become overly influenced by her younger brother."

They were hemmed in by traffic circling the corner now, and since it was impossible for them to go any further until the mail carts were unloaded, Lucas had an excuse for continuing the conversation. He was becoming fascinated by his bride. She was extremely open about her family and her past. Her honesty was refreshing. He was used to guarding every word he said. The less people knew about him and his family, the better off everyone would be. Taylor appeared to believe differently. She told her every thought, or so it seemed to him.

"Why did your grandmother worry you'd be influenced by her brother?"

"Why? Because he's peculiar," she answered.

"I see," Lucas replied for lack of anything better to say.

"My great-uncle is a wonderful teacher, and he taught me many valuable lessons."

"Such as?"

"He taught me how to play the piano in grand style."

He didn't laugh. "I suppose that will come in handy in the chamber rooms of Boston."

He sounded a little condescending to her. "He also taught me all about guns and rifles, Mr. Ross. Uncle

Andrew is a respected collector. If I were going to live on the frontier, I would be able to take care of myself," she added. "He trained me well, sir. And so, you see, his lessons gave me both polish and practicality."

"Could you shoot a man?"

She hesitated a long minute before answering. "I suppose I could," she said. "It would depend."

"Depend on what?" He couldn't help smiling. He couldn't imagine her holding a gun, let alone firing the thing.

She thought he was making fun of her. Why else would he be smiling? Her spine stiffened in reaction to her own conclusion.

Her voice was full of authority when she explained her position. "It would depend upon the circumstances. If I were protecting someone I loved, I most certainly could injure someone. I wouldn't want to," she hastily added. "But I would. What about you?" she asked then. "Could you take another man's life?"

He didn't hesitate in giving his answer. "Without blinking an eye."

It wasn't what he said as much as how he said it that made Taylor start worrying. They might be discussing the weather, so matter-of-fact was his attitude. It was unnerving. She couldn't seem to stop herself from asking, "Have you killed before?"

He rolled his eyes heavenward. "I was in the war against the South, Taylor. Of course I killed."

"For duty," she said, relieved. "I read all about the conflict between the States."

"So you were named after your grandfather."

It was apparent he wanted to change the subject. She was happy to accommodate him. "Yes."

He nodded, dismissed the topic, then tightened his hold on her hand and started walking again. He shoved his way through the crowd. She kept trying to watch where she was going and to keep her gaze on the ship at the same time. She stumbled twice. Lucas noticed the second time. He slowed down then, and when the crowd became too pressing, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

It wasn't until they were standing side by side in the center of the throng of passengers inside the steam tender and on their way to the Emerald that the magnitude of what she was doing hit her full force. She should have been terrified. She usually worried over a plan of action until it became as worn as an old rosary bead, but she didn't have a single qualm or a second thought this time. Madam had suggested the marriage and Taylor had gone right along with the idea. What was done was done.

She was content. She wasn't saddened or filled with regrets because she was leaving her homeland. She wouldn't even look back toward the shore as some of the other young ladies were doing. One woman was dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. Another was openly weeping. Taylor's reaction was just the opposite. She felt like laughing, her joy barely contained. She was overwhelmed by the right-ness of what she was doing. Lucas still had his arm around her shoulders. She moved closer, trying to gain a little more of his warmth. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. She felt that safe with her escort; she couldn't bring herself to think of him as her husband yet, and it really didn't matter anyway she supposed, since they would soon part company.

Taylor thought about the babies. Soon she would be able to hold them again. She wondered if she would recognize them. When last she'd seen them, they weren't even crawling. Now they must be walking and talking, and Lord, she could barely contain her excitement. She closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanksgiving because she was finally on her way, and then she said another prayer in anticipation of the new life she was about to begin.

She would collect the little girls as soon as she reached Boston, and then she would take them to safety. She would hide them where Uncle Malcolm would never think to look.

A glimmer of an idea came into her mind. Redemption. My, but she liked the sound of that. Could it be the sanctuary she was looking for? She let out a little sigh. Redemption.