The morning after their wedding, a loud knocking woke them a little after dawn. Ewan kissed Jessamine’s shoulder and grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt, shrugging into them before marching down the hallway.

He flung open the door with a growl and then jerked his head back as he was slapped soundly across the face.

“How could you?” Mrs. Jameson shrieked. “You defile my daughter and then marry another.” Her face was reddened with anger and by the cold wind blowing off the mountains.

“I never defiled anyone,” he snarled. “How dare ye say such a thing.” He stood in front of her, preventing her from entering his home even though she pushed at him in an attempt to gain entrance.

“I know she visited you at your worksite. At this very home. That she spent time with you.” She took a deep breath.

“Aye, an’ I ken ye are the type of mother who would encourage your daughter to take such actions. Ye are shameless in yer desire to obtain a husband for yer daughter. An’ ye are blind.”

She flushed but thrust her bosom out in righteous indignation. “I have perfect vision.” Her glare intensified as he rolled his eyes at her for taking his words literally.

“I will sue you.”

“For what? Havin’ a conversation, unwanted on my part, with yer daughter?” He shook his head. “Ye’re daft.”

“How will you prove it was unwanted?” she asked, her eyes lit with triumph.

“Yer daughter was no’ subtle. She spoke loudly enough my men heard her. They’ll bear witness to the fact nothin’ happened.”

“You’d have your men lie for you?” she asked.

He bent over and yelled into her face. “They are no’ liars!” He stood up, the tension easing slightly as a soft hand traced down his back.

Jessamine poked her head out to one side, her red hair a riotous mess after their night together. “How lovely of you to come wish us well on your arrival into town.” Her eyes held a subtle warning. “I will be sure to remark upon it in my next publication.”

Mrs. Jameson paled and then straightened her shoulders. “You won’t always be able to use the press to your advantage.”

Jessamine smiled. “Perhaps not. But, in this instance, it’s valuable. If you don’t mind, I’d like time with my husband.” She pulled Ewan off the front step and shut the door in Mrs. Jameson’s face. She fell into Ewan’s chest, giggling as she heard the sputtering outrage on the other side of the door.

“What will ye write?” he whispered into her hair.

“I don’t know, but something with a touch of sarcasm that the more astute townsfolk will understand.” She kissed the underside of his jaw. “Come to bed, husband. I don’t want to waste our time away from work thinking about such a woman.”

He chuckled. “Nae, nor do I.”

* * *

The following day Ewan sat at the small square table in the dining area of the large room, his hand clasping Jessie’s as they talked about upcoming story ideas for her paper. She glowed with a silent contentment as they discussed options and seemed to relish his reaction to her scandalous suggestions.

“Now I ken ye’re just tryin’ to shock me,” he said after she suggested a salacious story about Tobias. When she watched him with a twinkle in her eyes as she took a sip of coffee, he frowned. “Dinna tell me that it’s true?”

She shrugged. “I’ve already said more than I should. And you have to promise that what we share is between us.” She relaxed when he nodded. “I know you’re loyal to your family—”

Ewan set aside his coffee and cupped her jaw. “Ye’re my family now, Jessie. Aye, I’ll always be close to my siblings, an’ there is little I wouldna do to help them. But ye come first. Ye’ll always come first.” He looked at her as she bowed her head and frowned. “Jessie?”

“It will take me time to understand that I come first for you. I’ve never come first for anyone.”

He shook his head as his gaze filled with tenderness. “Ye ken that’s no’ true. Yer mother loved ye, more than all else. She refused to give ye up, even though yer father wanted ye from the moment ye were born. ’Twas only due to his deceit that ye were ever separated from her.” He traced her cheek. “Never doubt how much ye were loved, Jessie.”

He waited a moment as she fought tears and failed. He rubbed them away as his thumbs caressed her cheeks. “Never doubt how much I love ye.”

“Oh, Ewan,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him. “Please continue to be patient with me.”

“I understand insecurities, love.” He squeezed her hand as he rose to answer the knock at the front door. “’Tis most likely Alistair or Annabelle with a basket of food for us.” He winked. “They think we are no’ able to leave the house to fend for ourselves.”

He opened the door with a broad smile that turned into a snarl when he saw who stood on the doorstep. “What are ye doin’ here?” he demanded. “There’s nothin’ more to say between us.”

“Might I be allowed inside?” the man asked.

“Nae, ye will no’. Ye are no’ welcome here.” He stood tall, with strong arms crossed over each other and legs spread, blocking access to the house.

“I want to speak with my daughter. You have no right to separate me from her.” Lawrence Abbott stood at the same height as Ewan, dressed immaculately in a heavy black wool coat with burgundy scarf, gray slacks, and polished black shoes.

“I have every right. I am her husband, and this is our home.” Ewan shared a long glare with the man.

“I am working to have the marriage annulled. There is nothing legal about it. You broke the contract you signed with me,” Mr. Abbott said. He gasped when Ewan gripped the two ends of Abbott’s scarf and tightened them, cutting off his access to air.

“This wedding, my weddin’, was legal. She used her name, which unfortunately meant yer name is on the certificate. It has been witnessed. An’ consummated.” Ewan glared at her father before releasing the scarf in disgust, watching the man bend over at the waist as he gasped for air.

“I will fight this. I will drag your name through the court and beggar you. I have lawyers!”

“Ye are a bully, who thinks he can prey on those weaker than him. Ye canna have a lawyer any more proficient than Warren Clark of the Philadelphia Clarks.” He smiled with satisfaction as Mr. Abbott paled. “Aye, ye dinna ken we had such a prestigious man in our little town, did ye? Ye allowed yer prejudices to blind ye.”

“You’ll get none of my money! I’ll give it all to charity before I see any of it go to you and this money-grubbing Scot!” he yelled into the house through the open door.

“No need to yell, Father. You should have your knuckles rapped and your supper taken away for a week for such behavior.” Jessamine stood behind Ewan, her hand on his shoulder as though supporting him and also grounding herself.

“You have no right to reprimand me on proper behavior, young lady. Not after what you did to disgrace yourself and our family.”

She stood with pride as Ewan stepped aside and gave her room to stand next to him to face her father. “Yes, how terrible for you to be denied the creation of a financial dynasty. You should have learned, Father, that women are more than objects to be displayed at social gatherings. We have opinions and thoughts independent of yours.”

Her father flushed red. “You have no need for your own thoughts or opinions. You need only think what I or your husband tell you.” He pointed at Ewan derisively. “And I do not mean this man.”

Jessamine smiled. “He is my husband. You have no control over me. That contract you unwittingly signed gave me control of my future. Not you, Father. And I chose Ewan.” She smiled in triumph. “It’s remarkable you ever thought you could control me.” She met her father’s malevolent stare and nodded. “I’ll be sure to print your congratulations in the next edition of the paper, Father. And, if you fail to meet the terms of the contract, I’ll send a duplicate of it, signed by you, along with an article to my former editors in Saint Louis and New York. It’s the sort of story that will generate good copy and scandalous interest.”

He glared at her before spinning on his heel and storming away.

Ewan waited a few minutes to ensure Abbott had truly left before shutting the door and locking it. He pulled a quivering Jessamine into his arms. “Are ye sure ye are all right, love? That was no’ pleasant.”

She choked out a sob as she attempted to laugh, burying her face in his chest. “I think he’ll finally leave me alone, Ewan. I’ll no longer have to look over my shoulder.”

“Aye. Ye ken I dinna care if we dinna receive a penny of his money?” He relaxed as she nodded her agreement against his shoulder. “I think having Warren here helped dissuade him from attemptin’ to annul yer marriage.”

“Our marriage,” she whispered as she kissed the underside of his jaw.

“Aye, our marriage.” He lowered his face and kissed her before holding her in his arms for many long minutes.

* * *

A week after their marriage, Jessamine and Ewan joined the family for dinner at Cailean’s home. Steam coated the kitchen windows, giving the room a cozy feel, while the scent of freshly baked bread warred with the smell of roasting chicken, enticing the family to sit for dinner.

“Leena Ericson is going to start working with me,” Annabelle said. “She convinced her fiancé that there is no shame in working as a baker. He seemed mollified when he understood she would not be a full partner and that she can cease working at any time.”

Leticia sighed. “I doubt she’ll want to quit once she realizes how much fun she’ll have working with us. Poor man.” She shared an amused smile with Annabelle.

Annabelle giggled.

Fidelia sat in a chair at the table, her hair listless, her clothes hanging off her, and her gaze downcast as the MacKinnon family sat around her for dinner. She shrugged her thanks for the food placed in front of her but refrained from raising her fork after the simple prayer.

“Also Dee is to start working at the bakery next week.”

She jerked as Annabelle said her name.

“She’ll help out front and with washing dishes. With two bakers, there will be too much work for Leticia.” Annabelle cast a quick glance at her despondent sister. “I will be reassured to know that they are there to help Leticia when I am taking care of my baby.”

“Anna, no,” Fidelia whispered. “The townsfolk …”

“Are accustoming themselves to the fact that you are no longer at the Boudoir. You are no longer one of the Madam’s Beauties. You are now your own beauty, and you need to find something to do, like continue with your embroidery again. You are a free woman. Able to choose for yourself. Until that time, this will help you as it helps me.” Annabelle beamed at those around the table.

Her sister shook her head. “You will drive customers away, just as you are trying to accustom them to a new baker.”

“Dee, you are family. The town has been aware of that since I moved here.”

Ewan chuckled, his hand playing with one of Jessamine’s as he ate his stew. “Besides they will become as addicted to Miss Ericson’s baked goods as they did to Annabelle’s that they will gladly approach Fidelia to obtain an apple cake.”

Fidelia frowned at those she was expected to consider family. “Is it so easy for all of you? To consider me one of you when I know what I am? A dried-up whore strung out on laudanum?”

At Annabelle’s cry of distress, Jessamine cleared her throat. “You were addicted to that horrible potion given to you by the wayward doctor. However, I think you are improving and that you will not have any setbacks as long as you refrain from using it in the future.”

Annabelle had yet to calm herself, but she seemed pacified that Fidelia hadn’t left the table.

“What’s the latest news, J.P.?” Cailean asked when Fidelia studiously stared at her plate again.

Jessamine cleared her throat. “From what I hear, between the recent … tax, the big poker match, and the loss of income from a certain … asset,” she flushed, “the Madam is desperate for an influx of cash.”

Fidelia grunted. “She’s always desperate. This time it’s worse. She’s facing bankruptcy. She needs an infusion of cash, and she needs it now.”

Ewan frowned. “There’s little that will cause her to receive such a sum now. The town is shuttered up for winter.”

“She’ll have her virgin auction.” Fidelia met their worried gazes and watched as Annabelle paled. “She’ll publicize it as something to entice the men before Christmas. As though it were their Christmas present.” Fidelia shuddered as she kept her head bowed. “I hate to think what will happen to that poor girl.”

“Who would agree to such an auction?” Sorcha whispered. She saw her siblings exchanging glances with their respective spouses and sputtered, “Helen? She’s no’ daft nor as desperate as that.”

Jessamine nodded. “I’m afraid she might be. Her mother is outraged at my marriage to Ewan.”

Cailean shared a long look with Alistair who was present without Leticia as Hortence had a cold and did not feel well enough to join the family. “Which one of us should inform Warren?”

* * *

Later that evening Ewan held Jessamine in his arms, cradled on his chest. He ran his fingers over her shoulders and upper arms. “Yer skin is like silk.”

She chuckled and snuggled closer. “When have you had much opportunity to touch silk?”

He snorted. “I may no’ have partaken of the Beauties in the Boudoir, but I know well enough what satin and silk feel like.” He kissed her head. “I promise I willna go there in the future.”

She stiffened in his arms, and he frowned. He pushed her back until he could see her worried expression in the faint light from a lamp on a far table. “What is it? What have I said that was wrong?”

“Did you pay back the Madam? After you won all that money, did you repay her what she thought you owed her for the broken furniture?”

He nodded. “Aye, because, if I hadna, she said she would come to you for it. I couldna allow her to badger ye or to involve Warren in such an affair.”

Jessamine smiled. “So you are allowed to enter the Boudoir again?”

He frowned. “Aye, but I dinna want to. I have no need to enter there. Fidelia is safe, and I have ye in my arms every night.”

She arched up and kissed him on his lips. “I ken,” she said with a teasing smile. “But I know I will never be allowed in the Boudoir again, and I refuse to lose the knowledge of what occurs there. I need you to return and then report back to me.”

His brows furrowed as he stared at her with his mouth agape. “Ye want me to spy for ye?”

She giggled. “No, I want you to be my junior reporter. And it can be our secret, when the townsfolk are confused because we appear so content, but you continue with your visits to the Boudoir.”

He shook his head in dismay. “Nae, Jessie, I dinna like the idea of them, of anyone, speakin’ poorly of ye. Of thinkin’ I do no’ respect ye as I should. As I do.”

“Wasn’t it you who told me that it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks? It only matters what we know to be true?”

He nodded, although his body remained tense with reluctance.

“I need to know what happens in the Boudoir during the virgin auction. Because I am a reporter at heart, and I hate being banned. Having you there, someone I trust”—she smiled as his eyes flared with delight at her words—“will ease my torment at being denied entrance.”

He growled and toppled her to her back, looming over her. “Ye will no’ go there during the auction. The men will be fired up enough as it is. I canna protect ye, Jessie, under those circumstances.” His eyes gleamed with fear and passion. “I couldna bear it were something to happen to ye.”

She ran her fingers through the hair that hung over his forehead and then through his beard. “I know.” She leaned up and kissed him. “It’s the only reason why I will promise not to attend.”

He smiled. “Ye promise?”

“Yes, as long as you will act in my stead as my reporter.”

“Aye, ’tis an easy thing to agree to.” He rested his forehead against hers a moment before rolling to his side. Then he whispered, “What is it that ye ken to be true?”

She turned her head and met his guarded gaze. “What?” She ran a finger over his brow, and some of his tension eased. “Oh, … I know many things to be true. That my father never loved me as anything more than a pawn. That my mother’s need for her next bottle of laudanum does not mean she did not love me. That I am a very good journalist.” She took a deep breath, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know that I love you. I never knew I could love as much as I do.” She smiled. “I know that I was wrong about many things. The love and support of a good, loving family makes everything better.”

“Jessie,” he rasped, pulling her toward him as he kissed her deeply. “I love ye, almost more than I can bear. The thought of any harm comin’ to ye …” His eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “I canna even bear the thought of it.”

She kissed his jaw and then his cheek. “I know. Because that is exactly how I feel.” She smiled at him. “I never thought my husband could understand me, accept me, even help me with the work I do.” She rubbed her nose against his. “I’m so glad to be proven wrong.”

He chuckled as he pulled her tight against his chest. “I’ll be happy to continue to prove ye wrong for the next fifty years.”

“Only fifty?” she whispered as her smile spread. “I want forever.”

“Gladly,” he agreed before he kissed her.