Prince Charming

Chapter 3

Lady Victoria Helmit was making a muck out of trying to kill herself.

She shouldn't have been surprised, for God only knew she had certainly made a muck out of her life, just as her parents had predicted she would. Oh, if they could only see her now. They'd have a good laugh all right, then purse their lips in satisfaction. Their wayward, no-account daughter was fulfilling their every expectation. She couldn't even stop crying long enough to get a good foothold and climb over the railing so she could hurl herself into the ocean. Victoria was everything they said she was and more. She was also proving to be a coward.

To outsiders, she appeared to be a woman who had it all. In appearance, she'd obviously been blessed by the gods. She was strikingly pretty, with deep auburn-colored hair and eyes as brilliant and as green as

Ireland's spring grass. Her coloring came from her mother's side of the family. Grandmother Aisley hailed from County Clare. Victoria's high cheekbones and patrician features also came from her mother's side. Her grandfather had been born and raised in a small province in the north of France. Since Grandmother's relatives couldn't even speak the Frenchman's name without giving into a round of lusty, loud vulgarities, and since Grandfather's family despised the no-good, never-could-hold-their-drink Irish with just as much intensity, when the two mismatched lovers married, they settled in England on what they called neutral ground.

While her grandparents were alive, Victoria was doted upon. Her grandfather loved to boast she'd inherited her flair for drama and her love of Shakespeare from him, and her grandmother was just as happy to claim she'd gotten her quick temper and her passionate nature from her.

Victoria wasn't the apple of her parents' eyes, however. They wouldn't have thrown her out on the streets if that had been the case. She had shamed and disgraced them. They told her they were disgusted and repelled by the very sight of her. They called her every vile name they could think of, but the one that stuck in her mind and played over and over again in her memory was the claim that she had been, and always would be, a fool.

They were right about that. She was a fool. Victoria acknowledged the truth with a low, keening sob. She immediately stopped herself from making another sound and hurriedly looked to her left and then her right to make certain she was still all alone. It was past three o'clock in the morning. The other passengers aboard the Emerald were fast asleep, and the crew was obviously occupied elsewhere.

It was now or never. The Emerald had been at sea for three nights now. The water wouldn't get any deeper, and if she was going to get the deed done, she believed this was the perfect opportunity, for she was all alone.

She was mistaken in that belief. Lucas stood on the other side of the staircase and watched her. He couldn't figure out what in God's name the daft woman was trying to do.

Then he heard another sound. It was silk brushing against silk. He turned and spotted Taylor making her way up the stairs. She couldn't see him, and he didn't let her know he was there, watching her from the shadows. He wanted to find out what in thunder she was up to, strolling up on deck in the middle of the night.

The sobbing woman drew his attention again. She was struggling to move a heavy crate across the deck.

Victoria was weak from crying. It seemed to take her forever to move the crate over to the railing. Her feet felt like lead. She finally made it to the top of the crate and then latched onto the railing. She was poised to leap over the side if she could get one leg high enough. Her hands were tightly gripping the rail now and her white petticoats were waving about her like a flag in surrender. She stood there for only a second or two and yet it seemed an eternity to her. She was openly sobbing now with terror and defeat. Dear God, she couldn't do it. She simply couldn't do it.

She climbed down off the crate, then collapsed to the floor and wept without restraint. What was she going to do? What in God's name was she going to do?

"Pray forgive me for intruding on your privacy, but I would like to be of assistance if I may. Are you going to be all right?"

The question came in a whisper. Victoria squinted against the darkness while she vehemently shook her head.

Taylor took a step forward into the light provided by the half-moon. She folded her hands in front of her and tried to act as calm as possible. She didn't want to frighten the young woman into doing anything drastic, because Taylor wasn't close enough to stop her if she tried again to jump over the side.

She watched as the woman mopped the tears away from her face with the backs of her hands. She took several deep breaths, obviously trying to regain a little of her composure. She was shaking from head to foot. The sadness Taylor saw in her eyes was heartbreaking. Taylor had never seen anyone this desolate, except her sister, Marian, she reminded herself. Marian had looked this defeated the morning she'd warned Taylor what Uncle Malcolm might try to do to her.

Taylor forced herself to block the image. "What in heaven's name were you thinking to do?" she asked.

"To be or not to be."

Taylor was certain she hadn't heard correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

"To be or not to be," Victoria repeated angrily. "That is what I was contemplating."

"You quote Shakespeare to me now?" Was the woman demented?

Victoria's anger over being interrupted vanished as quickly as it had come. She was exhausted now, defeated. "Quoting Shakespeare seemed appropriate," she whispered. Her voice was empty of all emotion when she continued. "I don't want to be any longer, you see, but I can't seem to gather enough courage to end my life. Please go away. I want to be left alone."

"I won't leave you alone," Taylor argued. "Tell me what I can do to help you."

"Assist me over the side."

"Stop talking like that." Her voice was sharper than she intended. She shook her head over her own lack of discipline. The woman needed help now, not a lecture. She took another step forward. "I didn't mean to raise my voice to you. Please accept my apology. I don't believe you really want to jump," she added in a rush. "You already made the decision not to end your life. I was about to stop you when you climbed down from the rail. You gave me quite a start, I'll admit. Turning the corner and seeing you perched up there so precariously." Taylor shivered with the memory. She rubbed the chill from her arms. "What is your name?"

"Victoria."

"Victoria's a lovely name," Taylor remarked. She couldn't think of anything better to say. She wanted to grab the woman by her shoulders and shake some sense into her. She didn't succumb to her urge, however, but would reason with her instead. "Please tell me what's wrong. I would like to help you."

Victoria pressed her back against the rail when Taylor took another step toward her. She looked like a cornered animal, waiting for the kill. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she gripped her hands together with such force, her arms began to shake.

"No one can help me."

"I cannot know if I can help you or not until you explain your circumstances."

"If you knew… you would turn your back on me and run," Victoria predicted.

"I doubt that," Taylor replied. "Please trust me enough to tell me what's wrong."

Victoria buried her face in her hands and began sobbing again. Taylor couldn't stand to witness her pain a moment longer. She rushed forward until she stood directly in front of her and then put her hand out.

"All you have to do is take hold, Victoria. I'll do the rest."

Victoria stared up at Taylor a long while, trying to make up her mind. And then, just when Taylor became convinced her offer of friendship was going to be rejected, Victoria surprised her. She slowly, timidly reached up to take hold of her hand.

Taylor assisted her to her feet, then put her arm around Victoria's shoulders with the thought of leading her away from the railing. She wanted to put as much distance between the ocean and the distraught woman as possible, an unrealistic feat, given the fact that they were surrounded on all sides by water.

Victoria was so desperate for a touch of human kindness and a tender, nonaccusatory word of comfort, she literally threw herself into Taylor's arms, very nearly knocking the two of them over. Taylor quickly recovered her balance. Victoria was weeping uncontrollably against her shoulder. She was an inch or two taller than Taylor, and consoling the woman proved to be a little awkward, though certainly not impossible. Taylor patted her in what she hoped was a soothing motion. She didn't try to do anything more to calm her. Victoria obviously needed to cry. In Taylor's mind, weeping could very well be the first step toward healing. Marian never cried, and Taylor thought that perhaps that was one of the many reasons she'd become such a brittle, hard woman.

It didn't take long for Victoria's sobs to unnerve Taylor. She tried to remain dispassionate, yet found she couldn't remain unaffected by such heartbreaking agony, and within minutes, tears were blurring her own vision.

Victoria was rambling incoherent words and phrases mixed with a good number of quotes from Shakespeare's tragedies, but when she confessed she had trusted the man, had really loved him and believed with all her heart that he would marry her, Taylor thought she finally understood the reason behind her desolation.

She was pregnant.

Taylor got good and mad. "Dear God, is that all?" she cried out. "You're going to have a baby, aren't you? I thought you'd committed some atrocious crime."

"It is atrocious," Victoria wailed.

Taylor let out a loud, unladylike snort. "No," she contradicted. "Murdering the man who lied to you and took advantage of your innocence would be atrocious," she told her. She paused to sigh. "Then again, perhaps that wouldn't have been so atrocious after all."

"My life is over."

Taylor forced herself to get her temper under control. The poor woman had probably had quite enough accusations thrown her way. She tried to think of something positive to say to her. It took her a few minutes to come up with something.

"The life you led is over, yes, but now you'll simply start another one. Come and sit down and compose yourself."

Victoria was limp and drained from weeping. Taylor led her over to a bench set against the wall adjacent to the strolling deck.

Victoria sat down, adjusted her skirts, and then folded her hands together in her lap. Her head was bowed in dejection.

Lucas, glad that the immediate threat was over, moved further into the shadows where he could still watch but wouldn't disturb their privacy.

Taylor was too agitated to sit. She paced back and forth in front of Victoria while she worried the problem over in her mind.

"Do you still love this man?"

"No." Her answer was emphatic.

Taylor nodded. "Good," she announced. "He isn't worth loving," she added. "Do you have relatives who will give you shelter in America?"

"No. I hadn't planned on getting there. I used up all my money to purchase a berth. The only reason I carried along my clothes was because my father threw them out on the pavement."

"Your parents threw you out?" Taylor was appalled.

Victoria nodded. "I cannot blame them. I have been a disappointment."

"I can certainly blame them," Taylor argued. "They are your parents. They should have stood by you. My grandmother would have stood by me."

"If she were alive, my grandmother would have stood by me as well," Victoria said.

"What about the man responsible for your condition? Does he know you're carrying his child?"

"Yes."

"And?" Taylor prodded when she didn't continue.

"He doesn't wish to become involved."

"It's a bit late for that decision, isn't it?"

"He wanted to marry Lady Margaret Kingsworth. She has a large dowry."

Taylor's curiosity was captured. She knew Lady Margaret and wondered who the scoundrel was.

"Who is the man…"

"I will never say his name." She fairly shouted her denial.

Taylor hurried to soothe her. "I won't ever ask you again," she promised. "You're certain you don't still love him?"

"I can't imagine what I ever saw in him now. I should have heeded William's advice, for he wrote, 'Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.'"

Lord, she was quoting Shakespeare again. And crying. Taylor tried to hold onto her patience. It was a most difficult task. "The past is the past, Victoria. You cannot undo what has already been done. You must look to the future now."

"I believed with all my heart he would marry me."

"Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage," Taylor said, turning Shakespeare's words back on the distraught woman.

Victoria found her first smile. "I do believe I would like to see him hang for his lies to me. Still, I was a willing… participant."

"You were naive and he took full advantage. The man's a snake."

"I was equally responsible for my mistake."

Taylor couldn't help but admire the woman because she took responsibility for her actions. She didn't blame anyone else, not even the pig who seduced her. She was about to tell her she admired her when Victoria asked her who she was.

"What is your name?"

"Taylor."

"Taylor? The Lady Taylor?"

"You've heard of me?"

"Oh, yes, everyone has heard of you, milady."

"Why?" Taylor asked.

"The humiliation… oh, dear, I shouldn't have mentioned such an indelicate topic."

Taylor's shoulders slumped. Did everyone in England know about her disgrace? "It wasn't a humiliation. It was a blessing as far as I'm concerned." Lord, how many times had she said those words while in London? At least a hundred times, she thought.

"Do you still love him?" Victoria asked.

"I never did love him," Taylor admitted. "I realize that now. I married his brother," she added with a nod when Victoria looked so surprised. "I don't love him either," she confessed. "But I will admit I am becoming attracted to him. Still, he is a man and, therefore, probably a scoundrel. Most of them are. My husband is honorable though. I've already noticed that attribute."

"Perhaps you will eventually fall in love with him," Victoria suggested.

What an awful thought, given that Lucas would be leaving her the minute they reached Boston. "Perhaps," she said aloud so that Victoria would believe she'd offered a viable hope.

Taylor went over and sat down next to her new friend. She gently turned the topic around to Victoria's delicate condition.

"You made an important decision tonight."

"I did? What was that?"

"To live," Taylor answered. "The rest is going to be easy. I promise you."

Victoria didn't understand. Taylor said she would explain what she meant later. She asked Victoria what she thought she most wanted to accomplish with her life. What were her hopes and her dreams? If she could have anything in the world, what would she want?

Victoria answered her questions. She talked for almost two hours. Taylor did most of the listening. Discussing her fears helped lessen them in Victoria's mind. The unknown terrified her, she admitted. And being alone. That terrified her most of all. Taylor understood far better than Victoria thought she would. Being alone… and responsible for two children was terrifying for her, but she would do whatever she had to do to keep the twins safe. And, she had a feeling Victoria would be just as protective of her own little one.

"You have to get used to the idea first," Taylor said.

"What idea?" Victoria asked.

"Being a mother," Taylor explained. "I wager before long you'll love your baby with all your heart."

"I haven't really thought about the baby. I've been too busy feeling sorry for myself."

Taylor patted her hand. "You'd been betrayed. It was only natural for you to feel sorry for yourself."

Victoria let out a loud yawn, apologized for her unladylike action, and then said, "The wind has certainly picked up. Captain said a storm's brewing."

A sudden gust of wind swept across the deck. Victoria started shivering. Taylor didn't notice the chill in the air until Victoria mentioned it. Then she also started shivering.

"We'd better go back to our cabins," she suggested.

"Yes," Victoria agreed. She stood up, then turned to Taylor. "Thank you for listening to me. You've been very kind, milady."

Taylor was at a loss as to what to say in response. She wasn't at all comfortable receiving compliments. They'd been so far and few in her life. She had seldom received outright praise for any of her actions. Madam expected certain behavior, and Taylor only heard when she had disappointed her grandmother.

Victoria seemed to be waiting for her to do or say something, however, and so Taylor simply gave her a nod of acceptance. Then she cleared her throat. In a no-nonsense tone of voice very much like her grandmother's, she said, "Tomorrow I would like for you to meet me in the ship's library at two o'clock. In the last few days I've noticed that room is usually deserted at that time of day and we should have plenty of privacy while we formulate our plans."

"We will?"

"I believe so."

"What plans, milady?"

Taylor was surprised by the question. "Why, plans for your future of course," she explained. "Did you think I would pat you on your back in sympathy and then walk away?"

"I didn't know what to think, milady."

"Do quit calling me your lady. In America, titles have no significance whatsoever."

"Are you certain?"

"Oh, yes. I read it in a book, so it must be true."

Victoria nodded. "Are you really going to help me?"

"How could I not?"

Lord, she started crying again. Taylor didn't want to go through another round of weeping and consoling. "Please stop that," she pleaded. "You're going to wear yourself out. I cannot believe you thought I would abandon you. Shame on you, Victoria."

"I don't want to be a burden or suggest that you…"

Taylor took hold of Victoria's arm and led her over to the staircase. "Of course you don't want to be a burden. You won't be, I promise. I have a terrible habit," she confessed then. "I seem to believe I know what's best for everyone around me."

"I don't believe knowing what's best for someone else is a terrible habit," Victoria replied.

"Not just someone else," Taylor corrected. "Everyone else. And yes, it is a terrible flaw. Madam calls it my affliction. She says I shouldn't interfere and it's quite arrogant of me to think I can make a difference in anyone else's life. Very arrogant indeed. Those were her very words to me time and again. I fear she's right. I give you my word I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do, Victoria. But I do insist on helping you."

"Thank you, Taylor."

"We'll talk again tomorrow after you've had a good night's sleep and aren't so tired."

"I would be most appreciative of your counsel." Victoria paused a moment before continuing. "Are you able to know what's best for you all the time?"

Taylor's shoulders slumped. "That's the rub in this affliction I'm cursed with," she explained. "I never seem to know what's best for me. Just everyone else."

The bewilderment in Taylor's voice made Victoria smile. "Perhaps I'll know what's best for you."

Taylor smiled back. "Perhaps you will."

Because the staircase was only wide enough to accommodate one person at a time, Taylor motioned for Victoria to take the lead. "I'll walk with you to your cabin door so I'll know where to find you."

Victoria paused on the bottom step. Her expression was solemn when she turned to look up at Taylor. "Are we going to be friends?"

Taylor didn't hesitate in giving her answer. "I believe we already are."

The commitment was made. Taylor knew full well what she was taking on. She didn't blanch over the responsibility she'd just taken upon herself. She would take care of Victoria until she was strong enough and able enough to take care of herself. And the baby, Taylor silently added. She mustn't forget about the baby.

Friends helped friends, yes, but there was more to

Taylor's promise than that. Much, much more. Children, all children, should be cherished and protected from harm by every able adult. It wasn't a rule; it was a sacred commandment in Taylor's estimation, and she would do whatever it took to ensure Victoria's and her baby's safety…

No matter what the cost. It wasn't a choice. It was her duty.

Her noble intentions were going to die with her. She wasn't going to be able to help anyone, least of all herself. The ship was going down, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She was convinced it was only a matter of minutes before everyone was sleeping on the bottom of the ocean. Taylor would have knelt on the floor and said her prayers for forgiveness to her Maker for all the mean things she had ever thought about anyone, except her uncle Malcolm, of course. She believed that if she really was contrite about being so arrogant and bossy, she might be able to sneak into heaven, but kneeling anywhere was simply impossible with the hurricane-force winds knocking the little ship around and around. She wedged herself into the corner of the bed and pressed her shoulders against the wall. She really tried not to be afraid, but Lord it was an impossible task. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so horrible if it weren't the middle of the night and so pitch black inside the cabin. Taylor hated the darkness, but she didn't dare try to relight the lamp for fear she might accidentally set the walls on fire. And so she sat in the dark with her eyes squeezed shut and her arms clutched around a pillow, listening as her trunks slammed against one wall and then another. She fought her terror and her panic with prayers and pleas to her Maker while she waited for the end.

What was going to happen to her sister's babies?

The twins needed a mother. She couldn't even imagine what would become of the little ones. And Victoria… What would happen if she survived and Taylor didn't? She'd promised to help her new friend, and how would Victoria survive without any money or family in America?

Oh, God, there was so much she wanted to do. It wasn't fair to die like this. She let out a loud sob and gave in to her tears. No one, not even a bossy, arrogant, think-she-knows-everything young lady should have to die like this. She didn't want to die all alone. She wanted company.

And most of all, she wanted Madam.

The door opened with a bang. Taylor jumped a foot. Mr. Ross stood in the entrance. He all but filled up the entire doorway. She could see him clearly, for the light from the lamp perched in the leather holder high up on the hallway wall shown brightly all around him.

She'd never been so happy to see anyone in all her life. He looked like a god to her. Or a prince. He was drenched from head to foot. His dark hair hung down over his forehead and his white shirt and black pants were molded to his body. The bulge of muscle in his upper arms and his thighs made him look invincible to her. He was like a mighty warrior from the past, this princely giant she was married to, and Taylor found herself calmed by his mere presence. He was such a commanding figure, and the casual ease in his every movement, so graceful for such a huge man, actually captivated and soothed her.

Lucas Ross couldn't have been more appealing to her if he'd been dressed in elegant, regal robes:

"Hell of a wind kicking up." He made the remark in a casual tone of voice and took another step inside. "I'm soaked through." He turned then, tossed his wet bedroll into the corner of the stateroom next to his satchels, then shook his head very like a dog would do to rid himself of the rain. Drops of water flew outward in an arch.

He smiled at Taylor. One look at her face told him she was terrified. He noticed the tears coursing down her face. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Her gaze was centered on him, but he didn't think the terror he saw in her expression was because he'd entered the cabin in the middle of the night. He used the cabin to house his clothes and came and went several times during the day. No, he wasn't responsible for her tears. The storm was causing her panic.

He couldn't fault her reaction. In truth, he felt the way she looked. He'd been in storms before but nothing as violent as this one. They were in real jeopardy of going down.

He wasn't about to share his opinion about their dire circumstances with Taylor, however. The last thing he wanted or needed was a hysterical woman on his hands, and for that reason, he forced himself to move slowly, to act as though he had all the time in the world. He was as nonchalant as possible. He even whistled.

She shifted in the bed when the ship tilted again.

"Do you prefer sitting in the dark?"

It took her a full minute to find her voice. "No," she whispered. She moved back so she was once again visible to him in the beam of light from the hallway. "But I was concerned I would set the cabin on fire if I tried to relight the lamp."

Lucas turned to go back outside. "Where are you going, Mr. Ross?"

Panic made her tone sharp and her words tremble. She couldn't seem to calm down. She didn't want him to know how afraid she was. He might think she was a coward. It really was laughable, she supposed, worrying about his opinion of her now, just minutes before they were both surely going to die, but foolish as it was, she still tried to hide her fear. He didn't know her very well, and she didn't want him to go to his watery grave believing he'd married a weakling.

"I'm just getting the lantern from the hallway," he called out.

He was already back inside the cabin by the time he finished his explanation. She watched him shut the door, then walk over to the opposite side of the room and tie the lantern to the metal hook protruding from the wall. One of her trunks went sailing past him while he was securing the base of the lamp to the stand. The ship took a perilous dive then. Taylor pressed her back against the wall, dug her heels into the sheets, and tried to maintain her balance. She was still tossed to the side. Lucas hadn't budged. His balance was impressive. So was his attitude, she decided. He didn't seem to be at all concerned about their perilous situation.

She felt it necessary to point out the obvious. "We're in the middle of a hurricane, sir. I believe it's only a matter of time before the ship goes down."

Lucas shrugged, pretending indifference. He took his time removing his shirt. He sidestepped the trunk, shoved it into the corner, then sat down on top of it so he could remove his shoes.

"Aren't you worried, Mr. Ross?"

"It's just a little high wind, Taylor. It's too early in the season for a hurricane. It should blow over in a couple of hours."

He gave the lie without batting an eye. She was watching him closely, looking for the least little sign of concern.

She didn't find any. "You aren't at all concerned,

Mr. Ross?" She didn't give him time to answer. "Have you been in other storms like this one?"

"Lots of them," he lied.

"Well then." Her sigh was long and filled with relief. She even managed a smile.

She was feeling much better now, almost safe. Then he inadvertently went and ruined her near recovery. He took his pants off.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Mr. Ross, whatever are you thinking?"

She fairly shouted the question. He lost his patience with her. "Will you quit calling me Mr. Ross?"

He'd snapped his demand back at her. She was astonished by his show of temper. "If you wish," she replied. She kept her eyes closed. She heard him mutter something under his breath but couldn't make out the words. It was probably a blasphemy, she supposed with a frown she sincerely hoped he would notice.

Lucas stripped out of the rest of his clothes and walked over to his suitcase to get fresh, dry pants. He normally slept in the nude, but because he'd been sleeping up on deck, he had, of course, kept his clothes on. He was going to have to wear pants tonight as well, he knew, and all because this young lady he was saddled with was acting so damned squeamish and prim.

God save him from virgins, he thought. She was probably going to have heart failure when she realized he had every intention of sharing the bed with her.

He didn't have any intention of touching her, however. Being intimate with his bride would only complicate their financial arrangement. The last thing he wanted or needed was a wife, and he knew that if he touched her, he would feel honor bound to stay married. He'd just as soon be hanged. Or put back in prison.

His mind was filled with thoughts about the horrors associated with marriage, and for that reason he didn't notice the ship had tilted again. The trunk slammed into his right foot. He muttered an expletive, shook himself out of his dour thoughts, and put his pants on.

Taylor watched him. She was mesmerized by his physique, and since she was certain he wasn't aware she was looking at him, she barely blushed at all over what she was seeing.

Lucas Ross was as sleek as a panther. The splay of muscle in the backs of his thighs and shoulders seemed to roll with each movement he made. His skin was bronzed in color, no doubt by the sun. His waist was narrow, his shoulders were incredibly wide, and heavens, he really was a fine specimen of male perfection. If she'd been the faint-hearted sort, she was certain she would have swooned by now. In her opinion, he was magnificent.

She found herself wishing he would turn around. Lucas didn't accommodate her. He buttoned up his pants and walked over to the side of the bed. His chest was covered with a thick mat of dark hair. It tapered to a vee at his waist.

The ship suddenly lurched again. Taylor was so mesmerized by the sight of her husband, she forgot to brace herself. She went flying. He caught her in his arms just as she was about to be pitched to the floor.

Her reaction surprised him. She laughed. He hoped to God she wasn't getting hysterical on him.

"What's so amusing?"

She shrugged. His skin was warm to her touch. She noticed that when she wrapped her arms around his neck. The ship rocked again. It was an excuse she had been waiting for. She put her head on his shoulder and held tight.

"You aren't going to go back up on deck, are you? You'll only get wet again."

"I'm not going back up on deck."

She didn't loosen her hold. She wasn't about to let him get away. Being alone was too frightening. Lucas had become her safe haven against the storm.

"You can't sleep on the floor," she blurted out. "The trunks will drive you to distraction, flying about the way they are."

"What do you suggest?"

"You'll have to sleep with me."

He almost dropped her. She leaned back and looked up at him. Damn but she had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. And mouth. A man could get lost staring into those blue eyes and thinking about what he would want her to do to him with those sweet sexy lips.

"I'll sleep under the covers and you may sleep on top," she rushed out. The look on his face confused her. She didn't want him to think she was being brazen, just practical.

"It's a sound solution," she announced with a nod. "And very civilized."

He tossed her into the middle of the bed. Taylor realized her nightgown was bunched up around her knees. She hurried to straighten her gown and get under the sheets. While he stood there watching her with his hands on his hips and a strange, indefinable look on his face, she squeezed herself up against the wall, fluffed her pillow behind her head, and closed her eyes.

Lucas was too tired to figure out why Taylor wasn't acting frightened by him any longer. He fully intended to take advantage of his temporary good fortune. He would get into bed before she changed her mind. He went over to the lantern, turned the flame down, shoved a trunk out of his path, and then walked back over to the bed.

She tried to stay on her side, but the rocking of the ship made that extremely difficult. She didn't have enough bulk to keep her still or an anchor to hold onto, and Lucas had only just stretched out on his back when he found her plastered up against his left side. She apologized profusely, then scooted back to the wall.

She kept coming back. Each time the ship rocked she slammed into his side. He suspected she'd be black and blue by morning. Each time she hit him, she groaned. The moans soon became a prelude to her pleas for forgiveness.

It was like sleeping with a fish. Lucas's patience was quickly worn out. He rolled to his side, threw his arm around her waist and his thigh over her legs, and pulled her up close to him.

She didn't protest. She was, in fact, thankful for the anchor. She reached up to nudge his head out of her way, then lifted her hair back from where he'd trapped it with his shoulder. She pushed the thick curls to the other side of her neck. She should have braided her hair before going to bed, she supposed, but it had seemed silly to do such an ordinary chore when death was behind the next wave. As soon as the storm had begun, she'd hurried down to Victoria's cabin to make certain she was all right, and by the time she'd made it back to her own room, she could barely walk a straight line.

Everything was going to be all right. Taylor let out a loud yawn. Odd, but she wasn't at all afraid now. The warmth from her husband's body soothed her, and it only took a few minutes for her to completely relax.

"Mr. Ross?"

He didn't answer her. "Lucas?"

"Yes?"

He sounded surly. She pretended not to notice. "Are you sleepy?"

"Yes."

She folded her arms across her chest, being careful not to touch his arm.

"Isn't it odd neither one of us has become seasick?"

"Go to sleep, Taylor."

A full minute passed before she spoke again. Lucas thought she was going to cooperate. He was wrong. "I'm very weary," she whispered. "But not at all sleepy. Isn't that odd?"

He didn't answer her. "Perhaps, if you talked to me, I might become sleepy."

"Why would my talking make you sleepy?"

"You might be boring."

He grinned. She said the damnedest things. "Fine, I'll talk you to sleep. Do you have any particular topic in mind?"

"Tell me about Redemption."

He was surprised she remembered the name of his town. He couldn't imagine why she would be interested enough to hear anything more about the desolate place.

"I already told you all about Redemption. You'd hate it. Why don't you think about all the parties you'll attend in Boston. That should put you to sleep. God knows it would me."

Parties were the last thing she wanted to think about. She hated formal affairs, and the thought that she would never again have to attend an artificial gathering filled with pompous, self-opinionated bigots made her smile. She knew Lucas believed she wanted to be part of Boston's society, and she saw no reason to dissuade him. She supposed most young ladies would like all the frivolity. She wasn't like most, however. Maybe she really was almost as peculiar as her great-uncle Andrew, as Madam had proclaimed on more than one occasion.

"You don't hate Redemption, do you?"

"I'm starting to," he answered with a yawn. "It's already getting crowded and growing every day. I'll be glad to leave."

"Leave? Why would you leave?"

"I don't like crowds."

"Aren't your brothers there?"

"The ranch is a day's ride away from the town."

"Well then?"

He let out a loud sigh. She really wasn't going to stop nagging him until she had her answers. Lucas gritted his teeth in frustration. She poked him in the shoulder. "Do you actually plan to abandon your brothers?"

"Jordan and Douglas have enough cattle and horses now. They don't need me any longer. I'll help Kelsey, the youngest, get settled, then I'll leave. They'll do just fine."

She believed his attitude was callous and cold, but she kept her opinion to herself. She didn't want to alienate him. Besides, she wanted answers, not an argument.

"Where will you go?" she asked.

"Hunting."

"Hunting for what?" she asked.

"A man."

She hadn't expected that answer. She thought he would tell her he wanted to hunt for gold or silver. Even though the rush was officially over, she'd read there were still reports of veins located further west. But hunting for a man?

"And when you find him?"

Lucas didn't answer her for a long while. He wasn't about to tell her the truth, that he had every intention of killing the bastard. He didn't think her delicate nature could handle knowing exactly what was on his mind, and so he simply said, "I'm going to finish what he started."

"Is he an evil man?"

"Yes."

She thought about that for several minutes. The differences between the two of them were startlingly clear to her. She was running away from evil; Lucas was going to confront it. Was he a man of courage or was he letting vengeance rule his life?

She decided to find out. "Was he…"

He cut her off. "When I'm finished, I'll go back to the mountains, where a man can't be hemmed in."

She took the hint. Mr. Ross obviously wanted to end the discussion. She decided to let him have his way. She was a patient woman. She could wait to find out all the particulars.

"Madam told me you were born in Kentucky."

"Yes."

"But you fought on the side of the North?"

"Yes," he answered. "I moved North a long, long time ago."

"Before Montana Territory?"

"Yes."

"Did you believe in the war?"

"I believed every man in America has a right to freedom."

"And every woman and child," she interjected. "They should have the same rights. No man should have the power to own another… isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"You said you were eventually going back to the mountains. You want to be completely free, is that it? To go where the wind takes you."

"Yes."

"Won't you get lonely?"

"No."

"You're very antisocial."

He couldn't help but smile. She sounded as though she felt sorry for him. "You don't have to pity me, Taylor. I don't want a family."

Too late, she almost blurted out. He had a family, and it didn't matter to her that he might not want one. The babies came first. They were too young to fend for themselves. "And so you'll turn your back on… everyone?" Me, she silently added. You'll turn your back on me. Lord, what would she do if she needed him? How would she and the twins and Victoria and her baby ever get along?

Taylor's burst of panic was short-lived. She calmed herself almost immediately. She would do just fine. She hadn't planned on needing or wanting Lucas Ross in her life. It was ridiculous to feel even a bit of nervousness. She was an independent woman of means.

When she first heard the news of George's death and knew she was going to go to Boston to take on the responsibility of raising her nieces, she thought she would find a small city somewhere out West and take the little ones there. She would hire a housekeeper, and when the girls were older, she would make certain they had the finest tutors in America so they would be properly educated. Why, there might even be an acceptable school they could attend. The children were going to have every advantage, but more important, they would be safe from harm. Taylor wanted to make certain her uncle Malcolm never found them.

She was now reevaluating her decision. Every city in America had access to the telegraphs… and trains. They could easily be found in a city such as St. Louis or even Kansas City. Neither place was far enough away or difficult enough to get to should her uncle decide to send someone after her.

She let out a little sigh. Her voice was a bare whisper when she spoke. "Have you ever had a fear so unreasonable, it consumed you?"

She didn't wait for him to answer her. "I remember once, when I was a little girl, being unreasonably afraid of a falcon my father brought home. It wasn't enough that the predator was in a cage. I couldn't even stay inside the barn. Then the yard wasn't acceptable either. I ended up hiding in my room."

Lucas was curious by what he considered a damned odd reaction. "Why do you think you were so afraid?"

"My uncle Malcolm told me the falcon liked blue eyes. I still get the shivers when I think about what he told me. Have you ever noticed how sharp a falcon's claws are?"

"Your uncle had a cruel sense of humor."

"I was afraid of my uncle as well as the falcon," she confessed in another whisper.

"Was it unreasonable, too?"

"No. I was right to fear him. It's easy to find someone in a city, isn't it? Now that the telegraph has become so fashionable, and trains run almost everywhere, it is awfully easy to find someone… if you're looking. Isn't it?"

"Yes," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

She didn't want to tell him the truth. Perhaps she was being overly anxious. Surely once Uncle Malcolm received his mother's money, he wouldn't think twice about her or the twins. He wouldn't have any reason to come after her.

And yet she knew he would.

"I'm being foolish," she told Lucas.

"What other unreasonable fears did you have?"

"I used to bolt my bedroom door every night for fear someone would come inside while I was asleep."

"That doesn't sound unreasonable to me."

"Maybe it wasn't," she agreed. "But I also pushed the heavy oak dresser in front of the door as an added barrier."

"Who did you think would come inside while you slept? Somebody or anybody?"

"Just somebody." She changed the subject before he had time to question her further. "If you go back to your mountains…"

"Not if, Taylor, when," he corrected.

"What happens if your brothers need you?"

"They'll know where to look. It would only take a month or two of searching."

"I'm sure they'll find that comforting news indeed in the event of an emergency."

"They'll do just fine," he stubbornly insisted.

"I certainly wouldn't come looking for you."

"I didn't think you would."

She snorted. He smiled. The little woman had a temper. She kept trying to hide it from him, but she wasn't doing a very good job. She had a death grip on his arm. Her nails were digging into his skin. He doubted she realized what she was doing. He wondered why she was so outraged on his brothers' behalf. She acted as though he really were abandoning his family. She just didn't understand. He had made a bargain with his brothers when they had asked him for help, and he'd done everything he promised he would do. Hell, he'd done more than enough.

How could she know what his life was like? She'd been pampered and protected all her life. She certainly had never done without. She couldn't imagine what it had been like locked in a two-by-four cell without windows but with plenty of rats and screams of death all around him.

Lucas wasn't going to try to make her understand how he felt or why. He never talked about the war and he wasn't going to start now. Her opinion of him wasn't important.

Lucas recognized the lie immediately. For some reason, her opinion of him did matter. He couldn't imagine why and knew he wasn't making a lick of sense. He was tired, that was all. Fatigue was making it difficult to think straight. The storm was still raging with just as much intensity, and he wouldn't have been surprised to hear the warning bell ring alerting the passengers to abandon ship.

He wasn't going to worry over things he couldn't do anything about. If the ship went down, he'd grab Taylor and swim for the nearest shore or die trying.

He couldn't do anything about Taylor's nearness either. She was so wonderfully soft and silky. She smelled good, too. Like roses. Her smooth, kissable skin could drive a man to distraction, and all he really wanted to do was bury his face in the crook of her neck and fall asleep inhaling her fragrance.

He was lying again. He wanted to make love to her, to bury himself inside…

"Do your brothers realize you're going to desert them?"

He was thankful for the interruption. His thoughts were about to get him into trouble. He didn't mind that her question was actually insulting. She just didn't understand. Until she had called Jordan, Douglas, and Kelsey his family, he really hadn't considered them kin. They were just half brothers. Lucas had been alone for so long now, the notion of family was altogether foreign to him.

"You sound outraged," he remarked with a loud yawn.

"I believe I am a little outraged," she responded. "I realize your brothers and their problems shouldn't be my concern, but-"

He didn't let her finish. "You're right. They aren't your concern. Go to sleep."

"Are we finished discussing family responsibilities then?"

He ignored her question, letting his silence be all the answer she was going to get.

There was a bright side to the odd turn in the conversation, however. Taylor was so caught up in her outrage over what she considered to be disloyal family conduct on his part, she didn't have time or room to be worried about their situation any longer, and he supposed that was all good and well. His hide could withstand a few insults, especially if it kept her from being afraid. He didn't want her to think about drowning or dwell on the possibility. God only knew he had enough concern inside him for the two of them. He was beginning to wonder how much more battering the ship could take before being torn apart.

"Taylor, can you swim?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondered."

"Can you?"

"Yeah."

A minute passed before she understood the motive behind his question. "Could you swim all the way to Boston?" she asked.

No one could. They were still a good two days away from port, perhaps even more, if the ship had been thrown off course by the high winds and relentless waves. "Sure I could," he answered without even a hint of laughter in his voice. He hoped his lie would help keep her fears at bay.

"Mr. Ross?"

God, he hated it when she called him that. "What now?"

"I'm really not that gullible," she said.

He smiled in the darkness. She let out a loud, lusty yawn. "I wonder if I'll sleep through drowning."

"We won't drown."

"No," she agreed. "We won't."

Several minutes passed in silence. Lucas thought she had finally fallen asleep. He couldn't stop himself from moving just a little bit closer to her. His head dropped to rest in the crook of her neck. He closed his eyes and tried for a long while to block his lustful thoughts. His discipline deserted him. He knew he should turn away from her. He couldn't. He should have been able to control his fantasies, damn it all. She was beguiling, yes, with those magical eyes and enchanting mouth and it was only a normal, healthy reaction on his part to get hard and want her. He was in bed with her, after all, and all she was wearing was a thin white nightgown. In the dark, wasn't one woman as good as another? Of course, he told himself. Taylor wasn't anything special.

And if that wasn't a lie, he didn't know what was. There wasn't a thing ordinary about Taylor. Lucas gritted his teeth and forced himself to roll away from her. He blocked her from being tossed about with his back, closed his eyes, and willed himself to go to sleep.

She wondered what he was thinking about. He'd abruptly turned away. The storm probably had him nervous, she thought. His arrogance and his pride wouldn't let him admit he was worried, however, and how like a man to let his ego rule his reactions, even in a crisis. Men were a confusing lot. She didn't think the way most men thought things through was very complex. At least Lucas Ross didn't seem overly complex to her. What you saw was what there was. He seemed… genuine. He was a little blunt with his honesty, and heavens, wasn't that an endearing quality? She might not agree with some of his opinions… going off to the mountains and leaving his family to fend for themselves didn't seem like a very brotherly thing to do, but she found she had to admire him because he'd been very open about his intentions.

Lucas didn't seem the sort to have hidden motives. That possibility appealed to her more than anything else about him. There was also the fact that he wanted to become a mountain man. She couldn't fault his goal. If she'd been a man without responsibilities, she would have done the same thing. She wondered if he'd read any of the stories about Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett.

It was a pity really. A man should be able to follow his dream. And so should a woman. Still, Lucas wasn't going to be able to live in the mountains all alone, at least not for a long, long time… until the babies were old enough and able enough to take care of themselves.

She was going to Redemption. The decision sort of snuck up on her, she supposed. In her heart she knew it was the right thing. The secluded little town was perfect for her and the twins. If Victoria wanted to come with her, Taylor would welcome her.

There was only one wrinkle in her plan. It was galling to admit, but since it was the dead of night and she would probably sink to the bottom of the ocean before morning light, she supposed she could admit her vulnerability.

She needed Lucas Ross.