Prince Charming

Chapter 12

Victoria wasn't on the four o'clock train. Taylor waited at the station until all the passengers had departed. She was disappointed but not worried. Everything would have had to go extremely smoothly for Victoria to have finished up all their business in Boston so quickly. Tomorrow, Taylor told herself. Her friend would arrive tomorrow.

It was unfortunate, but while she waited at the station, several men did try to accost her. A simple reminder to behave like a gentleman dissuaded one man. Two others weren't so easily discouraged. Taylor ended up having to be downright rude. They didn't seem to mind. She didn't become alarmed until they followed her outside. She fell in with the crowd of people walking down the street but kept glancing back over her shoulder to see if they were still behind her.

The two men were there all right and looking quite determined. Their clothes were filthy. So were their faces. The taller of the two kept smacking his lips together. He wore a dark wide-brimmed hat down low over his forehead. The other kept snickering. Taylor could feel herself panicking inside. She frantically looked around her for an avenue of escape.

She had already made one foolish mistake when she'd left the safety of the station. The cabbies were all waiting there for their fares, and why in heaven's name hadn't she jumped into one of the vehicles when she'd had the chance? The safety of the crowd she was hiding herself in was diminishing with each step she took. More than half the number had turned into several buildings, and when they reached the intersection, the group split in half again. Several turned to the left, and more turned to the right. Only an elderly couple continued on straight ahead.

Taylor decided to stay with them. She didn't want to go down any side streets. Not only was she certain she'd get lost, she also knew there was a good possibility one of the streets would turn into a dead end.

She could feel the ruffians gaining on her. She picked up her skirts and hurried on across the road. She kept the elderly couple between her and her stalkers. She spotted several shops ahead. Her panic eased just a little. She decided she would go inside one of the establishments and ask for assistance in handling the men chasing after her.

She was sorry she hadn't thought about bringing her gun with her. Because Cincinnati was such a polished, sophisticated city, she'd never considered the possibility she might need that sort of protection. Why, they were civilized here, for God's sake. Didn't the country ignorants behind her realize that?

She turned to see how far they were behind her and noticed the couple she'd been using as a shield had turned to walk down the alley she'd just passed. She wasn't about to follow them. God help her, she was suddenly all alone on the street. She heard one of the hooligans giggle. Her stomach lurched in reaction.

She was certainly frightened, but she was also becoming furious. She wasn't going to become a victim, she told herself. By God, she would scream, bite, and kick and make enough racket to draw a good-sized crowd.

Where were all the bobbies when you needed them?

Her panic was growing. What she really needed, she instructed her Maker, was a little miracle. Nothing fancy, she hastily qualified, just a tiny, barely noticeable miracle. Please, God, please…

Her prayer was answered. The miracle was just a half a block away. A gun shop. Right smack in the middle of the next block. Taylor had only just finished her prayer when she noticed the boldly painted sign waving like a banner above the shop for anyone and everyone to see.

God bless Mr. Colt, Taylor thought when she reached her destination and saw the display of six-shooters in the window. She let out a sigh of pleasure and rushed inside.

The bell hanging down over the door alerted the shopkeeper she was there. He seemed to be the only other person in the store. She smiled in greeting and hurried down the center of the aisle to the counter at the back of the store.

The owner was actually a little frightful looking at first glance. The poor man had obviously been in a fire, for his face, neck, and hands were covered with thick burn scars. He didn't have any eyebrows at all. Because of his marks, she couldn't judge his age. He had a full head of brown hair though, and because it was tinged with gray, she assumed he was at least forty. He wore thick wire-rimmed glasses. They kept slipping down the narrow bridge of his nose, and he kept pushing them back up.

The owner was obviously uncomfortable about his appearance. He averted his face when she drew close and asked her in a clipped, no-nonsense tone of voice if she required any assistance. He addressed his question to the countertop.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "I would like to look at the Colt on the shelf behind you. Is it perchance loaded?"

The owner handed the gun to Taylor, then reached behind him to collect a small square box of ammunition. He placed the box on the counter next to the gun.

"We don't keep any of the guns loaded here," he explained.

Taylor opened the box of ammunition, then picked up the gun. Before the owner could stop her, she loaded the weapon.

"Whatever are you doing, miss?" the man asked, his alarm obvious in his tone of voice.

He dared a quick look up at her face. She gave him a wide smile. She was about to explain her reason for loading the weapon when the bell sounded behind her.

"You've got a loaded gun there," he told her in a stammer.

She nodded agreement. "Yes, I do, thank God, and just in the nick of time. Will you excuse me for a moment?"

She didn't give him time to argue with her. She turned around just as the two hooligans started down the center aisle. The wooden floor creaked under the pounding of their boots.

They came to a quick stop when they spotted the gun in her hand.

"It ain't loaded, Elwin," the shorter of the two companions told his friend. He smiled at Taylor then, a nasty, malicious smile, and she noticed he was missing a considerable number of teeth. He was without a doubt the most disgusting individual she'd ever come across.

"She's trying to bluff us all right, Wilburn," his friend said.

The man named Elwin looked around the shop, then nudged his friend. "Lot's of fancy guns in here," he remarked with another loud snicker.

Wilburn nodded. "You the only one working here?" he shouted to the owner.

"I'm betting he is," Elwin speculated.

The owner started to bend down below the counter. "Stay right where you are," Wilburn shouted. He turned to his friend. "Might as well rob the place while we're here. There's got to be a storeroom in back. We could take turns with the little lady in there."

Elwin snickered again. Taylor wanted to shoot him.

"Oh, Lordie," the owner whispered behind her.

She didn't take her attention away from the vile men in front of her when she sought to calm the shopkeeper. "It will be all right, sir."

"It ain't going to be all right for you, little lady," Elwin drawled out. He nudged his friend in his ribs and let out a low giggle. His hat dropped down lower on his brow. She couldn't see his eyes, but she guessed they were as ugly as the rest of him.

They took a step toward her. She cocked her gun in preparation. He stopped, grinned, pushed his hat back on his forehead, and took another step.

Taylor blew his hat clean off his head.

He let out a howl. The sound of gunfire muffled his cry and reverberated throughout the store. The glass in the front window shivered from the noise. The bullet lodged in the door behind the villain.

Elwin looked flabbergasted. Taylor thought that was an appropriate reaction.

"She get you, Elwin?" his friend asked. He squinted at his friend, looking for a mark.

Elwin shook his head. "She didn't even nick me," he boasted.

"She wasn't bluffing," his friend whispered.

Wilburn's face turned red. He took another step toward her. Taylor shot a hole in the tip of his boot.

Wilburn made a try next. Taylor was losing her patience. She shot a hole through his boot, too. He jumped back and stared down at his feet. He wiggled his toes to make sure they were all still there, then glared at the woman who'd just ruined his boot.

"Nope, she ain't bluffing us," he told his companion. "We're going to have to rush her."

Taylor let out a dramatic sigh. "They're really very stupid, aren't they?" she called out to the owner.

She heard his chuckle behind her. "Yes, they are," he agreed.

Elwin didn't like hearing the insult. His face turned as red as a ripe tomato. He started to reach into his pocket. Taylor cocked her gun again.

"We've got to wrestle that gun out of her hand," Wilburn decided.

Elwin shook his head. "You wrestle with her," he suggested in a mutter. "Can't you see where she's got her fancy gun pointed? My personals are in her sights. She's crazy, Wilburn. No telling what she'll do. She might not miss us with her next shot."

Both men mulled the matter over for a few seconds before they started backing away.

"We ain't going to forget you," Elwin promised.

"We'll get you all right," Wilburn added.

The shopkeeper took control then. He snatched up the loaded rifle he kept hidden on the bottom shelf and shouted a warning.

"I'll shoot you both if I have to, and I'll get you in your middles. Now get over there by the wall and keep your hands up high where I can see them."

Taylor turned to the owner. "How much do you want for this gun? I've taken a liking to it. I would like to purchase it, sir."

He shook his head at her. "You can have it without charge. You saved me from getting robbed and most likely killed. I'm in your debt, miss. If you'll only just tell me your name and address, I'll put it in my log. Each Colt is registered, you see, with its own number. It's a way to match the gun up with the owner."

"My name's Taylor Ross," she answered. "I'm staying at the Cincinnati Hamilton House, and I do thank you for this gift."

The shopkeeper kept his rifle trained on the two culprits now cowering together against the wall. Taylor tucked her gun in the pocket of her coat. She took the long way around the men on her way to the front door.

"Will you make certain they stay here for a little while? I don't want them following me."

"Don't you worry none, miss. As soon as my partner gets here, I'll send him to get the authorities."

"Good day to you then," she called out as she opened the door.

"Miss?" the owner shouted.

She paused at the threshold. "Yes?"

"Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

"Scotland."

She was pulling the door closed behind her when she heard his response to her answer. "If that don't beat all."

Taylor walked all the way back to the hotel. She stopped at the first Catholic church she came upon and went inside to light a candle for Madam. She sat in the pew for close to an hour. First she prayed, and then she talked things over with her grandmother. She felt better and certainly more in control after her visit to the church. In truth she wasn't certain if it was because she'd prayed or because she had the protection of a gun in her pocket.

It was dinnertime when she reached Hamilton House. As much as the thought of food repelled her, she knew she should eat something. She was already feeling nauseated.

She hurried to the Ladies Ordinary, took a table in the corner, and ordered soup, two biscuits, and a pot of tea. The waiter tried to talk her into eating a more substantial meal. She graciously declined his suggestion. She nibbled on one biscuit and decided to take the other one back to her room in case she started feeling queasy again. She barely touched the vegetable soup, but the tea tasted wonderful to her. When she was finished with her sparse meal, she felt refreshed. The feeling didn't last long. After she'd had her bath and changed into her nightgown, she was worn out. She fell asleep on the settee while she waited for Lucas to come back.

She didn't wake up until the following morning. She found herself in her bed. Lucas must have carried her there. He'd changed his clothes, too, for the shirt he'd worn yesterday was looped over a chair.

They were still looking for the babies. Why was it taking so long? Taylor tried not to become discouraged. She got dressed, then went over to the writing table to make a list of things she could do to help in the search.

The more people they had looking for the children, the quicker they'd be found, she reasoned, and so she wrote out an advertisement to place in the local newspapers. Then she considered hiring several private investigators. If they'd been raised in Cincinnati and kept their ears opened to the goings on around the city, one might have already heard about the twins. Perhaps the hotel's management could recommend a few good investigators.

Taylor also considered making up flyers and pinning them all around the city offering a substantial reward for information about the twins.

If they were still in the city…

The day dragged. She decided to show Lucas her list that evening. If he didn't have any valid objections to her plan, she would place the advertisement with the papers in the morning. Perhaps he or Hunter would have a few suggestions to make as well.

Being idle was driving her crazy. She paced and she prayed, but the time still dragged by. Oh, how she wished Victoria were here. She needed someone to talk to and her friend was such a compassionate, caring woman, she would know the torment Taylor was going through.

She prayed her friend would be on the four o'clock train today. It was almost half past three now. Taylor went to the wardrobe to get her coat. She was going to go back to the station, of course, but this time she was taking her gun with her.

She filled the chambers with more of her bullets, tucked the gun in her pocket, and was just putting her coat on when the door opened and Hunter and Lucas walked inside. She was thrilled to see them until she got a good look at their faces. They both looked disheartened.

"You didn't find them, did you?" Lucas shook his head. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. "Not yet," he qualified when he saw her crushed expression.

He looked exhausted. The weariness was evident around his eyes. And in his voice.

She wanted to tell him he mustn't lose heart or give up but caught herself before she voiced what he would surely take as an insult.

"You need to get some sleep, Mr. Ross," she said. "Rest will clear your head. Are you hungry? There's a biscuit on the table over there."

She realized how inadequate the offer was as soon as she made the suggestion. "I'll be happy to go and get both of you some proper food."

She turned to Hunter. He was leaning against one of the wardrobes watching her. "What about you, Hunter?"

"I'll get something later," he replied. Taylor nodded. Her expression was filled with anxiety. She was gripping her hands together and looking close to breaking down. Hunter looked at Lucas to see what he was going to do about comforting his wife. No help there, he realized. Lucas looked bone tired. Hunter shook his head at his friend. "You never could keep up with me, could you?"

"The hell I couldn't," Lucas replied. Hunter snorted. He turned back to Taylor. "We have one lead that could prove helpful. We're waiting to hear."

"Might prove helpful," Lucas stressed before Taylor could get her hopes up. He didn't want to see her disappointed again.

"We should know in a little while," Hunter interjected.

"Where were you going?" Lucas asked. He seemed to have only just noticed she had her coat half on.

His question reminded her of her errand. "To the station to see if Victoria is on the four o'clock train," she explained while she struggled to get her arm in the sleeve of her coat.

Hunter started across the room. He stopped suddenly and turned back to Lucas. "She's got a gun in her pocket," he told his friend. "She always carry one?"

Because she was standing directly in front of him, she decided to answer his question. "Cincinnati is far more dangerous than I thought it would be," she explained. "I had a near miss yesterday. How did you know I had a gun in my pocket?"

"The bulge," he answered.

She told him how astute she thought he was because he'd noticed, then pulled the gun out of her pocket to show him. "It was a gift," she explained.

Lucas was still leaning against the door. He was so tired he barely paid any attention to the conversation. He wanted a hot bath and hotter food. He needed a good eight hours sleep, but he knew he couldn't waste the time on such a luxury. Time was critical now. The leads were still warm, and if they were ever going to find Taylor's nieces, they would have to move fast.

His instinct told him the little girls were still in the city. Hunter felt the same way. He'd questioned a man, more drunk than sober, but still reasonably coherent, who swore he'd seen the little ones with the Border brothers just two days before.

The Border brothers. Lucas's skin tightened at the mere mention of the name. The two men were as evil as Satan, as sneaky as a jackal, and as mean dispositioned as a rattler. Lucas couldn't wait to get his hands on the bastards. They used to be in the business of selling for a couple of prostitutes. The younger of the brothers took a fancy to cutting up the women, and it wasn't long before his butchering put an end to the enterprise. They moved on to another profitable business. They still bartered anything and everything, but their specialty was children now. Orphans, the man told Hunter, were their preference. No complications, he'd explained. The more fortunate ones were sold to couples out in the wilderness who needed help running their farms. The prettier children weren't as fortunate, for there were men with… What had the man said? Unusual cravings.

Oh, yes, the Border brothers. They deserved to die a slow, agonizing death, and Lucas felt he was just the man to deal out the punishment. Hunter would probably get in his way though. He'd already made the claim that he was going to skin the pair alive.

No doubt about it. One way or another, by Hunter's knife or his own hand, the brothers were going to die. Justice would be served.

Lucas pushed himself away from the door, rolled his shoulders to take the stiffness out, then turned his attention to his wife. For the last few days and nights, he'd been forced to move in the shadows of the dark, foul sewer of the city, and he desperately needed to cleanse his mind now. He needed Taylor. She represented warmth and brightness and beauty. He would confront the beast later. For now he wanted only to surround himself in her scent and her magical touch. She was as welcoming as the sun to a man who'd been hiding in the darkness for too damned long.

Hunter was drawn to her as well. Lucas had never seen him spend this much time talking to any woman. He was sure talking up a storm now. Lucas wasn't jealous or even irritated by his friend's behavior. His trust in Hunter was absolute. He understood his need as well, for the two of them were very alike.

Taylor didn't realize how she'd affected his friend. She accepted his smile as an ordinary occurrence. She didn't have a clue how amazing it was for Hunter to ever smile at all.

Hunter looked like he wanted to laugh. Taylor was leaning against his side while she pointed out all the clever little changes in the gun Hunter held.

His friend kept giving him glances. Lucas walked forward. He decided to find out what his friend found so amusing.

"The gun is registered with its own special number," Taylor was explaining. "But did you know that each piece, before it's fitted, is also etched with the same number? If only a part of the gun is found, the number could still be read."

Hunter nodded. "How many times did you say you fired?"

"Three times," she answered. "There wasn't a kick, Hunter. I didn't have to adjust my aim at all. It's a vast improvement over the older models. You must try it sometime."

Hunter handed the weapon to Lucas. "It's lighter," he remarked.

"Is it loaded?" Lucas asked.

Hunter grinned. "After yesterday's adventure, I would imagine it is."

"I cleaned it last night and reloaded this morning," she told her husband. She wanted him to know she took good care of her possessions.

Then she tried to take her gun back. Lucas wouldn't give it to her. "You don't need this," he remarked.

Hunter was smiling again. Something was up all right, but Lucas was too weary to figure it out. Only one fact was registering in his mind. His friend hadn't smiled this much in all the time he'd known him.

"Weren't you listening?" Hunter asked.

"Guess not," Lucas replied.

"She needs the gun."

"This isn't the gun you had in Boston," Lucas remarked, for he'd only just realized the subtle differences in the weapons. "This is brand-new. Where'd you get it?"

"Weren't you paying attention to what I was telling Hunter?"

"No."

She let out a sigh. Her poor husband was so tired, he was having trouble concentrating. "You need to get some sleep, Mr. Ross. Give me my gun back. I got it at a gun shop, of course. Heavens, I'm going to be late for the train's arrival if I don't hurry."

"You still have plenty of time," Lucas told her. It suddenly occurred to him that she was back to calling him Mr. Ross again. He scowled and turned his attention back to the shiny Colt he held in his hand.

"It's nice," he remarked. "Why'd you buy it?"

"It was a gift."

"Why?" Lucas asked.

"Why what?" Taylor replied.

He held onto his patience. "Why was it a gift?"

She didn't care for his tone of voice. It was snappish. She didn't care for the way he was scrutinizing her either. He reminded her of a barrister trying to prove a hidden motive. Taylor's spine stiffened in reaction. She was his wife, not a defendant. The flash of irritation was short-lived however. Then she felt guilty because she was certain she was overreacting. Lucas looked dead on his feet. She should be giving him her sympathy.

Because he didn't appear to be in a very amiable mood, she decided not to go into detail about the near robbery. It might upset him. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "It isn't important," she announced. "My, you look tuckered out. Why don't I go and turn the bed down for you?"

He might have been exhausted, but he was still as quick as ever. He grabbed hold of her arm before she could take a single step away from him.

"Why was it a gift?" he asked again.

She let out a sigh. "The owner was… appreciative."

"Why?"

The set of his jaw told her he wasn't going to give up until he had all his answers.

"There was a small, inconsequential altercation in the store and just a hint of a possibility of a robbery," she said with a shrug. "That's all."

"Elwin and Wilburn."

Hunter interjected the names. He was grinning like a naked bandit bathing in gold coins.

"Couldn't you tell I wasn't going to go into detail with Mr. Ross?" she asked Hunter. She added a frown so he'd know she was displeased with him.

He didn't seem to mind. He winked at her. "Are you going to make me sorry I told you what happened?" she asked. She didn't give him time to answer. She shook her head at him and said, "You're supposed to be loyal to me, sir."

"I am?" Hunter asked.

She nodded. She waved her hand in Lucas's direction. "I'm his wife, after all."

"Who in thunder are Wellen and Elburn?" Lucas asked the question in a surly, someone-better-answer-me voice.

"They're Elwin and Wilburn." Hunter took great delight in correcting his friend's pronunciation.

"Start explaining, Taylor."

"You might become irritated."

She was a little late with that concern. Lucas was already looking angry.

"They're the men who followed Taylor from the train station yesterday. She told me she prayed for a miracle. God gave her one."

"Oh?" Lucas asked, his voice suspiciously soft.

Hunter couldn't wait to explain. "A gun shop."

Lucas nodded. "I see."

"Your eyelid's twitching," Hunter said.

Lucas ignored his friend. He turned his attention to his wife. She was giving him a sweet smile and trying to act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"And?" he prodded.

"There really isn't anything more to tell," she replied.

Hunter didn't agree. He ended up telling Lucas the entire story.

Just as Taylor suspected, Lucas didn't take it all in stride. His grip on her arm started stinging. She pinched him to make him let up on his hold. By the time his had-to-tell-it-all friend finished giving him every last detail, Lucas's jaw was clenched tight, and there was a noticeable tick in his left eyelid.

It mesmerized her.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?"

She knew that question was coming. "If you weren't so tired, you would realize I used my wits to get out of a worrisome situation. You would be praising me, sir."

The tick intensified. Yes, he should have complimented her. He didn't though. He dragged her over to the settee, forced her to sit down, and then towered over her while he tried to scare the hell out of her.

He didn't raise his voice, and that made his lecture all the worse in her opinion. In great, vivid detail he told her what could have happened to her. He painted a godawful picture. Her face turned as white as snow by the time he was finished listing all the horrors she might have had to endure… before they killed her. Lucas had her dead and buried on a remote country road, and when he at last finished with his ungentle-manly terror tactics, he made her admit she'd done several foolish things. "You never should have gone alone."

"No, I shouldn't have," she readily agreed. Her head was bowed low.

He thought she was being contrite and maybe even a little submissive. He was immediately suspicious. In all their time together, he'd noticed how headstrong she was and how stubborn. But submissive? Never.

Fatigue made his anger over her foolishness more intense. He knew he was overreacting. He didn't care. The thought of Taylor in such danger made him furious and all because it scared the hell out of him. If anything ever happened to her, he didn't know what he would do.

"I made a promise to your grandmother to keep you safe until you got settled… where in thunder are you going to get settled? Are you going to take your nieces to their father's relatives? You weren't thinking of taking them back to England, were you? No, of course you weren't. What about Boston?"

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. The action made him want to throttle her. And then kiss her. He shook his head.

"I'm not a saint," he muttered.

Taylor didn't look at him when she agreed. "No, you certainly aren't a saint, sir."

"How long am I…"

He didn't finish his question.

"Stuck with me?" she asked, her voice as whisper soft as his had been when he started the question.

No, that wasn't what he was going to ask her, but thankfully he'd stopped himself before he blurted out the rest. He'd wanted to know exactly how long he was supposed to keep his hands off her. Pretending to be a eunuch around her was taking its toll. He wasn't made of stone. Didn't she understand that?

Lucas let out a sigh. Of course she didn't understand. She was quite astute about most things, but when it came to the marriage bed, she was as innocent as a… virgin, just like she was supposed to be.

What was the matter with him? He was trying to make her understand she couldn't just run here and there without protection, and right smack in the middle of his speech on the merits of using caution, his mind turned to thoughts of what it would be like to bed her. Lucas was thoroughly disgusted with himself.

The tension inside the room grew until it was almost unbearable. Hunter had already gone into the second bedroom so Taylor and Lucas could have the privacy they needed. Lucas suddenly wished there was a crowd of people in the suite with them. The questions rambling around in his head, one on top of another and another and another, kept demanding answers. He suddenly felt like a barracuda he'd watched once, fighting against the hook. He'd stood next to a fisherman on the pier and seen how the weathered old man had patiently worked the fish. He'd given him plenty of line, let the barracuda fight until exhaustion finally overtook him, and then the old man had calmly reeled him in.

Lucas pushed the memory away. He kept his gaze firmly directed on his wife. He couldn't see her face, for her head was bowed so low he thought her chin must be touching her chest. God, she looked dejected. He assumed he'd injured her feelings, and hell, what was he going to do about that?

She suddenly straightened her spine and looked up at him. One glance told him he'd been wrong in concluding he'd hurt her feelings. There weren't any tears in her eyes. There was fire. She didn't look like she wanted to weep. Quite the opposite. She looked like she wanted to kill him.

He was at first startled by the notice, then incredibly relieved. Oh, how she pleased him. He felt like laughing and couldn't give a reason why. The woman was making him crazy. Those wonderful, beguiling blue eyes of hers captured his full attention. And his heart.

They stared at each other a long, silent moment. She was trying to collect her thoughts so that she would sound reasonable when she spoke to him.

He was using the time to come to grips with the truth. He expected to be hit by lightning. He wasn't. He didn't blanch or stagger to his knees, and all because the realization wasn't gruesome or horrifying after all. It was in fact quite liberating.

He could feel himself being reeled in. The questions were gone, the answer had been there all along. He realized that now. He'd just been too stubborn and mule headed to recognize all the signs.

He was a man in love with his wife.

Taylor had succeeded in getting her anger under control until her insensitive clod of a husband smiled at her. He'd just asked her the most appalling question and then had the gall to grin over it.

"I'll be happy to answer your question," she announced in a voice that shook with anger. "You're stuck with me until you find my babies. It's that simple. Find them, and then you can leave."

She suddenly bounded to her feet. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Go where the wind blows you, Mr. Ross, if that is your inclination."

Hunter stood in the doorway watching Taylor. Since she wasn't paying any attention to him, he thought it safe to smile. He wanted to laugh. Lord, she was in a lather and she was about the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He wondered if Lucas knew how fortunate he was to have married her. She wasn't just beautiful, she was also spirited. Hunter found it an appealing combination.

He didn't want to interrupt, but he'd noticed the lateness in the hour and thought he'd offer to go to the train station to collect her friend. He guessed he'd have to wait until Mrs. Ross was finished giving Mr. Ross hell before he could find out if she wanted him to go on the errand or not.

Taylor kept her attention on her husband. She was determined to make him understand how she felt and why. Her mind raced from one argument to another.

"What either one of us wants isn't the least important," she began. "Both of us must put the children first. Every adult should," she added in a whisper.

Then she remembered an incident from her past she thought would best explain her position.

"I saw a woman strike a boy across his face. It was at the annual fair held on my grandmother's estates. The woman used her fist and the blow lifted the lad off the ground. He landed in the mud. It was a miracle his neck wasn't broken."

Lucas didn't show any reaction to the remembrance. He waited to hear the rest of the story.

"Quite a few people witnessed the act of cruelty, but none of them did anything about it. He was just twelve years old. Someone should have come to his rescue. She was cruel and malicious."

"You did something though, didn't you?"

"I certainly did. The woman was employed by my grandmother. I made her promise not to strike the boy again. I threatened to ask Madam to fire her if she ever raised her hand against him again."

"How old were you?"

"Ten."

"You were awfully young to…"

"My age isn't important to this story," she interrupted. "The woman told me the boy was a distant relation she'd been forced to take in and feed. She didn't want him and she certainly didn't love him. I made certain the boy was taken out of harm's way. That was all that mattered to me."

"How did you accomplish that?"

"I took him home with me."

He smiled. Of course she took him home with her. He couldn't imagine Taylor doing anything less, even at the tender age of ten.

"I would like to meet him someday," Lucas remarked.

"You already have, Mr. Ross. Thomas took over the arrangements for our wedding. He made certain there weren't any problems. He did a fine job."

Lucas remembered the young man. "He was your grandmother's butler."

"Yes. Mr. Ross, the only reason I shared the incident with you was to help you understand that it doesn't matter if you're inconvenienced or taxed or even stuck with me as you so eloquently stated. You and I, and Hunter, too, all have the same responsibility. It is our obligation, indeed our sacred duty, to protect the innocent from harm. I can't take the babies home and keep them safe until you find them.

"I've already given you my word I'll find them. Are you now suggesting I might abandon you?"

She could tell he was getting angry. She didn't care. "You did ask me how long you were going to be stuck with me," she reminded him.

"No," he corrected. "You assumed that was what I was going to ask. Don't jump to conclusions. They're usually wrong."

He moved forward until he was standing just on the other side of the table facing her. "And don't ever tell me what I may or may not do. We aren't at odds over the issue of the children. I recognize my responsibility and so does Hunter. Do we look like we're going to bolt?"

She shook her head. "You really weren't going to ask me how long you were stuck with me?"

"No."

She felt like a fool. She was mortified by her own conduct. She could feel herself blushing. Lord help her, she'd lectured him, insulted him as well, and simply telling him she was sorry wouldn't be adequate.

"I'll pay you," she blurted out.

"What did you say?" He was certain he hadn't heard correctly. She wouldn't deliberately insult him again by suggesting he would take money for doing what she had just pointed out was his sacred duty.

"I'll give you anything you want," she explained in a rush.

She added a nod to let him know she was sincere.

The tick was back in his eyelid. Her offer obviously hadn't pleased him. She was bewildered. "I meant no offense, sir. I was simply being practical. I know you'll find the babies with or without compensation. Honestly, there isn't any reason to get huffy."

"Huffy?" He choked on the word.

"Oh, how like a man to get riled up over a practical matter." She waved her hand in the air. "Forget I made the offer."

"Too late," he told her.

She let out a sigh. She'd hurt his pride, she realized, and it was up to her to repair the damage. The problem was simple; the answer eluded her, however. She didn't know how to soothe him.

Mr. Ross seemed to take exception to everything she said. She was going to tell him she believed he was a bit high-strung when he turned her attention.

"I'll take you up on your offer."

Taylor wasn't the only one surprised by his turnabout. Hunter raised an eyebrow in reaction. He was astonished.

"You will?" she asked.

"Yes, I will," he agreed. "You did say I could have anything I wanted, isn't that right?"

"Yes." She hurried to add, "After we've found the babies."

"Of course."

He gave her a wide smile and then turned to look at Hunter. "Do you want to go with me to the train station? We could get something to eat on our way back."

Hunter checked the time before answering. "The meeting's set for six," he reminded his friend.

"We'll be back by then."

Lucas started for the door. Taylor skirted her way around the table and chased after him. She grabbed hold of his arm and asked him to stop.

"Do you know what you want?" she asked.

"Yes. I know exactly what I want."

Hunter opened the door and walked out into the corridor. Lucas tried to follow him. Taylor grabbed hold of him again.

"For heaven's sake," she began. "If you know what you want, kindly tell me."

He turned around to look at her. He wanted to see her expression when he enlightened her.

"I want"-he leaned down and kissed her hard-"a wedding night."