The month of May brought the summer in earnest and after the rain ceased each day seemed hotter than the one before. Cotton had been planted and the spring’s work done. The mill was now operating at nearly full capacity and the lumber yard was beginning to fill. As soon as the newly sawed boards and timber had seasoned for a few weeks in the sun the first shipments would be made. Orders had already been placed for several month’s worth of the mill’s products. Mr. Webster’s able talents had proven themselves and he kept the saws humming and the pond full of ready timber. All indications were that this first season would turn a handsome profit, and Brandon was well pleased with the progress.

Now as the long, hot days bore heavy on the minds the gay life of the planters began. The first party of the summer’s social whirl was set at Harthaven the weekend following. A great deal of Heather’s attention was directed toward the preparations for this gay event. Invitations were sent out, champagne purchased, foods planned. She conversed with Hatti about new uniforms for the house staff and the mansion’s overall appearance while the gardeners strove to meet her approval by manicuring the grounds to perfection.

While Heather’s time was taken up planning the party and tending Beau, Brandon found himself more and more the extra man at the mill. He now had time to spend with his wife and son and set into motion his own strategy of winning a place beside her in the huge bed. So it was with considerable malice aforethought that he chose this day to gently bribe her. He had purchased earlier in the week a small, fine chestnut mare with flashing white stockings aforefoot and a startling blaze across her face. She was a spirited but gentle filly and one he thought his wife could easily take to. He smiled to himself as he put the sidesaddle astride the animal and caressed the leather where his wife would sit, thinking what the gift might lead to. He would be most gentle with her as he taught her how to handle the beast, and he might even gain a soft kiss or two this very day.

Smiling at his thoughts, he led Leopold and the mare to the front of the house and tying them there, mounted the steps to the porch. Heather was in the drawing room, carefully stitching a shirt for him, and she was so intent upon her task that she failed to notice his entry into the house. He leaned against the door sill and watched her for a long moment as she sat unaware of his presence. Their son indulged in an afternoon nap in a wicker crib near her, having been fed just a short time earlier, and that too worked to his advantage. He smiled as her brows drew together over a difficult stitch.

“Don’t frown so, my love,” he teased. “Or you’ll be looking like that prune-faced Mrs. Scott.”

Heather jumped at his first word. “Brandon, you gave me a fright!”

He grinned in a roguish way. “Did I now?” he questioned softly. “Well, I’m sorry, sweet. I didn’t mean to.”

Heather laughed and put her sewing aside as he came forward, more handsome than any man she had ever seen. The sun had darkened his skin to a deep tan and his green eyes seemed to shine that much brighter. He looked quite manly and masculine in casual riding attire, and her heart beat a little faster with his presence.

He stopped before her and reaching out for her hand, pulled her to her feet, noticing as he did so the soft, sweet scent of her perfume. As he led her into the hall he told Joseph to fetch Mary to sit with the baby, then turned again to his wife who looked up at him quite perplexed.

“Where are we going?” she inquired.

He smiled as he put his hand behind her back and urged her forward.

“Just outside,” he replied, noncommittal.

Heather walked out onto the porch and glanced around to see the two horses tied to the hitching post, both awaiting riders and the smaller one bearing a sidesaddle. She lifted a questioning gaze to her husband and he flashed her a grin.

“Don’t you like her? I never asked if you were fond of horses or could ride, but it will be an easy matter for me to teach you—your health permitting, madam.”

She laughed brightly as she hurried down the steps to the mare. “I’m in perfect health,” she said over her shoulder.

Brandon’s grin broadened and he quickly followed.

Quite taken with the trim and shapely filly, Heather caressed the silky nose and smoothed the chestnut mane and could not contain her excitement.

“Oh, Brandon, she’s lovely. What’s her name?”

“Lady Fair,” he replied.

“Oh, it’s most fitting. She is a fair lady.” She whirled to him and smiled. “Will you lift me up?”

He raised an eyebrow and pointedly gazed at the light and low cut summer dress she wore.

“Don’t you think you’d better change, my sweet? That dress is not the most . . .”

“No,” she interrupted, thrusting out a lower lip in a feigned pout. “I want to ride her now and it would take too long to change.” Her mouth curved in a cajoling smile as she ran a finger down the buttons of his waistcoat. “Please, Brandon. Please.”

He chuckled at her coquettish pleading and could do nothing but give in to her. He bent and clasped his hand to receive her dainty foot, then raised her up. After seating herself and placing a knee about the horn, Heather bent low to set her foot firmly in the stirrup. The low cut gown she wore fell away from her bosom and presented to Brandon every detail of those lovely, round breasts it sought to cover. He stood frozen, his hands holding the reins, his eyes fastened on her display. He swallowed with difficulty and a sound much like a groan escaped him. Heather lifted her eyes to his face and her lips curved softly upward as she met his gaze in warm communication. Brandon’s heart thudded heavily within his chest, and his hand was half raised to her when she straightened, leaving him somewhat bewildered. But one could hardly fondle his wife on the front steps of his home. Regretfully he handed her up the reins.

Heather took them in a practiced grip, much to his surprise, and wheeling the mare away from him, with well-placed heel, she sent the horse dashing down the lane to the fields. Brandon leaped astride Leopold and with great concern riding his mind, sent the huge black thundering after her. A race ensued and Heather, with lighthearted abandon, turned the mare from the lane and sent her dodging through the trees. Leopold’s huge hooves sent clods of earth flying as he strove to follow the twisting path, but was forced to slow his pace much to Brandon’s consternation. Thus the mare held her lead until they reached an open field and the laboring black could stretch his mighty tendons to their advantage. He rapidly overtook Lady Fair, and Heather pulled her horse back to a walk as Brandon drew up beside and laughed at the worried frown upon his face.

“You laid me false, madam,” he finally chuckled when he could see the humor of her play. “But your skill is exceeded only by your lack of common sense.”

“Ha!” she returned impertinently. “I’ve ridden to the hounds, and given a deeper grove you’d still be panting at my heels.”

She laughed again and urged her mount into an easy lope across the fields. Leopold, warmed by the sprint and sensing the mare, lifted his feet high in a jolting prance, fought the reins and continually sidled close upon her heels. The ride continued until they topped a grassy, windswept knoll, and Heather stopped to let Lady Fair blow and cool in the gentle breeze.

Giving Leopold a damning glare as he finished tying the reins to a bush, Brandon came around to lift Heather down. Reaching up he gently grasped her beneath the bosom, and she laughed gaily as she dropped her hands upon his broad shoulders, having thoroughly enjoyed his gift and the ride. He stood close beside the horse, and as she slid to the ground her thigh brushed hard against his loin, the contact catching them both unaware. Heather moved quickly away, her leg burning with the touch. Behind her Brandon put his hand on the mare and closed his eyes, intense desire for his wife torturing him and making him tremble. The unexpected contact had made him acutely conscious of the celibate life he had led since first he caressed and wooed that sweet, young body months before. His flesh betrayed his need, rising up against his will. He was hungry for her and could hardly restrain himself from gathering her up into his arms and finding the softest, sweetest grass on which to lay her. He imagined his haste to free her from her garments, possibly even tearing them if they resisted his fingers, and he thought of the eyebrows that would raise. He cursed the lack of privacy they had, recalling the many frustrating times he had been interrupted just when he thought he was gaining ground. But he was not planning for just one roll in the grass, rather a lifetime of pleasure-filled moments. He must think first of his goal and of gently courting her and not of fulfilling his momentary desires.

He struggled for control, finding it with an effort, and finally moved to stand behind her and to gaze out over the hazy, wooded hills. He slid his arms around her, folding them before her as she leaned back against him and touched his lips to her hair, breathing in the sweet fragrance that was a part of her. As they stood bathing in this new found togetherness and each other’s nearness, Heather turned soft blue eyes up to him and smiled slowly, her lips moist and parted. Brandon needed no other invitation to taste their honey sweetness. He lowered his head and his mouth moved over hers hungrily, and seemingly by magic Heather turned in his arms and melted more closely to him, slipping her hands behind his back. His arm tightened about her waist and his other encircled her shoulders, crushing her to him, and she clung to him, wanting the moment to go on forever. His kiss filled her with desire, leaving every muscle in her body weak and pliable. She felt his thighs hard pressed against her own and realized his passion matched hers. Her lips parted under his mounting fervor and she rose on her toes to fit herself more intimately with his body.

With a gust, the wind changed and whipped the grass about their feet, and the first large drops of a summer thunderstorm struck their heads. They drew apart and looked up to see that the storm was upon them. Brandon then knew frustration so thorough he almost raised a fist toward the blackened sky, but Heather was already running toward the horses. He followed and swung her up on Lady Fair and quickly mounted his own steed. The gale struck in full force, and long before they reached the shelter of Harthaven they were drenched to the skin and their clothes and hair lay plastered to them. From the edge of the pine forest they raced across the lawn to the porch with Leopold arriving several lengths ahead. In the drenching downpour Brandon lifted Heather from the saddle and carried her to the porch and then ran back to tie the horses. As he did Heather gazed downward to find her garments only a transparent film over her body, clinging closely to every curve. With the chill of the wet clothes her nipples rose taut and stood in small peaks against her bodice. She picked at the fabric, pulling it away from her skin, not wanting to face Jeff or Joseph in this condition. Brandon hurried up the steps out of the downpour and seeing her, understood her predicament. He quickly shed his waistcoat and wrapped it around her, then hugged her close as he whispered in her ear.

“I wouldn’t want to fight anyone over you today.”

She giggled and they staggered together into the house, laughing in carefree glee. Their mirth ended as they came face to face with Hatti’s disgruntled frown. She stood with hands on hips and shook her head at them and pursed her mouth at her master.

“Master Bran, I swear sometimes I think you ain’t got a lick of sense. What you wanna take that child out riding in the rain for and her just barely over having Master Beau. Lordy me, she’s gonna catch her death of the ague.” She grunted disapprovingly. “Now, Miss Heather, you get yourself right upstairs and out of them wet clothes.”

She grasped Heather’s elbow and gave her no choice in the matter, and Brandon chuckled as his wife was towed up the stairs like a child by the worried old Negress. At the landing, Hatti turned and shook her finger at him.

“You just stand there and laugh and you gonna have Master Beau without his mammy one of these days.”

She turned and stomped angrily toward the bedroom, dragging her much bemused mistress in her wake. Heather smiled over her shoulder at her husband and blew him a kiss before she was pulled out of sight. Brandon stared upward for a moment, reflecting upon her parting gesture. He smiled to himself, feeling quite satisfied with the day after all. He shucked his boots then ran in stocking feet up the stairs to the sitting room where he found dry clothes and a towel laid out for him upon the bed. He stripped and was toweling himself dry when he heard a splash of water from the next room and the door close and Hatti’s footsteps going down the stairs. He moved quietly to the door between the rooms and eased it carefully open to find Heather sitting in the tub with her back to him. As he watched she leaned back and raised a water-laden sponge above her and squeezed it, letting a streaming torrent gush down her arms and full, ripe breasts. She began to hum a vaguely familiar air and soon the words broke from her lips.

 

 

He stood and watched her lather her silken skin, lifting a slender leg to soap it well, then the other as he listened to the happy, lilting sound of her voice. After a few moments the strain upon him began to tell and he gently eased the door shut. Turning, he leaned his back against the sill and mentally rubbed his hands together, overjoyed at the unfounded success of his plans.

He remembered with clarity the sultry smiles, the startling display of her breasts, the fiery kiss and the moment just before the storm broke when she had molded her body to his in the most provocative way.

“It had to be love and willingness I saw within her eyes and felt against me this afternoon,” he thought. “And with but a simple urging she’ll most surely yield to me tonight.”

He laughed softly to himself. “With our play we’ll make that old bed tremble like it’s never done before. Oh, tonight—tonight I will take her again and my monkish ways will end, for I will play a lusty song between her thighs and know the sweetness of being born again within her.”

With renewed vigor, he dressed and found himself humming snatches of the song she had been singing. He left the room with light-hearted step and kept himself busy with simple tasks until the evening’s feasting hour was near.

* * *

Heather woke from a nap, feeling greatly refreshed, and lay still for a moment, listening to the sound of the house in the quickening dusk. When she thought of the afternoon, she could still feel Brandon’s arms around her and his warm lips upon hers and the full length of their bodies pressed tightly together. Her pulse quickened and she knew they would soon be sharing this great bed.

She stretched upon it and almost cried out in pain, for it seemed every muscle in her body was stiff and unbearably sore and aching. She hadn’t realized the unaccustomed exercise of the ride would affect her so. She could hardly move. Carefully she eased herself to the edge of the bed and stood up, rubbing her misused buttocks in misery. Her slow movements about the room brought Mary with Beau. When the babe was again asleep in his crib the young girl attended her mistress, rubbing a soothing balm over her aching muscles and the abused posterior. She helped her dress for dinner, selecting a cool, white gown and the pearl necklace that Heather wore quite often now. Narrow red ribbons dangled over the mass of soft ringlets, and despite the way Heather felt, she looked most ravishing and quite tempting as the pearls dipped coyly between her breasts which swelled generously above the gown’s décolletage.

With slow, careful step Heather managed to descend the stairs and enter the drawing room. Jeff stopped in mid sentence as he saw her painfully making her way, and Brandon turned quickly with a smile to welcome her. His gay expression faded as she stood undecided before him and returned his greeting with an apologetic murmur.

“I fear I overdid this afternoon, Brandon.”

He laughed softly and offered his sympathy, not yet aware of the full import of her statement. As the evening wore on, his disappointment was drawn out to its extremes. He studied her slow, agonized movements and saw her wince now and again. She lowered herself into a chair at the table and grimaced, squirming uncomfortably until Hatti brought her a small pillow to sit upon. After sitting through the meal she had stiffened and was almost unable to rise. Brandon took her arm and helped her out of the chair, and as he did so the luminescent pearls, drooping between those swelling breasts, aggravated his sorely depressed disposition further.

The evening was but a foundling youth when she drew the brothers’ attention with a brief struggle to rise from the settee. She turned an almost tearful face to her brother-in-law.

“Jeff, you simply must forgive me,” she implored. “I’m afraid I haven’t been very good company this evening, and I must now beg your leave to retire.”

He bowed slightly, clicking his heels. “Your beauty is always refreshing company, madam, and I regret that you will leave me now, but I quite understand. Until tomorrow then, sweet sister.”

She nodded and raised her hand and her eyes to Brandon, silently begging his assistance. He helped her up and holding her arm tightly, aided her progress to the foot of the stairs. She mounted the first several steps and her movements were so painful and awkward that Brandon bent down and took her up into his arms. She slid her arms about his neck as he carried her up and sighing, dropped her head against his shoulder.

Below, Mary made to follow to assist her mistress but found her arm seized by her grandmother.

“Let them alone, child,” Hatti directed wisely. “The missus don’t need your help tonight.”

Brandon pushed open the door to the master bedroom and carried his wife in. He sat her gently on the edge of the bed and knelt to remove her stockings and slippers, his hands hesitating a brief moment at the frilly garters. He swallowed hard and touched the warm flesh of her thigh with unsteady fingers and slid the garter down her leg. He stood undecided with her stocking in his hands as she pushed herself slowly from the bed and stood up. She turned her back to him.

“Will you unfasten me?” she requested. “Mary doesn’t seem to be coming.”

He obeyed and when she let the gown fall to the floor, he bent and picked it up as she rubbed her buttocks in agony.

“I’m afraid my softer parts have been abused. I should have been wiser and not tried so much. I regret that I was not.”

Brandon bit off an agreeing reply and went to get her a nightgown from where he had last seen them in his search for his own clothes. He selected one and turned to bring it to her but stopped short when he saw her standing in the candlelight, her chemise at her feet, her young, graceful body bare and glowing golden in the soft light. His eyes went over her slowly in a longing caress. Childbirth had not depreciated her figure nor marred the silken flesh. In fact, she now bore a mature fullness of womanhood which he found terribly disconcerting at the moment. His mouth was dry and his hands shook and all his senses were completely occupied with her. He swallowed hard and brought the gown to her and helplessly feasted his eyes as she donned it. As she bent slightly, pulling it over her head, he saw black and blue marks and angry red welts upon the otherwise flawless buttocks. He sighed softly and mentally committed himself to several more chaste nights alone.

Hearing his sigh, Heather finished tying the bow beneath her bosom and turned to him. She slid her arms behind his neck.

“I beg your forgiveness, Brandon,” she murmured. “It seems that common sense is indeed among my less notable virtues.”

She pulled his head down to her and placed a fleeting kiss upon his lips, then turned and painfully crawled into the depths of the huge bed.

Brandon stood grinding his teeth, telling himself over and over that it simply wasn’t gentlemanly to take a woman in this condition, especially one’s own wife. His better instincts won the argument, much to the disappointment of his alter ego. He blew out the candles then went into the sitting room where he removed his coat and waistcoat and stared at the tiny bed, thinking many ill thoughts about it. He had an aversion to entering it for another night, and he cursed it beneath his breath. In exasperation he snatched up a towel and fled the room and down the stairs. Jeff was coming from the study when he passed, and the brother stopped and gestured toward the towel.

“Where the devil are you bound for?”

“I’m going to take a bath in the creek,” Brandon said shortly.

“It’s freezing cold!” Jeff warned.

“I know!” Brandon growled and went about his way with his brother’s laughter ringing in his ears.

The next day was a flurry of activity in preparation for the ball. Several house guests, among them Abegail Clark, arrived in the late afternoon. Although Hatti’s balm had done wonders for her, Heather played the hostess with a stiffness that was neither manner nor mien. She suffered another massage before bed and by morning was feeling as bright and gay as ever. She spent the day in fevered activity, assuring that all necessary preparations were complete.

Brandon had departed for Charleston early to attend business. The first shipments of lumbers had been made and payments received and there were finances to be settled now that money had begun to roll in. The morning had been spent taking care of a multitude of items from one end of the city to the other, and a break in the busy schedule had been taken at the noon hour. Brandon was just returning to his affairs when he passed a small sewing shop and was nearly flattened by a heavily laden Miss Scott.

As usual Sybil became flustered and uncertain at the mere sight of Brandon, and she struggled mightily with this affliction as he helped her gather up her packages again. She was decked out in her expensive finery and felt very irresistible. She possessed an overconfidence her gentlemen friends had brought into being since she had come out of her shy cocoon and found them panting on her doorstep, seeking her charms. She was so taken with their flattering compliments she did not guess they were all after only one thing.

“Imagine running into you when I most need a strong, handsome man to come to my aid, Mister Birmingham,” she flirted, fluttering eyelids heavily drawn with kohl. Even under many layers of cosmetics, poorly though amply applied, her plainness was evident. She straightened her eyeglasses as he tipped his hat courteously and pushed the bundles into his arms, missing the raised eyebrow he cast her way as she continued on.

“These things are just too heavy for poor little me. Now if you’ll just follow me I’ll show you to my buggy.”

Brandon obeyed as he listened politely to her endless chatter.

“I’m just so excited about the ball tonight. I’ve had such a lovely gown made, but I’m afraid I just simply blush every time I put it on. I’ve never owned anything so daring before. The dressmaker does say I do wonders for it though. He knows so much about women’s clothes, you know. He came from England and tells me some of the most beautiful women in the world have worn his gowns. But you’d never be able to guess it, the way he looks. He’s terribly, terribly ugly. Why, I’d almost feel sorry for him if it wasn’t for the way he looks at me. I had to slap his hands this morning, you know, and he looked so shocked afterward that I couldn’t help but laugh at him. Imagine, a man like that thinking I might favor his attention!”

She stopped in crossing the street to wait for a carriage and looked up at him shyly.

“He’s not the sort of man I fancy at all.”

Brandon coughed uncomfortably and looked around for a sign of her buggy.

“You know, Mr. Birming . . . Brandon,” she managed, sounding a little nervous. “I—I have so many gentlemen callers now I simply lose count when I try to think of them all.” Her eyes lifted to his. “I don’t call any of them my true love though. There’s only one man I consider that and he doesn’t come calling.”

“Is your buggy near here?” Brandon questioned uneasily.

“Do you find me attractive, Brandon?” she asked suddenly.

“Why—yes, yes, Miss Sybil,” he lied kindly.

She giggled and caught her breath and looked at him again. “As attractive as your wife?”

He glanced around for the carriage again, thinking of Heather, soft and lovely, and he wondered how Sybil could even ask such a question.

“Oh, that was unfair of me, wasn’t it?” she warbled. “Naturally being married to her, you’d have to say she was prettier or be thought a cad, wouldn’t you?”

“I think my wife is a very beautiful woman, Miss Sybil,” he said, trying to hide his annoyance.

“Oh yes, and she is too,” Sybil replied readily. She giggled again. “I’ve been told I’m beautiful too. Why, just the other day Mr. Bartlett told me so.”

Brandon glanced at her with a start. The hair on the back of his neck bristled at the mere mention of the man’s name. “Mr. Bartlett is one of your callers?”

“Why, yes,” she smiled. “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” Brandon muttered. “I know him.” He sighed heavily and eyed her. “Tell me, Miss Sybil, what does your mother say about your gentlemen friends?”

Her brow knitted in confusion. “She won’t speak of them. I don’t know why. She always wanted me to have lots of beaus and now when I do, she won’t even set foot in the parlor when one of them is there.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t think they’re fit company for you, Miss Sybil.”

She giggled happily and fluttered her thin lashes. “Why, Brandon. I do believe you’re jealous.”

He sighed in exasperation and was greatly relieved when she stopped at a buggy. He placed the bundles on the seat for her, and as he turned to tip his hat in farewell Sybil smiled and reached out to pick an imaginary bit of lint from his coat just as she had seen Heather do in church.

“I’ll be looking forward to having a dance with you tonight, Brandon,” she murmured. “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“Why, Miss Sybil, you’ll probably be so occupied with beaus, I won’t be able to get near you,” he replied, taking his hurried leave. He turned and found a group of ladies gawking at them, and he touched his hat in greeting and continued on his way.

Brandon searched through the wardrobes and bureaus in the master bedroom for his clothes and cast an occasional sidelong glance at Heather who sat before the mirror in a light shift while Mary arranged her hair into an elegant coiffure, twining narrow turquoise ribbons in and out through the lustrous strands. He brought out a box he had tucked away in a bottom drawer and set it before his wife.

“My mother loved jewelry,” he said, rather hoarsely, finding her barely concealed bosom unnerving. “She left part of it to me and part to Jeff for our wives when we married. This is my share. You might find something in here you wish to wear.”

He lifted the lid and Heather gasped at the contents. It contained a vast assortment of jewelry abounding with different types of precious stones.

“Oh, Brandon, I never, ever, dreamed I’d own even one piece of jewelry, and here you gift me with so much at once. What can I say? You spoil me so.”

He laughed and placed a warm kiss upon her shoulder, his beard tickling her soft flesh, and met her gaze in the mirror.

“No longer the cad, my sweet?” he questioned softly against her ear.

She shook her head and her eyes deepened in color as a pleasant sensation ran through her body. “No, never, my love.”

Brandon left her to her primping, feeling reassured. He bathed and began to dress, thinking of how her eyes had darkened when he kissed her. He straightened his lace-edged stock and slid the emerald green coat over the white waistvest. Except for his silk coat and his black gold-buckled shoes, he was attired in flawless white and his tanned skin seemed that much darker against the lightness of his shirt. When he was done, he regarded himself critically in the mirror, wondering if she would find him handsome.

As Heather came down the stairs, the long pleats of her vivid turquoise gown swished about her and seemed to open and close in a strange undulating pattern as she walked. The gown clung closely to her slender body and about her long limbs, and the shallow bodice pressed her bosom upward until she was precariously close to overflowing its bounds. When men first saw her, they seemed to hold their breaths in anticipation of that event. Brandon was the first to display this unique reaction to her dress. She was standing by the front windows, looking out, when he came down the stairs, whistling gaily, extremely light of spirit. She glanced around at him and greatly admired the splendid masculine figure he presented. When he saw her, he smiled broadly and came to stand near. He reached out to tease one of the diamond earrings that dangled prettily from her ears. It was the only jewelry she wore.

“Are you nervous, sweet?”

“Only a little,” she replied.

She turned to face him and watched his eyes drop to her bosom and widen with surprise. His breath seemed caught in his throat. Knowing Louisa would be coming, she had worn the gown for the purpose of keeping his attention on herself and not allowing it to wander to the other woman. Finally Brandon coughed lightly and regained his tongue.

“Perhaps you should wear something a little less revealing, madam.”

Materializing from somewhere behind them, Jeff laughed and came to stand beside his brother. Heather was very conscious of both men’s eyes upon her.

“Let her wear it, Brandon. You never let the rest of us have any fun,” he said and smiled. “Of course, I can understand how you feel. If she were mine, I’d keep her under lock and key.” He half turned to his brother and loudly whispered. “You know she looks a hell of a lot better than Louisa.”

Heather threw her arms akimbo and stamped her tiny foot as if in anger, and Brandon blanched, expecting to see her come out of her gown.

“Now, Jeff, if you want to ruin my evening, just mention that woman’s name again!” she declared.

Jeff chuckled and clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Come on, Bran. Don’t play the Quaker tonight. Let her wear it. She looks too damned beautiful. Don’t make her change, and I promise I’ll try not to look at her too hard this evening.”

Brandon scowled blackly at his brother and started to say something but changed his mind. Instead he turned back to Heather.

“Wear what pleases you, madam,” he said, none too happily.

Jeff laughed and rubbed his hands together. “Oh, I think this is going to be one hell of a party.” He took Heather’s hand and placed it into the bend of his arm. “Come, sweet sister, I must show you off to the house guests.”

Heather smiled over her shoulder at Brandon as she let her brother-in-law led her away, but he frowned and looked around as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. As she entered the drawing room, she glanced back to see him going into the study and some moments later he joined them, carrying a liberally filled brandy snifter.

Brandon stood first at the door to greet his guests and made certain that all the bachelors were passed quickly onto Jeff and given minimum opportunity to leer at his wife. Louisa swept in with a wide smile on the arm of a new beau. Her eyes rested briefly on Heather’s décolletage before she spoke a greeting, and the smile faded somewhat. Her own gown of yellow silk was just as low and slightly transparent, but her self-assurance was rather shaken to see visible proof that Heather needed no stuffing for her gown.

“Why, my dear Heather, you look quite charming this evening,” she said, recovering slightly from the shock. “Motherhood seems to agree with you.”

“You’re very kind, Louisa,” Heather replied smoothly. “But I’m sure I must seem quite dowdy beside you. That is a lovely gown you’re wearing.”

Louisa smiled slowly as her eyelids drooped a little over her brown eyes. She lightly ran a hand across her bosom as if wanting to bring attention to the transparency of her dress.

“Yes, isn’t it. Thomas designed it especially for me. He is quite clever with the needle, don’t you think?”

Heather had only a chance to smile a reply before the woman went on.

“Did you have your gown made here, darling? I never see you in any of the shops in Charleston. Don’t tell me Brandon has become a penny pincher since he married you. He was always so generous before.”

“He had this gown made for me in London,” Heather replied rather brittlely.

“Yes, of course,” Louisa smiled. “It must have been that same shop where he bought some gowns for me.”

Heather chose to ignore the woman’s crude barbs. It was Brandon who felt the irritation and anger because his former mistress couldn’t acknowledge his marriage and treat his wife with at least a nominal respect.

“Did you also get those earrings in London?” Louisa inquired. “For some reason they seem familiar.”

“They belonged to Brandon’s mother,” Heather answered.

Louisa stiffened. “Yes, I recognize them now,” she said and without another word strode haughtily away.

Jeff chuckled as he bent near Heather’s ear. “You’ve cut her to the quick, Tory. She had already laid claim to everything that was Brandon’s.”

It was some moments later when Matthew Bishop arrived by himself, free by choice to direct his attention to any young woman who happened to catch his fancy. His raiment was composed of the finest of pinkish gray silk with a light plum jacket to accentuate the hue. His stock rose so high it seemed about to swallow his chin as great billows of lace tumbled down his chest and hung from his cuffs to nearly cover his hands. He doffed his plumed hat and ignoring his host, stepped to take Heather’s hand. Brandon mumbled a hasty introduction and tried to urge him on, but the man held his place and spoke in reply.

“Brandon, I always admired your taste in horses but I never dreamt you could extend it to the realms of feminine pulchritude with such an amazing degree of success.” He turned to Heather with a confident smile. “Madam, you are most enchanting.” And lowering his gaze to her bosom he continued. “Your beauty makes my poor heart flutter and your charms almost bring a stutter to my tongue.”

He bent low over her hand for what seemed to her husband an unduly long time. Brandon reddened slightly and clenched his fist. When Matt rose again, it was Jeff who took his arm and ushered him quickly into the ballroom, out of harm’s way.

The music was quick as another dance began, and Brandon took his wife by the hand and presented her to the ballroom. Two lines were formed by gay couples, one of the belles, the other their escorts, and Heather found herself swept along in the happy group. A minuet followed and Brandon bowed to her as it began, where in turn she smiled and sank into a deep curtsy before him. They grapevined, toepointed and crossed to the music while he, quite frequently, cast anxious glances toward her bosom. When the dances were done, he drew her aside and spoke low.

“Madam, you’re ruining my evening with that gown. I beg for some consideration.”

She raised innocent eyes to him. “But, Brandon, Louisa’s gown is much more immodest and there are others.”

“I don’t give a damn what anybody else is wearing,” he ground out. “It’s your attire that concerns me. I expect you to come out of it any moment—and it makes me nervous.”

“I’m quite safe, Brandon,” she replied sweetly. “I don’t think there’s anything for you to worry . . .”

“Brandon, good fellow,” interrupted a man’s voice, and Matt joined them. “Would you allow me to dance with your charming wife? I shan’t keep her for long.”

Brandon could see no out and handed her over grudgingly and watched unhappily to say the least, as the other man led her onto the floor.

As they danced Heather felt the man’s devouring gaze upon her, and he took advantage of the steps of the minuet. His eyes as she curtsied were on her bosom, his hands held hers possessively as they crossed, and through the entire dance she was aware of being leered at.

Now, as Matt had earlier requested, the music swept into a rhythm called a waltz, and he pulled a reluctant Heather into his eager grasp to teach her the steps.

“It’s really quite simple, Heather, dear sweet. Just relax and follow my lead.”

It was not possible to relax with his arms around her so familiarly, and she fought him to keep his hands where they should be. He was bound to make Brandon furious with this dance, and she was about to beg her leave of him when she glanced to where her husband stood and found him in Louisa’s clutches. The blonde was laughing and leaning against him, giving him every opportunity to take advantage of her gaping neckline which Heather was sure bared her to the floor. He made no move to pull away, and Heather’s back stiffened as unreasonable jealousy possessed her. She missed the step Matt was trying to teach her and ended up on his foot. Her face flamed scarlet.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Bishop. I fear I’m far too clumsy for this dance.”

Matt laughed. “On the contrary, Heather, you’re very graceful. Yet you must relax more.” His hand squeezed her waist. “Come, don’t be so nervous. I won’t bite you.”

She tried again to follow him but she couldn’t keep her eyes away from her husband and as a result, Matt’s foot suffered again.

He laughed. “Perhaps if we have some wine,” he said, gazing down at her apologetic face.

“Yes, perhaps,” she whispered, mortified, and let him pull her along to the refreshment tables.

It was a determination born of jealousy that made her laugh gaily as they spun about into another waltz. The champagne had little to do with it. She learned the dance quickly and after a few sweeping whirls about the floor, found it rather delightful.

Though he was not the best of dancers, Matt was persistent and when Jeff came to claim her after several more waltzes, he gave her up almost as reluctantly as Brandon had.

“It appears that you have captured another male heart, Tory,” Jeff grinned, when they were into the dance.

Only half listening, she shrugged her shoulders as she searched the room for Brandon. She found him standing with a group of men and Louisa nowhere in sight. But where had he been when she had looked for him several moments before? She had not been able to find him or Louisa, and their disappearance disturbed her. What if he had found the sight of Louisa’s bountiful bosom more than he could bear and had taken her outside for a few fevered caresses? She bit her lip as she thought of Brandon fondling Louisa and a dull ache crept into her heart.

“What’s troubling you, Tory?” Jeff inquired softly. “You don’t appear to be enjoying yourself.”

She managed a smile for him. “I’m afraid I’ve been bitten by that friend of yours, the green monster. I find I really can’t ignore Louisa as I thought I could.”

He laughed softly as his eyes shone. “So you love him then?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Was there any doubt?”

“Oh, some,” he smiled. “I would have guessed that once you hated him.”

Her head snapped up in surprise. “Whatever made you think that?”

His mouth twitched with amusement. “Oh, I don’t know. Just a passing thought, I suppose.”

When the last strains of the melody were fading from the hall Jeff led her back to Brandon who scowled blackly at her as his brother went to find a partner for the next dance. His jaw was set firmly and a muscle twitched in his cheek.

“Did you enjoy learning the waltz, madam?” he inquired sarcastically. “I’m sure you had a most adept instructor. I could not have taught you half so well.”

She lifted her nose into the air. “I wasn’t aware that you knew how to waltz, Brandon,” she replied saucily, though she was not feeling that way.

“Oh? And would you have allowed me to teach you if you had known?” He laughed sharply. “Surely being in your husband’s arms isn’t half so exciting as being fondled by a strange man.”

Heather bit off a sharp retort about Louisa and stood stubbornly silent.

“Perhaps you would care to demonstrate what you have learned.” He motioned for the musicians to begin another waltz. “Come, let us see what he has taught you.”

He took her by the arm, none too gently, and guided her onto the floor as the strains of the waltz filled the room. They began to dance, slowly at first, almost haltingly, until the rhythm of the music eased their angry tensions and they began to unbend. The haunting chords seemed to entrance them until each was filled with the other’s presence, forgetting everything else. They moved with the music and swept and swirled around the hall as the enchanting refrain became a part of them. Heather knew only that his arm was around her and his dark, handsome face above her. He was conscious only of her softness within his embrace, her deep blue eyes before him and the fantastic rhythm that seemed to lead them around the floor as if they were nothing more than puppets on a string.

Gradually the two of them became aware that the hall was silent but for the music and that they danced alone. They stopped and gazed about as if newly awakened and were met with a long round of applause from their guests who had retreated to the edge of the dance floor and had watched their blissful flight in silent awe.

With a laugh Brandon bowed and Heather stepped deep into a curtsy, acknowledging the gracious appreciation of their guests, then Brandon nodded to the musicians and they picked up another waltz. He took Heather into his arms once again and they began to dance as other couples joined them. From the sideline Louisa glared at Heather’s back over her glass of champagne.

Having reestablished the tempo of the party, Brandon and Heather left the dance floor and made their way to the refreshment table. Heather accepted the glass of champagne he proffered and saw that for himself he chose a stronger brew. They made their rounds together among their guests and conversed lightly and gaily with them. But as a rigadoon began, an elderly gentleman snatched Heather away. Then one man after another and among them that gay blade Matthew, found his way again to trying his skill on the ballroom floor with her. But Brandon favored few women with that invitation and spent most of his time drinking.

Heather finally pleaded for a rest from her eager partners and found Brandon contemplating the amber liquid in his glass as Louisa hung about his neck, whispering to him how he was being ignored and seeking to console him while she pointed out that his wife spent her time dancing with other men. Heather slowly burned when Louisa raised a triumphant eyebrow and smiled tauntingly at her. Brandon slowly lifted his gaze to his wife’s face and his agony was successfully concealed behind a dark scowl. Matt took that inopportune moment to come up behind Heather and place a drunken kiss upon her shoulder. Brandon’s eyes filled with rage and excusing himself and Heather, he took her by the arm and escorted her out of the ballroom, through the hall and into the study where he closed the door behind him and sneered at her.

“You seem to be having a gay time, madam. Apparently you enjoy being pawed and petted.”

Heather stiffened and her eyes flashed with anger. “How dare you!” she gasped. “How dare you say that to me!”

Setting his drink down, Brandon strode forward, but she stood her ground and returned him glare for glare.

“Your sodden mind deceives you, sir,” she spat. “I did but play the gentle hostess and entertained your guests while you portrayed a trembling stud to stand in rut as that fair-haired cow twisted her tail and bared her udders and lowed so sweetly in your ear.”

“Oh hell!” he cried and threw up his hands. “You turn on me when all this night I’ve had to stand and watch you pulled and petted and rubbed against that simpering fop who seeks to prove himself a man by bedding every simple-minded wench who falls his way!”

“Simple minded—Oh!” She could not find the words to reply and spun about angrily, turning her back upon him.

Brandon’s whiskey laden reasoning betrayed him and self-satisfaction rode his voice. “So, you cannot face me. You know I speak the truth.”

He stepped close behind her and the heady smell of her set his sodden senses reeling and turned his countenance to one of self-pity.

“Why do you do this to me? Why do you turn from me and seek another’s caresses? I sit in calm exile, always wanting but never touching, and you let that simpering dandy whom you hardly know console your body with his nearness.”

His raging desire overcame his common sense and he grasped her roughly from behind, one hand crushing a tempting breast while the other slid downward over her belly to rest between her thighs, his lips hungrily seeking the bare white shoulder. She gasped in equal parts of anger and surprise at the swiftness of his passion, then whirled and with all her strength, pushed him away, stumbling backward to lean breathless against the desk. Her face burned in embarrassed resentment at the callow crudeness of his ploy.

Brandon stood with his arms spread in amazement at her reaction. Almost pleadingly he spoke.

“What do you have against me? God above, tell me why I must live this monkish existence and then stand aside and watch you whet some other’s appetite.”

“You fool!” she choked. “You utter raving fool!” She thrust a trembling finger at the door. “Do you think I want—Oh!”

She could go no further and in dejected frustration, flew past him to that portal, but before opening it, she turned and spoke in withering contempt.

“Go on. Go find your mewling bedmate and share your drunken wits with her. You deserve each other.”

With that she fled the room, leaving Bandon standing in painful confusion, and hurried toward the ballroom door. Suddenly realizing her flustered state, she paused outside a moment to regain her composure. Nearby Jeff stood conversing with two young ladies and when he glanced up to see her expression and hesitation, realized something was wrong. He excused himself immediately and came to her side.

“What’s the matter, Tory? You look as if you’ve just bitten the devil’s tail.”

“My vision of the devil is a blonde whore,” she said derisively. “How can one man be so blind?”

Looking beyond her to the study door, he laughed softly. “I can guess my brother is being his usual charming, idiotic self again. But come on, princess, don’t be sad tonight.” He took her hand. “Would you care for some refreshment?”

She nodded and soon found herself with a glass of champagne of which she took a deep sip, raising the glass to her lips with trembling hands.

“You always seem to be near when I need someone to comfort me, Jeff,” she murmured when the heady drink seemed to have calmed her.

He laughed. “Yes, around here they call me Saint Jeffrey behind my back.”

She smiled, feeling her spirits lighten a trifle with his jest, and he led her by the hand to a quiet corner.

“There are a few things I should explain about Brandon,” he said. “Perhaps you will be able to understand him better then. You see, my father couldn’t bear to see another man’s hands upon Mother, however innocently, and Brandon is realizing he has the same problem where you are concerned. Before he met you, he believed he could control his emotions and felt very self-assured. Having never sampled honest love, he obviously finds himself now at a loss and cannot cope with the emotions you inspire. Believe it or not, Heather, he’s a man of strong convictions, and with you he finds he betrays some of these old convictions. You lay bare his soul before him, and he finds himself an entirely different man from what he had supposed. It’s a little frightening for a man his age to come awake and find that a mere girl can disrupt his thoughts so completely.”

“Is that what I do, Jeff?” she questioned softly.

He grinned. “Honey, you can bet he never troubled himself with a second glance when Louisa danced with other men.”

Before he could go on to reassure her, Matt joined them and was in a festive, ebullient mood considerably enhanced by a liberal intake of alcoholic spirits.

“Oh come now, you two. You’re looking much too serious for such a gay evening,” he admonished. “Heather, my dear, it’s apparent your spirits need reviving.”

He made a monocle of his forefinger and thumb and peered at her through it, allowing his observing gaze to move from her face to her dainty silk shoes and then back again, pausing a very brief but pleasurable moment on her breasts.

“And Doctor Bishop prescribes more exercise for your condition. And to that end, a brief tour of the dance floor is in order.” Presenting his arm in a stiff decorous manner, he smiled charmingly. “Will you accompany me, my most lovely Madam Birmingham.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Heather saw Louisa approaching and not wishing to bear the brunt of her jealous jibes, accepted his arm.

Jeff also caught sight of Louisa and understood Heather’s decision to dance. The woman stopped to watch the couple whirl away, and he contemplated her narrowing eyes and her tightening mouth as her gaze followed them around the floor. Obviously she didn’t take kindly to finding herself no longer the center of attention and almost completely ignored while Heather was nearly fought over for dances by enthusiastic males smitten with her beauty.

From her Jeff’s eyes wandered to his sister-in-law. Matt was busily making petting attempts while Heather’s hands constantly moved to keep his from making any serious contact. He watched the two of them for a while wondering if he should cut in, then glanced toward the door and saw Brandon standing there, a completely blank look upon his face as he watched his wife in Matt’s arms. Jeff realized what an effort his brother was making to appear calm and that he was precariously treading the fine brink of violence.

He wasted not one moment more in making his way to Heather’s side. She looked up in relief as he approached but Matt was not grateful at all for the interruption.

“Oh really, Jeffrey, old chap, not again. It’s become a dreadful bore not being able to complete a dance with her. Someone’s always breaking us apart.”

With arms akimbo, the exasperated bachelor watched as Jeff swung his partner away and round the floor. When they were near the open garden doors, Heather looked up pleadingly at her brother-in-law.

“The fresh air does smell inviting, Jeff. Would you think ill of me if I begged for a walk in the garden. I fear I’m rather exhausted from all this dancing.”

He laughed. “Your smallest wish is my command, princess.”

They escaped to the rose garden outside and strolled along a path away from the house past a tall hedge and to a spot where sweet shrubs scented the air and a large oak spread its limbs to cover the night sky. They were out of sight from the house and only the strains of a waltz drifted softly to their ears. She sat beneath the tree on a wrought-iron settee and brushed her skirts aside in an invitation for him to join her.

“I may stay out here all night,” she threatened. “It’s definitely more peaceful here than inside.”

He chuckled. “What you need, Tory, is another drink, and I believe I fancy another myself. Will you be all right here while I go back and get us some champagne?”

“Of course,” she replied with a laugh. “I’m a big girl now. I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“You should by now know, Tory,” he grinned, “that big girls have more reasons to be cautious of the dark than little ones.”

“Oh, Jeff, and here I was beginning to trust you too,” she teased.

“Baby, if you weren’t Brandon’s,” he retorted with a gleam in his eye, “you’d be busier right now than you were with Matt.”

His laughter floated back to her as his tall, darkly clad figure disappeared into the night. She smiled and leaned back with a sigh, idly opening and closing the lace fan that dangled from her wrist. She stopped to listen as she heard a rustling sound nearby and wondered what he might be coming back for. She glanced up as a dark shadow came through the hedge and realized it wasn’t Jeff at all but a shorter man who wore lighter colored garments. The man came closer and she recognized Matt. Immediately she rose and backed around the settee.

“Jeff just left, Mr. Bishop, if you wanted to see him,” she said nervously.

He laughed softly and followed her around the garden bench. “Now whatever would I want to see him for, my lovely Heather, when here you are and the sight of you puts my mind to confusion. There’s no one here to interrupt our dance so might you care to finish our waltz now? I vow it will be the only way we will.”

“Thank you, but no, Mr. Bishop. I’m a trifle spent I fear.”

She backed against the trunk of the tree as he continued to advance, and he leaned forward as he came up close and braced both hands behind her.

“Perhaps then,” he breathed against her ear, “you’d care to sit this one out.”

He pressed his lips against her throat as he leaned his weight upon her, and Heather did her best to squirm away.

“Mr. Bishop, please!” she protested indignantly. “Brandon will . . .”

“He doesn’t have to know,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder. “You won’t tell him, will you? He’s got such an ugly temper.”

She struggled with him, trying to push him away, but he was not to be discouraged.

“Don’t fight me, Heather,” he murmured. “I’ve got to have you. I can’t help myself. You place me in a fit of madness.”

“Let me go!” she demanded. “Let me go or I’ll scream, and my husband will kill you.”

“Shhh,” he shushed. “Don’t fight me.”

He covered her lips with his in a hungry kiss as he moved his hands upward from her waist, intent upon cupping her sweet, young breasts within them. She squirmed and squealed under his lips and pushed against his chest only to have him increase his weight upon her. Suddenly he was seized from behind by two strong, very capable hands and torn from her, yelping in fright. Brandon’s face was distorted with rage as he threw the man into the bushes and as Matt struggled fearfully to rise, Brandon firmly planted a foot upon his buttocks and sent him sprawling through the shrubs. Matt scrambled to his feet and fled the scene with coattails flying behind him, and Heather leaned against the tree for support, noting with satisfaction how fast the man ran. As her husband swung around to her she managed a shaky, rewarding smile, but it quickly faded when he grasped her and pinned her to that same tree.

“That mincing fop has trouble finding his way out of his britches, madam, but as you should remember, I have no such problems.”

His mouth swooped down hard upon hers, forcing her lips apart savagely as he thrust his tongue between them. Her lips were bruised as he kissed her hungrily, passionately, no longer with restraint. Heather gave him no resistance. Though she had thought herself saved from rape, she now feared she was headed for that same fate again. She had no will power to keep Brandon from taking what he wanted and what he had every right to, and whereas she had been coldly unmoved by Matt’s unwanted attentions, she found herself growing deliciously giddy and suddenly weak in her husband’s embrace. His hands moved over her breasts, his fingers meeting together in the deep valley between and lingering there for a pleasurable moment before sliding under her gown. Heather moaned softly and began to tremble as though she stood braced against a fierce wind that whipped at her skirts and tore her hair loose from its mooring. She had never known how deeply she could be aroused by passion’s fires and a lover’s caress, and the sensation mounted within her, never to be fulfilled until put to some strange end she was ignorant of. Brandon muttered unintelligible words as his lips moved to the corner of her mouth, pressing fevered kisses there and along her throat, her perfumed warmth adding fuel to the flame within him. His hands freed those sensuous breasts from her gown, and their pale roundness gleamed tantalizingly in the night. He embraced them with greedy kisses, his breath hot and heavy upon her flesh, and Heather closed her eyes in ecstasy and leaned her head back against the tree, reveling in this new experience. His hand, sliding along her thigh, found its way under her gown over her bare buttock as his knee urged her legs apart. He pulled her hard against him. Then his face was above hers again in the night and his voice husky as he muttered against her parted lips, their breath warm in each other’s mouth.

“You are mine, Heather. No one will have you but me. Only I shall taste your body’s joys. And when I snap my fingers, you will come.”

His arms slid from her and Heather watched, disbelieving, as he turned and strode away, leaving her limp and trembling, her body hungrily yearning for his kisses and his touch. She shuddered in painful frustration, wanting him back and almost crying out for him, but she heard Jeff call her name in worried tone and she quickly turned her back to repair her garments and cover her breasts.

Jeff came through the bushes, carrying now half-filled glasses, the champagne sloshed over his hands, and looking back over his shoulder.

“What’s been going on here? I saw Matt hitailing it away and now Brandon almost knocked me down.” He glanced around then to see her disheveled appearance and his eyes widened. “Tory, are you all right? My God, if Matt . . . if either of them have hurt you . . .”

She shook her head as she took a glass of champagne from him, clutching it in both hands as she tried not to spill it in her shaky grasp, and raised it to her lips to drain it without a pause.

“You were right, Jeff,” she commented unsteadily. “Big girls do have much more to worry about in the dark.”

“Did Matt come out here and bother you? So help me God, I’ll wring that bastard’s neck!”

“He was out here,” she breathed. “But Brandon sent him on his way.”

He released a chuckle. “That must have been something to see. Bran was madder than an old hornet as he watched you two dance together. I could almost wring Louisa’s neck for cornering me in the ballroom, making me miss all the fun. But if I know her she probably knew what was going on and didn’t want me to interfere, thinking Bran might blame you.” He looked at her and sobered. “He didn’t, did he?”

Heather laughed, a bit hysterically, and shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea what he thought.”

He contemplated her a moment. “Heather, are you sure you’re all right? You don’t act yourself.”

“Oh, Jeff,” she half choked. “I’m not sure about anything right now, least of all myself. I really must try to collect my wits about me, mustn’t I? How can I face anyone in this condition? I think I’d best retire to my room for a spell.”

He pulled her hand into the bend of his arm. “Come on then, honey. I’ll take you back.”

“Not through the ballroom,” she pleaded. “I’m afraid I would draw too much attention.”

He chuckled. “All right. I’ll take you around to the front.”

She let him lead her to the door and took her leave of him as they entered. Hoping no one would notice her disheveled appearance, she hurried to pass the study door which was open. Inside the room some of the men had gathered and were laughing and talking in a jovial manner as they enjoyed their host’s liquor. She recognized her husband’s voice among them and heard his deep chuckle, the first of the evening, and the amiable retort he made to some jest. Her heart beat a little harder as she hastened past the door.

From where he stood Brandon observed his wife’s flight across the hall, and with a smile, excused himself from his guests and went to stand just outside the study door. He drew leisurely upon his cigar, squinting through the smoke as his eyes followed her ascent up the stairs, watching the graceful swing of her slender hips and the way the gown clung to her.

At the head of the stairs, Heather paused uncertainly, feeling eyes upon her and gazed back over her shoulder to find him staring up at her, an unreadable expression occupying his handsome, bearded face. She blushed, remembering what had passed between them and was about to turn to flee to her room when Mary came out of the nursery, trying to quiet Beau. Heather held out her arms for him, and Brandon watched his wife take their son into her arms and cuddle him close to her as she cast one last glance at him and then turned and hurried to her room, and he pulled out his timepiece and noted the hour.

Thirty minutes had flown when Mary came down the stairs after putting Beau to bed again. Brandon strode out of the study where he had been waiting near the door talking idly with a few men as he kept an eye upon the stairs. He stopped the servant and told her she wouldn’t be needed any more that night. A confused frown passed briefly across the girl’s brow but she nodded obediently and disappeared toward the back.

Brandon mounted the stairs with slow and measured tread. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to find the hall empty and the guests enjoying themselves in the ballroom and study. Without knocking he opened the door to the master bedroom and entered, closing it behind him, and leaned against the wall to gaze at Heather. Seated at her dressing table, she had been busy restoring her coiffure and now watched him warily out of the corner of her eye as she continued to do so. She was wearing only the light shift he had seen her in earlier and her full, ripe breasts could not have been more alluring had they been bare. Her body glowed softly in the warm candlelight and her dark hair shone with a rich luster. His eyes moved slowly over her, resting for a time on her soft white shoulders and the pink hued nipples that strained against that sheer cloth and finally returned to her face. He seemed completely at ease, once more self-assured, the self-confident Brandon. He smiled most leisurely as he came forward to the dressing table and put out his cigar in the ashtray there.

“I’ve come to some conclusions this night, Heather, and I have several things I wish to tell you.”

He strode behind her to the bed and leaned his shoulder against the massive post at the foot and met her gaze in the mirror.

“One point I should like to clear first of all. You know me well enough by now that you might guess what would have happened had I been completely opposed to marrying you. If you really think that any man on this earth could have forced me entirely against my will, then let me assure you, madam, you are mistaken. I would have rotted in prison had it been anyone but you.”

Heather’s eyes widened a trifle and she sat now listening quietly but very alert.

“Once, a long time ago,” he continued, “I spoke in anger to you and denied myself what I desired most. Call it my damnable pride, for it was in truth that beast which sought to hurt you and cast upon you my revenge for many things that were a mystery to even me. But it was I who suffered, I who beat my breast in frustration while you frolicked gaily upon my heart and vowed your hate for me in simple language. The revenge was not mine after all, my sweet, but yours. So now, I am through playing games in which I am the loser. I am tired of being the outsider in my own home, my own bed. I’ve reached a point where I have a choice to make. I can either bed you or I can leave and find relief with another woman. But I seek no other, Heather. I yearn for no other. I want you.”

He began to loosen his stock as a half smile played about his lips.

“So the games are over and the act is done and I am a man and I will have my due. For almost a year I’ve been without a woman to ease my needs. No other have I had since I touched your virgin body that night, many nights ago. I’ll tell you true it hasn’t been easy keeping my hands off you. But no more will I play the monk. It was not my intention to take you again by force. I do not choose that relationship. But if I must I will, for I cannot go on living under the same roof with you and never finding my pleasure within your body. So my mind is made. I’m going to have you and not only tonight. You may resign yourself to the fact that we will be sharing a bed from now on and that our relationship will be very . . . intimate.”

He removed his coat and slung it over his arm.

“I’ll leave you alone for a few moments. When I return, you be in this bed, whether willingly or grudgingly. And remember, my dearest, this is not Lord Hampton’s house now, but mine, as you are mine, and no one will dare come through that door to save you.”

Heather sat stunned and as the door closed behind him a fiery rage flared within her. With a swipe of her arm, she sent the ashtray flying.

“What thinks he that he may come in here while the house is overflowing with his friends and among them that blonde bitch and command me to spread my thighs for him? Does he think there need not be words spoken of love nor soft caresses to soothe my body? Am I truly then to him a possession and not a wife, a whore who’s met his fancy? Oh, once he played himself upon a frightened girl. Well, no longer am I frightened nor just a girl. I am a woman and he will truly know my vengeance for I will fight and claw and scratch and keep my thighs closed tightly until my strength has been exhausted. Only then will I submit and lie unresisting. He has no right. . . .”

She sat silently for a moment deep in thought.

“But he does,” her gentler self argued. “He is my husband and father of my child. He owns me and I am the one without right to hold myself from him.”

Her eyes lifted slowly to regard the face reflected in the mirror, and her body quivered as she remembered his lips upon her breasts, his hand upon her naked flesh.

“Why do I delay?” she asked herself suddenly. “This is what I’ve wanted and yearned for. This is what I’ve planned for, worked to have. Must my pride tear us apart like this?”

She rose from her chair as a denial burst from her lips and she began to yank open bureau drawers until she found what she sought, the blue gown of her wedding night. She lifted it from the drawer with loving hands and smoothed it gently upon the bed, then with fevered haste she flew back to the dressing table to prepare herself for her husband’s coming.

Brandon closed the door behind him and stood a moment, his mind filled with racing thoughts of the minutes behind him and those ahead. He heard the ashtray thud upon the floor and it was like having the wind knocked out of him, and he slumped wearily against the wall.

“So that’s the way it will be. She really has her wind up this time.”

He threw his jacket upon the bed in sore aggravation and moved toward that hated resting place, shrugging out of his waistcoat.

“Damn, it’s come to rape. There have been a dozen times I could have had her, had I kept my mouth shut or played the lady’s man. Even in the garden tonight I could have taken her right then. But hell, what’s the good of looking back. I’ve made my stand and regardless of what passes tonight, at least this damnable waiting is over. She’ll fight me again, that’s sure now, and I must take her contrary or gentle, holding myself in restraint as much as my body will allow and treating her kindly, though to touch that silken flesh I swear will drive me out of my mind.” He sighed heavily. “I had such thoughts of tender tidings sweetly exchanged between us. But now I must lie upon my bed of thorns or none at all and to have nothing of her frightens me more than the battle yet to come. But perhaps this moment yet to be will lead to more fertile ground between us and we might sometime hence share tender passion more bent of love.”

He stood now naked before the mirror.

“So, of time she’s had enough and of me, well, we’ll soon see.”

He glanced to the door and in second thought picked up his robe and donned it so the sudden sight of his nakedness would not disturb her further.

“Hell,” he thought, “I’ve dallied long enough. I’ve set a task and now it must be done.”

He strode to the door and paused before it. With all his self-control, his breath came quickly and his heart beat high in his throat. He swallowed and squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath, and pushed open the door. The canopy curtains were half drawn about the bed and Heather was nowhere in sight.

“Oh God, I’ve pushed too hard,” he thought fearfully. “She’s gone. She’s flown from me.”

He took two large paces into the room and some slight movement from the bed drew his attention. He slowly turned in relief and closed the door, draping his robe across a chair beside it, then moved softly toward the foot of the bed and around it to the parted curtains.

The breath caught in his throat as he saw her and his blood surged through his veins in a violent rush as his senses were filled with her presence. His eyes swept her body in one long passionate caress. Her hair fell freely about her shoulders as she lay half reclining on her side among the pillows with the covers drawn out of the way to the foot of the bed. The gown teased him with its cloud of sheer blue, leaving one lovely hip and leg bare as it fell open from her narrow waist to be caught coyly between her thighs. Her breasts pressed against its transparency and lured him with their eagerness to be out, causing his breathing to become labored and hard. She smiled softly and her eyes held a seductive promise as she raised an arm to him. Almost fearing that he was in a dream, he bent over the edge of the bed, and she slipped her hand behind his neck and drew him down to her. Her skin was warm and silky smooth against him, and her intoxicating fragrance encircled him as her arms did. His hands slid to the ribbons on her gown, and her breath whispered in his ear.

“It took you long enough, my darling.”

Brandon’s world reeled and he grasped her tightly to him, murmuring soft words as his lips sought the tempting flesh of her throat.

“Heather . . . Oh, Heather,” he rasped. “I’ve wanted you for so long, hungered for you. I couldn’t bear it a moment longer.”

His mouth eagerly took hers and their bodies strained together hungrily, Brandon’s nearly famished for the full draught of love, Heather’s just beginning to taste it. She moaned softly under his exploring, practiced hands, his fierce, fevered kisses and clung to him as she gave herself wholly to his passion, becoming so enmeshed in its intensity that she found herself returning it with a wild and free abandon that amazed herself as well as him. She felt his manhood against her, gently searching as he tried not to be rough in his eagerness, and reached down a hand to give assistance. When first she touched him, she almost recoiled with surprise at the warmth and passion he displayed, but at his hoarsely muttered encouragement led him on to his nest and felt that heat and pride press deep within her. Her eyes widened at the sensation inspired and in the soft light she saw her husband’s face above her, his features sharp and hardened with his excitement. He seemed to luxuriate in the moment, so intimate, so tender between them. To her he appeared as some splendid, godlike being. Murmuring her love to him, she slid her arms about his neck, pressing her soft breasts into the mat of hair that covered his chest, and pulled his head down to hers. Her kiss was full and inviting, without reserve, flaming under his lips as her small tongue penetrated between. Brandon trembled above her, holding her close, and began to move, gently at first, taking care, but the violence of their passion consumed them both and they forgot themselves in its mounting storm. A startled murmur broke from her lips as she at last found what awaited her.

“Brandon!”

And he gloried in his triumph as they were dissolved in a mutual fire which died slowly, leaving them cinders on the hearth of love.

The candle flame flickered in the gentle breeze that stirred the curtains at the windows and bounced eerie shadows across the ceiling as it illuminated the figures within the bed. Heather lay back against the pillows, wrapped in Brandon’s arms, her limbs entwined with his, feeling strangely disembodied as if she floated on a cloud somewhere detached from the world around. Her eyes were closed and a dreamy, contented smile shaped her lips as Brandon lightly traced his finger over her face, caressing her mouth, her eyes and the slanted brows.

“Always before I assumed a great degree of experience was needed for love’s play to be at its richest, and now I find in that too I was wrong. I have never tasted joy so sweet before.”

“Oh, my darling, you are not alone,” she smiled, opening her eyes to gaze at him with love. “Had I known before what it was like I would have demanded my rights.” She laughed a little and looped her arms around his neck. “It’s a shame we wasted so much time to know each other.”

His lips replaced his fingers and he murmured against her mouth as he pressed soft kisses upon it.

“You hated me, remember?”

“Hmm, in the very beginning perhaps I did,” she replied, returning his kisses. “Then perhaps I didn’t. I just know you frightened me more than I could stand.”

He laughed and rolled over with her and sank his lips against the warm flesh of her throat, enjoying the feel of her unclad softness against him.

“I frightened myself too. I was afraid I’d lose you completely.”

She rose up on his chest and thrust out her bottom lip sullenly. “You were as mean as a rutting boar, Brandon Birmingham, and you know it.”

He half smiled as he idly ran a finger from her shoulder downward across a breast and around the pink peak thrusting forward impudently.

“Being forced into marriage went against my grain,” he murmured. “And having your aunt treat me like a boorish clod from the colonies did not help my disposition. Then having to spend my wedding night under the scrutiny of Lord Hampton tested my temper more. But when you said you hated me, my anger found full bloom and since you were the only one there I could lash out against, my anger sought you. Beware, my pretty. Revenge is not a double-edged sword at all. It is purely single-edged. I found myself astraddle the sharp edge and whenever you rocked it I felt the bite.”

Her eyes grew innocently round. “Whatever did I do to injure you?”

He dropped his head back against the pillow and putting his hand across his brow, closed his eyes and laughed with a sigh. “Oh, tell me what you didn’t do, my love. That would indeed be simpler. You played the woman as if you created the part, and I had to stand by, the helpless male, and watch you feast upon my heart. You bared your breasts before me and swung your full ripe cheeks to tease the very eyeballs from my head, and were so damned tempting I nearly took you by force at least a thousand different times.”

She giggled and laid her cheek against his shoulder and ran her fingers idly through the hair on his chest as she fell into deep thought. “Do you know, Brandon, I almost feel sorry for Aunt Fanny. She never knew what it was to be loved or to even have a friend.”

He smiled and opened his eyes. “Don’t feel too badly about her, pet. She’s probably living quite contentedly on the money I gave her.”

Heather sprang up with a start and searched his face. “You gave Aunt Fanny money?”

He nodded. “A handsome amount it was too. It went to pay a debt she said I owed her for taking care of you the two years you lived with them.”

“And you paid her!” she cried indignantly. “Oh, Brandon, she was well paid in advance when she sold all my belongings. And besides, I worked for my living those two years. She had no right to claim that debt to you. I feel so ashamed. You must have thought we were all money grabbers.”

He laughed with amusement, drawing her close again. “I gave it to her for more than that one reason, my love. She might have tried to make a claim upon you and my child, guessing that I had the wealth to care for her in a luxurious fashion, and I had no wish for her constant presence around me nor around you. It’s one thing to have a reluctant wife but quite another to have an offensive in-law complicating matters. The next time she would have laid a hand on you I probably would have killed the hag anyway. So not wishing to commit mayhem upon that bovine beast I gave her the money without an argument. In fact, I gave it to her so quickly I fear she was shocked.”

“Oh, Brandon,” she laughed gaily. “You are so wonderfully impossible.”

He chuckled as his hand swept her body. “Well, we are rid of her, aren’t we, sweet?”

Heather’s smile faded swiftly as she suddenly remembered the lifeless form of William Court sprawled upon the floor, and she threw her arms about her husband and clung to him tightly.

“I hope we are rid of her, Brandon. I hope we are.”

Brandon smoothed her hair from her face, and when he spoke it was most gently. “Will you tell me why you are afraid, my love? Will you let me help you?”

She rolled away and closed her eyes, frightened of what might happen to them if he found out that she had slain a man. She shook her head, managing a laugh.

“It’s nothing, my darling. Truly, there’s nothing.”

She opened her eyes to find him above her, waiting, his eyes searching, trying to see within her mind. Then he bent slowly toward her mouth, pressing her back into the pillows.

“I love you, Heather. I love you more than my life, and my love is strong. Trust me, my darling.”

His mouth moved over hers and again Heather melted within his arms. A long time later her breath was warm against his ear.

“And I love you, Brandon, my very dearest husband.”

* * *

Brandon was aroused from sleep by Hatti’s voice in the hallway, and as her footsteps neared, he sat up in sudden realization of where he was. His movement roused Heather, and she rolled closer, her eyes unopened, a sleepy smile curving her lips. She reached out a hand to caress his lean, muscular ribs, and he lay back, reluctantly pulling the sheet over them as Hatti flung open the door. The old Negress stopped dead in mid stride as she saw the two of them together in the huge bed, then a broad grin made tiny wrinkles about her eyes and she bustled on into the room as if it were an everyday occurrence. Ignoring Brandon’s frown, she went to the windows, throwing aside the heavy drapes to let the brilliant sunlight fill the room. She stood with arms akimbo, chuckling to herself.

“Yassah, it sure is a mighty fine day. Why, I don’t think I’ve seen so much sun in one day in the last twenty years, not since your mammy was in this house, Master Bran.”

Heather fluffed the pillows and leaned back against them half sitting, drawing the sheet up over her bosom, and Brandon joined her there, dropping a hand over her thigh as he scowled from under his brows at the Negress. Heather’s eyes sparkled with suppressed merriment as she watched Hatti sweep about the room, throwing clothes over her arm and straightening things here and there.

“I suppose you all be wanting your breakfast soon,” the old woman rambled on. “I ain’t never known you to be a late riser before, Master Bran. I suppose Master Jeff is eating his heart out wondering where you is. Hee-hee-hee.”

She chuckled, unable to contain her happiness and then grew serious as she picked up Heather’s blue gown from the floor beside the bed and spread it carefully on a chair close at hand. She continued onto the wardrobe where she found a robe for her mistress and laid it beside the gown.

“I suspect he’s gonna be up here soon. He was eating some time ago and said he wanted to see you.” The wide grin came again as she looked at the two in bed. “That Master Beau gonna be wanting to come in here pretty soon, too. I ain’t never known him to sleep this late before either. You sure got him trained, Miss Heather.”

“He’s just better mannered than some people I know,” Brandon gruffly retorted, drawing a chuckle from the old woman.

She shuffled to the door and opening it, turned to give Brandon a last wicked gaze before she left. “Yassah, it sure is a mighty fine day.”

Before she could leave, Jeff’s voice sounded from the other room. “Where is he, the lazy dolt? Leaves the party early, forgets his guests and lies abed until midday.”

His head poked through the doorway, and with a gasp Heather quickly slid down in bed, snatching the sheet up close under her chin. There was a moment’s silence as his gaze took in the scene.

“Well, you’re not exactly decent, but I’ll come in anyway,” he grinned.

He slipped past Hatti as the old woman left and entered the room, coming to stand at the foot of the bed where he regarded the two within. His lips twisted into a one-sided grin as his gaze rested mostly on his brother while that hearty squirmed under the thoughtful eye. Then he strolled to the window, eyeing Heather’s blue gown as he passed the chair. Resting one hand upon the sill and with the other drawing his jacket aside, he stared musingly out upon the sunlit grounds.

“Yes, sir,” he murmured, deep in thought. “It’s going to be a right beautiful day.”

With that he threw back his head and laughed heartily at some private joke. Brandon groaned and rolled his eyes upward, gritting his teeth.

“Well, it’s a damned sorry day when a man’s own bedroom gets as public as a sale house on auction day. I’m going to have Ethan see about locks for these doors.”

Jeff turned and with an amused smile, bowed. “Your pardon, sir. Had I been aware of your change of venue, I would have been more discreet. However, I would remind you, dear brother, that we have guests about and they grow worried about your absence. Shall I tell them you are ill?” At Brandon’s answering growl he laughed and continued. “Very well, I’ll simply tell them you’re lazy and will be down shortly.”

He turned as if to go but faced them again. “I must remember to congratulate George. He’ll be happy to know he’s not a complete failure as a matchmaker.”

He watched them in amused silence until the full impact of his words were brought home and they looked up almost in unison to stare at him in stunned surprise.

“It’s quite all right. I’ve known the details for some time now, but don’t blame George too much. He was well into his cups and thought himself completely alone.” With another deep laugh he went to the door and there eyed Heather’s gown again and then grinned at Brandon. “You had a hell of a lot more willpower than I would have had, sweet brother.”

He winked at Heather and chuckling to himself, turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Brandon muttered something disagreeable about not being able to have any secrets or privacy and swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Heather laughed gaily and springing up, embraced him fiercely from behind.

“Oh, it is a beautiful day, isn’t it, Brandon?”

He smiled as he closed his eyes and rubbed his back against her bare breasts, delighting in the feel of them against him.

“Indeed it is, sweet,” he breathed. “Indeed it is.”

He got up suddenly and laughing, swung her off the bed and gave her a lustful pat on the naked buttocks.

“If you don’t see about our son pretty soon, madam, he’ll have to wait just that much longer for his breakfast.”

She giggled and came into his arms and stood up on her toes to kiss his lips, looping her arms about his neck.

“Don’t go away. I plan to keep you within my sight most of the day.”

He gave her a deep kiss, holding her tightly to him, and then sighed against her ear.

“You’ll have trouble getting rid of me, m’lady.”

Beau, seeming to sense his parent’s good spirits, was in the mood to play after his stomach had been adequately filled. He kicked his legs happily in his bath, splashing his mother, and chuckled merrily when his father spoke to him of his bad manners. When Heather carried him into the drawing room, he was more than content with the attention he received there from the guests who cooed and fussed over him.

Mrs. Clark regarded the gleam in his father’s eyes and sat back, bracing her hand on her cane, and nodded slowly. “Well, Brandon, you look a great deal better tempered today than you did last night. Your night’s rest must indeed have done wonders for your disposition.”

Jeff smothered a chuckle and received a warning glance from Brandon who turned and spoke to the woman in good humor.

“Thank you, Abegail. It did. I do feel considerably better this morning.”

He met Heather’s smiling eyes over his son’s head and his own were warm and bright.

Daylight had almost flown when the last of the guests climbed into their carriages. A light repast had been served and hearty farewells made around. Most of the men had a last sample of Jeff’s whiskey warming their bellies, the women a last drink of cool water or a sip of chilled wine to shorten their trip some small whit.

When the house was once more left to the Birminghams, they gathered in the drawing room to pass the evening leisurely. Heather sat with Beau on a quilt spread upon the rug where he waved his arms excitedly and cooed and with bright eyes watched the dust motes that swam in a nearby shaft of sunlight. The babe drew chuckles from the men who sat nearby, Brandon on the settee within hands’ reach of his wife, and Jeff stretched out across from them in a comfortable chair, each sampling an evening libation of his choice.

A rattle of a carriage and a thunder of hooves broke the quiet moment, and Louisa’s landau careened to a halt before the stoop. The woman stepped down with an eagerness and lightness of foot that belied the solemnity of her face. She bounced up the steps and flounced past Joseph to force her presence upon the small family without preamble. Before she spoke a word, she took the glass from Brandon’s hand and nearly drained it, abusing the fine brandy, then wrinkling her nose as if in distaste. He set the glass on the table when she handed it back, and Jeff smiled slightly at the subtle insult that went completely by her.

“Well, Brandon,” she blurted out. “Once more you’ve given the gossips of Charleston something to talk about.”

He raised an eyebrow in query at her statement and she explained breathlessly.

“Sybil was found murdered this morning.” She half smiled at Heather’s gasp of surprise. “And you were seen with her yesterday on Meeting Street. In fact, you were apparently the last person to speak with her.”

Something cold and dreadful began to grow deep inside Heather. She reached a hand to Brandon’s thigh and his slid over hers and gripped it reassuringly. A dead silence filled the room and everyone seemed to hold their breath. Louisa stiffened and almost frowned as she gazed at the clasped hands and then she continued on unchecked.

“They found her in the woods outside the city with her neck broken. She was quite brutally abused. Poor girl, no one even missed her at the ball last night, did they? Her clothes were torn from her, and the surgeon says she was raped.” She raised a meaningful eyebrow to Heather then smiled at Brandon. “Of course I know you’d never treat a woman so, darling, but the sheriff has some doubts. In fact, he should be here soon. It seemed that Mrs. Scott had some definite ideas as to whom the beast might be.”

Jeff laughed coldly in the silence. “Maranda Scott’s tongue usually outdoes her brain in its activity.”

Louisa almost sneered as she smiled at him. “There are several other strange occurrences that have come to light which I’m sure the sheriff will ask about. But of course,” she simpered and glared at Heather, “Brandon can explain them all.” She turned to him and asked, “Just where did you disappear to last night, darling?”

Heather could stand no more and came fiercely to her husband’s defense. “He was with me all night, Louisa, and all of today and that I can vouch for.”

“Oh!” Louisa’s eyes widened and then narrowed as she stared down at Beau. “And I suppose you’ll be having another brat to prove it. But then . . .” She turned to Brandon. “I suppose keeping her pregnant is the best way of being sure, isn’t it, darling?”

Heather gasped at the snide insult and both Jeff and Brandon shot up from their seats. Brandon’s eyes grew dark and his cheek twitched angrily. He stepped forward with his hands half raised as if to throttle her, and Louisa’s eyes showed fear. Then he checked himself and she smiled tritely.

“Tsk! Tsk! You must watch that violent temper of yours, darling. What will the sheriff say?”

She half turned with a swirl of her skirts. “I really must be going anyway. He won’t appreciate my giving you a warning.” As she strode out, she sweetly laughed over her shoulder. “I’ll go home the back way so he won’t know I was here. Ta ta, darling.”

A moment later her carriage swept around the house and down the back lane. Heather held her whimpering son in her arms, and the three adults gazed at each other in wonder and consternation.

“Anybody’s mad to believe you had anything to do with Sybil’s death, Bran,” Jeff raged suddenly, slamming his glass down on a table. He muttered an oath and began to pace the room. “The silly girl—she had every lascivious reprobate in town knocking at her door. It could have been any one of them. But what good reason could anybody give for blaming you? My God, you hardly looked at her. And I’m damned certain if you would have, she’d have raped you.”

Heather gazed up at her husband worriedly and made an effort to quiet Beau who rooted at her breast and when he could not find what he sought through her gown, fussed impatiently, now and then letting out angry squalls.

It was Brandon who spoke calmly.

“Mrs. Scott is naturally upset, and it’s Townsend’s job as sheriff to investigate every possibility, even an hysterical woman’s rantings. I did help Sybil to her buggy with her bundles yesterday, and I’m sure more than a few people saw us together. But I shouldn’t think that proves me her murderer. Townsend is not shallow witted. He’ll listen to reason.”

Heather made to rise to attend her son, and Brandon bent to help her to her feet. As he drew her up his eyes held hers and if there were any doubts in Heather’s mind, they fled swiftly. It was not possible that he could look at her with so much gentleness and love and be guilty of such a horrible act. Her eyes mirrored that tender emotion, and she lifted her face to his that their lips could meet in a soft, unhurried kiss.

“I won’t be long,” she breathed when they drew apart, then she turned to hurry from the room and up the stairs, holding her son close.

When Heather came downstairs after nursing Beau and putting him to bed, she heard a man speaking whose voice was unfamiliar to her. Her husband’s angry reply made her pause in her step.

“Dammit, Townsend, that’s a fool question to ask. No, I’ve never made love to her. I found her totally unattractive and undesirable, and it would have been physically impossible for me to get aroused with her.”

“Mrs. Scott says differently, Bran. She states that you carried on a secret affair with Sybil for years—that when she started seeing other gentlemen after your marriage you became jealous and enraged and in a fit of temper forced yourself upon her and then killed her.”

“Bald-faced lies!” Brandon declared angrily. “Maranda is undoubtedly thinking she will get some sort of compensation for her wagging tongue. For years she sought to force her daughter upon me, but I swear, Townsend, upon my mother’s grave, I never touched that girl.”

“I hear you gave a fancy ball here last night,” the sheriff drawled. “And I also hear from some of your guests that you were in a foul mood.”

“Our most helpful Louie, no doubt,” Jeff muttered contemptuously.

“I assure you, Townsend,” Brandon ground out, “my actions last night had nothing to do with Sybil. I didn’t even realize she hadn’t come until a few minutes ago when Louisa gave us the news.”

“Then what was the reason for your behavior?”

Jeff chuckled. “He was trying to keep all the men from ogling his wife.”

“Then you are possessed of jealous fits?” the sheriff quested.

“As far as my wife goes, yes,” Brandon admitted.

“Why only her? You could have felt the same about Sybil if you possessed that temperament.”

Now Brandon laughed. “Undoubtedly, Townsend, you’ve never seen my wife or you’d see the truth of the matter. Besides Mrs. Birmingham, Sybil was put to shame.”

Townsend cleared his throat and spoke as if reluctant to do so. “There’s been a rumor among your friends that you don’t sleep with your wife, Bran. Is that true?”

Her blood stirring, Heather swept into the drawing room to find the three men standing and faced the stranger who stared at her for a moment in surprise then blushed profusely and hung his head. Townsend was as tall as the Birmingham men but a great deal heavier. Whereas Brandon’s weight was double hers, this man’s was triple, and it seemed strange to see so large a man squirm in embarrassed silence. She went to her husband and sliding an arm about his waist, spoke in measured tone.

“You have heard falsely, sir. It is true that while I carried our son we took separate rooms, but I see nothing strange in this if a woman has a husband as considerate as mine. He was afraid that he might in his sleep do injury to the babe or myself.” She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Are you so thoughtful of your wife, sir?”

Ill at ease, Townsend muttered a negative answer then coughed and corrected his reply, turning that much redder. “I’m not married, m’am.”

Jeff snickered and Heather lifted her head a little higher.

“Ah-h,” she sighed. “Then you know little of women having babies. But as to your question. Do we sleep together? Yes, sir, we do.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “And I am such a demanding wife, sir, I can’t possibly see how my husband could have the desire to look at another woman, much less attack her.”

She ended on a furious note, and Jeff laughed lightly and clapped Townsend on the back.

“You’d best be warned, Townsend. Our lady has a bit of an Irish temper, and when the matter warrants she comes out with claws bared.”

The man glanced around him uncomfortably and coughed again and shuffled his hat in his hands. “Well, I can rightly see what you said is true, Brandon, but I hope you understand that I have to check out every detail in something as bad as this.”

He turned hesitantly to go then stumbled through another apology and made his exit. They heard his horse charging away from the house as if pursued by demons and the three Birminghams breathed a sigh of relief.

Jeff chuckled. “I’ve never seen Townsend so ashamed of himself before. I believe as far as he’s concerned, Bran, you’re as innocent as a new-born babe.”

Brandon’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Thanks to my demanding wife.”

Heather swept away from him to turn and face him with chin raised.

“He was much too personal to please me,” she said. “He needed to be set back upon his heels.”

Her brother-in-law smiled. “Honey, you did that the minute you walked through that door.”

A short time later Brandon closed the bedroom door and went to stand behind his wife where she sat at the dressing table and began loosening the back of her gown. She smiled up at him in the mirror and rubbed her cheek against his hand when he caressed her shoulder.

“Oh, Brandon, I love you so much. I’d die if you ever tired of me and sought another.”

He knelt and slid his arms around her and pulled her back against him tightly, pressing his lips to her fragrant hair.

“I’ve never done anything half measure, and my love for you is no exception, Heather. When I say a person is my friend I commit myself wholly to his behalf, thus when I say you are my love, you own me body and soul.”

She smiled softly and sighed. “It must be obvious that I’m frightened of Louisa and I suppose I was of Sybil. The poor girl wanted you so badly that even a moment with you pleased her. I am more selfish. I must have you all the time, without having to share you.”

“Do you think I feel any differently about you, my sweet?” he breathed. “Lord, I’d kill any man who tried to take you from me. And no woman can lure me from you. As for Sybil—she was a simple, addled girl who would have bargained for the world and found an end to hers.”

“Do you have any idea who might have murdered her, Brandon?”

He sighed and stepped away and began to remove his own clothes. “I don’t know, sweet. There were many men who courted her—even a few married ones.”

“Married!” Heather said in amazement. She stood up and slid out of her gown, dropping it to the floor. “Surely, Brandon, her mother . . .”

He grunted. “That addlepated bitch! As long as Sybil failed to catch a rich husband, Mrs. Scott didn’t care what her daughter did. Sam Bartlett was one of Sybil’s beaus.”

“Sam Bartlett!” Heather gasped. She remembered vividly her experience with him.

“The one and only,” Brandon returned gruffly.

Anger possessed Heather. “And Sheriff Townsend came here to question you when that man was left walking around without a care? Oh, to think of it!”

Brandon laughed and came to her. “Easy, sweet. He might be a salacious old rooster, but there’s nothing to prove him a murderer.”

“Any man who would force himself upon his female slaves . . .”

“Sh-h,” Brandon said, kissing her shoulder. His hands cupped her breasts inside her shift. “Let’s not talk of him. There are too many much more interesting things I’d prefer to discuss—like how beautiful you are without your clothes.”

His hands locked into the soft fabric of her chemise and separated it down the front with a rending tear.

“That’s better,” he grinned. He bent and lifted her up in his arms. “You’ll just have to learn to undress faster if you want to save your shifts, madam.”

Before his lips covered hers, she was heard to murmur, “Who cares about a silly old shift.”