Prince Charming

  “Yes, of course you can,” Alison told her in a pitying tone of voice.

  “Do you still have feelings for him?” Jennifer wanted to know.

  “No. As a matter of fact I . . .”

  “But of course she has feelings for him. She hates him,” Constance decreed.

  “No, I don’t . . .” Taylor began again.

  “Love and hate go hand in hand,” Jennifer explained. “I believe she should hate all men in general and William Merritt in particular.”

  “I don’t believe hating anyone will solve . . .”

  “But of course you must hate him,” Constance argued.

  Taylor decided it was high time she gained control of the conversation and turned the topic. “I’ve written long letters to all of you with important news,” she blurted out before she could be interrupted again.

  “Whatever for?” Alison asked.

  “News? What news?” Constance demanded.

  Taylor shook her head. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. You’ll receive your letters by late afternoon.”

  “Tell us your news now,” Jennifer insisted.

  “You’re being very mysterious,” Constance remarked.

  “I don’t mean to be mysterious,” Taylor replied. “Sometimes it’s easier to write down what I want to say rather than . . .”

  “Spill it out, Taylor,” Alison demanded.

  “You cannot leave us hanging like this,” Constance interjected.

  “Are you going away?” Jennifer asked. She turned to Constance. “People always write letters when they’re going away.”

  Taylor was sorry she’d mentioned the letters. “It’s a surprise,” she insisted.

  “Now you’ve got to tell us,” Alison said. “You aren’t leaving this ballroom until you do. I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve heard this mysterious news.”

  Taylor shook her head. The look on Alison’s face told her she wasn’t going to let the matter drop. Constance inadvertently came to Taylor’s rescue. She spotted Lady Catherine on the dance floor, recognized the sapphire necklace around her neck, and immediately demanded to know why she was wearing Taylor’s jewelry.

  Taylor took her time explaining her reasons for giving the jewels away.

  Lucas watched her from across the ballroom. He was penned in by a crowd of men who took turns plying him with questions about life in America. He was amused by some of their obvious prejudices, irritated by others. The Englishmen all seemed to be fascinated by the Indians. Had Lucas killed many?

  He patiently answered the less offensive questions but kept looking at his timepiece every other minute. He didn’t particularly care if he was being rude or not. When midnight arrived, he was leaving. Lucas rechecked the time, noted he only had a few more minutes left, and then went back to answering the men. He was in the middle of explaining that his ranch was surrounded by mountains and that the Sioux and the Crow allowed him and his brothers to share their land when he spotted the son-of-a-bitch heir to the family fortune shrug off his wife’s hand and head for Taylor. His new bride chased after him.

  Taylor spotted him, too. She looked ready to bolt. Lucas watched her bend to lift the hem of her skirt, then suddenly let go and straighten up again. She had obviously decided not to run after all.

  No one was going to know the panic she was feeling, not even her dearest friends. Taylor made that vow and smiled until her face felt brittle. The humiliation. She knew that was what everyone was calling the cancellation of her wedding. They all expected her to act humiliated, she supposed. Well, by God, they were going to be disappointed.

  Alison was going on and on about something or other, but Taylor wasn’t paying any attention. She didn’t want to injure her friend’s feelings, however, and so she pretended great interest. She nodded whenever Alison paused for air and kept right on smiling. Taylor could only hope she was telling an amusing story and not a tragic one.

  They were getting closer. William was weaving his way around the couples on the dance floor. Jane was in hot pursuit of her husband.

  Taylor might have been able to control her panic if she hadn’t seen the expression on her cousin’s face. Jane looked livid. When she was in a cheerful mood, she was a little malicious, but when she was angry . . . it was simply too chilling to think about.

  Taylor thought she was going to be sick. Oh, Lord, she simply couldn’t do it. Her noble intention to stand firm hadn’t lasted more than a minute or two. She really was going to run. She had neither the strength nor the inclination to be civil to her cousin. Cousins, she silently corrected. Her ex-fiancé was related by marriage to her now.

  Oh, yes, she was going to be sick all right.

  Lucas saw the panic in her eyes, stopped his explanation about the Indians in midsentence, and pushed his way through the throng of men surrounding him. Both Morris and Hampton followed him as he headed across the ballroom.

  “Taylor, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” Alison demanded in an appalled tone of voice.

  “She’s taking great gulps of air,” Constance said. She frowned over her own observation and leaned closer to Taylor in an attempt to understand her mysterious behavior.

  “But why is she breathing like that?” Jennifer asked.

  Taylor tried to calm herself. “I believe I should leave now,” she began.

  “You only just got here,” Jennifer argued.

  “Yes, but I really think I . . .”

  “Dear heavens, he’s coming over here.”

  Alison made the comment in a fluster and immediately set about straightening the sleeves of her gown.

  Constance peeked around Alison, let out a gasp, and then turned back to Taylor. “Oh, wait until you meet him,” she whispered. “Even though Mama has declared he’s a sinfully bad man, I must admit he has the most adorable drawl.”

  “How would you know?” Jennifer asked.

  “I heard him talking to Hampton,” Constance explained.

  “You were eavesdropping,” Jennifer accused.

  Constance nodded. “Yes,” she admitted quite cheerfully.

  Taylor was slowly backing away from her friends. She glanced over her shoulder to judge the distance to the entrance. Freedom, she decided, was a good thirty feet away. If she could just get to the steps, she could . . .

  “Taylor, you simply must speak to the man,” Alison insisted.

  “Have you all gone crazy? I will not speak to him. Why, there isn’t a thing adorable about William Merritt.”

  Taylor fairly shouted that statement of fact. Her friends all turned to look at her.

  “William? No one mentioned William,” Constance said.

  “Do come back here, Taylor,” Alison demanded.

  “Oh, dear, William’s on his way over, too,” Jennifer announced in a low whisper. “No wonder Taylor’s trying to sneak away.”

  “I’m not trying to sneak away,” Taylor argued. It was a blatant lie, of course, but she’d go to her grave before admitting her cowardice. “I just want to avert a scene. If you’ll excuse me, I . . .”

  Constance grabbed hold of her arm to stop her from leaving. “You can’t sneak out,” she whispered. “It would make you appear to be quite pitiful, Taylor. We can’t have that. Simply ignore him. Alison, will you quit gawking at that man?”

  “Someone really must introduce me,” Alison insisted once again. She was violently swinging her fan in front of her face.

  “Morris might introduce you,” Jennifer suggested. She backed up a space so she wouldn’t be injured by Alison’s fan, then added, “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  She asked the question with a long, drawn-out sigh. Alison nodded agreement. “Men are handsome, darling, not beautiful, but I do believe this one is both. God, he’s huge, isn’t he? I fear I’m becoming faint-hearted just looking at him.”

  Taylor was diligently trying to get Constance to unhand her. She finally managed to pull free and was just about to pick up her skirts again and run for her life when she hap
pened to spot the man Alison and the others were carrying on about.

  She froze. Her eyes widened just a fraction, and she thought she might have forgotten how to breathe, for she was suddenly, unexplainably, feeling terribly light-headed.

  He was the most incredibly handsome man she had ever seen. He was a giant of a man, lean, yet muscular at the same time, with broad shoulders and dark, dark hair. His skin was bronzed in color, certainly achieved by spending long days out in the sun, and his eyes, dear God, his eyes were the most beguiling color. They were a deep, rich, chocolate brown. There were creases at the corners, wonderful little creases, probably caused from squinting against the sun.

  He didn’t look like the sort who laughed much. He didn’t appear to be the kind of man you’d want to meet up with on a dark, deserted corner either or spend the rest of your life with . . . Oh, God, what had she done?

  Taylor reached up and snatched Alison’s fan out of her hand. Before her friend could protest, she began to furiously wave the thing in front of her face. Lord, but it had gone warm in here.

  Wouldn’t it be outrageous if she fainted at his feet? He’d probably step over her on his way to the doors. Taylor shook her head. She really had to get hold of her thoughts and her composure, she decided. She could feel herself blushing. How ridiculous, she thought. She had nothing to feel embarrassed about. It was the heat, she told herself. Why, it was as hot as purgatory now.

  Was the giant walking toward her the one with the godawful reputation? Lord, she hoped not. Just as soon as she recovered her wits, Taylor was going to ask Constance why her mama didn’t like him. She wished she’d paid more attention to the conversation. Hadn’t Constance said he’d taken a different woman to his bed every night this past week? She’d ask Constance that question, too, along with at least a hundred more, for she suddenly wanted to know all about the mysterious stranger.

  Dear God, it was a little late for questions, wasn’t it? Heaven help her, she was losing her mind. She certainly wasn’t thinking coherent thoughts now. It was probably all his fault. His gaze, after all, was fully directed on her. It was unnerving, penetrating. No wonder she was rattled. And so rudely undisciplined, she silently added. She couldn’t stop staring at him. She wondered if her mouth were gaping open. She hoped it wasn’t but doubted she could do anything about it even if it were. No matter, she told herself. The fan would hide most of her face.

  Alison grabbed her fan back. Taylor felt as though her gown had just been ripped off her. She felt exposed, but only for a second or two. Then she straightened her shoulders, slapped a smile on her face, and tried to remember how to act like a lady.

  Oh, yes, he was handsome all right. She could barely catch her breath just looking at him. She wanted to sigh in appreciation. She didn’t dare.

  Taylor understood the reason behind her bizarre reaction to the man. He was her dream-come-true, for he reminded her of one of her mountain men. It was as though he’d stepped out of one of her dime novels. After reading so many stories about Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone, she had begun to think of both men as relatives from the past who belonged to her. There wasn’t any harm in that romantic notion, was there? Surely no one else fantasized about the American frontiersmen the way she did. When she was younger, she constantly daydreamed about what life would have been like if she’d been married to one of those adventurous men. The Indians, or rather the savages as they were called in the stories, were reported to kill a man, then cut his scalp away to use as a trophy proving their prowess. Both Boone and Crockett had fought hundreds of Indians. Neither man had been scalped, however, and did in fact befriend the savages.

  Taylor started shivering. The man scaring goosebumps on her arms wouldn’t have any difficulty frightening the scalps off the Indians, she decided. Why, his stare was piercing enough to make her hair stand on end. He was a handsome devil, all right, but there was also an air of danger about him. And power, she thought. This one didn’t look like he would be afraid of anything or be at all vulnerable to attack. From his appearance alone, she judged him to be more than capable of protecting his property.

  And the babies, she thought. He would protect the babies.

  Wasn’t that all that really mattered? His reputation shouldn’t concern her and neither should her bizarre reaction to him. For her purposes, he was more than adequate. He was perfect.

  She let out a sigh. Her friends echoed the sound. They were obviously as mesmerized by the man as she was.

  William and Lucas crossed the ballroom from different angles, yet they both reached Taylor at the same time. They stood no more than three feet apart. William was on her left side and Lucas was on her right.

  William was the first to speak. His voice held a note of anger. “Taylor, I want a word in private with you.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere alone with her,” his wife snapped from behind.

  Taylor ignored both William and Jane. Her head was tilted all the way back so she could keep her gaze firmly directed on the man who had stolen her every logical thought. She was desperately trying not to be afraid of him. He did have the most beautiful eyes.

  “You’re much taller than I remember.”

  The words came out in a bare whisper. Lucas smiled. Her voice appealed to him. It was throaty, soft, damned arousing.

  “You’re much prettier than I remember.”

  Constance was right. He did have an adorable drawl in his voice.

  Chaos whirled around her. Everyone but Taylor and Lucas was suddenly talking at once. Constance and Jennifer were demanding to know when Taylor had met the stranger, Alison was begging for an introduction, William was arguing with his wife, and Hampton and Morris were loudly debating the possibility that Taylor might have already been introduced to the American, and how was that possible? Everyone knew Taylor had been in Scotland for the past several weeks, recovering from the humiliation, and when she was called back to London, she stayed cloistered with her ailing grandmother. When would she have had time to meet Lucas?

  Taylor couldn’t keep up with all the conversations going on around her. She was suddenly feeling quite exhilarated, however. The tightness inside her chest vanished. The chains binding her to England and to duty were being ripped away. She was going to be free. She knew that when she walked out of the ballroom, she would walk away from all the restrictions and responsibilities associated with England’s rigid society.

  She also knew she would never come back. She would never have to see her uncle Malcolm again, never have to look him in the eye and pretend she didn’t know about the atrocity he’d committed, never ever have to speak a civil word to him. She would never have to suffer Jane’s presence or cruelty again either, though that was certainly minor in comparison to her uncle’s sins, and she would never again have to feel ashamed or humiliated.

  Taylor let out another sigh. Freedom was just a few steps away.

  “Is it almost midnight, sir?”

  She blurted out her question, her eagerness sinfully evident. He gave her a quick nod in response. “We can leave now.”

  Everyone started pulling on her then. “Leave? Taylor, where is it you think you’re going?” Constance demanded to know.

  “Is she leaving with him?” Jennifer asked with a wave of her hand in Lucas’s direction. “She shouldn’t do that, should she? What will people think?”

  “Exactly when and where did you two meet?” Hampton asked.

  “They couldn’t have met before,” Morris stubbornly insisted.

  “You aren’t going anywhere with him,” William announced in a near shout so he’d be heard. He was so angry, the veins in the sides of his neck stood out. His complexion turned a splotchy, ugly red. “You’re coming with me, Taylor. I demand a word in private with you. This blackguard you’re lowering yourself to speak to is actually . . .”

  Alison interrupted him. “Do be quiet, William. Taylor, darling, please introduce me to this gentleman.”

  William wasn’t about to be dete
rred. He reached out to take hold of Taylor’s arm. Lucas’s command stopped him. It was whisper soft, yet chilling all the same.

  “I wouldn’t touch her if I were you.”

  He hadn’t raised his voice, and his tone was actually quite mild, but the warning was there all the same, and William reacted as though Lucas had roared the command. He took a quick step back. It was probably an instinctive reaction, Taylor thought, but it was still quite telling. William was actually afraid of the man.

  Jane let out a sharp gasp. “Keep Taylor here, William, while I go and fetch Father. He’ll know what to do.” She glared up at Lucas when she added, “My husband might be intimidated by you, but my father won’t be. He’s Taylor’s guardian.”

  Lucas gave Jane as much attention as he would a gnat flying by. He showed absolutely no reaction to her remarks and didn’t even bother to glance her way.

  Taylor decided to follow his example. She refused to look at her cousin when she gave her denial. “Your father is not my guardian.”

  “He will be,” Jane boasted. “Just as soon as the old lady dies. You’ll be sorry then, Taylor. Father’s going to lock you away before you can do or say anything further to disgrace us. Why, everyone knows you’re in need of a keeper.”

  Morris and Hampton were the first two to rush to Taylor’s defense. “You’re the disgraceful one, Jane Merritt,” Hampton fairly shouted. He lowered his voice when he added, “Haven’t you wondered why neither you nor William has received any invitations to the affairs this season? You have both been marked off all the lists,” he added with a nod.

  “The only reason you were invited tonight is because you received the invite a good week before you eloped. You’ve done yourself in this time,” Morris snapped. “Acting like a trollop with Taylor’s fiance. Tell me this. Are you really carrying William’s child or did you make that up to trap him?”

  “How dare you slander my character,” Jane cried out. She slapped her husband on his shoulder to gain his attention. “William, aren’t you going to defend my honor?”