The feel of the locket and the silent litany had soothed Jessica during the years when Wolfe had been exiled to America. Now he had come back…yet she felt more alone than she had ever felt since he had plucked her from her fragrant hiding place in the hay and held the storm at bay by calling to the thunder in the words of his Cheyenne mother.

Jessica laced her fingers together, concealing their trembling, but there was nothing she could do to conceal the pallor of her skin or the bleak desperation in her eyes.

«Come, is that a face with which to celebrate your birthday and your engagement to be married?» Lady Victoria asked in a voice that was as gentle as her eyes were shrewd.

«I want never to marry.»

Victoria sighed and caught one of Jessica’s cold hands between her own. «I know, sweet, I know. I kept your wishes in mind when I chose your husband. You will not be burdened by Lord Gore for long. He is old andoverfond of port. In a handful of years he will die. Then you will be a wealthy widow with your whole life in front of you.» She smiled thinly. «If you wish to be as scandalous as a French duchess, you may.»

«I would die before I let a man rut upon me.»

Rueful laughter was Victoria’s only reply. «Ah, Jessica. You should have been born to a staunch Catholic family and sent to a nunnery, but you were not. You are the only offspring of a Scots Protestant highland lass and a lowland earl. The title and lands passed elsewhere, leaving you no wealth of your own. You must marry. Lord Gore, whatever his drawbacks as a gentleman, has enough wealth to keep the Queen herself in luxury.»

«So you have told me. Often.»

«In the hope that someday you will listen,» retorted Victoria.

«In America slaves have been freed. Would that we in England treated our women so tenderly!»

A soft hand closed around Jessica’s chin. «Stubborn little Scots lass,» Victoria said. «But in this I am more stubborn even than you. You have enjoyed the perquisites of aristocracy. A common woman your age would have been tumbled and set to breeding years ago by the first lout who got beneath her skirts.»

Jessica’s mouth flattened.

«You were protected by my second husband and raised as gently as though you were a child of his own loins,» Victoria continued, her voice cool and relentless. «You were educated in managing a great house and a great fortune. Despite that dreadful American maid whom you imitate, you were taught to speak proper English and to be a proper lady. Now you must repay the generosity of your upbringing by producing an heir who will forever bind together the fortunes of the Viscount’s family and the wealth of Baronet Gore’s shipping empire.»

Long auburn lashes swept down, concealing the revulsion in Jessica’s eyes. «My lady, please —»

«No,» the older woman interrupted. «I have heard your pleas for much too long. I have spoiled you, but that is at an end. Your engagement to Lord Gore will be announced at midnight. You will marry within the month. If the old drunkard can coax his staff into readiness, you will produce an heir within a year and your duty will be fulfilled. Then you may live as you please.»

«OH, Lady Jessica,» Betsy said unhappily, «I don’t think you should go to Mr.Lonetree’s rooms.»

Jessica pushed away from the vanity where Betsy had been at work undoing her mistress’ elaboratejewelled coiffure and brushing out the long, silky hair. Normally, the ritual soothed Jessica, but tonight it had made her impatient. She began pacing the room like a caged cat. As she moved, the lacy peignoir which she wore while attending to her toilet billowed and rustled in pale shades of blue.

«There’s no choice.»

«But —»

«I won’t hear any more,» Jessica interrupted sharply. «You are forever telling me how women in America have more freedom in the choosing of their husbands and the living of their lives. If I must marry, I will choose my husband and live my life as it pleases me.»

«You aren’t American.»

«I shall be.» Jessica tied the peignoir’s robe around her waist with a firm yank. «American men don’t have titles or great wealth, so they don’t need heirs. I won’t have to endure revolting marital duties or ruinous pregnancies with an American husband.»

Hesitantly, Betsy said, «American men do like a warm bed, my lady.»

«Then they can sleep with hounds.»

«Oh dear. I fear I’ve led you astray. Just because American men aren’t titled doesn’t mean that —»

«No more arguing,» Jessica interrupted, putting her hands over her ears.

For a moment she stood very still, fighting the fear that threatened to choke her. The feel of Lord Gore’s sweating palms closing over her hand was too fresh, as was the memory of the lechery in his bloodshot eyes. The thought of those same hands touching her in the marriage bed made bile climb in Jessica’s throat.

A nightmare prowled just beneath her awareness, chilling her even as it strengthened her determination. She lowered her hands, straightened her spine, and headed for the door.

«My lady,» the maid began.

«Sweet Betsy, do shut up.» Jessica smiled at her maid with trembling lips. «Wish me well. If I succeed, you’ll get that trip to America I promised you three years ago.»

Jessica opened the door and stepped into the hall. Betsy’s low sound of distress was cut off by the soft thump of the closing door. Gathering the flyaway layers of silk in her hands, Jessica hurried toward the wing of the house where Wolfe’s rooms were. Fragrant oil lamps burned in stone niches in the hall, for Lord Robert was a great lover of tradition in the home. The illumination was dim, but that didn’t worry Jessica. She knew every alcove and corner of the great house.

Flinching when she passed windows where the storm beat in merciless demands for entrance, Jessica hurried through the huge stone house. She didn’t expect anyone else to be about, for she had waited until even the servants had gone to bed. She did avoid the library, however, for she knew the lord often gamed there until dawn with his friends.

Jessica hurried down another hall and ran lightly up a stairway. Just as she gained the top, she overran Lord Gore, who was considerably under the weather from port.

«Dear God,» she said, righting herself frantically.

Gore staggered, then caught himself by grabbing Jessica. Though drunk, he wasn’t beyond telling the difference between male and female flesh. Nor was he weak. When Jessica tried to twist free of him, his hands tightened. One hand dug into her breast. The other bruised her shoulder.

«Damn, but ‘tis my little lady.» Gore’s eyes narrowed as he dragged himself erect and focused on the silk and lace confection Jessica wore. «Very fetching, sweet. I’d not hoped to find you so eager for the marriage bed. Had I known, I’d have put less port under my hatches and got under yours sooner.»

«Let go of me!»

Gore ignored Jessica, intent only on getting closer to the soft, fragrant creature who was finally within his grasp. Part of Jessica’s peignoir ripped in her struggles to be free. He stared at her exposed breasts and tried to understand his good fortune at having found a fiancee who was so eager for him she sought out his rooms while the house slept.

«Just look at thosebubbies, by God,» he said heavily. «Lord Stewart drove a mean bargain for you, but it was worth it to theha’penny.»

Gore bent down to Jessica’s breasts, staggered, and ended up shoving her against the wall with a force that knocked her breathless. That was the only thing that kept her from crying out in pain as his teeth closed over one breast. Grunting with growing excitement, he ignored her struggles as he flattened her against the wall and fumbled to undo his pants. Desperately, Jessica remembered what Wolfe had taught her just before they parted four years ago. With a silent prayer she brought one knee up hard between Gore’s legs. Instantly, his hands fell away and he staggered backward.

Clutching her ruined peignoir around her body, her hair streaming like dark fire behind her, Jessica fled to Wolfe’s room. The door opened easily beneath her shaking hands.

Wolfe came out of the canopy bed in a single flowing movement. He had just enough time to recognize Jessica and drop his knife on the bedside table before she threw herself at his chest. Her arms locked around his bare waist and she shook as wildly as she had when he had found her huddled within a haystack.

Automatically, Wolfe lifted Jessica onto the bed and sat holding her close, trying to soothe her. A few feet away the storm beat mindlessly against stone and glass.

«Gently, little one,» Wolfe murmured. «You’re safe with me. The storm can’t get you now. You’re safe. Here, I’ll light the lamp so that you can see. The storm is out there and you’re in here.»

Wolfe leaned over, lit the lamp one-handed, and resettled Jessica in his lap.

«There, elf. Is that better? You can see that you’re safe, can’t you? You can see…sweet Jesus Christ!»

Wolfe fell silent, unable to speak. Jessica’s breasts were bared and shockingly beautiful despite the bright drops of blood and blue-black bruises forming on her skin.

From somewhere in the house, raised voices could be heard. Wolfe barely noticed. The realization that a man had broken Jessica’s soft skin with his teeth and bruised her delicate flesh with his fingers enraged Wolfe.

«What bloody bastard did this to you?» he asked savagely.

«Lord G-G —» Jessica took a long, shuddering breath and tried to still the shaking of her body so that she could speak. «Lord Gore.»

Very carefully, Wolfe pulled the torn ends of Jessica’s peignoir in place, covering her breasts. «Hush, elf.» He kissed her hair gently. «Hush, little one. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you again.»

«P-promise?»

«Yes.»

Jessica let out a broken sigh. For a few moments there was no sound but that of the wind and Jessica’s slowly calming breathing.

Gore burst into the room through the open door. His face was sweaty and he was somewhat less drunk than he had been, for pain could temporarily sober a man.

«You need a taste of the rod, you little baggage,» Gore said coldly, stalking toward the bed, «and you shall have it. Get yourarse out of that savage’s bed.»

Wolfe put Jessica aside and stood up in a single motion. For the first time she realized that Wolfe was naked from the waist up — and from the waist down, as well. Lamplight ran over his body, outlining the power that ran through him like leashed lightning.

«I take it you’re the bastard who mauled myJessi?» Wolfe asked in a soft voice.

Jessica forgot Wolfe’s nakedness as his voice sank into her. She had never heard that tone from him. She shivered and realized that Wolfe could kill — and he would, to defend her.

Before Gore could answer, Lady Victoria came rushing into the room, followed by a distraught Betsy.

«I’m sorry,» Betsy said, looking at Jessica. «I just couldn’t let you come to Mr.Lonetree’s room. The man has a wicked reputation with the ladies.»

«Fully earned, from the look of it,» Victoria said dryly, her gray eyes taking in Gore’s fury, Jessica’sdeshabille, and Wolfe’s nakedness. «Do cover yourself, Wolfe.»

Wolfe ignored Victoria. His hand snaked out and fastened around Gore’s throat. From the hallway came the babble of excited voices. Lord Robert Stewart’s was foremost.

«My dear lady, would you mind explaining what in the devil is — Wolfe! Good Christ, man!»

Robert slammed the bedroom door behind him, but the damage was already done; five lords of the realm had gotten a look into Wolfe’s bedroom. The scandal would be all over London by dawn.

Grimly, Lord Robert turned back to the five people who remained in the room. «Release Lord Gore.»

«I don’t think so,» Wolfe said evenly. «The man attackedJessi.»

«You are a liar as well as a bastard,» Gore said.

He would have said more, but Wolfe’s hand had contracted. Powerful fingers shut down Gore’s carotid arteries, rendering him unconscious with brutal efficiency. Reluctantly, Wolfe opened his hand and let Gore fall heavily to the floor.

«Dear God, Wolfe. You have killed him!» Victoria said in a horrified voice.

«In America I would have. Unfortunately, I’m not in America.»

«You shall be soon,» Robert said. «Damn! You have a gift for scandal, son.»

«It doesn’t come from my mother’s side,» Wolfe said coolly. «Scandal is a civilized notion.»