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Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

June 1, 1888
Winterhaven Manor,
Edinburgh, Scotland

"My God, Raleigh," Harrison MacAulay said, " I feel as though I've just awakened from a bad dream, and none of what you have told me is true. Och! You are saying I must produce an heir or lose my home?"

"That's precisely what I'm saying. It's right here, in your father's will, which he drafted when he was healthy and of sound mind, in case you have doubts."

Raleigh McKenna smoothed the parchment on the desk and read the old laird's words aloud. "My elder son, Harrison James, shall produce an heir by his thirty-first birthday. Otherwise, the MacAulay estates, including the ancestral home, Winterhaven Manor, shall accede to my second son, Payton Edward."

Harrison paced the green and gold Aubusson carpet, from one end of the walnut- paneled library to the other, a scowl firmly planted on his face. After a while he paused and leveled his gaze on Raleigh. "Must I abide by this?"

Raleigh folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "If you expect to keep possession of your home and wealth."

"What in the world was the old man thinking, other than the fact he held a deep obsession at the prospect of becoming a grandfather?" Harrison raged. "Did you know Payton had contacted Father from America years ago and told him about his own two sons? Payton wrote to me and said he never received an acknowledgement."

"You're not surprised by the lack of response from your father, are you? Your brother fought a duel, killed a man and left the country, never to be seen again. Not to mention leaving the family name tarnished."

"Not surprised at all. I was the one who took the brunt of my father's fury with Payton's leaving." Harrison would never forget that fateful day ten years ago. Payton had killed the husband of his latest mistress. In order to avoid repercussions from the law, and to save his own life, he was forced to flee Scotland.

"You do earn a decent living from your work as a physician. Would it be devastating to give up the home and lands to your brother?"

Harrison shrugged. "Not at all. I spend more time at my townhouse in Edinburgh than at Winterhaven, anyway, since my clinic is nearby. But have you any doubt that Payton would run the place into the ground?"

"I see your point." Raleigh grimaced. "That younger brother of yours has been undeniably irresponsible at times."

Harrison snorted in disgust. "And what about all the cousins who reside here? I took on the responsibility of raising them when their families couldn't, not to mention my duty caring for our tenant families. Payton wasn't raised for the job.

"So, it appears I must marry, hmm?"

A frown creased Raleigh's forehead as he perused the document. "Don't see marriage mentioned at all."

That gave Harrison pause. "But would my heir be legal if I weren't married?"

"Of course! This is Scotland, not England," Raleigh replied. "Hell, man, you could run off in an instant to Gretna Green and handfast, instead. Have you anyone particular in mind?"

"Perhaps."

"Connie MacPhearson?"

Harrison heard the stiff tone in Raleigh's voice as he sank into a chair across from his friend. "Not even remotely."

Raleigh growled, "Och, are ye saying she's not good enough for ye?"

"Hell, no!" Harrison shouted, laughter in his voice. "Watch it, Englishman. You're starting to sound like a Scot. She would not have me because she's in love with you."

Sputtering, Raleigh jumped from his chair. "Now, see here...that is preposterous!"

"A moment ago you were ready to blow my head off! Thank God you hadn't a gun in your hand. When are you going to admit you're in love with the woman, and she's in love with you? The two of you are too stubborn for your own good, do you know that?"

"Enough," Raleigh snapped. "As your solicitor, I advise you to find a woman. Quickly. In eighteen months you will be thirty-one. I'm leaving now. Do you require anything else?"

"No." Harrison rose and followed Raleigh to the door. "My thanks," he said, shaking his friend's hand. "I'll be making my decision soon."

After Raleigh left, Harrison stared out a long, narrow window, his hands folded behind his back. He watched his solicitor and long-time friend mount his horse and gallop away, all the while contemplating his choice of available womanhood. Other than one particular woman who was always on his mind, none were appropriate. Brianna MacAulay was the only woman he'd thought about on a daily basis for the past ten years.

It was truly unfortunate she was his brother's wife.

Chapter One

November 1888
Stillwater, Minnesota

Brianna MacAulay stood inside the train depot for the third afternoon in a row, watching passengers disembark the last train of the day. She peered at the people swarming through the doorway, worried that some mishap might have befallen her husband's brother, but found no sign of the man.

There was nothing she could do now but go home and hope he would arrive tomorrow. She presumed it would then be a simple matter for him to settle her late husband's will. She frowned as she thought about the money she hadn't been allowed to withdraw from Payton's bank account. It was hers! She needed that money--every single penny--in order to furnish two more bedrooms in her home by spring. More lumberjacks would be arriving to work for the town's sawmills by then, and they would be in need of a place to stay.

Squaring her shoulders and hitching up her black taffeta skirt and petticoats, she moved swiftly to the depot entrance and swung open the door. Huge drops of cold late autumn rain slashed across her face, and she squinted against the onslaught. She tucked the umbrella under her arm, since opening it would afford her little protection. She sighed, wishing it were snow instead of rain. Snow wouldn't ruin the hat she wore. It was her favorite, with a bird's nest perched on top, its cloth occupant having long since flown away.

She dodged puddles on the deserted boardwalk before gingerly stepping into the muddy street. She had just tossed the umbrella into the back and placed a foot upon the running board when she heard someone shouting.

"Madam! A moment, please."

A big man wearing a top hat approached her. She lowered her foot just as he arrived at her side. He swept his cloak off his shoulders, held an edge of it high above her head, and gallantly shielded her from the rain.

"I must speak with ye," he said in a deep, accented voice.

As she peered up at him, she thought him familiar, but could not place him.

He took her elbow and nodded at Francis Marshall's Dry Goods. "Let us find protection."

She accompanied him across the street, where they ducked beneath Marshall's dark green and white striped awning. Lord knew she should never have gone willingly with this stranger, yet she could not help but wonder why he had approached her. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes, but discovered them concealed behind a pair of rain-spattered, wire-rimmed spectacles.

Then he removed his hat and smiled, and she knew he was her brother-in-law. She'd never seen a picture of him, but the pleasant curve of his lips was very similar to her husband's. With his smile the similarity ended. Where Payton had been fair-haired, blue-eyed and fine of build, Harrison MacAulay was tall and broad-shouldered, his complexion darker.

Brianna's cheeks grew warm under his intent look. "You are Harrison MacAulay?" From the moment he spoke she should have guessed his identity because of his Scottish dialect.

"I am, dear sister-in-law," he said, inclining his head, "and at your beck and call for as long as you need me." He lifted her hand and brushed it with a gentle kiss.

She shivered. Her heart raced at his warm touch that she felt through the thin fabric of her glove. She pulled her hand away, not at all happy about the way his kiss caused a funny feeling inside of her. Of course, many women would have difficulty ignoring a handsome man of such extraordinary height, lean yet powerful build, black, wavy hair and deep brown eyes.

"I...I worried that something had happened to you." A sudden bolt of lightning splitting the sky startled her, and she added, "I suggest we leave for home before the roads become impassable."

"And where are your sons?"

"My neighbor, Mrs. Crane, offered to stay with them on the condition I return shortly."

"I apologize for my lateness. Two days ago I boarded a train in Chicago. That was shortly after I sent the wire notifying you of my arrival. Alas, the train derailed and I was forced to wait for another that did not leave until this morning. I sent you a second wire."

"I never received it."

For some reason, she trusted his word, though she had long ago given up believing a single word from her husband. Payton had been a gambler and tippler, until he drowned a month ago in the St. Croix River. During the last two years of their marriage, she had learned to depend upon herself for her livelihood. Which was fine with her. She'd never been the sort of woman to sit idle day after day. Running the boarding house gave her something worthwhile to do, and she earned a fair living besides. The money she'd saved from her boarders was dwindling, though, and the next season's lumberjacks wouldn't be arriving for four long months.

"I suppose it could not be helped. Now, we must get out of this rain, although it doesn't matter since we are both drenched."

He replaced his hat, took her arm and escorted her to her buckboard. "I must fetch my bags," he said, assisting her into the driver's seat. Within moments, he returned with two leather bags and tossed them into the back of the wagon. "Have you any suggestions regarding accommodations in town?"

"I wouldn't hear of you staying at a hotel. I've a room at home ready for you."

He raised his brow. "For propriety's sake, that may not be a good idea."

"My friends and neighbors wouldn't think poorly of me for offering a family member a place to stay." She saw the hesitant look on his face and she flushed, chiding herself for being so forward. Oh, she wanted him to stay with her, yet he appeared ready to decline. If he did, it would greatly disappoint her sons. They missed a man's presence in their young lives. And as much as she hated to admit it, as much as she enjoyed her freedom, she missed a man in the house.

"Verra well. Then I shall see you later," he said and whacked Winney's hindquarters.

Brianna held onto the reins as the horse started moving forward and she shouted over her shoulder, "Aren't you coming?"

"I have business to tend to first."

"But you have no idea where I live!"

In the dimming light, she caught a flash of white and bristled when she realized he was smiling. "I'm certain I will have no trouble finding you."

As she headed for home, she couldn't help but wonder what business a stranger from Scotland could have in town with the approach of evening. From past experience where her husband was concerned, there were only a few reasons why a man went to town after dark. She shook her head and heaved a sigh, chagrined at her wayward thoughts. "All right, Brianna MacAulay. That will be enough of that sort of thinking."

***

Brianna stood in her parlor, satisfied that the cherry wood tables still glowed from her most recent polishing. The white lace curtains covering the windows were fresh and clean. The red, green and gold floral carpeting held nary a speck of lint. Her boys had their noses jammed against a parlor window as they anxiously awaited the arrival of their uncle.

"You will smear the glass, and after I just cleaned it," she scolded. "Now, come back to the kitchen and finish your supper."

"Not hungry, Ma," said seven-year-old Jamie.

"Me neither," announced Harry. The nine year old stared at her over his shoulder. "When did Uncle Harrison say he'd be here?"

She sighed and tried to count how many times they'd asked that same question since she arrived home more than an hour ago. "He didn't say. There will be no dessert if you don't eat the rest of your stew."

The boys turned to her, disappointment stamped on their faces. She crossed her arms and waited, fighting the urge to give into them. Admittedly, she indulged her boys-- even understood her reasons for doing so. With the loss of their father, they seemed so sad much of the time, Harry, in particular.

Harry asked, "What's for dessert?"

"Do you not recognize the scent?"

Jamie inhaled and grinned. "Apple pie!"

She headed down the hallway, slowing at the sound of someone knocking on her door. She retraced her steps, but by the time she arrived at the door her sons had already opened it. They surveyed their uncle, small faces filled with suspicion, awe and curiosity.

Harrison's cloak hung over one arm. His black jacket fit his wide shoulders to perfection. A matching waistcoat, white shirt with crisp starched collar and gray tie completed his attire. He looked handsome, authoritative and wealthy.

Her younger son stuck out his hand. "I'm Jamie." Brianna noted the pleased but melancholic expression crossing Harrison's face.

"Jamie," he said, taking his nephew's hand in his own. "You look remarkably like your father."

Brianna saw tears glistening in his eyes and thought how dreadful he must be feeling at the loss of his only brother, whom he hadn't seen in ten years. She smiled when he reached down and swept Jamie into his arms, held him close. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He appeared to be inhaling the essence of her son's innocence, as one would inhale the sweet scent of a newly opened rose. Jamie allowed the affectionate embrace until Harrison lowered him to the floor.

She frowned when Jamie clung to his leg. "Your uncle cannot walk with you attached to him."

"He is fine where he is." He settled his big hand on Jamie's blonde thatch of hair, then turned to Harry, who stood by in silence.

"Greet your uncle, Harry," Brianna gently ordered.

"You don't look much like Pa," Harry blurted out, tilting his head to the side. "Except for your smile."

"Verra astute, my boy. I favor our father, while your father took after your grandmother."

"I must also look like my grandfather, since I look like you."

From the moment Brianna had met Harrison at the train depot, she'd realized her son's strong resemblance to his uncle. Yet she'd always thought Harry resembled her.

Harrison opened his arms to welcome him, but Harry reached out and shook his hand, instead. Disappointment crossed Harrison's face but he veiled it. "You know that your father named you after me, don't you?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. I didn't." He grinned. "We were just going to the kitchen for dessert. Want some?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Oh, well, does it matter?" Harry asked, looking his uncle over carefully. "You look like you eat everything."

"Harry!" Brianna exclaimed, shocked.

Harrison threw back his head and laughed.

Harry's wide-eyed gaze never left his uncle. "But, Ma, he's big as old Farmer Jorgenson's ox!"

Brianna sighed, gave Harrison an apologetic smile. "Have you eaten supper yet?"

"Haven't had a bite since noon."

"How does beef stew, apple pie and coffee sound?"

He grinned. "Wonderful."

After the boys ate their pie, and Harrison had finished his meal, the conversation was lively, interspersed with bouts of boisterous shouts and laughter. Brianna hated ending the evening. It had been a while since she'd seen her sons so happy. But at ten o'clock, she announced, "It's past bedtime, boys."

"Oh, but Ma, we don't have school tomorrow, and we want to talk more with Uncle!" Jamie protested.

"It is late," Harrison inserted. "I'll still be here come morning."

Brianna settled them down for the night and quietly made her way to her bedroom. With a critical look, she examined herself in the oval mirror positioned over the cherry wood bureau, tucking a stray lock of black hair into the bun atop her head. While her sapphire-colored eyes were pretty and her long, straight nose was rather ordinary, she thought her high, wide cheekbones attractive. Enough, Brianna MacAulay! Whom are you trying to impress, anyway? Still, she pinched her cheeks before joining Harrison in the parlor.

He sat in a gold velvet gentleman's chair, which happened to be large enough to accommodate his bulk, one leg crossed over his knee, arms draped over the chair's arms. He rose upon her entrance and she took a seat on the threadbare crimson divan. She welcomed the heat from the fire he had stoked. Just the thought of kicking off her shoes and tucking her toes beneath her warm woolen blanket prompted her to close her weary eyes.

"Tell me about my brother. What caused his death?"

"If I could have kept him here with me he would not have died," she said, opening her eyes. "You received my letter, didn't you?"

"Aye, but you offered no explanation as to how Payton drowned, which I couldn't understand at all since he'd been an excellent swimmer."

"Drunk on spirits was the mortician's findings. He had difficulty controlling himself in that way."

"You mentioned if you could have kept him here with you, he wouldn't be dead. What did you mean by that remark?"

"He lived..." She hung her head, too embarrassed to continue.

"Go on," he prompted. Behind the spectacles, his eyes were kind.

"Your brother kept a mistress for the past two years. He spent little time at home."

"Ah, now why doesn't that surprise me?"

She raised her brow. "Are you telling me he had a history of womanizing?"

"Aye. But it is not all that uncommon in Scotland for a man to keep a mistress-- discreetly, of course. This doesn't mean he doesn't love his wife. It's just that a wife is a lady, and a lady cannot always provide her husband with what he needs."

The man was dreadfully serious. My Lord, he hadn't lived through the pain and agony of losing a loved one as she had. Not Payton's dying, but his leaving her for another woman. "Is that a fact? May I assume a wife has the same privilege?"

He stared at her a long moment before asking, "What privilege would that be?"

"Why, to have affairs."

"Hardly," he snapped.

Tears filled her eyes and her voice quivered. "I gave your brother my unequivocal devotion. I kept his home tidy and served him fine meals--that is, when he chose to bless us with his presence. But even that wasn't enough for him."

"How long have you been shouldering the burden for your family, Brianna?"

"For quite some time." She swallowed the lump in her throat and swiped at a tear running down her cheek. "Your brother had grand dreams of forging a fortune, and was well on his way to fulfilling them when he purchased stock in Mayor's Lumber Company. He grew fascinated with the every-day workings of that enterprise. In fact, he spent entire winters up north in the logging camps, working as a lumberjack. He loved being outdoors. But it meant him being away from home for so long. We all missed him terribly during those months, but he was working the work he loved. How could I deny him?"

Harrison frowned. "Payton didn't establish a solicitor's practice when he arrived in America?"

She raised her brow. "Payton was a lawyer?"

"Yes, a very successful one in Scotland, until he was forced to...until he decided to move to America. I had thought he'd start up his business here."

Payton had been educated? He'd never mentioned a word to her. Just thinking about his pay as a logger compared with what an attorney earned caused her to seethe.

"Continue, please," Harrison said.

"He would come home in the spring, as all the lumberjacks did, and stay until October when he'd leave again."

Harrison shoved back the edges of his jacket, jammed his hands on his hips. "Are ye telling me that my brother left ye alone for more than half a year at a time?"

Ah, there was that burr again. She nodded.

"However did you manage?"

She lifted her chin and met his gaze straight on. "With difficulty."

After Payton's death she had approached his solicitor, Reginald Nielsen. He'd told her everything had been taken care of, and that she need not worry her pretty little head about a thing. He'd also explained that until Harrison MacAulay arrived he couldn't release so much as a single cent to her.

"We shall call upon my solicitor first thing Monday morning," she announced, thinking of the money she required to purchase bed frames and mattresses from Sears Roebuck. A monthly charge of seven dollars per month, including board, was reasonable rent for a lumberjack. And renting five bedrooms would give her all the money she required to keep her home, and to feed and clothe her children.

"That will not be necessary since Mr. Nielsen and I have met, this very evening, in fact. We've straightened out Payton's financial affairs, and everything is in order."

Brianna frowned. "But Mr. Nielsen never conducts business past five o'clock, and never on Saturday or Sunday."

Harrison inclined his head. "He was willing to oblige me."

She clapped her hands in delight. "Well, that's wonderful news! Now you may return to your home in Scotland, and I may get on with my life."

He sat down beside her and gave her a gentle smile. "You seem to be an intelligent woman, and I believe you will understand me when I say your financial situation is far from good." He reached inside his pocket and withdrew a small packet of money. "This is all that is left of Payton's estate, once Nielson paid off his considerable debts." He pressed the bills into her hand. "I'm sorry, but it will be necessary to sell your home. I've requested Mr. Nielsen to immediately begin seeking a buyer."

Staring in wide-eyed dismay at the paltry sum, Brianna rose from the divan. Clenching the money in her fist, she felt a fury unlike any she'd ever felt before threaten to ignite. "How could Payton do this to us?"

She thought how she'd tolerated her husband's drinking and gambling for the sake of their children, and because she loved him. In hindsight, she realized she had known little of love when she married Payton at sixteen. Recognizing her own shortcomings, she knew she was not as easy on the eyes as many other women. She had long ago come to terms with the fact that she would never be petite and pretty. Still, Payton's taking a mistress had hurt her. But then she also knew that she had been much more in love with Payton than he'd been with her. To this day she still wondered why he'd requested her hand in marriage!

Sadly, the next time she saw him was after he'd drowned. She'd had him laid out in his blue serge suit, in a simple pine box. With tears rolling down her cheeks and her grieving sons on either side of her, she cursed him for having caused them all so much pain while he lived.

"I apologize for my brother's lack of responsibility for you and your sons. Payton never did possess one iota of common sense." He stared into the fire a moment before turning to her again. "A few years ago Payton sent me a letter regarding your welfare, if something were to happen to him. His desire was for you to return with me to Scotland."

"I am capable of taking care of myself and my sons. For two years I've taken in boarders and have done just fine, thank you." She swept past him and took her seat on the divan, folding her hands in her lap.

"You mean to tell me you open your home to strangers?"

"I was forced to do so," she said, lifting her chin, meeting the fiery look in his eyes head-on. "This is my home and I'm not leaving it."

"Hell and damnation!" he growled. "Do you think I want to do this to you?" He raked a hand through his hair. "I hate uprooting you and your sons, but we have no choice in the matter. You've been left penniless, left with nothing but your children, and I'm afraid even they aren't legally yours.

"We leave for Scotland as soon as I can make arrangements."

Chapter Two

"What are you saying?" Brianna's hand fluttered to her breast as an insidious coldness seeped into her body.

"Your sons are under my guardianship."

Her face paled as she rose from her seat and backed away from him.

He stopped her backward motion, and took her hands in his. "When Payton wrote, he requested that his sons be educated in Scotland with his clan. I'm responsible for them until they reach eighteen."

Brianna yanked her hands from his. "They're my sons, too! Doesn't that count for anything?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Eventually, you will learn to love Scotland and accept it as your home."

"Tell me, if I lived in Scotland--mind you, I said, if--what ever would I do there?"

He raised his brow. "Well, I would imagine what women usually do."

"And what might that be?"

"Grandmother Mary hosts tea parties, pays calls and performs many charitable works. Grandmother Jean is involved in her...causes."

"Causes?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

Harrison gave her a lop-sided grin. "Aye. Her current passion is the saving of mankind."

She raised her brow. "Saving them from what?"

"Primarily the overindulgence of spirits. America isn't the only country involved in Women's Temperance."

"Your grandmothers live close by you then?"

"They reside with me."

"Both of them?"

He nodded. "Although my maternal grandmother spends many months in her own home on the Isle of Skye. When my grandfathers passed away a year apart, it was my responsibility to care for them. Now then, I know it's much too soon to contemplate marriage again, but..."

"I'll never again enter into that esteemed state. Once was quite enough", she said with as much authority as she could muster. "Allow me to relieve your conscience. I am not your or anyone else's responsibility." It was difficult being strong with such a manly, vibrant presence as Harrison MacAulay, but she must. She couldn't give in to him now that she had control of her life.

As much as she'd loved her parents, she had been their only child, and they'd worried about her safety and had severely hindered her from pursuing new endeavors. She recalled wanting to learn to ride a bicycle when she was young! But they'd been too fearful for her safety. They'd died shortly after her eighth birthday. Because she had no other relatives she'd been placed at St. Benedict's orphanage, where she'd led a cloistered life until her sixteenth year. She'd met Payton while performing one of her chores, the daily shopping at the market. Not only had Payton been extremely handsome, which of course made him irresistible, he had offered her an opportunity to leave behind her restricted life.

Harrison scowled. "You must understand that I do not take my duty lightly."

"Duty?" She frowned. "Now, see here--"

"We will be leaving Friday morning, on the eight o'clock train."

Brianna swallowed the lump in her throat. "I believe a meeting with my solicitor is in order then. As I said earlier, I shall call on him first thing Monday."

"For what purpose, since I have already met with the man?" he asked, clearly exasperated.

"I'm questioning the terms of my husband's will. This isn't the dark ages, after all. I cannot believe I'm being denied the right to raise my own children, without the bother of a man."

Harrison had wanted Brianna from the first time he gazed upon her face ten long years ago. He'd received a letter from his brother, along with a wedding portrait of Brianna standing behind her husband, one hand on his shoulder. At the time he had been disgusted with himself for coveting his brother's wife. But with the passage of time he had thanked God there had been an ocean between them, and recognized his desire for her for what it was. Pure lust.

After Harrison had learned of Payton's death, there was nothing he could do but be the dutiful older brother he'd always been. He'd had no choice but to travel to America and fetch his sister-in-law. Once they married, she would, God willing, give him the son he needed. The idea of her not conceiving was unimaginable.

She turned to him. Meeting her troubled expression, he held out his hand, reasoning that if she took it she'd trust him, and accept him, and all he had to offer. He was disappointed when she shook her head and turned away. His hand ached to reach out and stroke the delicate curve of her neck above the starched collar of her dress.

She whirled around, unaware he stood so close, and stumbled back. Swiftly, he reached out and grasped her forearms, preventing her from crashing into the windowpane. He released her and folded his arms across his chest. "Why must you see Payton's attorney when I have already done so?"

She heard his exasperated tone and lifted her chin. "I intend to challenge Payton's will and thought you could, perhaps, champion my cause in the courts. You can't possibly agree with the conditions of your brother's will, can you?"

He groaned. "Whether I agree or not is of little consequence. What's done is done, and I'm not a barrister, Brianna." He swept his hair back from his forehead and straightened his spectacles. "Besides, even if I did help you, you haven't a remote chance of gaining custody of your sons."

"Can you not leave us here?" she pleaded.

Harrison growled, "A woman alone, with no man to protect her, is prey for any scheming, unconscionable man. Do you expect me to ignore my brother's wishes? And do you believe I would dishonor myself by shirking my duty? That you would question my integrity is unthinkable."

Her voice shook in outrage. "I've built a good life for my sons and have raised them alone since Payton proved to be so undependable. I believe your brother cared for us in his own way, but he wasn't a strong man. I couldn't trust his word or believe he would be here for us when we needed him." She sighed, raised her hands, and massaged her temples. "I'm exhausted, so if you will excuse me, I'm retiring for the night."

"An excellent idea." He followed her out of the parlor and down the hallway. "This will all make perfect sense to you come morning. Now, would you kindly direct me to your guest room?"

She stopped and raised her brow. "Whatever for?"

"You offered me a room. Remember?"

She shook her head. "It wouldn't be proper if you stayed here. No, it wouldn't do at all." Plucking up her skirts she continued down the hallway leaving Harrison standing there, dumbfounded. He swore under his breath, snatched up his satchel and chased after her.

"But you informed me not to take accommodations elsewhere," he protested.

"That was before you tried to take charge of my life, and before I knew my husband considered me incapable of caring for our children," she stated firmly. She reached the front door, swung it open and stepped aside.

He stopped in front of her. "Being a woman, I realize it's difficult for you to be reasonable, but--"

"Not reasonable, you say?" Brianna said, her voice shrill. "Since I'm an unprotected woman, I believe I'm being quite sensible in not allowing you to stay here. As for finding a place, thus far you've proven to be a resourceful man. I believe you'll have no problem whatsoever."

"You truly are turning me out, aren't you?" he asked in astonishment.

She nodded and looked somewhere above his head. She wouldn't allow him to intimidate her with his scowling face and booming voice. After a long moment of horrid silence she met his eyes and found him glaring at her. He probably used that expression at home and scared everyone to death with it, but he didn't frighten her. She guessed he had things his way most times. But not this time.

She maintained her stance, door open and hand on the knob, relieved when he swore under his breath and strode outside. She watched his long-legged strides carry him away until he was at the front gate. Then she called out, "Mister MacAulay!"

He came to an abrupt halt and glared at her over one shoulder.

"If I choose not to leave with you on Friday next, what will you do?" she inquired, almost amazed at her own daring. Oh, she didn't want to encourage his anger further, yet much depended upon his answer. Even from a distance, she saw his chest heaving and clenched her fists at her side, waiting for the ranting to begin.

She was surprised when he said rather mildly, "For your sake, Madam, and for the sake of your children, you will be packed and ready to leave, and you will not give me another moment's grief about it."

Her body shook at his threatening words. She stared at the hateful man's back as he stalked away and disappeared into the night. The good Lord in His blessed wisdom had rid her of her philandering husband. Now He had sent her this headstrong male with whom to contend. She cursed her abysmal luck that she was saddled with another MacAulay, yet this one appeared to be dependable, honorable, and dreadfully dutiful.

With a heavy heart she closed the door, trudged into the parlor and came to a decision. No man was going to get the better of her. As the good sisters at St. Benedict's Orphanage always said, crying never helped a blessed thing.

A plan came to mind then. While her children slept she packed the bare necessities, determined to reach Clearwater, Wisconsin, by mid-morning. Her friend, Angela Miller, and her family had moved to the small town a year ago. She lived twelve miles away and across the St. Croix River. Far enough away that Harrison wouldn't know where to begin searching.

Then he couldn't force her to leave her home, leaving behind friends and her means of livelihood. She'd return to her home after a while, knowing well he had duties to tend back home and would eventually leave. Move to Scotland? What a ridiculous idea! However would she support herself? She'd never been east of the St. Croix, for heaven's sake!

An hour later she stood beside her wagon and adjusted a trunk of clothing, a barrel of food and water, and other necessities for her journey. She returned to the kitchen where she snatched Payton's Winchester rifle from its usual place against the wall. Cradling the weapon against her chest, she made her way out the door. Her hands twitched as she held the gun, and she cursed Payton for refusing to instruct her in its proper use.

The scent of snow in the air prompted her to say a prayer that she would reach her destination before the first flakes fell. She reached the stall and opened the door. As she led Winney to the wagon, she said, "There, there, girl. Stand still and be the cooperative dear that you have always been."

Brianna laid the gun down on the ground. She'd bent to harness Winney when she heard footsteps on the path alongside the house.

Her head darted up. She saw a huge shadow bearing down on her. She snatched up the rifle while on her knees and swung it into position. The shadow showed no sign of stopping at the threat of the gun. As it drew closer she realized she pointed the gun straight at Harrison MacAulay's dutiful, stubborn heart.

"You!" She rose and backed away, her fingers relaxing on the trigger.

He strode toward her, eyes ablaze, and halted in front her. He reached out and wound his hand around the gun's barrel, his eyes never leaving hers. Brianna released the rifle and he positioned it under his arm. "Don't ever point a gun at me."

She stumbled back, placing more distance between them. "I would never have shot you!"

"Get back to the house," he ordered.

She watched him lead Winney back to her stall. Before locking the animal inside, he turned and pinned her with a look colder than the November night.

"Didn't I tell you to get inside?"

Brianna lifted her chin. "I'm not going to Scotland."

He glared at her a moment longer before he swiveled around to complete his task. Within moments he left the stall and slammed the door shut.

Brianna backed away, panicked. Her neighbor's home was quiet and dark. Would the hard of hearing Mr. Feeney hear her if she screamed? She started running toward Feeney's house but wasn't fast enough.

Harrison caught up with her. He hoisted her over one broad shoulder. In the next instant she was stunned when he reached up and laid a firm hand upon her derriere.

"Put me down this instant!"

"Stop that infernal screeching," he warned.

Brianna squeezed her eyes shut, humiliated by the touch of his hand on her buttocks. "How did you know I would try to leave?" she demanded.

"If you only knew how predictable you are, you would never open your pretty little mouth again."

"What are you talking about?" She braced her hands on his strong shoulders and pushed herself upright, to relieve the pressure on her stomach.

"I guessed when I left you earlier you would try something foolish. What? Do you believe I'm some sort of ogre because you must return to Scotland with me? Well, I'm not, and, I have come to realize you are more stubborn than any Scots lass I have ever known.

"For shame, Brianna, had you even considered the risk to your children by leaving like this? The weather is frigid and it will be snowing by morning. The roads are in poor condition from the heavy rainfall, not to mention the fact there could be rapists, robbers and sundry other criminals lurking along the way."

Brianna thought over his words as she held onto his shoulders. As he made his way up the stairs to the second floor, she silently admitted he was correct in his assessment of the situation. Harry and Jamie's safety should have been her primary consideration. Ever since Harrison's arrival a mere six hours ago, she had lost the ability to think clearly.

"Which is your room?"

"The last one on the right," she said, knowing she had no choice but to tell him. Then she bit her lip, guessing the mule-headed Scotsman wouldn't leave her alone this night. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do now but offer him a room. He meant to take one, anyway, with or without her consent. She prayed he was a sound sleeper because she planned on leaving, if not this night, then another very soon.

He entered her bedroom, kicked the door closed, and set her down on her feet. She couldn't see his face since the room was pitch black, but she guessed he was furious with her. She'd felt the tenseness in his body when he'd carried her up the stairs. Needless to say, she was astonished when he spoke in a calm, gentle voice.

"Accept my sincere apology for handling you so roughly, but I needed to find a way to silence you before you woke up the neighborhood."

With her mouth gaping, she stood there, riveted by his unexpected words. She heard his footsteps, then the wooden floor creaking under his feet. He lit a kerosene lamp and the room brightened to a warm, sunny glow. The quilt on her bed, once a rich royal blue, had faded to gray; the matching curtains were dulled from the southern exposure. One of her finest hand-embroidered doilies sat upon the washstand, topped by a white chamber set.

Her attention turned to his unbuttoned jacket that revealed a fine silk brocaded vest. She noted the silvery gray color of his eyes matched the vest. An exquisite mother-of- pearl pin glistened, like a drop of new fallen rain, on his lapel.

He gently took her hand. He raised it to his lips and her heart raced from his hot, dry touch.

"A truce, Brianna. I do not relish battling with you the entire way to Scotland. Can I trust you not to try to leave?"

She shook her head. "You know I cannot make any promises."

He sighed. "I was afraid that might be your answer." He released her hand and strode across the room, pausing in front of an armoire. He opened the double doors and searched inside, then pulled one of Payton's snowy cravats off a shelf. She gasped when he turned with a determined look in his eyes. Then he snapped the cloth between his two hands.

"Oh, my Lord!" she gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"

Chapter Three

"Damn you!" Brianna shouted. She hurled herself across the bed. Before she bounded off the other side, Harrison snagged one ankle. Then he hauled her to the bed's center and flipped her onto her back. She kicked out and made contact with his jaw.

He swore before sinking to the bed and straddling her hips.

"I enjoy wrestlin' as much as any man," he said, chuckling. "Particularly with a bonnie woman." Gripping her sides with his powerful thighs, he snatched up one of her flailing wrists. He wound the cravat around it, securing it to a heavy bedpost. Brianna screamed in frustration and dug at the knot with her free hand.

Harrison growled, "Be still or you'll hurt yourself." Then he hoisted himself off her body and sat down beside her.

"I promise I won't run away again!" she said, pulling at the knot.

"I'm sorry, Brianna. I very much doubt that."

She commenced kicking her legs, twisting and turning to no avail. "Damn you to hell, Harrison MacAulay!"

"Payton never enjoyed challenges," he said, "but if he were alive today, he'd tell you how I thrive on them. It will take more then a mere slip of a woman like you to best me. By the way, do other American women curse as proficiently as you?"

Her cheeks burned in humiliation when she recalled her language a moment ago. "You'll not be here long enough to find out," she retorted.

He laughed. "On the contrary, I have five days to enjoy myself, and I intend to make the most of them. Imagine my delight when I discovered you have an opera house in town. It's quite grand." Reaching for the woolen blanket at the foot of the bed he pulled it up and covered her to her chin. "As I said earlier, sleep now. Things will look better in the morning." He sank down beside her.

She gasped, "You can't sleep here!"

One eyebrow shot up. His gaze swept her body, a twisted smile on his lips. "I don't believe you are in any position to stop me."

Brianna gasped when his body touched hers as he made himself comfortable. She shrank away from him but he rolled nearer. She opened her mouth to protest but choked on her words when he plucked a pin from her hair and released a curl, winding the tress around one finger.

"You have lovely hair." He brought the lock to his nostrils. "Lovely scent, as well. I must admit I'm quite hedonistic when it comes to a woman's crowning glory."

Hedonistic? Oh, my! His tender hold on her hair made it impossible to move away. His fingers delved into her locks and massaged her scalp as he released each and every single curl. Her eyes drifted shut as she gave into the intoxication his fingers provoked. She had no desire to think. She felt a thumping in her chest and it took her a moment to realize it was her heart racing. His touch reminded her only to feel. Reminded her how long since Payton had touched her.

"I don't want you here," she whispered, a token protest.

"I know, but you have no choice in the matter."

She opened her eyes when she felt him shift at her side. Then he reached up and turned down the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart."

"I'm not your sweet anything, and I doubt I'll sleep a wink the entire night."

He didn't reply. Brianna was amazed a moment later when she felt a weight lift from the bed, and footsteps crossing the floor. When she heard the door open she asked in surprise, "You're leaving me?"

His low chuckle grated on her nerves. "Contrary to what you believe aboot me, sweet sister-in-law, I've always behaved as a perfect gentleman should. I will be nearby so just call out if you require anything."

After he left Brianna struggled with the knot, to no avail. Comfort came to mind when she realized she had the entire night to think of another escape plan.

***

By the next evening Brianna knew Harrison meant to keep her in his sight every minute of the day. Wherever she went, he followed. As she entered the parlor after sending the boys to bed, she worked at the knot in her apron.

Harrison sat on her best velvet high-backed chair, smoking a cigar and reading the Stillwater Gazette. He appeared much too comfortable in her home and she didn't like it a bit.

"We need to talk," she said abruptly.

He folded the newspaper and set it aside without a word. Sitting forward he placed his hands at her waist and turned her around.

She stiffened and held her breath while he easily loosened the knotted strings. A tingling sensation traveled up and down her spine from his touch. She exhaled when he removed the apron and laid it over the back of a chair.

"I'm going to town in the morning to speak with Mr. Nielsen," she announced as she sat on the divan. "I give you warning I haven't changed my mind about not leaving. Have you any idea how many years it's taken me to set up housekeeping and establish my vegetable garden, not to mention the rooms I furnished to let."

"You may tear up all of Winterhaven's lawns if you wish to plant a garden," he said magnanimously. "We have a gardener who'd be delighted to engage in a new enterprise other then his current tending of the roses and such." He frowned. "You are giving me negligible excuses for staying."

"And you have yet to give me a plausible reason for returning with you," she said caustically.

"What better reason then for the welfare of your sons?" He eased back in his chair. "You don't seem to understand how important it is for me to fulfill my duty."

"I know precisely how important your duty is," she retorted. "You may be considered nobility of sorts in your country, but not here. Here you are nothing but a...a mister, and you have no power over me!"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I have the law on my side. Believe me, Brianna, I will not hesitate to call upon the authorities for assistance, if I require it."

"I'm fairly certain Sheriff Johnson will not force me to leave my home," she said confidently.

"No, but a short stay in prison should change your mind, I would imagine."

"Prison!" She stared at him in shock as he rose from his chair and took a seat beside her.

"Um, yes. I've learned incarceration has been utilized on occasion to curb a willful woman's behavior in this progressive country of which you are so fond." He leaned forward, his eyes piercing hers. "Women who choose to ignore the law. In your case, Payton's lawful will."

She sputtered, "I'll appeal it and sit in jail until my case is heard. So you see, you still won't have fulfilled your blasted duty!"

"Have you any idea how ridiculous you are behaving? The outcome of your stubbornness would cause your sons irrevocable harm. And for what? Your selfish desire to maintain the freedom you have enjoyed due to my brother's hideous lack of responsibility?"

He rose and Brianna winced at his glowering look. "Let me inform you that I am surrounded by too much family. My home is literally bursting at the seams with them. So what, pray tell, makes you think I would cherish housing another relative? One who happens to be stubborn and self-centered?" He strode to the window, turned his back on her and clasped the framework.

Brianna bit her lip and blinked back tears as she thought over his words. In all truth she had never thought herself selfish at all, though she couldn't quibble about her stubborn streak. He had made it crystal clear he did not want her under his roof, that it was duty compelling him to offer her a home, and nothing more.

She gathered her pride, suppressing the undeniable urge to smash him over the head with something that would do him permanent damage. She rushed up behind him. Reaching out, she grasped his elbow and yanked on it until he faced her.

"Selfish, you say? Allow me to inform you I wouldn't step foot inside your precious home if you paid me to do so. As a matter of fact, I expect you to provide me with a home of my own, preferably one in the country where the children may run and play to their hearts' content. Ponies for the boys and a carriage for our use would be other requirements."

"Of course," Harrison said with a mild smile. "Anything else?"

"That should be all for now, I think."

"Then I believe that settles things nicely."

Brianna noted the tender satisfaction in his voice and looked at him, confused. Hadn't he just moments ago accused her of being self-centered and stubborn? She narrowed her eyes on his smug countenance until it dawned on her what she had done.

"Oh, my Lord! Please tell me I did not agree to cooperate with you?" She groaned and rubbed her temples. "Tell me I didn't."

He grinned. "You most certainly did! If I had guessed you possessed even the slightest streak of greed, I would have attempted bribing you from the beginning. It certainly would have saved me all this aggravation."

"You have no sense of fair play, whatsoever," she spat.

Harrison chucked her chin with a fist. "It will be a cold day in hell before you best me, Mrs. MacAulay."

She narrowed her eyes. "You may have won this significant scrimmage, my lord, but it doesn't alter the fact I still intend to pursue having Payton's will changed."

"Why is it so important you stay here when I have so much to offer you? You've been on your own for so long, struggling. Why won't you allow me to care for you?"

"I'll not be under the authority of any man again. I was sixteen when I married your brother, shortly after leaving a cloistered life at St. Benedict's Orphanage. At that time I knew nothing of men and the world. Your brother offered me an opportunity to see much of the excitement in life I'd been missing. Payton and I hardly knew each other, but within a short time after we married, I fell in love with him."

"Until he proved to be irresponsible," Harrison said.

She nodded. "For a long time I kept making excuses for his behavior. I kept telling myself he'd learn to love me enough to change. He never did."

His gray eyes bored into hers. "I'm nothing like my brother."

"From the little I've learned about you, I don't doubt that, still, being a man, you take your liberty for granted. Even though I'm a woman I will not give up my freedom without a fight."

Harrison sighed. "All right. On the morrow, I'll accompany you to Nielsen's."

"I'd rather go on my own."

"I'm sure you would, but I'm afraid you will have to suffer my escort. I've already explained that I'll not let you out of my sight until we reach Scotland's shores. Possibly, not even then."

***

The next day, Harrison managed to divert Brianna's attention from paying a visit to her solicitor in the one sure way he knew. He took her shopping. Normally, he abhorred the activity. But, after traipsing along with her from store to store, he decided that shopping with Brianna was fun, painless, and highly entertaining.

Harrison had driven them into town Monday morning to purchase supplies for their journey to Scotland. He smiled when he thought about her obvious delight in store- bought clothing for Harry and Jamie. She had told him the treat would relieve her of the arduous task of mending their old clothing again. By mid-afternoon Brianna recalled her purpose for coming to town in the first place, and she made her way to Nielsen's doorstep. She was disappointed to discover only his secretary there, who informed her Nielsen had left on holiday for an undetermined time.

Harrison was satisfied Nielsen had followed his request to make himself scarce. He had no desire for Brianna to discover their gentleman's agreement.

He'd convinced her she required new clothing as well as her boys. He stopped in front of J. Burke Clothier's and secured the reins. Brianna tapped her foot impatiently, scowling when Harrison reached inside a pocket and gave Harry and Jamie a penny.

"Across the street is the sweet shop. Come straight back here when you are through," he ordered.

"Yes, sir!" the boys chorused.

Brianna cringed when they raced across the street with nary a care for the bustling horse and wagon traffic. She turned a jaundiced eye on Harrison. He smiled, reached around her and opened the door to Burke's.

She swept through the doorway ahead of him. "They never called their own father 'sir'. I must admit you've certainly made an impression on them." With a sniff, she added, "Of course, I'm fairly certain I would gain their cooperation and loyalty too, if I stooped to bribing them."

"A penny for a treat is hardly bribery, Brianna. Your sons respect the voice of authority, something you have yet to learn."

"You'll never see me groveling at your feet," she informed him.

He gave her a devilish grin. "That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" Harrison's gaze followed her as she meandered down one aisle, then another.

She paused beside an indigo gown--not black, thank God--and pulled it from the rack. "This one should do nicely as a day gown."

"Whatever you like, it's yours," he said magnanimously. "And choose an evening gown or two, as well."

She raised her brow. "I hardly think I'll be going out into society, since I'm in mourning, my lord."

He ignored her and went on his own search for gowns. He pulled a rose silk one from a hanger. "How about this?"

She turned to him and he saw the delight in her eyes. Just as quickly it vanished. "I don't think so. It's not practical. Where would I wear it?"

Harrison opened his mouth to say, anywhere you want, but had second thoughts. He reached the end of the row and found several day dresses to his liking. Selecting what he thought was her size he strode to her side. Her arms were filled with pants and shirts.

He frowned. "More for the boys?"

"They have so few things."

He nodded. "Fine, but I'd like you try these on."

She dumped the pants and shirts into his arms, took the dresses and hurried across the store. The storekeeper caught Harrison's eye and nodded. Harrison gave a miniscule nod in return.

Brianna wasn't his yet, but she would be. Once they reached Scotland's shores.

While he waited for Brianna, he saw a mannequin clad in a gray worsted woolen coat. Recalling Brianna's threadbare brown coat, he snatched the gray off the mannequin and carried it to the counter, along with the articles of clothing for the boys.

In a far corner of the shop he stared at another gown on a mannequin. It was far more sophisticated than anything he'd expect to find in this provincial town. He imagined Brianna settling the deep colored wine satin over her womanly hips. The daringly low, rounded neckline was embellished with beads of the same color

"Harrison?"

He looked at Brianna, disappointed to find her still wearing her black widow's weeds. He pointed at the gown on the mannequin. "This would be perfect for you. Try it on."

She raised her brow. "I've already told you that I won't be going out into society since I'm in mourning." She looked at the gown then and narrowed her eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd tipped a pint too many."

He chuckled. "It's magnificent."

"Do you believe me to be a woman of loose morals?" she snapped.

His smile slipped. "Och, what are you talking about?"

"You expect me to be happy to don a garment of such a garish color when only a woman of the--well, you know precisely what I mean!" she said indignantly.

Harrison wasn't the least bit surprised when she turned on her heel and stormed from the shop.

He paid for the clothing, including the red gown, and tossed Brianna's threadbare coat to Burke. "Get rid of it," he said, then headed toward the door. He noticed another coat, a full-length chocolate-colored fur. He turned to Burke. "What animal is this?"

The older man beamed. "Why, the finest beaver this side of the Mississippi, Sir. It's warm enough a lady would roast, even on the coldest winter day."

Harrison pondered the brisk cold winds that blew incessantly across Scotland's hills and valleys during the winter months. He pulled the coat from the model and tucked it beneath his arm. Once he'd paid for his purchases he followed Brianna down the street, enjoying the sight of her skirts twitching fetchingly as she headed for the wagon. He grimaced when she settled down in the driver's seat with the reins in hand.

He went to the back of the wagon, gave Brianna a wry look in passing. While he straightened and shifted packages, he winked at Harry, who sat beside Jamie in the wagon bed.

"What did you say to Ma? She looks real mad, Uncle Harry."

Harrison chose his words carefully. "Your mother is having a difficult time adjusting to someone taking care of her. I could use your help. It's my responsibility to care for you boys, and your mother. We are a family now. I've spoken to you about moving to Scotland, and I believe you will enjoy the adventure, don't you?"

They nodded in unison.

"Then help me convince your mother that moving is the right thing to do."

"What are you three whispering about back there?" Brianna asked impatiently. "If you expect supper tonight we had better head home soon."

Harrison vaulted into the seat beside her and stretched out his legs in a seemingly nonchalant manner. Though his male pride shuddered at the very idea of her driving, he didn't want to upset her more. He hoped to heaven she was competent.

Brianna spared him a sour glance before clicking her tongue and gently snapping the reins. He soon discovered that she was an excellent driver, and he relaxed. He'd vexed her plenty today by pressuring her into accepting the dresses.

Hopefully, she'd include him at her supper table.

***

As far as Brianna was concerned, Friday arrived much too soon. She glanced up from her packing and found Harrison lounging in her bedroom doorway.

"I know you would like nothing better than to miss the train, but it won't matter. There will always be another one along."

Brianna raised her brow. "Are you accusing me of delaying our departure?"

"You have arranged and rearranged that particular trunk three times in the last hour," he said gently. "The boys and I have been sitting in the wagon for twenty minutes. Are you ready?"

She banged the lid shut. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

He strode to her side, bent down and easily hoisted the trunk to his shoulder. Brianna admired the fine fit of his wool coat stretching across his broad back and shoulders. It appeared that the head of the MacAulays was as strong as an ox. Of course, she had challenged his masculinity when she suggested earlier that they hire some strong young men to help them load up the wagon. He'd tersely told her he would handle the job and went on to prove himself more than capable.

She sighed, thinking how her sons had even turned traitor on her. Harrison had gained their devotion and unequivocal loyalty once he'd purchased everything their yearning, greedy little hearts desired.

Harrison entered the bedroom again as she closed the lid on another trunk. "This is the last one."

"Amen." He strode to the trunk, hefted it to his shoulder and left the room once more.

Brianna trudged down the stairs behind him, pausing in the entrance to the parlor. She gazed at her worn red divan and chair and, with a melancholy smile, recalled Payton's initial reaction to the furnishings she had purchased after they married. His words, even now, years later, brought a smile to her lips.

"Good God! The parlor looks like a bloody brothel," he'd exclaimed before suggesting she exchange the furnishings for items a bit more sedate. Brianna held fast to her choice, though, and the furniture had stayed. Having spent many years in St. Benedict's Orphanage, where the furnishings had little comfort and style, the red divan and chair had suited her perfectly. Tears filled her eyes at both the bitter and joyous memories of their years together. Her eyes stung when they lit upon the old wooden rocker where she had rocked and fed her babies.

"Just once more," she whispered as she sat down and closed her eyes.

***

Harry scrambled from the wagon when Harrison said, "Go and see what is keeping your mother."

The boy scampered up the path to the house. Harrison smiled when he heard him shout in an astonishingly adult fashion, "Aw, come on, Ma. We'll miss the train!" Brianna might deny the allegation, but Harrison knew she had not resigned herself to leaving her home.

Within moments, Harry appeared, bounded down the sidewalk and came to a screeching stop by the wagon.

"Ma said she's not coming, Uncle Harry!"

Harrison uncrossed his arms, his heart pounding in his chest. "Do tell?"

Harry nodded. "She said the only way she's leaving is if you make her."

"I see." Harrison shoved his spectacles into position, then jumped down. "Wait here. I'll be back shortly." He strode up the path and entered the house, where he found Brianna sitting in her rocking chair with her eyes closed.

"Confound it, Brianna," he began irritably, pausing when he saw that the front of her dress was soaking wet. Tears were slipping slowly down her cheeks. His heart sank at her bleak look and he squatted down beside her. Reaching up, he stroked her cheek, catching a tear on one finger.

Not sparing him so much as a glance, she spoke softly, her hands clenched in her lap. "I remember the day Payton purchased this house. It's hard to believe that was ten years ago. At the time, I felt it much too pretentious, much too fine. Payton laughed at first, then explained why he'd chosen it. The house reminded him a bit of his family's home, Winterhaven, on a smaller scale, of course. When I said it was too costly, he'd only laughed and said he could afford it."

She stopped rocking and turned sad blue eyes on him. "And now you tell me I must leave my home. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to do so. It would be like admitting I want to go when all I want is to stay here, inside these familiar walls."

Harrison covered her hand with his, realizing she was frightened--more than she would ever admit, he guessed--more than he expected. And she was lonely.

"You have a new home and family," he reminded her. "And remember, your furnishings will be transported on another ship shortly. Once your possessions arrive in Scotland, you'll feel at home. Now, then, we'll have plenty of time to talk about things, and sort all of this out during our journey. It's past time we left."

She continued rocking and didn't reply.

"You will not leave on your own then, is that it?"

She clenched her eyes tight. "I cannot."

Harrison gritted his teeth. "So be it, Madam." He came to his feet, bent and scooped her up easily from the chair. As he strode out of the house he fully expected her to show some resistance so he tightened his grip on her. She took him completely by surprise when she went limp in his arms and laid her head upon his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

When they reached the wagon she lifted her arms and wound them around his neck. Her long delicate fingers sent shivers up his spine. He stifled a delighted groan when her breasts brushed against his chest. He looked up and noticed Harry and Jamie's wide-eyed looks from where they sat in the back of the wagon.

"Ma didn't faint, did she?" Harry whispered.

"No, but she is very sad about leaving. She will be fine once we board the train." He reached out and grasped the side of the wagon. He pulled himself up keeping Brianna securely locked against his chest, then he settled her down on the seat beside him.

Harry scooted forward and handed his mother's coat to Harrison. He draped it around her shoulders, eased her limp arms into the armholes and buttoned it up to her chin. She looked at him then and Harrison saw the sad, bewildered look in her eyes.

"I give you my solemn vow, Brianna, everything will be fine."

Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip. After a moment, she said, "Please, don't make promises you cannot possibly keep." She turned away and focused her eyes on the road.

Harrison heaved a deep sigh and snapped the reins against Winney's back. For ten long years he'd wanted this woman. Now that he had her in his possession, he vowed nothing would separate them.

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