RICHARD NARROWED HIS eyes. “You are never to do anything like that again, do you hear me? If you hadn’t come out here alone, this would have never happened. From now on, you are to tell me what you are doing at all times.” He grasped Sophie’s shoulders and squeezed. “You are never to do anything that stupid again.”

“Leave me alone, Richard. You don’t own me.” Sophie pushed at his chest.

He crossed his arms. “You’re a woman, Sophie—my woman. You need to remember that, and act accordingly. You’re my responsibility, and I have every say in what you do and don’t do.”

Sophie rubbed her temples. “I am most definitely not your woman, Richard. I don’t understand why you can’t get that fact through your thick head.”

“Sophie, I’m your protector and therefore, you need to adhere to my direction.”

She fisted her hands at her side. “My protector, Richard?” Sophie threw her arms up. “You’re an ass!” Stomping out of the barn, she didn’t make it to the doors.

Richard pulled her back to him, roughly grabbed her upper arms, and shook her.

“Get your hands off her,” James warned.

“Let go of me,” she ordered.

“Not until you do as I say.”

He squeezed harder and she whimpered. “Richard you’re hurting me.”

Richard didn’t budge. James walked over to him and physically removed him from her, staying between them. “I said, get your hands off her. You have no right to touch her like that.”

“Lieutenant, it’s none of your business,” Richard snarled.

“It became my business when you started man-handling her. I understand you’re upset, but it’s never acceptable to touch a woman in anger. Why don’t you take some time to pull yourself together and then you two can talk when you’re calmer?”

Sophie stood behind James and glared at Richard.

He grimaced and reached his hand out to her. “Sophie, I’m sorry.”

“Just go away, Richard. You’ve had too much to drink. Again.”

Christine approached and laid her hand on Richard’s arm. “Richard, why don’t we walk back to the house? Sophie will be fine with Lieutenant Emerson.”

Richard looked at Sophie, nodded at Christine, and they left the barn. When they were alone, James turned to Sophie. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

Her quiet groan echoed through the space. “Lieutenant Emerson, please call me Sophie, or even Mrs. Ford. I abhor ma’am.”

He cocked his head to the side. “There’s a little bit of blood on your lip. Let me wipe that off for you.”

Pulling out his handkerchief, he reached out to touch her lip, but she put her hands over her face and stifled a sob. He said nothing as he removed his jacket, settled it over her shoulders, and then gently pulled her into his arms. As she cried harder, he stroked her hair and held her closer. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Sophie let him hold her, drawing comfort from him.

He even smells like Jamie. What am I going to do?

Sophie took several deep breaths, stifled by hiccups, and then forced herself from his arms. “I’m so sorry, Lieutenant. I’m not normally this emotional.”

“You’ve had a rather terrifying experience. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t upset.” He cupped her cheek gently. “And please call me, James.”

“Thank you.” She looked up at him and gave him a small smile.

“Are you ready to go back to the house? I’m sure they’re concerned about you.”

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea.” She smoothed the front of her skirts and adjusted her bodice. “This night was meant for you and your men, and here I am keeping you from it. I apologize.”

“Don’t. It’s fine, truly.” Taking her hand, he gently folded it into the curve of his arm. She felt safe as they made their way out of the barn.

He patted her hand and Sophie gasped at the sight of his swollen, red knuckles. “Your hand! We need to get you some ice.”

He fisted and un-fisted his hand. “It’s fine.”

“Just how hard did you hit him?” Sophie’s eyes searched his.

He frowned. “Not hard enough. He’s still breathing.”

Sophie felt a flutter in her belly at the protective growl, so familiar to her. Taking a deep breath, she let him take her hand again and they made it back to the house to find Richard pacing the foyer. He turned as soon as he heard the door and started towards her. James quickly put himself between the two of them and Sophie smiled as she laid her hand on his back.

“It’s fine.” Removing the borrowed jacket, Sophie handed it back to James and watched as he moved to the corner of the foyer but not out of sight.

“Sophie, I apologize for raising my voice. Everyone was concerned when we were unable to locate you. At first I wasn’t as worried, thinking you were visiting Samson but when we got to the barn and heard you antagonizing that bastard and then saw him hit you, I just lost my mind. If James hadn’t acted so quickly, I think I might have killed him.”

Sophie scowled. “So, I was antagonizing him and that’s why he hit me?”

“That’s not what I said,” Richard argued.

“Actually, it’s exactly what you said. Why is it, Richard, that regardless of the situation, you jump to the conclusion that I somehow brought it on myself? You have this attitude that women are weak and incapable of doing anything without a big strong man around to guide us. I don’t know where you got the impression that you are my protector. I have never asked for that, nor promised more than friendship. I expect my friends to respect me. You seem incapable of that.”

“Sophie, that’s absurd.” He ran his hands through his hair.

“Which part, Richard? The part that you should respect me or the part that you think I am weak?”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion. That man was drunk and extremely aggressive.”

“You’re drunk and aggressive!”

Richard put his hands to his head in obvious frustration. “There was no way you could have fought him off.”

Sophie pointed at him in accusation. “Maybe not, but it doesn’t give you the right to rule over me.”

Richard reached out to touch her but she deflected him. He lowered his hand and closed it into a fist at his side. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Richard, I am safe.” She settled her palm over her chest in earnestness. “Look, I’m sorry if we scared you, and I’ll admit that we should have at least told someone where we were going, but you don’t own me and I certainly don’t answer to you. If you want this friendship to continue, I need you to remember that. Right now, I’d appreciate some space. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Richard nodded. “I don’t want to fight with you, Sophie. Truce?”

“Yes, truce. Now, why don’t the three of you go back in, and I’ll join you shortly.”

“I’ll stay with you.” Christine followed Sophie to her room. “Is everything all right? Well, besides the obvious?”

Sophie closed the door and took a deep breath. “Yes, I just needed a minute. Richard drives me crazy. I don’t understand where he gets off thinking he owns me. He’s so intense and I don’t always know how to react. The way he grabbed me tonight scared me, but it also made me angry, because I hate that he’s ruining our friendship.”

“What happened after we left the barn?”

Sophie shrugged. “I embarrassed myself by crying all over the poor lieutenant’s jacket and looking like a totally unbalanced female.”

Christine grimaced. “It was a frightening experience. I had a moment myself on the way back to the house. I thought Richard was going to have an apoplexy. He’s not accustomed to a crying female. Did the lieutenant understand?”

“Very much so. He was wonderful. Sweet and totally understanding. He held me and stroked my hair and made me feel protected and loved.” Sophie sat down on the trunk and put her face in her hands. “He reminds me so much of Jamie.”

If I could just get him to take off his shirt, I could confirm it.

“Well, we should go down to the party and try to forget this upset, have a pleasant evening, and put all of this behind us. What do you say?”

“All right, Christine, I’ll try. I have a wicked headache from trying to head butt that man and I’m sure the crying didn’t help.”

“I’ll bet Michael will have something. We’ll ask him.”

“Sounds good.” Sophie stood and followed Christine back downstairs. Walking through the foyer and down the hall to the ballroom, they saw James turn and look straight at Sophie. He was standing just outside the doors, and the vision of him took her back to her wedding. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed before, but he was wearing an exact replica of the uniform Jamie wore that day. She grabbed Christine’s hand for stability.

“What’s amiss?” Christine whispered.

Sophie took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. “Memories.”

They continued to the doors of the ballroom.

“Lieutenant Emerson, shouldn’t you be inside?” Christine smiled.

“I was taking some air and preparing to go inside when I saw you. I thought I’d wait and escort you in.”

“So, you weren’t waiting to make sure we were all right?” Sophie asked.

“Wouldn’t even think about it,” he said with a huge grin.

“Good answer.” Her heart beat double-time and she laid her palm over her chest as if to calm it.

James suddenly seemed nervous. “What’s wrong with your heart?”

“My heart?” She lowered her hand. “Nothing. I just do that sometimes, it’s an old habit.”

His stare lingered briefly but he didn’t comment further.

“Did you get ice for your hand?”

James studied the bruises. “No need.”

Sophie turned to Christine. “I’m going to take the Lieutenant to the kitchen, go on in without me.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “Is that wise?”

Sophie frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Christine pulled her aside. “You shouldn’t be alone with a man.”

“How am I alone? The house is full of guests, not to mention staff. I promise I won’t find an empty room and kiss him senseless—tonight.”

Christine’s face turned beet red. “You are terrible.”

Sophie giggled. “I know. Now, go join the party.” Sophie walked her back to the doors of the ballroom and waited for Christine to let herself inside before facing the Lieutenant. “Follow me, please.”

“Ma’am, it’s really not necessary.”

Her head whipped up. “If you call me ‘ma’am’ one more time, I’ll convince Michael to amputate that hand,” she threatened as she led him down one corridor and then another on their way to the kitchen.

James laughed. A loud, deep, belly laugh, and Sophie nearly lost her mind. It was the same. The exact same.

“You have quite the vicious sense of humor, ma—I mean, Sophie.”

Sophie grinned. “Good save.”

Voices and smells wafted through the hallway as the couple arrived at the kitchen, and Sophie led him inside, a smile covering her face when she saw the cook directing everyone in her matronly voice.

When Sophie had first met Mary, she was taken aback. The woman was taller than she was—and thinner. She reminded Sophie of a flamingo, however, her countenance was that of a strict governess and her dark brown hair, peppered with gray, didn’t fit Sophie’s idea of what a nineteenth-century cook would look like, but she instantly loved her all the same. Sophie had always been drawn to the older generation, the crankier the better, and Jamie used to tell her she could charm the socks off anyone over the age of fifty.

“How’s my favorite cook?” Sophie asked as she approached the woman.

“You stop right there, Missie. You’re not allowed in my kitchens.”

“As you’ve said, Mary. However, I have a soldier with a nasty bruised hand and I was hoping you might have some ice for him.”

Mary stared at James, suspicion in her eyes. “Why does he have a bruised hand?”

Sophie leaned over and whispered, “He was defending my honor.”

A grunt was Mary’s only reply as she turned and found a block of ice and an ice pick. Sophie watched James’s expression as the woman picked off a mound of ice and nearly giggled as he stepped back slightly. Mary was quite adept at using the ice pick—a little too adept.

Wrapping the shavings into a sackcloth, Mary handed it to Sophie and then shooed her from the room but not before Sophie caught her quick wink. Sophie led James down the hall and to a small alcove that housed a bench perfect for the couple to sit on before joining the party. “Sit.”

He did so, and Sophie pulled his injured hand toward her. She laid the icepack gently over his knuckles, holding it in place as she sat and settled his hand on her lap. Raising her head, she caught his expression, and her heart stammered at the confusion she read in his eyes, but then he smiled and the look was gone.

“Better?” Her voice was gravelly with emotion.

“Much.” His smile deepened. “Thank you.”

“Miss Sophie?”

Sophie looked up to find Betty walking quickly toward them. “Hi, Betty. Did you need something?”

“I was asked to retrieve you, ma’am.”

Sophie stood and tried to keep the irritation from her voice. “Retrieve me?”

James stood as well and Betty stepped back slightly. “Yes’m.”

“By whom?” he asked.

Betty cleared her throat but didn’t answer the question.

“Betty?” Sophie crossed her arms. “By whom?”

Betty studied her shoes. “Mr. Madden.”

“Thank you, Betty,” Sophie said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Betty didn’t budge. Sophie narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I am to escort you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Feeling a hand gently touch her back, Sophie took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Betty, you don’t work for Richard Madden, so please don’t worry about getting into trouble. I’ll be along shortly.”

Before Betty could respond, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway and Sophie glared as Richard approached. “You are supposed to be in the ballroom.”

“And you are supposed to be giving me space,” she countered.

“What were you doing?”

“None of your business.”

Richard turned his gaze to the lieutenant. “Missing your mama, James? Has the ice helped?”

James chuckled but Sophie moved to strike. “You are such a jerk!”

“Sophie,” James whispered in warning under his breath, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Sophie, come back inside, and we’ll dance.” Richard’s tone was laced with warning.

“She doesn’t dance,” James said, and Sophie’s head whipped to him. His face contorted in confusion. “Am I right? How did I know that?”

“You are right, James. And it’s not really a secret,” she said, then focused back on Richard. “Even if I did, however, I’m wouldn’t dance with you, and I’m not coming back inside until I know my guest is comfortable.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Mrs. Ford.” James handed the ice to Betty. “Shall we return?”

Sophie shook, anger coursing through her veins, as she tried to get her emotions under control. “Yes, lieutenant. Let’s join the party.”

Richard offered his arm but Sophie glared at him before wrapping her hand in the crook of James’s elbow. Catching the flash of anger in Richard’s eyes, she ignored him and swept her hand in front of her. “After you, Mr. Madden.”

Richard paused for several seconds but eventually made his move toward the ballroom. Sophie held James back for a few extra seconds and then let him lead her in the same direction.

“You are poking the bear, Mrs. Ford.”

Sophie gasped at the use of one of her favorite expressions. She used to warn Jamie the same way when Luke was angry. For whatever reason, Jamie liked to push his best friend almost to the point of physical altercation and Sophie never understood why. “Where did you hear that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“That expression. I didn’t realize it was common in, uh—these parts.”

James’s eyebrows puckered. “I’m not certain. I don’t believe I’ve ever used it before, but it seemed appropriate in this situation.”

Sophie chuckled. “Most definitely. And yes, I’m poking the bear. He’s being a jerk and I don’t care for it.”

They arrived at the doors of the ballroom, Richard standing sentry and glaring in James’s general direction. James escorted Sophie inside, the moment was forgotten, and the rest of the evening passed without incident.

The party wrapped up just after midnight and Sophie couldn’t have been more relieved. Exhausted and wanting to curl up in a ball and sleep for a year, she waited with Christine in the foyer and said farewell to the final guests with Michael and Nona, as Richard and James both walked up. Michael and Nona said their goodnights and then the girls walked the men out to the front porch. James said farewell to Christine and turned to Sophie.

“Mrs. Ford, it was very nice to meet you. Thank you for a lovely evening.” Her stomach somersaulted as he took her hand and kissed it.

As he lowered his hand, she noticed something on his palm. “Lieutenant, how did you get that scar on your hand?”

He stared at it briefly before answering, “I don’t remember.”

“That’s quite a nasty scar not to remember how you got it.”

Richard interrupted any further conversation by taking both Sophie’s hands in his. He kissed them, lingering a little longer than was perhaps necessary, and forcing her to smell his alcohol-laden breath. “Sophie, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

Sophie and Christine went upstairs, helped each other out of their dresses, and then went to bed. Sophie, too emotionally drained to dwell on the bizarre night, fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

“Ten-Cow, are you remembering now?”

“Jamie?” Sophie opened her eyes, but it wasn’t Jamie standing over her bed. “James?”

“Remember the cut?”

Sophie thought back to the night Jamie made dinner and the shout she’d heard from the kitchen. Rushing into the room, she found blood everywhere, and Jamie standing over the sink with a bloody towel wrapped around his hand, his face pinched in pain.

“Baby, what happened?” Sophie asked.

“I sliced open my hand. Damn, it hurts. If I can just get the bleeding stopped, I think it’ll be fine. We’ll wrap it tight and I’ll be good to go.”

“Let me have a look.”

A trip to the hospital ended with eight stitches and a scar that was a constant reminder of how close Jamie came to losing function in his left hand.

* * *

Sophie jerked awake and sat up slowly.

James.

Jamie. Looks like him, sounds like him, has identical scar. If I could just get him to show me his chest.

“For more than just confirmation,” Sophie said aloud, her body suddenly aroused.