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The Scottish Highlands, 1746

Twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger, Jamie MacLeod, Duchess of Whitesea, paced in the large library. On the inside of her ring was an inscription in Latin meaning, Our Love Is Forever. In Jamie's heart cold dread and anger settled. How could their love be forever if her husband was planning to leave her to join Prince Charles in his last ditch effort to wrest Scotland from the rule of the English?

She had spent hours pleading and arguing with Teague not to leave. But he was determined to join the other clansmen in this call to arms.

She heard Teague approaching and she turned to greet him. A thousand words came to her, but none seemed worth speaking.

She took a shaky breath and willed herself not to cry. She needed to remember every inch of him. The dark, curly hair, the warm brown eyes that were so often filled with laughter, the thick mustache. His bonny smile and those wonderful dimples that his twin daughters had inherited.

"Everything is ready," he said.

Jamie looked down at her hands. "As laird I could order you not to go."

"Being bossy has never worked with me," he replied with an easy smile.

She glanced over at their daughters. They rolled around on the red Persian carpet cooing and blowing little bubbles. At nine months of age they seemed to be totally captivated by each other.

"I don't know how ye can leave them. They're so young.""I'll be back before ye know it," Teague said as he embraced her. "Besides, I'll have a couple of your men-at-arms with me. Between Thomas, Luke and me we will rout out the English."

She nestled against his chest. "I'm hoping that since Thomas was in the first uprising so many years ago he'll be able to watch out for you and Luke."

Teague chuckled. "More likely Luke and I will have to watch out for him."

Jamie listened to his even breathing. "If ye don't come back, I'll be verra angry with you. I'll refuse to talk to you. I'll...I'll make ye sleep in a different bed."

Teague squeezed her a little tighter. "Ma petite, my own little laird. Still bossy as ever. And with a threat like that last one, lassie, I promise I'll come back. On my honor, Jamie Marie MacLeod."

Teague always used her full name to get a smile out of her, or to make a point. Jamie closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. The smell of wool against clean, crisp cotton mixed in with his soap scented masculine body. "How long do ye think ye will really be gone?" she asked.

"A few weeks at the most."

"I'll miss ye every moment."

"And when I come back, I'll want to know everything that Hope and Honor have done."

She nodded her head against his chest. He loved their daughters with a strong and tender fierceness that warmed her soul. Teague placed a kiss on the top of her head and she looked up at him. Slowly, passionately, he branded her lips with his. Jamie threw her arms around his shoulders and with a moan pressed herself against him.

Teague slowly broke off the kiss and lightly brushed the sides of her head where her hair was prematurely white.

Jamie gazed into his eyes. This man held her heart, filled it with love and laughter. Suddenly one of the twins loudly screeched and Jamie and Teague immediately hurried over to them. Hope had snared a tiny handful of Honor's hair and was pulling on it.

"Come now, my wee lassie," Teague said, kneeling down on the floor. He held Hope as Jamie knelt down and gently pried her daughter's fingers loose from an ever-louder howling Honor.

Once Honor was free of her sister's clutches she pulled at her mother's blouse. Huge tears fell down her face as her howling subsided to loud crying. Teague turned Hope around to face him. She blubbered, stuck out her lower lip and then opened her mouth to cry. "Shh, shh," murmured Teague as he cradled her in his arms.

After a moment he got up and helped Jamie to stand. Honor tucked her head under Jamie's chin and looked up at her father with large, wet brown eyes. Her small, pudgy hand rubbed her head.

The moment of departure had arrived. Jamie's slim hope that Teague would change his mind and stay home died. It tore her apart inside to have him leave. Trepidation and fright that he was walking into a dark and blood splattered collision with the English filled her. This was not going to be an easy victory like the other skirmishes had been. Rumors abounded freely that this time the English were prepared.

She was so afraid for him and for herself. She tried to smile, but her mouth refused. "I'll walk with ye to the door." She mumbled the words against the top of Honor's head.

Teague wrapped an arm around Jamie's shoulders and they silently made their way down the long hallway. At the front door saying good-bye to Thomas and Luke was Fiona, Jamie's own nurse when she had been a wee bairn herself. When Thomas and Luke saw Jamie and Teague they turned to leave, but Jamie called out to them.

"Wait." She handed Honor to Fiona.

"I thought I heard crying. Look at the tears on their little faces. What have the two of ye done to them?" Fiona asked the two parents.

"Och, 'tis nothing but some hair pulling," Teague answered. He handed Hope to her. "She's wet, too."

Her arms full, Fiona left. Jamie went over to the two tall men and pulled their faces down for a kiss on the forehead. "Take care of each other. I want ye all to come back."

"Aye, m'lady," answered Thomas. Then he and Luke went out the door and headed for their mounts. Teague hugged Jamie one last time.

"Remember," he whispered against her hair. "Our love is forever."

"Don't forget about us. We will be here waiting for ye."

He kissed her on the cheek and went out the door.

"Hail Mary," she prayed in a whisper, "please bring them all back home safe and sound." Jamie watched as the three men rode up the long drive. Just before the bend in the road they all turned and waved.

Remembering his words that their love was forever, Jamie clung tenaciously to the thought that he would always be hers. Would always come home. That no matter where he went nothing short of death would separate them.

Chapter One

1748

Jamie stood in the richly appointed library looking out the window. A melancholy slipped over her as she watched her two-and-a-half-year old daughters and their nanny, Simone, head down the lawn to feed the noisy geese. Simone had hold of Hope's hand while Honor with quick and sure steps surged ahead of them. Their small dog, Molly, ran back and forth between the two girls. Jamie pressed her forehead against one of the windowpanes. Perhaps, she thought, she should go outside and join them.

"Jamie," a man's voice said.

Jamie sighed and turned around. "Thomas."

"Jamie, do ye remember that invitation for the ball you received from the Marquis of Rees?"

"Aye," she said.

"Weel," Thomas said hesitating slightly, "Fiona and I have done something. We've accepted the invitation for ye. You are going to Edinburgh. Tomorrow ye'll leave for your townhouse, and we have arranged for Connor Lawson to escort ye."

"Och, so now ye're going to arrange my life, is it?" She snapped her gaze up at him.

"Nae. Not arrange your life, only help ye start to live it again."

"I thought ye were one of my men-at-arms, no' my social secretary." She uttered her words impassively.

"When your father died, he left ye with a writ of succession to be the Duchess of Whitesea. As a duchess ye canna keep yourself bottled up here at Heaven's Skye. Ye must think of your children's future." Thomas came over to her and put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "We're only doing this for you."

"I know ye mean well. But after my father died, and then Teague's grandmother, I just haven't felt like going to a ball or any kind of party. I want --" Jamie stopped talking. To even say Teague's name was difficult. All the prayers she had said for his safe return seemed to have been for naught.

"Ye're thinking of Teague. It's been over two years now. He's not coming back, lass. Even if he survived Culloden and was in hiding with Prince Charlie until he left, Teague would have at least written, gotten a message to us somehow, or would have been back long before now. It's time to face it. He's gone." Thomas dropped his gaze. "Dead.

Jamie's shoulders sagged. Every now and then someone would bring up how long it had been since Teague had not come back home. Thomas was right, of course. She hadn't truly faced it. She had kept it bottled up inside her. Only in the darkest, loneliest hours of the night did she allow herself to think about Teague. Or even the possibility of his death. On those nights that she was unable to sleep she would prowl through the large dark and silent mansion. She kept telling herself that someday Teague would return, but after this amount of time it appeared more and more unlikely.

One of the under butlers came in. "Your Grace, a Captain John Pell is here to see you, if you are available."

Jamie's brows rose. "Are ye sure it's a Captain Pell?"

"Yes, m'lady."

She licked her top lip. The last time she had seen John Pell he had been a lieutenant. "I'll see him. Is he in the drawing room?"

"Yes, m'lady. Would you like refreshments served?"

No," she answered simply as she walked out of the library.

"I had better come with you, Jamie," Thomas said, following her out of the library. "It could be an official visit."

When she entered the drawing room, she eyed the young captain. She glided over to the sofa and sat down spreading her deep lavender skirts around her. Thomas stood beside her.

"Your Grace," Captain Pell said, bowing. "Sir."

"I understand congratulations are in order," Jamie said. "Ye're now a captain?"

"Yes."

"What brings ye here to Heaven's Skye?" Thomas asked politely.

"Actually," Captain Pell paused and cleared his throat. "I am on my way with some troops to Greenock and I stopped by to offer you my condolences, even though I know I'm quite late in doing so."

"Condolences, Captain?" Jamie smoothed a fold in her skirt.

"For your husband's death."

She snapped her gaze at him.

"I was there when your husband was killed at Culloden. I saw his body." He looked down at the floor.

"Ye're...sure?" she asked in a halting whisper. She flicked a quick glance at Thomas. She knew him well enough to know behind his stoic expression that even he had not expected Captain Pell's statement.

Hands clasped behind his back, Captain Pell moved to look out the window. "Yes, I'm sure. It was him."

Clasping her own hands tightly in her lap, Jamie tried to stop the quivering in her mouth. She opened it to speak, but no sound emerged. She tried again. "I know I'm sounding redundant, but ye know this for certain? Ye know it was Teague, my husband?"

Pell nodded his head. "Yes. I saw his body. He had suffered a head wound and I would have gone to see to him, but at that moment I was shot myself."

The words he had spoken about Teague left Jamie faint. She felt the blood leave her face and she closed her eyes and tilted her head down. For two long years now she had clung tightly to her belief that Teague had somehow survived, and had been so positive that he was still alive. In her very soul, her spirit, she had been sure. Until now.

Grief stormed her, killed her hopes, left her sinking in quagmire of painful anguish.

"Please, believe me," Captain Pell said. He once again turned to face her. "I would have gone to him if it had been possible, and I see now that I have upset you. I'll not stay any longer. Besides my troops are waiting for me. Sir." He grabbed his hat, bowed to her and hurriedly left the room.

Motionless and silent as granite Jamie sat there as she heard the captain's footsteps fade, a door close and a moment later the sound of horses trotting.

All these months she had held herself tightly together never crying. Occasionally there had been a tear that had escaped, but she had refused to grieve. She could feel the pent-up tears threatening to fall.

"Mama! Mama!"

"In here, Hope," Jamie's voice shook.

Crying in distress, Hope ran into the room.

Brushing a tear away from her own face Jamie bent down to her daughter. Large tears cascaded down her little face. "What is it, my darling?"

"Nor kilt it!" With a wail Hope smashed herself against her mother's skirts.

"What did Honor kill?" Jamie asked as she used her skirt to wipe the tears from Hope's face.

Hope stepped back from her mother and held out a closed fist. "She kilt it!"

"Let's see what Honor killed."

Hope sniffled and slowly opened her small fist. Jamie bent forward. Frowning, she looked at the brown, slimy guts of what appeared to be the remains of an earthworm.

Simone and Honor came into the room. Looking up at Simone, Jamie raised her brows. She turned her attention back to Hope. "I'm sure we can find another one of these."

She heard Thomas make a noise deep in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Honor marched over to her mother and sister. "Taste bad!"

"Ye ate one?" Jamie asked in a mixture of disgust and shaky laughter. She glanced back up at Simone, who with a roll of her eyes shrugged her shoulders.

Before Jamie could stop Honor, she reached out and grabbed the worm's remains out of Hope's hand, threw them on the expensive blue carpet and stomped on them.

With a loud howl Hope threw herself down into her mother's lap. Honor's mouth pinched into a tight bud, but her large brown eyes watered with tears.

Jamie's own tears once again threatened to fall. She placed a hand on the top of Hope's head and at the same time reached over to bring Honor close to her side. "It's all right. We'll have Simone take..." Jamie couldn't finish.

Captain Pell's words had confirmed everything Thomas had told her. For all that she had tried to deny it, she knew he had been right. But her soul rebelled at the mere notion of going out into society without her husband at her side. Without having him there to see his daughters grow up. She would never be in his arms again. Never hear his laugh. Never enjoy his teasing again. Her stomach roiled and jerked as she tried to stay the awful truth from affecting her.

A shudder shook her and Jamie let go of her daughters and covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

Thomas reached down and gently picked up Hope. "Simone," he said over the children's crying, "get Honor and let's take them to Cook and give them a biscuit." He shut the doors as they left, leaving Jamie alone as she continued to cry. Echoes of hysterical "Mama, Mama!" filled the air. Guilt from hearing her daughter's cries and terrible grief from acknowledging her husband's death overwhelmed Jamie.

***

"Why are ye so fidgety, Jamie? Connor is your cousin. Weel, Teague's cousin to be exact."

"Fiona, it isn't Connor." Jamie looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She turned sideways to examine her teal blue silk gown from that angle. "It's just that I've never been away from my daughters before. It is so strange to be here in Edinburgh and not back at Heaven's Skye. I keep half expecting them to come charging into the room with some new discovery or disaster."

"True, they do keep us entertained. I've never seen two sisters so different from each other."

Jamie paused in her inspection. She shook her head and with a laugh said, "Aye. Poor Simone. All she has to do is turn her back on one of them while busy with the other and something will happen." She reached for her tartan sash and with Fiona's help pinned it on.

There was a knock at the door and one of the maids opened it just a fraction and popped her head in. "Mr. Lawson is here, m'lady."

"Please tell him I'll be right down," Jamie answered.

"Aye, m'lady." The maid closed the door.

Jamie took one last look in the mirror, straightened out a bauble in her wig and wished, not for the first time in her life, that she had inherited the startling blue of her mother's eyes. As it was she had what she considered very plain hazel green ones. "These wigs are such a bother. Too bad my hair isn't all white, then I wouldna have to wear one of these."

"If ye had never found out ye were a duchess, ye wouldn't be wearing a wig. Ye might be wearing practical dresses to work in."

Jamie laughed. "I would wear my kilt."

Chuckling, Fiona said, "Aye, and ye would get arrested. Now scat wi' ye and have a wonderful evening."

Jamie went down the stairs. Her heels tapped on the marble floor of the foyer announcing her approach to the living room.

At her entrance Connor stood up from the chair he had been sitting in.

"Connor. How long has it been?"

"Three months, two weeks, four days," he said with a warm smile. "And may I say, Jamie, ye look marvelous. Since we are going out, perhaps should I say, 'Your Grace'?"

Smiling, Jamie walked over to him and slipped her hands in his outstretched ones. He gave her a small kiss on the cheek. "Ye know, Connor, I dinna grow up thinking I would be a duchess. 'Your Grace' is only for people I don't like. Or who have made me angry."

"Let's hope I am never in either category."

"Connor, ye're much too nice to ever be in either situation." Jamie went over to the sideboard. "Shall we have a wee drink of wine before departing?"

"I would like that."

Jamie poured the wine and handed Connor his drink.

At least Fiona and Thomas had thought to ask Connor to escort her. Someone she knew. Over the rim of her glass Jamie studied the young man. He had the striking good looks of the Irish. Coal black hair, bright blue eyes and a winsome, charming smile. A dear, close friend she was grateful to have in her life.

"How is Father O'Neill, Connor?"

"I think my uncle likes being back home in Ireland. I also think he greatly misses Teague."

Jamie quickly looked down at her drink. Tears instantly sprung to her eyes at the mention of Teague. Ever since she had cried that day that Captain Pell had come, tears came easily to her. She hastily brushed them away. "Father O'Neill and Teague were great friends." Would she ever stop grieving? Every time she said Teague's name, it was like a wound barely starting to heal that ripped open again.

Connor quickly came over to Jamie and gently put a hand on her arm. "Jamie, I'm so sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was upset ye."

She covered his hand with hers. "After this amount of time I should be able to withstand the mention of his name. It's no' your fault. But, ye know, in my heart, I find it impossible to accept that he's truly gone."

"Perhaps, what we should do, Jamie, is concentrate on having a good time tonight. It's not often that I am in the presence of so many quality people."

Jamie scoffed. "Quality. I think no'. More like inbred snobs from what I've heard. I hope that bastard, the Duke of Cumberland, isn't going to be there."

Connor frowned for a moment. "He was the one at Culloden, wasn't he?"

"Aye. I don't know how I could be pleasant to such a monster."

Connor took a final sip of his wine. "If he is there, we'll ignore him."

"Your Grace, the coach is ready," intoned the butler who stood at the entrance to the room.

"Thank ye, Miles." Jamie finished her wine and tilted her head up at Connor. "Shall we go?"

"By all means," he answered as he held out an arm for her.

***

The long line of carriages moved slowly forward to the entrance of the Marquis's large house. The closer Jamie's coach came to the front of the line the more nervous she became. She thought she had hid it well until Connor spoke.

"Ye're not still thinking about the Duke of Cumberland are ye?"

"Why do ye ask?"

"Ye're tapping the edge of your fan against your teeth."

"Oh." She immediately put her fan in her lap. She leaned over a fraction to see how many more carriages were in front of them. "My goodness, we're next," she said, surprised.

A few minutes later she and Connor were waiting to be announced. She whispered to him, "I do wish they wouldna announce us. I'd just as soon slip in unnoticed."

"What?" he teased with a smile. "And not give me the chance to be the envy of every other man here? You are the elusive Duchess of Whitesea. Everyone wants to know about ye."

She squirmed in her dress, shifting her shoulders. Her heartbeat picked up a notch.

Connor looked down at her. "Ye still seem to be a bit nervous."

"Nae." She shook her head. She played with the tassel on her fan. Whispering, she said, "I think Fiona tightened my stays too tight. I canna seem to get my breath."

"Would ye care to retire to the ladies' drawing room for a few minutes to fix it?"

"Nae. I'll be all right. Besides, we're next."

They stood at the top of the stairs while their names were announced. The scene before them was a kaleidoscope of colors, sparkling jewels, and beautiful clothes. A slight lull in the conversation occurred as the gathering of people paused to look at her and Connor.

He leaned close to her. "I told ye people were interested in ye."

"Morbid curiosity is what I'd call it." Her gaze swept though the crowded room. "Hail Mary, the Marquis must have invited everyone he ever met in his entire life."

Women hiding their smiles behind their fans, secret laughter between lovers, and over everything the sound of the music made conversation between strangers seem almost intimate. Jamie shivered. Her whole body tingled with a strange anticipation. She and Connor went down the steps and were swallowed up in the chatter and noise. Jamie's heart beat erratically and she lazily fanned herself. They strolled through the throng, and Jamie acknowledged the people's bows. After a turn about the room she said to Connor. "I see a balcony over there. I think I'll go outside for a few minutes and get some fresh air."

"Would ye like me to get you something cool to drink?" he asked solicitously.

"Aye, thank you." She walked toward the balcony as he left to get the refreshments. The tingling now reached her hands. She fanned herself a little harder. Her mouth became dry and she swallowed against it.

The balcony was a cool retreat from the inside warmth. Working to calm her fluttering stomach she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She tried to think what might be causing her nervousness. Her fan stilled in mid-swing. Whenever she and Teague had been separated for a length of time, her whole body seemed to sing with the knowledge that he had returned and was close by.

No, she shook her head. She told herself sternly that it couldn't be. She had been trying so hard to put her longing for him to rest that her body must be rebelling against it. She turned around and looked back inside at the party. Maybe it was somebody else. An acquaintance or friend that was nearby. She saw Connor coming back to her accompanied by an extremely thin man. Connor had the appearance of an unhappily caught cat.

"Your Grace," said the man as he stepped out on to the balcony. "I am most honored that you have come to my little gathering."

"Thank you." Jamie coolly extended her hand and he took it lightly in his and almost, but not quite, kissed it.

"I am your host, Edwin Levesque, The Marquis of Rees. I apologize for not being there to greet you, but an emergency occurred." His cold gray eyes seemed to have no life in them.

Jamie reclaimed her hand from his clammy one. Instantly repelled by him, she wanted to wipe her hand on her skirt. She knew what her daughters would say when something particularly disgusted them. "Eeeewww." She almost laughed out loud at that thought and put her fan up close to her face to hide her smile. Flicking a quick glance up at Connor, she knew he had seen her reaction. A brow cocked in question he handed her the glass of punch he had been holding.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Jamie said.

"Thank you. And what a lovely gown you are wearing. The material is exquisite." His fingers held in a most delicate manner he lightly brushed at his wig.

"How kind of you to notice. Ye have a beautiful house," Jamie said to their host.

"Thank you. Perhaps you would like to have a private tour some time."

Not truly interested in seeing the rest of his house, privately or otherwise, Jamie was most relieved when a servant came up to the Marquis and whispered something in his ear.

A hint of displeasure showed on the Marquis's thinly bearded face. "If you will excuse me, there's something I must take care of. Please enjoy yourselves." Ramrod straight and walking as if his clothes were too tight, the Marquis left.

Jamie and Connor exchanged a look. "And this is supposed to be the start of my new life," said Jamie. She waved her fan in the general direction of the crowd inside. She blinked against the sudden feeling of lightheadedness. "I could do without this. I would really rather be with my children and my true friends, such as ye, Connor."

"Sometimes, Jamie, I think it's important to attend these functions just so one realizes the value of what is and is not important."

"Ye've a point." She raised her cup of punch to her mouth. A man's laughter washed over the crowd. Her cup froze in place. Jamie couldn't move.

Connor immediately took hold of her by the elbow. "What is it, Jamie? Ye've gone completely white."

She slowly raised her eyes to Connor. "Teague's laugh," she choked out in a whisper.

Connor shook his head. "It's probably only someone who sounds like him."

"Aye," she said, not truly agreeing with him. Her body shook, and her teeth nervously chattered against each other. Her heart banged against her ribs. "I don't think I'm feeling well, Connor. Perhaps I should --"

She heard the laughter again. It was so like Teague's, but strained, not his usual easy laugh. Could it be him? With determination she put her cup of punch down on the balustrade. "I'm going to see who that laughter belongs to."

A concerned look on his face, Connor held her back. "Jamie, if ye do this now, you might always want to see who it is if someone sounds like Teague."

Indecisiveness claimed her for a brief moment. She thought about what Connor said. Would she always notice the laughter if it sounded like Teague's? Probably. And if she searched this man out tonight, would she always be listening for Teague's easy, delightful laughter? She turned slightly and looked out unseeing at the gardens below the balcony.

Connor's hand tightened on Jamie's arm. Curious, she turned to him and saw he was staring at something inside the ballroom. Jamie looked to see what had caught his attention, and her heart lodged in her throat. In the open doorway to the balcony a man stood, his back to Jamie and Connor.

The man stood as tall as Teague, with shoulders as broad as his. It was impossible to tell the color of his hair with the white wig on. Jamie willed him to turn around. Slowly, as though seconds had taken on the longer time of minutes, the man started to turn.

Then he walked off.

"Jamie," Connor said, his voice not much louder than a whisper. "It couldn't have been."

Looking at Connor, Jamie saw he had paled as though he had seen a ghost. So it wasn't just her. She glanced back at the people inside. She chewed her bottom lip. "We can't just stay out here the rest of the evening. I'm going inside and I am going to find out just who he is. He couldn't possibly be my husband. It's probably only a coincidence that he has the same build as Teague."

"Aye. Ye're right. It's all our talk about him that has him on our minds and we saw someone who resembles him."

"I agree." With a purposeful look in her eyes and a resoluteness to her smile, she looked up at Connor. "Shall we go in and join everyone?"

He held out his arm for her. "I claim the first dance."

They started back in. From their right side the Marquis suddenly appeared. "Ah, Your Grace."

Jamie was struck by annoyance, which she immediately tried to quell. She did not like him, yet he had done nothing to earn her displeasure. She didn't know why, but there was something about him that was dark and insidious.

He took hold of her elbow and led her into the ballroom. "There's quite a few people here I'd like you to meet."

"I wouldn't want ye to take up all your time with me."

"Nonsense. It is my pleasure."

For the next hour Jamie and Connor were introduced to all of Edinburgh society. During that time she occasionally looked over in the direction of the man she and Connor had seen earlier. He was still there, but she never got a look at his face. Fully focusing on what people were saying to her was nearly impossible. By then Jamie realized that she was the Marquis's prize, and she had handed him a social coup simply by attending. Admired, scrutinized, fawned over and talked about Jamie became excruciatingly bored. She glanced up at Connor and saw that he was as bored as she. To prevent the Marquis from introducing her to another couple, she said, "I find myself quite in need of some refreshment." She lowered her fan and smiled at the Marquis.

He turned and snapped his fingers imperiously at a servant who immediately came over. "Her Grace would like something cool to drink."

Jamie started to sigh, caught herself and fanned her face. She had hoped, foolishly she now realized, that the Marquis would have gotten the drink himself.

The Marquis took hold of her elbow again and guided her in another direction. Jamie gave him a tight smile and looked to see where they were heading. Straight toward the man she and Connor had seen earlier. His back was to them and Jamie could see a young woman gazing up at him intently. Quickly Jamie raised her fan higher to her face. It was her only way to observe them with some anonymity.

The Marquis called out to the man. "Ty."

All of Jamie's senses quietly calmed. Without a doubt in her mind and body she knew who it was. Her husband. Jamie watched the man turn. She lowered her fan and her lips parted in a soft smile. Her gaze swept over him gently and her soul filled with unspeakable joy as she beheld her love. Teague.

He flicked a disinterested look at her.

The Marquis made the introductions. "Your Grace, may I introduce you to Tyrone Kendricks St.Cloud? Ty, it is my great pleasure to introduce you to the Duchess of Whitesea."

Jamie extended her hand to the man. He seemed to have no recognition of her. Or was he pretending? He was coldly polite. He neither smiled nor met her gaze.

My dear love. It's me. Jamie. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. Tears sprang to her eyes in joy and dismay.

It had been two years since she had last seen him and she now wondered if he had been held in an English prison, had escaped, and that was the reason for him not contacting her. And what a clever way to change his name. Leave it to the English to be silly enough not to recognize him. But was this his only way to survive? Had he simply been on the run? Had he been planning to come back to her, but had been unable to do so without being caught? Why didn't he at least give her some sign he knew her? As soon as she could, she and Connor would escort Teague out of here and get him home. Home to his family.

Ty took her hand and formally bowed. She beamed up at him and blinked to clear her mind and her eyes of her tears.

He was speaking to her. "Your Grace, may I introduce you to my wife, Isabella?"

Chapter Two

Wife? Jamie's gaze see-sawed between Teague and the young woman. What was he talking about? She was his wife! He had two bairns at home. Why was he acting this way, pretending not to know her?

"Your Grace," the young woman said as she gave Jamie a deep curtsey.

"Mrs. St.Cloud," Jamie managed to say, the words stumbling out of her mouth.

"Ty and Isabella have been married only a week," the Marquis said.

"Congratulations," Jamie said stiffly.

"Thank you," answered the man who called himself Ty.

Could she have been wrong? Was this someone who so closely resembled Teague that he could have been his twin? For how many months now had Thomas, Fiona and even Connor, been telling her that Teague was dead? And she had begun to believe it.

But the name. So close to his own. Teague MacKenzie MacLeod. Which was she to believe? Her head or her soul?

Jamie tried, without being obvious, to study this man. The same brown eyes, but cold and touched with hardness. The deep dimples and the same delightful smile, although it appeared practiced. His brows were sprinkled with white hairs, and the right brow had a scar running through it. If she could just get his jacket and shirt off. There had to be a way to check and see if his back bore the scars of the flogging Teague had endured. It would be difficult convincing a stranger to strip for her. Let alone at a ball she thought half hysterically.

"What brings ye here to Edinburgh?" she asked him even as her thoughts scrambled to find a way to discover exactly who Ty St.Cloud was.

"We're traveling throughout Scotland looking for good horses to breed with the stock that my wife's father owns."

"I see," Jamie managed to say. She stole a quick glance over at Connor. He was covering up his shock much better than she.

"Are ye planning to go further north into the Highlands?" she asked this man called Ty.

"Possibly." His bored gaze drifted over Jamie's head.

Desperate, Jamie thought there must be some way to get him to her estate, Heaven's Skye, and keep him there for a couple of days. Jamie spoke the first thought that came to her mind. "I may have a horse for sale. He was my late husband's. And he was the only one the animal had any affection for. The rest of us he simply tolerates."

Ty raised a brow and look directly at Jamie. "A stallion."

"Aye." She had forgotten Teague had an uncanny knack for knowing unspoken things. Or was this man's answer simply a lucky guess on his part?

"'May have for sale' is not the same thing as 'is for sale', Your Grace."

"Mr. St.Cloud is correct, Your Grace," the Marquis chimed in waving his hand in a graceful arc.

Jamie said, "Perhaps then, Mr. St.Cloud, ye should think of it as a visit first. And if the horse responds well to you and I feel ye'll take good care of him, I'll sell him to you."

"You need not fear that I would not take good care of any horse that I might purchase."

"Good," Jamie answered quickly. She glanced over at Isabella who appeared to be studying her fan, and then her gaze slid over to the Marquis. Courtesy demanded that she extend the invitation. "My Lord, I hope ye can come as well?"

"I would be delighted."

Jamie could have kicked herself for not waiting until he had left. She did not like the Marquis and did not want him to come. However, there was nothing she could do about the invitation now.

Ty turned to his wife. "Would you like to go to Her Grace's estate?"

Jamie looked at Isabella. She was looking up at Ty, her eyes cool and distant, and unsure.In a quiet voice she said, "We might have other plans."

"True," he mused. "However, your father does want one more stallion to take to the colonies."

"In that case, Ty, we should accept Her Grace's kind invitation," Isabella said with a soft smile.

Ty turned and faced Jamie. "We will be pleased to come, Your Grace. I need to finish up some business here and we can be at your estate before the end of next week. Is that amenable to your plans?"

Smiling with relief, Jamie said, "It will be perfect. I myself will be leaving tomorrow to go back home."

"Ty, I find myself quite thirsty," Isabella said. "Would you mind getting me something to drink?"

"Of course not," he answered.

Jamie could have sworn that he answered the young woman with just a touch of coolness. Or was he just being polite? Was this marriage a sham? Or was she hearing things in his voice she wanted to hear?

Connor leaned over to Jamie. "Would you mind if I went with Mr. St.Cloud?"

"No, of course not, Connor."

Connor and Ty left the women with the Marquis.

Jamie watched Isabella fuss with her fan. With the wig and the makeup it was hard to see what the woman really looked like.

"It is very kind of Your Grace to extend such an invitation to us," she said in a submissive tone.

"When an opportunity arises, one should take advantage of it," Jamie answered, trying to sound kind.

"An advantage?" Isabella asked, her gaze not quiet meeting Jamie's. "I don't know what ye mean. What advantage is there to you if we come?"

A world of advantages. "I have a horse that I may sell and your father is evidently in the market for some good breeding stock." Jamie smiled with as much warmth as she could summon up.

"I see. Do all Highlander women engage in business?"

Her question surprised Jamie. The low, quiet voice had disappeared, replaced with a nasal quality. But Jamie had heard so many people that evening talk in just that manner she surmised that Isabella was simply copying that mannerism. Still she was a little stung. And that unbearable Marquis who had been standing there not particularly listening to them, was now listening to this exchange with great interest. His beady eyes filled with amusement.

Looking pointedly at Isabella, Jamie raised her head a notch and said, "I am the Duchess of Whitesea as well as the laird of Heaven's Skye. It is my responsibility and my duty to take care of the people beneath me."

Isabella's eyes blinked rapidly as she opened her fan and said, "Please forgive me, Your Grace. I meant nothing by my statement."

Jamie surreptitiously glanced to see if Mr. St.Cloud and Connor were on their way back to them. "I am sure, Mrs. St.Cloud, that as a woman you understand that we must take every advantage offered to us."

Isabella said, "You are quite right, Your Grace. That is something I do understand. Being always dependent on men and their whims can be trying."

Jamie laughed quietly trying to put Isabella at ease. "Aye, ye're right. Men can be trying. As well as stubborn, irritable, and occasionally childish."

Isabella giggled behind her fan and Jamie moved closer to her in order to watch the crowd. "Is this your first trip to the Highlands?"

"Aye. But I prefer the soft rolling hills of the lowlands to these sheer, dark mountains."

"I'm sure that the flatter lands have a beauty to them, but you can't deny that the Highlands are spectacular. There is something so rugged about them -- and the Highlander men."

As she and Isabella stood there for the next minute watching the crowd before them, more questions about this woman and Teague assaulted Jamie. Was Isabella helping him in some way? If so, Jamie needed to her make an ally. And if Isabella was married to Teague, it couldn't possibly be a true marriage.

Was it conceivable though, and this thought came slowly to Jamie, that Teague didn't remember her? He did have what appeared to be a fairly new scar running through his brow indicating a head wound.

But if it was a real marriage, did Teague love her? Or was this marriage a business agreement? If so, and he proved to be Teague, it should be easy to lure him away from this young woman.

But, first, Jamie had to get him home to Heaven's Skye. She had to make sure that Ty St.Cloud was truly her husband and not someone who not only sounded like him, but who also resembled him immensely.

It had to be Teague. Her intuition, her nervousness, the breathlessness, even the way her heart pounded so hard, couldn't be wrong. And with a sudden insight Jamie realized that she absolutely wanted this man to be Teague.

A servant came up to Jamie and handed her a glass of punch. "Your Grace," he said with a bow.

"Thank you."

"Your Lordship," the same servant said, "the musicians are playing their last selections and the dinner is ready to be served."

The Marquis looked at Jamie and Isabella. "Your Grace, Mrs. St.Cloud, if you will excuse me."

"Of course," Jamie said graciously.

Isabella inclined her head in a brief acknowledgment.

Jamie was relieved that he would be leaving. She saw Connor and Mr. St.Cloud coming their way.

The men returned to the two women.

"Isabella, would you care to dance?" Ty asked.

"No," she shook her head.

Jamie turned to Ty. "But I would love to."

Ty's face registered surprise for just a moment, and then he held out his hand to her. "It would be my honor."

Jamie turned back to Isabella and said, "Here, would you mind holding my drink?" She handed her glass to the startled, open-mouth young woman.

Ty and Jamie proceeded to the dance floor and began the complicated steps to the minuet. As Jamie came up to him, she said, "How long have you been in the horse breeding business?" They stepped in a circle and separated again.

Another curtsy and bow and once again they were partners side by side. Ty said, "About two years now."

Jamie put her hand into his large warm one. The feel of his hand was so right and so familiar she was sorely tempted to not let go. In fact she actually considered dragging him outside to the patio so she could talk to him in private. Instead, she asked, "What did you do before that?"

"I was a captain in the military."

They left each other's side and swung around to different partners. Jamie's mind swirled with more questions than ever. When she came back to him and once again put her hand in his, she noticed he wasn't wearing his family ring. For the duration of the dance, she didn't bother to ask Ty any more questions. It was far too awkward to ask a question and then have to wait a moment for an answer. In fact so besieged with questions was she, that she actually got mixed up in the dance steps, lost her place, laughed and blushed.

When the dance was over, Jamie purposely walked back to Ty's waiting wife as slowly as she could. "Did I hear ye correctly, that you were a captain?"

"Yes."

"How interesting. Were you at Culloden?" Jamie sensed a certain immediate stiffness in him.

"A battle I do not think it would be proper to discuss with a woman, Your Grace."

"What did you do before then?"

"You certainly are curious. What I did before then is none of your business, Your Grace." His words were pleasantly spoken, but his eyes held a dark gleam to them.

"I meant no harm by it. Do you have any children?" As soon as those words were out of her mouth, she could have sunk into the floor and disappeared. Ty gave her such a look of pure amazement that Jamie laughed and tapped her fan on his arm. "What a silly question to ask you. Ye've only been married a week."

"Do you bombard everyone you meet with these prying questions?"

Jamie stopped and looked up at him, sure that her eyes displayed her love. In a soft voice, she said, "No. Only those people I find interesting, and that I would like to know better."

"It's nice to know that I meet your criteria."

"If ye didn't, I wouldn't have invited you to my estate."

"I thought you invited us because you have a horse for sale," he said brusquely.

"I don't care to do business with people I don't like."

"Yet, without knowing me or my wife, you invite us to your estate. I wonder, do you always decide so quickly whether or not you like someone?"

"Haven't ye ever met anyone and instantly liked them? It only took me seconds to know that I like you, Mr. St.Cloud, and, of course, your wife, Isabella."

They had reached Isabella and Connor.

"Ty," Isabella said, "they are starting to serve the buffet and I find I am quite famished."

"Let me get a servant to take your glass for you before we join the rest of the throng." He took the glass from Isabella and headed for the nearest servant.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Isabella took a step closer to Jamie. "Tell me, Your Grace," she said simpering, "do you always look at men whom you've just met like the way you look at my husband?"

Surprised by Isabella's sudden chance of attitude Jamie flipped opened her fan. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, her voice like velvet.

"As if they were a long lost lover and one you mean to reclaim." Isabella gave Jamie a steady, yet uncertain stare.

Jamie leaned close to Isabella and in a quiet voice as if delivering a tidbit of juicy gossip, said, "Men like women to look at them that way. Perhaps you should try it yourself."

Connor cleared his throat, stepped up to Jamie and grasp her by the elbow. "Your Grace, shall we proceed to dinner?Looking up at Connor, she said, "Of course." She glanced back at Isabella. "Mrs. St.Cloud, I look forward to your visit at my estate."

***

Connor helped Jamie back into the coach. "The men said you were delightful. That you blushed very prettily and it looked genuine."

"Lord, Connor, wouldn't they like to know how I grew up on a small farm, with an angry and ever criticizing mother." Jamie sat down and moved her skirts so Connor could get in without stepping on them. "And now, here comes Isabella and Ty. And that Marquis. I'll probably be doing things that other duchesses would never dream of. In fact, Isabella's hair will probably turn as white as her wig. But enough of me, what did you find out about Teague, I mean Ty?"

"When we had a moment by ourselves, I asked him where he served."

Jamie leaned forward. "Ye came right to the point?"

"Aye. Couldn't figure out any other way to see if he wanted to let me know that he was in hiding. And it was obvious we might have only a moment or two by ourselves."

"What did he say?"

"He brushed the question off." Connor shook his head. "Either he is exactly who he says he is, and simply did not want to talk about it, or he is playing his part to the hilt in trying to avoid the English, or --"

"He doesn't remember," Jamie finished for him. With a heavy sigh she leaned back against the squabs. "He was quite evasive when I asked him about Culloden. After this length of time, he would have made it home if he knew who he was. I think he is Teague, but I'll have to wait until he comes home to Heaven's Skye to know for sure."

They were silent all the rest of the way back to the townhouse. The coach rocked to a gentle stop and Connor helped Jamie down. When they reached the front door, Jamie greeted the butler as he opened it and tossed her fan on the hall table. "Connor, I must talk to Fiona and Thomas immediately. I hope ye don't mind that I don't ask ye to stay." She turned to face him. "However, could ye come to Heaven's Skye with us?"

"I'd be delighted. Unfortunately I have some obligations that I must take care of. But I could start for your estate the day after tomorrow. That way I would arrive before Ty and his wife. But why do ye want me there?"

"Moral support." She faltered for a moment. "I'll need someone-a friend." She covered the few steps between them and grasped one of his hands. "I know it's asking a great deal of ye, but it would mean so much to me."

He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "I would do anything for you, Jamie."

"Including helping me prove whether or not that man is my husband?"

"Especially that. Teague is my cousin."

Jamie rewarded him with a smile. "Yes, you are. Fiona reminded me of that earlier this evening. Ye're such a good friend. And wait until ye see Hope and Honor again. They're growing so fast."

"What new things have they discovered?"

"Ye'd never guess. A couple of weeks ago they discovered, of all things, worms."

Connor laughed and shook his head. "They are very special lassies, and ye are a wonderful mother."

"Connor, ye are going to embarrass me."

"As it is late and ye're planning to leave tomorrow, I will make my farewells." He once again took hold of her hand and lightly kissed it. "I'll see you in a few days, Jamie."

"Goodnight, Connor. Thank you for escorting me. I was verra pleased to have ye there."

"Goodnight, Jamie."

As soon as Connor had left, Jamie turned to the butler. "Miles, we are going back to Heaven's Skye tomorrow. Please make sure that the staff is informed and that my coach is readied for the trip as soon as possible."

"Of course, m'lady."

"Where are Thomas and Fiona?"

"The kitchen, m'lady."

Jamie quickly went down the hallway and entered the kitchen where Thomas and Fiona were sharing some tea.

"Jamie, lass," Thomas said. "Would ye like some tea?"

"Actually, I would prefer a brandy." She looked at Fiona and Thomas gave them a wavering smile. "I may have found Teague."

"What?" Thomas snapped.

Jamie tiredly collapsed in one of the chairs and clasped her hands in her lap.

Looking shocked, Fiona stared at her. "That's quite a statement, Jamie."

Jamie twisted her ring in anxiety. "I was so sure when I met him, but now that I'm home, I am wondering if my mind has become touched." Did she so badly want Teague back that she just thought that Mr. St.Cloud looked like him?

Thomas exchanged a quick look with Fiona. "Jamie, what are ye talking about?" he asked.

Jamie told them about meeting the man who called himself, Ty, ending with, "I couldn't just ask him to remove his jacket and shirt so I could check and see if he had scars on his back."

"No. That wouldna done," Fiona commented dryly.

"He calls himself Tyrone Kendricks St.Cloud. He had absolutely no recognition of me. But," Jamie leaned forward, conveying a certain excitement, "he said he was looking for breeding stock so I invited him and his wife --"

"Wife?" Fiona broke in.

"Gawd, Jamie," Thomas snorted.

"Aye, a wife," said Jamie. With despair she sank back against her chair. "She's young, and I think a bit shy. Although at one point she did display some backbone. Like sharp little teeth ye dinna expect from a puppy that nipped ye. But, as I said, I invited him and his wife, Isabella, to come to Heaven's Skye on the pretext of selling Bonny Lad. And that insufferable Marquis will be coming as well. There was no gracious way I could get out of issuing an invitation to him. He was standing right there." She looked down at her hands and shook her head. "That's what I get for impetuously doing something without thinking clearly about it."

She stood up. Using her forefinger, she scratched a place under her wig. "During the few minutes I spent with this Isabella, Connor was with Teague. And Connor assured me that Teague seems to have no knowledge of me or anything else about us."

Thomas also stood up. "And why should he? It's impossible this Mr. St.Cloud is Teague."

"You weren't there," she snapped back. She turned away from his gaze and folded her arms under her breasts.

Thomas took hold of her by the shoulders and forced her to turn and look at him. "Jamie, do ye think it pleases me to say Teague is dead? There is no way he could be alive. Don't ye understand? We waded in blood up to our very knees that day. In less than a hour the English had routed us. All that killing and dying in vain." He looked down and shook his head. "Six thousand men. We were doomed at Culloden. I was one of the lucky ones that survived."

She had heard it all before. The horror, the English burning Highlanders who were only wounded, not dead. The last thing she wanted was another sermon about how they had been defeated. She pushed Thomas's hands off of her shoulders. Without warning, a film of tears filled Jamie's eyes.

"Have ye no feelings, Thomas?" Fiona said as she got up from the table.

"I'm only telling her the truth," Thomas replied.

"Weel, canna ye see you have upset her? Come here, lassie." Fiona held Jamie in her arms.

"Oh, God, Fiona." Jamie covered her face with her hands and rested her head on Fiona's shoulder. "What if he is Teague and he doesn't want to come back to me? What if he isn't Teague and he is truly who he says he is?"

"Shh, shh, love. If it's Teague, ye'll find a way to know for sure."

"Fee, ye're as bad as she." Thomas drained his tea and faced Jamie. "Jamie, even Captain Pell told ye he saw Teague's body. What more do ye need than that for proof that Teague is dead?"

"Wait until you meet Ty St.Cloud. Ye'll have the same questions as I," she said, determined to make him understand.

Fiona held Jamie away from her. "Jamie, let's get that brandy and go upstairs. I'll help ye get undressed, and while I'm doing that, ye can tell me everything."

Feeling much calmer after her brandy and getting her ball gown off and into a comfortable nightgown, Jamie said, "Fiona, before ye go to bed, I need your advice about something."

"Of course."

"I'm thinking of inviting my mother to come at the same time that Teague and Isabella are there."

"Why would ye want to do that? Your mother will surely tell ye what to do and, no doubt, how to do it."

Jamie paced the floor. "There was a moment that Isabella reminded me of my mother. I thought perhaps they might get along."

Fiona studied Jamie for a moment. "I know ye, Jamie. Ye have something in mind."

"Nothing definite," she said shrugging her shoulders. "But maybe my mother could keep Isabella busy."

"Are ye sure your mother would even come if it's just to entertain someone?"

Jamie smiled wryly. "I'll ask her to come for a visit to see the children. That always gets her there."

***

Ty said goodnight to Isabella and left her bedroom for his adjoining one. He shut his bedroom door and leaned against it for a moment. He shut his eyes and frowned. That damn headache. He pulled off his wig and massaged the back of his skull where he had a thick scar. At least his hair hid the injury. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was take laudanum. He hated the groggy feeling it left him with the following day. He inhaled a deep breath trying to will the intense pain away.

After a long moment, he pushed away from the door. The pain had eased off a bit. Perhaps a good night's rest would help dissipate the ache completely. But a good night's rest was near to impossible when he experienced his haunting dreams. Dreams of a woman whose face was hidden from him.

He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over a chair. A small glint of gold caught his attention. On the top of the dresser was his ring. At least he thought the ring was his. It had been given to him when he woke up that day in the medic's tent.

He picked up the gold ring and fingered it. It bored two initials. TM. Gazing into the low fire he recalled that moment when Dr. Grazier had asked him what his first name was.

"Captain St.Cloud, I'm Dr. Grazier. Good to have you back with us."

"Where --" He shut his eyes. It hurt to move them.

"Ah, don't fash about that. I just need to know what your first name is for the blasted paperwork. A Captain Marley brought you in and returned to the fighting so fast I didn't have time to ask him anything. Simply said you were Captain St.Cloud." He wiped his hands on a blood-splattered apron. "So what's your name, young man?"

He tried to say something, anything, but nothing came to mind. He slowly opened his eyes and moved his head to try to get a bearing on where he was and excruciating pain lanced through his head. He moaned and the doctor had immediately looked concerned.

"Ye've got a sizable wound in the back of your head. Good thing ye've got a thick skull. Now try not to move." The doctor reached behind him and picked up a small object. "Here, this is yours."

He took the ring from the doctor and studied the initials for a second before Dr. Grazier asked him again about his name."My name....is, ah, Te...Ti." It was almost there.

"Ty?" the doctor interjected helpfully.

"Ty. Aye. Ty Ma..Ken..Ken"

"Ty Kendricks maybe?"

"I'm not sure."

"Hmmm. Well, from the sound of your accent I'd say you come from around Barwick, or even perhaps a little further south of the Scottish border."

"I don't know."

"Don't fash about it now. Your memory should clear up in a few days, Captain St.Cloud. Now, get some rest, young man."

It had been almost two years now since that day and he still had no idea of who he was. Injured and confused, he had taken up the kind doctor's invitation to come and live with him for a while. Dr. Grazier turned out to be Isabella's father.

Now Isabella's father was planning to move to the colonies and had said that unless Isabella was married she was to accompany him. When Dr. Grazier returned from a weeklong visit, Ty and Isabella said they had gotten married by special license. It was Isabella's plan that once her father had left for the colonies, she would leave England to join her aunt in Paris to live. What they hadn't counted on was Dr. Grazier deciding at the last moment to take a ship that would depart a month later.

Dr. Grazier appeared to be delighted to think that he and Isabella were married. He was the one that suggested they attend the Marquis' ball.

Ty raked his hands through his hair. It might have been easier to have truly gotten married instead of lying to her father. Now there were dozens of people who thought he and Isabella were married.

Ty slipped his ring on. His thoughts strayed to the Duchess of Whitesea. A most forward woman. But when she had placed her small hand in his, for one insane moment he didn't want to let go. She was flirtatious, lively, warm and, he sensed, passionate. Passion. He didn't think there would be anything cold or withheld about her passion.

He looked down at his hands and rubbed them trying to dislodge the invisible simmering imprint her hand had left.

Chapter Three

Ty escorted Isabella to the front door of the large elegant white mansion. The man who was directing the servants carting their luggage inside stopped suddenly and stared at him for a moment. If Ty didn't know better, he would have thought the man recognized him, but he said nothing to indicate it.

Ty and Isabella stepped into the house and he looked about him. Hit by a jarring sense of deja-vu, he inhaled deeply to steady himself and found the very scent of the house tantalized the edges of his memory. Was it a missing memory he wondered? But he had been in other grand houses with similar architecture, and they looked and smelled much the same as this one did. He decided to account for these sensations as nothing out of the ordinary.

"I do hope this doesn't inconvenience Her Grace that we are a day early," Ty said.

"Of course not, Her Grace will be delighted to see you."

The man gave the last piece of luggage to a servant to carry upstairs. "My name is Thomas." He held his hand out.

Ty shook it. Brows raised Isabella looked the man up and down. "Are you the head butler?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nae. But if ye would like to meet him, we can arrange for an introduction." He smiled broadly at her.

Blinking at him, Isabella said, "No. That won't be necessary."

"I'm one of Her Grace's men-at-arms." He leaned close to her. "I kill people who threaten Her Grace."

Isabella edged closer to Ty who smiled at Thomas's teasing statement. Somewhere in the large house, a door slammed. Squeals of children's laughter could be heard and the sounds were coming closer.

Ty took a couple of steps into the large foyer. Thomas cleared his throat. "I'd wait a moment before venturing any further."

Ty threw a puzzled look back at Thomas. The delightful laughter was headed in their direction accompanied by growling noises.

Shooting out of the living room, which was to Ty's left, a squealing little girl ran. Her curly brown hair bounced against her back as she raced by. Not stopping, her large brown eyes swept over Ty, Isabella and Thomas as she ran past them and into the large formal parlor. Thomas winked at the little girl as she went by them.

As Ty looked at her retreating back, another little girl, identical to the first, holding a doll by its arm, ran into the foyer. She stopped in mid-stride and looked up at Ty. She clutched her doll tightly to her chest, and she and Ty eyed each other. Briefly, playful brown eyes looked at hard brown ones.

Ty raised his right brow into a sharp point, but a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.

The first little girl ran back and grabbed the second by the hand. "Hope!" she exclaimed. She pulled her sister toward the parlor.

A woman's voice called out. "I'm going to catch ye and then I'm going to eat you! Here I coommme!"

The two girls screamed in mock terror and ran back into the dining room. Eyes wide Isabella slowly turned and stared at Thomas.

"Here I come. Grrrr." Wearing men's breeches, and in her stocking feet, Jamie burst into the foyer. Her hands were raised high over her head on which a cavalier's hat was perched. The plumed ostrich feathers swayed wildly. Ty watched in some amusement as her gold-flecked green eyes became huge. When she apparently recognized just who was in the foyer, she tried to stop, but with no shoes on, she slid past them.

She smiled at her guests. "Ty! Isabella!" Her stocking feet hit the edge of the carpeting and she stumbled forward. "Ye're here already. How nice." Flailing her arms, and her legs almost shooting out from under her, she managed to stay upright.

"Mama," one of the little girls called.

"I'm coming, darling." Not looking back at them Jamie turned and disappeared around the corner. "Grrrr. I'm going to catch you."

The high-pitched laughter and squeals floated back to the people in the foyer.

"Surely that wasn't Her Grace?" Isabella asked.

"Aye," Thomas answered, his eyes twinkling.

"And those...children, they're hers?" Isabella said.

"Aye. Miss Hope and Miss Honor. Twin lassies."

"No nanny?" Isabella sounded quite shocked.

"The nanny is back home nursing an ill mother. So, Her Grace, as well as the rest of us, is taking turns playing with the wee lassies."

"How quaint," Isabella articulated.

Ty turned to her. "It was rather picturesque, my dear. A duchess playing with her own children," he drawled.

Isabella waved her hand at the foyer. "Are there anymore?" she asked Thomas.

"More wee bairns? Nae. Shall I show ye to your rooms?"

"By all means," Ty answered.

At that moment Connor came walking down the hallway toward them. "Mr. St.Cloud," he called out.

"Mr. Lawson," Ty greeted with a smile. "I didn't know ye would be here."

"Mrs. St.Cloud," Connor greeted Isabella. "Her Grace and I are good friends, and she thought that while you and she were busy with the purchase of the horse, I could keep your wife company."

"That was most thoughtful of her," Isabella said. "And I do believe that this gentleman was just about to show us to our rooms."

"I won't keep ye then. Thomas, I've been looking for Her Grace. Have ye seen her?"

"Och, she was busy with the wee ones. Ye'd probably find them all in the kitchen."

"Thank you. Mr. St.Cloud, Mrs. St.Cloud."

Thomas, Ty and Isabella went up the stairs. Another faint sound of a child's laugh could be heard and Ty looked back. He smiled to himself as he thought about what they had witnessed.

Her Grace had presented a picture of motherhood he would have never guessed at. She looked like she was actually enjoying herself. Dressing up, or was it down, in men's clothes and chasing her twin daughters around the house. And that hat must have been at least a hundred years old. He had no doubt in his mind that Mr. Lawson was not going to find Her Grace in the kitchen. She was probably at that very moment frantically changing her clothes.

As soon as Jamie had chased Hope and Honor into the kitchen she ordered the cook to prepare them a snack, then raced up the back stairway and dashed down the hallway to her room. Instantly, her hat went flying onto her bed. She yanked the breeches off and kicked them to one side. She pulled her shirt up and over her head and tossed it on the bed. There was a knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," Jamie answered breathless.

Fiona entered the room. "I just heard."

"Oh, sweet Mary, Fiona. Please ye've got to help me quickly change. I canna imagine when I ever made such a fool of myself." Jamie yanked opened one of her armoires and hurriedly searched through her gowns.

Chuckling, Fiona said, "Ye've certainly given them something to gossip about."

"Don't I know. My God, I almost tripped as well. Hail Mary," she said pausing in her movements, "I just realized I called them by their first names. Well, I might as well continue to do that. After all they're here at my invitation." Jamie spun around and looked at Fiona. "I am fortunate that awful Marquis wasn't there to see me with Teague and Isabella."

"Maybe the Marquis won't come."

Jamie pulled out a yellow striped dress. "Well, he hasn't sent a letter saying he wasn't, so I assume he's coming."

"Jamie, I think ye had better think of and refer to Teague as Ty. Or ye'll slip up again and call him Teague to his face."

"I know. And then I would have to stumble through some sort of explanation." Jamie pulled off the stockings she had been wearing and put on a different pair. She padded over to her dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a corset.

"Here, Fiona, help me with this. That yellow dress calls for a verra small waist, so cinch the stays tight."

A rushed hour later Jamie was dressed. "Let's see how this looks." She glanced at herself in the full-length mirror, and she raised her hands to her head. "Hail Mary, my hair."

"If ye would stop your rushing around and sit down, I could fix it for you in a few minutes."

Jamie sat down at her dressing table and gazed up at Fiona through the mirror's reflection. "I hope dinner goes better than what's taken place so far."

Fiona quickly brushed Jamie's hair free of snarls. "They are early so they canna expect to be treated as if they were royalty."

"I don't know about that. Isabella wasn't exactly what I call a warm and gracious woman when I met her at the ball. So who knows what she expects."

"Have ye come up with a plan yet on how to get Ty to remember who he is?"

"Nae. I don't know quite what to do. But he and Isabella will be sharing..." Jamie looked down and studied her hands. It was difficult to even say 'bed chamber' because that made her think about the two of them in bed.

"Ye were saying," prompted Fiona.

Jamie looked back up. "Ty and Isabella will have the bedroom suite on the east end. The one that overlooks the pond in the back. Teague always used to stay in those particular rooms when he came to visit." Jamie shrugged a shoulder. "It's a small hope that maybe being in the same rooms might help to rekindle some memories. Perhaps just being back here at Heaven's Skye in general will help. The same house, the same rooms, the same view, etc."

Fiona grabbed a hairpin. "That's a start. What else?"

"I've asked Connor to keep Isabella busy so I can have some time alone with Ty. And when Isabella takes a good look at Hope and Honor, she's bound to see a resemblance. If that lowland born twit has got just one grain of intelligence, she'll at least figure out that Hope and Honor are his children."

Fiona shook her head.

"What?"

"Your bairns look like ye as well. She may not make any connection between Ty and your wee lassies."

Jamie turned in her seat and looked up at Fiona. "If nothing sparks a memory for him, I'll confront the two of them and simply tell them who he is and that I'm his wife, no' Isabella."

Fiona nodded her head. "First, though, ye've got to make sure that he really is Teague. Then tell him. That might be the easiest and best thing to do."

"Aye. But, Fiona, he is Teague. I can feel it in my bones, my soul. I would prefer that he remembered on his own. I want him to fall in love with me again." Jamie sighed and felt a heaviness in her heart. "What good would it do to tell him, and he doesn't believe me? What would I do then?" Jamie said plaintively and turned back around.

"It's a chance ye'll have to take if he doesn't remember on his own."

Jamie's mouth went into a straight determined line. "I'll get him to remember. I'll only tell him as a last resort. Now, I just have to figure out a way to get them to say for more than just a couple of days."

"When is that artist, Mr. Paul Quarrie, coming?" asked Fiona.

Jamie closed her eyes for a moment. "Tomorrow, of all days. He wasn't due here for another couple of weeks, then he wrote and said he could come earlier, and I, of course, not knowing about Ty and Isabella, wrote back and said it would be fine. Nothing like having everyone here at once."

Fiona swept Jamie's hair up. "Having him here may not be such a bad thing."

"What do ye mean?"

"Ask Mr. Quarrie if he has time to do Isabella's portrait as well."

Jamie's eyes opened wide and a smile appeared. "What a wonderful idea, Fiona. And my mother could persuade Isabella to go shopping for material for a new gown. That would keep her and my mother occupied and perhaps appeal to Isabella. And while they're busy, I'll be responsible for keeping Ty entertained."

"Did you see Teague's," Fiona clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Ty's hair, or was he wearing his wig when ye saw them?"

Jamie looked in the mirror, "I don't think so. But I rushed by them so quickly, I'm no' sure. The only thing I was really aware of was Isabella's nose. If she had tried to look down it any more than she had, it would have been pointed at the ceiling."

"Now, Jamie, that sounds a wee bit jealous. And ye really don't know anything about her. First impressions are not always the right ones."

"Ye may be right. But she's married to my husband. It gives me the shivers just to say that." Jamie picked up the comb Fiona had just laid down and ran her fingers across the teeth. "But getting back to wigs, Ty will no doubt, wear it at dinner. Unless-" Jamie tapped the comb in the palm of her hand. "I'll have everyone informed that dinner is to be verra informal. After all, they are a day early."

"That should keep him from wearing it," said Fiona. "And it might help him to remember something."

"What?"

"Your hair. If ye don't wear a wig, he'll be able to see these white streaks."

"How true. Fiona, re-arrange my hair a bit so that it's loose in back. And as soon as we're finished here, ye can inform the staff and have one of the butlers tell Ty and Isabella. I'll tell Connor myself so I can inform him of that wonderful plan ye came up with."

Fiona pulled a couple of pins out of Jamie's hair. "I certainly hope ye get a chance to tell your mother about Ty before she sees him."

"I know. It may have been foolish to keep that from her, but it's too late now. She'll be here tomorrow along with everyone else. It's bound to be an interesting few days. I need to have time with Ty alone, time to have my portrait done with Hope and Honor, time to entertain the Marquis and my mother, and, hopefully, Connor can keep Isabella entertained and out of my way."

"A verra busy few days for ye."

"Aye."

Fiona finished Jamie's hair and left. Standing up Jamie looked at herself in the mirror and then reached for a bottle of her rose-scented perfume. A scent that Teague always said he loved on her.

She put a drop on each wrist and behind each ear. Slowly she put the stopper in the bottle and put it back down on the dressing table.

She could hear herself so clearly asking him not to forget them when he left to fight with Prince Charles. She picked up her brush and tapped it in the palm of her other hand. How dare he. How dare he forget them and then marry someone else. How dare he let her grieve. How dare he find someone else to love. She carefully put her brush down and set aside her simmering anger.

She reached out and touched the mirror and said to her reflection, "He's your husband, no' hers. Ye have the upper hand, there's nothing to fash about." Placing a hand on her stomach she blew out a nervous breath. She gracefully left her room to reclaim the love of the man she believed and hoped to be her husband.

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