Chapter 25

The journey to Jamie's plantation took far longer than she'd expected. No wonder most of the travel on the Eastern Shore was done by water. But a boat would have meant men to sail it—witnesses. For what she meant to do this night, she wanted no onlookers.

She didn't pass another living soul on the road. Most honest people were in their beds at this hour. And the others Charity chuckled to herself. They were undoubtedly engaged in personal pursuits of an amorous nature.

She hadn't counted on the dogs.

Before she was within a hundred yards of the house, a pack of baying hounds rushed out at her, snarling and snapping at her horse. Cursing, she fought to keep herself in the saddle and to keep control of Devil.

Men followed the dogs. "Halt! Who goes there?"

"State your business!"

"I've come to see James Drummond!" she flung back. "On private business."

"It's a wench." A burly half-dressed man beat at the dogs with a pitchfork handle. "Down! Down, I say." He moved toward Charity.

"Come no closer! I've come to see Drummond, as I said." She produced the pistol from her pocket. "I'm a friend. Tell him..." Frantically she thought for something he would recognize. "Tell him to come for sake of the Quaker's wife." A dog lunged at Devil and he half reared. Charity grabbed his mane to keep from falling and two other men ran toward the plunging animal.

She brandished the pistol. "I'll shoot to kill," she warned. "Fetch your master."

Jamie had awakened at the sound of the dogs. From his window he saw torches beyond the barn. Hastily he pulled on breeches and boots, tucking a pistol into his waist and taking a musket from over the fireplace. "Who the hell—" He took the steps two at a time.

"Viscount Braemar!" a stableboy shouted. "I was comin' to get ye. There's a witch-woman yonder. She says she must see ye. Somethin' about a Quaker."

Jamie strode past him. Whoever it wasn't, it wasn't the sheriff. "What business do you have with me?" he called as he approached the dark figure on horseback. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Charity's heart caught in her throat as Jamie stepped into the circle of torchlight. He was bare to the waist and his thin linen breeches clung to lean thighs. "Be you Drummond?" She kept her voice low, concealing her identity. "If so, my message is for you alone, not these." She waved the pistol to indicate the men gathered about.

He grinned arrogantly. "Come to the house, witch. No one will harm you." He reached for the bridle of her horse.

She slid from the animal, keeping the cloak tight about her, and walked through the circle of retainers without looking to the-left or right. A dog growled, then yipped as someone yanked it back. Jamie walked beside her, curbing his long stride to match her own. A bleary-eyed servant opened the front door for them.

Jamie indicated the stairs. "We can speak privately in my chambers." The housemaid twittered; he turned a fierce look in her direction as she fled.

Mouth dry, trembling, Charity ascended the steps with Jamie close behind. At the landing, he led the way to the master's chamber and closed the door behind them.

"Now, little witch." He chuckled. "Why have you disturbed a man's sleep?" He was standing dangerously close. In the light of the single candle that burned on the mantel, his eyes gleamed like a wolf's.

Her heart was pounding so hard he must surely hear it. For once, words failed her. What if he truly rejected her? Her fingers felt like blocks of wood as she fumbled with the tie at her throat. "Why didn't you come, Jamie?" She threw back the hood. "I waited, but you didn't come." The cloak dropped to the floor. "Jamie... I love you," she said huskily.

"There's more to love than words," he parried. His features hardened in the flickering candlelight. "You've got everything you've ever wanted, Charity. You don't need me."

The bitterness in his voice struck her with the full force of a blow, and tears welled up in the green eyes. "Lord DunCannon's overseer told us that you weren't coming back. I thought you'd deserted me."

"And so you married the closest available man," he taunted, "who just happened to be an earl." His hands clenched into fists. "Have you thought about me, sweet? About how I must have felt when I came back to find you in that old man's bed?"

"That old man as you call him was more man than you'll ever be!" she lashed. Anger rose in her. "I came here to ask your forgiveness... to see if we could make a new beginning." She turned away. "I can see I was wrong. I'll go and trouble you no more."

His hand clamped on her shoulder and he spun her around. "Damn you, Charity. Will you leave me no peace? What do you want of me?"

"Nothing!"

He caught her in his arms and tried to kiss her, but she twisted her head away and hit out at him with her fists. The pistol fell from her waist and clattered across the floor. He pinned her wrists to her sides, holding her against him so tightly she could feel the beat of his heart.

"No! Let me go!" He released her and she backed away. "You knew it was me in the yard, didn't you?" She wiped at the hateful tears with the back of her hand like a child.

"On John's horse? Who else could it be?"

"Amusing, wasn't it?" She retrieved the pistol and the cape. "I wanted to try... to see if there was anything left between us." Her voice cracked. "There's never been anyone else but you, Jamie."

"You forget I found you with child," he accused. "Another man's child."

"I will answer to God for Kat and no other."

"I'm sorry." Jamie sighed loudly in the still room. "We're no good for each other, Charity. We just keep ripping each other apart."

She took a step toward the door.

"Stay."

"For what? A few hours..." Her voice dropped away. The tears spilled down her cheeks. "It's not enough, Jamie. I want you... but not just for a night."

He took her in his arms and kissed the salt-streaked cheeks. "It's a start, isn't it?" His lips found hers, and he kissed her tenderly. Weakly, she lay against his chest as his fingers stroked her hair. "We have to begin somewhere," he murmured.

Her arms went about his neck, and she rose to meet his next kiss. "Oh, Jamie, I love you. I've always loved you." A languid tide spread upward from her knees as she nestled her face in the dark mat of his chest. His aims tightened and held her. "Jamie," she repeated. Her hand slid down his neck to trace the curve of his shoulder and then to caress his throat and chest. "I've loved only you. I swear it." If he knew Kat was his, the voice in her head cried, he would forgive me. But I can't tell... I can't. I swore on her immortal soul.

Jamie's arm caught her behind the knees, and he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. "I make you no promises," he said hoarsely. She reached up to draw him down beside her.

"Love me," Charity whispered huskily, staring deeply into his dark eyes, heavy-lidded now with undisguised passion. "Oh, Jamie, I've missed you so."

He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, hesitantly at first, and then with a growing passion. "Charity, sweet," he moaned as his hands stroked her body, kindling desire in them both.

The heat in her loins grew to an overpowering ache as Jamie unlaced the bodice of her coarse gown and took one love-swollen bud between his lips and sucked gently. She cried out and thrust her hips against him, her hand slipping down to stroke him.

The knowledge of his hunger heightened hers, and she felt a gathering moistness at the core of her womanhood. Trembling, she fumbled with the ties at the back of his breeches.

Jamie chuckled deep in his throat as he left her breasts to lay a trail of hot, wet kisses up her throat to her ear. "Not so fast, darling," he soothed. "I know many ways to please you." He kissed her mouth, his tongue plunging deep within to make her one with him, to savor the sweet, dark softness. "And we have all night," he finished. "Hours and hours, sweet."

She moaned as he moved away to strip off his breeches and kick away the boots. "Jamie... don't leave me." How long had it been since she'd been kissed like that? Touched?

The candle flickered and went out. Then his hands were on her, undressing her... caressing. The tip of his tongue found the curve of her breast, and he circled it with teasing flicks, sending shivers of excitement through her veins. Catching his hand, she guided it down to the softness of her curling hair and then deeper to tantalize the bittersweet burning that threatened to engulf her.

"Jamie, I want you now! Please... darling... now."

She rose to meet him as he entered her, crying out with the joy of their union. And they moved together in the age-old dance of love, giving and taking, becoming one, until Charity's mind exploded in a shower of stars, falling slowly back to earth, one by one, to glow and then to flicker out.

They lay in silence for what seemed forever, then he began to kiss her eyelids. "You're too impatient. You'll never learn anything if you can't have patience." He kissed her lips sweetly, gently. A finger traced the arch of her brows.

She burrowed into his chest, reveling in the tickle of his curling hair against her face and lips. Her teeth found the button of his male nipple and nipped lightly.

"Ow," he cried in mock pain. "Would you torture me, wench?" His hands cupped her full breast; one finger stroked the nipple. "Or do you want some of the same?"

She giggled, then began to suck the swelling nub.

"Stop that!" He rolled and pulled her atop him. She leaned back against his legs, moving suggestively. "Have you no shame?" he teased. His hands cupped her buttocks; her skin was like silk.

"None." They both dissolved in laughter.

"What am I to do with you?" he asked weakly after they had made love a second time. "You are a most unseemly woman."

She curled against him and sighed. "And foolish. But"—she giggled—"very rich." Her fingers entwined in his hair.

He rose on one elbow to stare down at her in the darkness. "And do I look a man to choose a wife for her dowry?"

"Yes. Once a rogue always a rogue."

"Hmmm." Jamie rose and crossed the room. In a few seconds he struck a spark to light a new candle and sat it on the table near the bed. "This bears serious thought." He brought a bottle of wine and two cups.

"If you didn't leave me alone, you wouldn't have to worry about me bringing other men to your bed," she said sassily. "I could make you very happy, Jamie." Her words were light, but he caught the sparkle of tears in her green eyes.

"And what of your child?"

"Kat?" Charity sat bolt upright, letting the sheet fall away from her full, proud figure. "You must learn to love her, Jamie, or I won't marry you. You take us both or not at all." Her voice softened. "I love you both, can you understand that? But I'm all she has. Lord Beauford made you her guardian by law. Can you give her more than that? Can you truly be a father to her?"

Jamie poured a cup of red wine and handed it to her. "Honestly, I don't know. But I'll try."

She curled her legs under her and perched on the edge of the bed. "I'll never give you cause to distrust me again," she promised, sipping at the sweet wine. "But we must be courted openly, Kat and I. So there will be no gossip on the Tidewater." She grinned at him. "And it must be Jamie Drummond who comes, not another of the imps you keep in your box."

He laughed. "You drive a hard bargain, Lady Beauford. But have you considered? If I should be persuaded to sue for your hand, and you should accept, do you realize you would lose rank in marrying me? My father may well choose to disown me. I've had a letter from my mother. She is expecting another child. If it is a son..." He shrugged. "You could well become Mistress Drummond."

The tip of her tongue caught a drop of the red wine on her bottom lip as Charity held out the cup. "I can be well satisfied to be Mistress Drummond if you are content to be a tobacco farmer. No more smuggling," she threatened. "A married man and father has too many responsibilities to play at that game."

"Not so fast," he answered softly. "I have promised nothing yet. I said I would try." He set down the cup and returned to the bed. Laughing, Charity retreated to the far end.

"Come back," he dared. "I promised you lessons."

The thick beeswax candle spread a pool of light across the bed; around it the darkness wrapped them in a velvet cocoon, shutting out the world and making a magic place for them alone. Through the open windows came the smell of the bay, salt-tinged and brisk, borne on a cool breeze.

The green eyes beckoned as Charity sank down against the pillows, her white-gold hair spread about her like a silken mantle. "As you will, my lord," she whispered. "I place myself entirely in your hands."

* * *

On Tuesday, William Goldsboro of the Choptank came to pay suit to Lady Beauford. To John's surprise, she rode out with him to a gathering at Sweetwater. Jane, expecting her third child, welcomed Charity and included her in her circle of friends. No one made mention of the fact that Lady Beauford was so newly widowed. On the Tidewater, life was still hard and gentlewomen scarce. Extended periods of mourning were better suited for England. The wealthy and beautiful Caroline Eames would not remain unmarried long if the eligible men of the Eastern Shore had any say in the matter.

On Sunday, Lady Beauford rode to services in Oxford with Philip Miles, a widower from Easton. Philip's dashing dark looks and matched team of black thoroughbreds were a perfect foil for Charity's flaxen hair and sparkling green eyes. Twenty pounds was bet in Oxford churchyard that Philip would wed the widow within a year.

Dawn had barely stirred Avalon into motion when Nan came to awaken Charity from a sound sleep. "My lady," she called. "My lady, Viscount Braemar is here to see you. I told him that you didn't rise for hours yet—but he insisted. Shall I send him away?"

Charity sat up, yawned, and rubbed her bleary eyes. Philip had stayed until half-past two, playing the harpsichord and singing silly love songs. "Jamie? Jamie's here? At this hour?"

There was a loud crack, and a stone landed in the center of her bedroom floor. Splinters of glass showered down around it. Charity vaulted out of the bed and ran to the window, then ducked as another stone hit the glass. "What are you doing?" she shrieked.

"Good morning!"

Charity's eyes widened foolishly and her mouth dropped open. A black and white mule was standing in her flower bed with James Drummond in the saddle. The mule wore a floppy felt hat with a wide tattered brim; Jamie wore a gray wig that had seen far better days. His feet were bare, and his breeches ■ were coarse homespun. "What are you doing?" she repeated.

"Throwing stones at your window! Wake up! It's a beautiful day and the fish are biting!" He grinned boyishly and waved a fishing pole. "I'm going fishing. Want to come along?"

"You threw a rock through my window!" She leaned out and threw the stone back, just missing the mule's head. The animal kept munching the flowers. "Get out of my flower bed! Are you out of..." A wave of giggles smothered her protests. "Out of your mind?"

"Are you coming or not? If you're not, I know a tavern wench who'll come with me in a minute," he threatened.

"Wait! I'm coming," she yelled back. Turning to a bewildered Nan, she ordered her to take off her gown.

"My dress, your ladyship?" The girl stared at her in disbelief.

"Yes. I need it. I can't go fishing on a mule in my satin ones, can I? Wait, fetch Kat first. And ask the nurse for that wool thing she carries her baby in. Hurry!" Grabbing a hairbrush, Charity began to smooth the tangles from her hair. "And bring me a leather tie," she shouted after Nan. "And a pair of moccasins. Get them from Mary in the kitchen. She has little feet."

In five minutes, Charity joined Jamie in the garden wearing a linsey-woolsey gown, battered moccasins, and a misshapen, man's tricorn hat. She had a bundle of bread and cheese in her hands and Kat slung on her back like a papoose.

"Did you bring me a pole?" The green eyes danced. "I'm not going if I don't get to fish."

Solemnly Jamie dismounted, bowed, tossed the wretched wig into a bush, and lifted Charity and the baby onto the mule. "I don't have one yet, Lady Beauford," he said, "but I'll find you one somewhere." Chuckling, he swung up behind them. The baby cooed and batted at his face. "Nice child you have here," he said. "Very nice."

"I'm pleased you like her, Viscount Braemar." Charity took a firm hold on the mule's stiff mane. "Because you're going to be seeing a lot of her."

"And do you always take your babe with you when gentlemen come courting?" Barely concealed laughter framed the formal tone of his affected speech.

"Only when I ride out with you, my lord."

The morning was spent in laughter and warm sunshine. Charity's heart was near to bursting with happiness as she watched Jamie with his daughter. Kat went to him eagerly, climbing bravely over his chest and pulling his hair with both hands, then smothering him with wet, squishy baby kisses.

Nan and John came just before noon to collect Kat as Charity had instructed. After they had taken her home, she and Jamie shed their clothes and swam naked in the cool dark waters of Lost Creek.

They made love beneath the trees with only the soft grass as a bed, and in early evening they built a camp fire and broiled the fish Jamie had caught.

Tired and sunburned, Charity rode home in the moonlight behind Jamie, feeling younger than she had in years. Her arms were clasped tightly about his waist, her head nodding on his shoulder. Even the rough gait of the mule or the smiles of her servants could not temper the joy of the day.

A few days later, Jamie came to take the two of them sailing on the bay. They tied a line around Kat's round little middle to keep her safe and explored the coves and inlets south of Bold Venture. The midday meal was shared on a sandy beach, while Jamie tried unsuccessfully to get the baby to drink goat's milk and eat apple pasties.

The summer days passed quickly, blending into one, strengthening the love Charity felt for Jamie and weaving a strong net of security she had never known before.

As Jamie had promised, he did not mention her betrayal again. Although both knew the memory would remain forever, the hurt faded and was covered by the laughter and shared companionship of what was now and what could be.

In September, Kat struggled to her feet and took her first wobbly steps. Jamie was there to catch her, grabbing her up and laughing, holding her high in the air with pride and genuine delight. "We'll have her riding that pony by spring," he boasted.

As harvest approached, work on the plantations intensified. Jamie was often busy with Kat's finances and with the legal matters pertaining to Lord Beauford's affairs. To his surprise, Jamie found he had not only the wit but the interest to deal with them. Many evenings were spent in the old earl's library poring over legal papers and ledgers or conferring with Walpole as to what was rightfully Kat's and Charity's and what might be assumed by the Crown.

Despite Jamie's help, the full responsibility of Avalon now fell on Charity's head. The overseer was an able man, if somewhat uneasy in dealing with Lady Beauford in place of his lordship. John managed the house as he had always done, despite his courtship of Charity's maid Nan, who seemed quite flattered by his professed devotion.

Still, the work was harder than she had ever known, as Charity complained to Elizabeth one Sunday afternoon. "If I had known what came with being a lady, I'm not certain I would have tried so hard," she said wryly.

Elizabeth paused from tickling Kat and shifted her gaze to Charity. "Everything has its price, although I do believe a Tidewater lady pays a bit higher." She chuckled. "But we get back full measure. You have an independence, my dear Caroline, that few women know, even in England."

"And Kat shall have more," Charity promised. "I mean to educate her as though she were a boy." She grew serious. "There is much I don't know, much I will never learn. But she'll know..." She chuckled. "Even how to ride a horse without falling off." She caught Elizabeth's strong, thin hand. "If you'll teach her."

Elizabeth nodded, and a little sadness rose to mist over Charity's eyes. She sounds like Mam. If only Mam had lived to see Kat. Another time, another place, and I think Mam and Elizabeth might have been friends.

But Mam was gone, gone before the fortune could make her life any easier. Gone before she'd even held a grandchild on her knee. Charity blinked away a tear. Kat would never miss the woman she'd never known. If Elizabeth was willing, perhaps she'd fill the roll of grandmother in Kat's circle of love.

They were a family, Charity realized, in all the things that counted... she, Jamie, Elizabeth, and Kat. Her life was here, and this place that had seemed so foreign was home.

"I've spoken to my friend on the merchant vessel Hannah Jeanne, out of Bristol." Jamie grinned. "He brought news of a friend of yours, Charity."

His mellow chuckle pulled her from her reverie. "Who?" The ships were gathering in the Chesapeake to carry home the harvest of tobacco. England might not be home, but she enjoyed the gossip from the Mother Country as much as any Colonial. "What friend?"

"Captain Halifax has been promoted to major and awarded a medal for his success in ridding the Chesapeake of the smugglers." He grinned wickedly and captured Kat as she attempted to topple a candlestand on her head. "Nan!" He held up the offending child. "She's wet and hungry again." Nan carried her off and he turned his attention to Charity once more. "It was quite a ceremony, Halifax's promotion. Climaxed, I believe, by decorating London Bridge with MacKenzie's head."

Charity shuddered and offered a silent prayer for the man's soul.

"It's no laughing matter, James," Elizabeth chided. "It could have been your head for real. It's time you mended your manners." She looked meaningfully at Charity. "And accepted your responsibilities."

Jamie looked hurt. "But I have! Didn't I go to Annapolis especially to meet Halifax's replacement?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Charity's mouth. Jamie had taken her along to meet Captain Dickerson. Both had been convinced that the King's officer was much too concerned with his personal comfort and the lining of his own pockets to pay much heed to smugglers. "You did," she agreed. Dickerson weighed as much as three normal men. It would be a surprise if he could make it to the waterfront, let alone to the Eastern Shore, without the aid of a company of strong men to lift him in and out of boats. She was certain no horse could carry him.

"I was quite impressed," Jamie continued solemnly. "I don't believe His Majesty could have made a better choice."

Elizabeth joined in their laughter. "Amen to that."

"And now." Jamie reached for Charity's hand. "If we can take advantage of your good nature, we'll leave Kat here for the afternoon and escape our awesome duties for a few hours." He glanced at Charity. "If the lady is agreeable, that is?"

"Aunt Elizabeth?"

"Certainly. Go along with you. I haven't had a chance to show Kat the new litter of puppies. Besides, I've gotten quite fond of my afternoon nap. We can take one together. Go and enjoy yourselves."

Jamie's sloop was at the landing. Charity cast off the lines as he brought the little boat about and let the wind carry them down to the open bay. "There's someplace I've been wanting to take you," he called above the snap of the sail.

She nodded, pulling off her hat and letting the wind blow through her hair. Little drops of water sprayed up from the waves, striking her face and arms. Her tongue darted out and tasted the spicy salt of the water. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts flow out with the wind. The sun was strong on her face, and she felt alive in every inch of her body.

"Aren't you going to ask where we're going?" Jamie knelt beside her, dropping an arm comfortably about her shoulder. "No questions?"

She sighed and nestled back against him. "No, not today."

His lips brushed hers in a tender, teasing kiss. "You taste like salt," he murmured, ruffling the white-gold hair.

Charity leaned over the gunnel and trailed a hand in the water. "The water's still so warm, it's hard to realize autumn is coming. The Thames was never this warm, even in midsummer—nor so clean." She stared into the blue-green depths. "Are there mermaids down there, do you suppose? With blue scales and long glistening tails?"

"I'm sure of it." He kissed the soft curls around her face. "I pulled one from this bay, didn't I?" He gathered her in his arms. "At about just this spot."

"Jamie!" She struggled halfheartedly. "Put me down! You'll tip the boat."

With a single fluid motion, he stood and held her over the side. "I have one thing to say to you, wench," he declared. "I found you here and you've made a shambles of my life."

She giggled. "I have not. Put me down!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on with a death grip. "If I go in the water, you go with me!"

"Sure an' you've been a terrible burden to me," Jamie grumbled in the heavy brogue of the departed Father Brady. "And I've come to a conclusion. I'll give ye one chance to make amends."

"Oh, please, sir. Don't throw me into the sea," she gasped. "I'll do anything if only you'll spare me life," Charity riposted.

"Ye must promise to marry me, wench, and spend the rest of yer life doin' penance. Yer solemn word, or back into the bay wi' ye!"

With a cry, she covered his face with kisses, pulling them both off balance and dumping them into the water. Charity went under and came up gasping.

"Jamie? Jamie, where are you?" Something grabbed her leg and she screamed. A heartbeat later, he surfaced beside her and caught her in his arms.

"You'll not escape so easily," he threatened. "I mean to make you pay dearly for ruining my life."

Laughing, she splashed water in his face, then realized the sloop was moving steadily away from them. "Jamie! The boat!" She turned and began to swim in the direction of the sail. "You idiot," she giggled. "You'll drown us both."

With sure even strokes, he covered the distance and pulled himself up over the stern of the sloops bringing it about and lifting her dripping from the bay. "I seem to make a habit of this," he said wryly.

She pulled off her drenched gown and wiped the water off her face. Her green eyes grew clear as jade. "Did you mean it, Jamie? Will you really wed me?"

He held out his arms, and she ran into them. "Self-defense," he whispered hoarsely. "I can't live without you."

* * *

They were wed secretly by a priest in Chestertown, with John and Nan as witnesses, three days later. Charity had protested the secrecy at first.

"I am a Catholic," she said, "and I shall always be. Why should I try to hide it?"

"Because, sweet," Jamie soothed, "the Crown has looked with disfavor on Catholics in the Colony before and may do so again. For the safety of our estates and Kat's welfare, we will marry so well and tightly that none may dispute our union in years to come."

"Lord Beauford found a priest that spoke no English," she confided. "Can you do as well? The father may refuse to marry us at all since you are a Protestant heretic."

He laughed. "Heretic I may be, but my mother had me christened in the true church when I was born, unbeknownst to Lord DunCannon, of course." His eyes twinkled. "I've strayed a bit, but I'm one of the flock. Father DuClaire will marry us gladly."

And so he had. The ceremony was short, and almost before she knew it, Jamie was leading her back to the sloop and helping her inside.

"Well, Lady Braemar," he teased, "are you satisfied?"

Too full of happiness to talk, she sat near him on the trip back to Avalon. Now that what she had waited and wished for so long had happened, it was almost too much to accept.

"And to add insult to injury," Jamie protested, "I don't even get a wedding night with my bride."

They had decided it was best to wait until after the ceremony in Oxford to be together. This night, Jamie would return her to her lonely bed at Avalon.

"Waiting will make it all the sweeter." She brought Jamie's hand to her lips, turned it, and kissed the pulse at his wrist. "You'll not lose by the waiting... I promise."

"Witch," he groaned. "I'm in pain now. I may die before then." He pulled her into his lap. "If I may not have a full meal, at least let me savor the goodies."

John and Nan diplomatically ignored the antics of the newly weds, finding interest in the passing waves and in whispering snatches of love talk of their own.

Once again, Tidewater society gathered for Charity's wedding. Her gown was of green velvet, and Nan had stitched a matching one for Kat to wear.

The little girl was a copy of her mother, down to the pearls in her hair, for Charity had determined that her daughter was to have a full part in this wedding.

As there was no suitable male to give the bride away, Charity and Jamie entered the sanctuary hand-in-hand. A low hum of surprise passed through the onlookers as they walked up the aisle together, pausing at Elizabeth's pew so that Jamie could take Kat in his arms.

They stood before the minister as if in a dream. Charity's eyes were on Jamie. So intent was she on watching him that the reverend had to ask her twice to reply to her vows. Blushing, she extended her hand so that Jamie might slip the gold ring on once more. Then he was kissing her, and she could contain the tears of joy no longer. They covered her cheeks as the three of them left the church amid good-natured teasing and well wishes.

John stood just outside the door and handed an envelope to Jamie. "Take it," he urged. "It's a special gift for your eyes alone. From Lord Beauford."

Jamie's eyes clouded with puzzlement. "From Lord Beauford? For me?"

"To be given to you the day you wed Lady Beauford." John moved off casually through the crowd.

Jamie tore open the ivory parchment and stared at the thin, wavering script.

Braemar,

It is a wise man who knows what is truly his. You loaned them to me for a while and gave an old man joy. But both are yours and I return them to you. May you live long and prosper, and be worthy of such a wife and daughter.

Beauford

For a long minute, Jamie stood frozen, unable to comprehend what he had read. Then, without speaking, he handed the letter to Charity. "Is it true?" he demanded.

Charity's laugh was as bright and clear as that of the children darting among the tombstones. "The old fox," she cried. Her glowing eyes met his, and there was no need for words.

He shook his head disbelievingly. "All along..." he stammered. "All along and I never guessed?"

"I told you," she whispered. "There's never been anyone but you, Jamie... never."

The crowd surged around them with kisses and handshakes and shouted advice that brought added roses to the bride's cheeks. A carriage was brought to the gate and Charity was assisted inside. Elizabeth reached out to take Kat, but Jamie shook his head. "No, we'll take her. What's a honeymoon without a baby?"

"Where are you taking me?" Charity asked as the carriage rolled down the rutted street and out of the town of Oxford.

His eyes met hers and held them fast. "As far as I go," he swore. "Beyond this life and into the next." He pulled her into his arms. "Will you come with me?"

"Even to the gates of hell," Charity promised softly. "As long as I don't have to ride a horse."

The End

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The Triumphant Hearts Series

Book Three

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Sitting here in the dark, waiting for the sun to come up over the trees, was like waiting for the creation. Ashley knew the light would come, but still she watched with bated breath for each ray of shimmering light. The magic had never failed to work. The sun always rose.

This morning was no exception. Iridescent coral and gold spilled across the cloud-strewn sky, so beautiful that Ashley caught her breath in wonder. By almost imperceptible degrees the blind and the river became more visible.

"Ashley."

It took a second to remember she was not alone. She exhaled sharply. Kelt was standing barely an arm's length away, his eyes fixed on her face. A strange note in his voice sent a wave of excitement surging through her.

"You're a bonny sight fer a mon, with the light playin' across all that hair."

Ashley's breath caught in her throat as she stared up at him. The light was dim at the back of the blind, and Kelt's face was shadowed. He's going to kiss me, she thought. And I'm going to let him. With the patience of Eve, she waited... knowing, anticipating the feel of that masculine mouth pressed warm and firm against her lips.

"I want to kiss ye," he murmured. "Only kiss ye... nothing more."

Trembling, she rose and took a step in Kelt's direction. An unfamiliar weakness flowed through her limbs as she stared up at the big man. Run! her inner voice cried. Stop before it's too late. His arms encircled her as he lowered his head to gently brush her lips with his.

Ashley slipped her arms around Kelt's neck, savoring the warm pressure of his mouth against hers, reveling in the strong, male scent of his hard-muscled body and the exquisite sensation of his broad hand pressed against the small of her back. A bittersweet ache grew in her breasts as they pressed against his chest, and her lips parted of their own volition, allowing his tender, exploring kiss to deepen.

Time stood still as she strained against him, nearly overcome by the hot, tingling desire that raced through her veins. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him still closer until suddenly, with a shuddering breath, Kelt released her and stepped back.

"Ashley," he murmured hoarsely. He laughed deep in his throat. "By all that's holy, lassie, 'twas stop now or not at all."

Shaken, Ashley touched her passion-swollen lips as the unfamiliar sensations slowly receded, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed. Slowly she lowered herself to the bench and smiled. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For stopping or for the kiss?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'd nae harm ye. I didna mean for..."

"For the kiss." She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Every woman should be kissed like that at least once in her life."

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Bold Surrender

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