. Russell was here?

It didn’t take too much to guess what he was doing here.

He’d no doubt come for his answer.

She went to remove her hand from Alexander’s, but in a swift move, he captured her hand in his and held it tight.

Startled, she glanced up at Alexander, to see a fierce expression on his face.

Oh. Dear.

It looked like his jealousy was back in full force.

A moment later, Mr. Russell came into the room his eyes darting directly to Lizzie, and then to her hand clasped tight within Alexander’s.

She could feel heat rising to her face, though she’d done nothing wrong.

Mr. Russell gave her father a slight bow. “Forgive me. I certainly didn’t mean to intrude during the dinner hour.”

Her father stood, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “Do not concern yourself, sir. You are most welcome here. Please join us.” He indicated a chair at the end of the table where a place setting was being hastily laid.

“Thank you.”

Lizzie tugged on the hand held by Alexander. “Sir, I will need my hand back in order to eat my dinner,” she tugged once more.

When she glanced up at him, he finally let her go.

His face was impassive, but she knew he was frustrated. And how did she know? Because she knew this man, had known him as a boy, had known him through his letters, and had been reacquainted with him recently.

She glanced up and met Mr. Russell’s gaze and offered him a smile. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what he was doing in the area, but she was actually afraid he might tell everyone the truth, so she asked instead, “Were the roads from London clear today, sir?”

“Yes, it was a good day to ride.”

She could practically feel the heat radiating off of Alexander at her side, and tried to think of a way to diffuse the situation.

There must not be one person at the table unaware that Mr. Russell was here to see her, and that everyone here was hoping she and Alexander would repair their relationship.

“Are you staying in the area, Mr. Russell?” Mother asked.

“At the Inn down the road. The Black Swan, I believe.”

“That is a good establishment,” her father announced. “They have some of the best in ale in the shire.”

Noah nodded. “I’ll have to try it while I’m there, my lord.”

The awkwardness soon passed, and the next course was served, and conversation became normal once more.

Lizzie turned to her sister on her right. “Mary, I do believe that’s a new gown you’re wearing. Did you get it in London?”

Mary was no fool, and her gaze slid between the two men, before she answered. “Why, yes, at Mrs. Putman’s. I believe you ordered a gown or two from her yourself?”

“I did.” Lizzie then threw herself into conversing about dresses, fripperies, and where to get the best shoes. It was much better than the alternative — conversing with Alexander or Noah.

Fortunately, neither man tried to engage her in conversation again, and when the men left to go drink port and the ladies retired to the drawing room, Lizzie was relieved.

The moment the door was closed, both her mother and Alexander’s converged upon her. “Why would Mr. Russell follow you here from London, Lizzie?” her mother demanded.

Nothing like putting her on the spot in front of the woman who expected to be her future mother-in-law.

“I have no idea, Mother.” The words were slightly belligerent, as she felt her mother deserved nothing less.

Seeming to realize it, Mother nodded, and then took her seat and started a lively conversation with Lady MacGregor.

Mary paid them no attention, and wandered over to Lizzie, who was staring out the window. “What in the world do you think is going on?”

Lizzie glanced over her shoulder at the two women, and shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t know. I certainly didn’t invite him here. In fact, I didn’t invite either one of them. So how do I find myself in this awkward situation?”

Mary, grinned, her dark hair gleaming in the lamplight. “Well, it might be awkward for you, but it’s quite amusing for the rest of us.”

She glanced back again at the two women, her brows raised. “Do you think so?”

Mary’s gazed flicked to the two mothers. “Well, you have a point. But Matthew and I will be well entertained.”

“I’m glad I still have some value in your eyes,” Lizzie said dryly.

“Shall we play a game of whist?” Mother called out.

The fact that the game would take a while, and that the men would eventually come in to join them, had Lizzie nodding the affirmative, glad of an occupation. “Yes, please. That sounds wonderful.”

Relieved, she took a seat.

If she had her way, she’d not be moving from it for the rest of the night.

***

was angry, agitated.

Drinking port with Drake, Lizzie’s father, and Noah Russell was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

What he wanted to do was haul Mr. Russell outside, throw him on his horse, slap the animal on the rump, and send the man to Hades.

Alexander glared out the window. What did Russell think he was doing here? Had Lizzie indicated to him that she would welcome his advances? Or was the man so desperate for an heiress bride that he would show up here unannounced?

Of course, Lizzie wasn’t just any heiress bride. She was lively, beautiful, witty, and everything else a man could want in a wife.

So the man wanted it all, did he?

He wanted what was rightfully Alexander’s.

Because, Lizzie was his. She always had been, and she always would be.

He found his resolve hardening.

Aye, he was here to coax her, to romance her, and to gently guide her to his way of thinking.

But faced with competition, especially from a man he knew she had tender feelings for, his desire to treat her with kid gloves flew right out the window.

He couldn’t get rid of the man without violence, and he knew he couldn’t take that route. Because if he touched the other man, Lizzie would fly to Russell’s side to offer him aid.

So if he couldn’t get rid of the men with violence, he found his instinct was to bundle Lizzie up, and spirit her away.

He glanced over at Drake, who seemed to be watching him carefully.

As a statistician, Alexander knew when to advance, and when to retreat.

This situation felt to him like it was time to arm himself, sound the drums, and ready for attack.

The battle prize was Lizzie’s heart, and Alexander had every intention of emerging the victor.

Time to come up with a new strategy.

***

as she predicted, when the men joined them later, playing cards with the ladies became an optimal defense.

Alexander hovered near her, like a dog guarding a bone.

She knew he wouldn’t appreciate the analogy, but there it was.

Mr. Russell seemed to be taking the tactic of entertaining everyone with stories of Texas. She also knew what he was doing. He was trying to make it sound romantic and thrilling — a place rife with adventure.

She had certainly never seen herself in a situation such as this.

She gone from feeling slightly unattractive with her brassy red hair, freckles, and her mud-brown eyes — to a temptress wanted by two men.

Regardless of the fact that Alexander might only want her because he didn’t accept change easily, and Mr. Russell might only want her because he needed some money poured into his holdings in Texas, she still felt slightly irresistible.

It was nice to feel wanted, for whatever reason.

Lizzie lay down her cards, and Lady MacGregor let out a whoop of excitement.

“We won! We won the game!”

Lizzie smiled at lady MacGregor’s lack of humility. The woman had never been a gracious winner. Or a good loser, for that matter.

She glanced back at Alexander, wondering if he’d inherited the trait from his mother.

“Well, that’s it for me,” Lady MacGregor scooted her chair back. “The rest of you might be used to keeping London hours; I however am not. I’m for bed.”

Lizzie saw her chance to escape, and quickly stood. “I’m tired as well. I think I will call it a night.”

Alexander was quick to take her arm. “If I might walk ye to the stairs, Lizzie.”

So much for calling her Lady Elizabeth. Not that he would in front of the other man. No doubt he wished to firmly establish their familiarity.

No doubt he wanted to rub the other man’s face in it.

She almost told him there was no need, but knew he’d press the issue. “Thank you, Captain MacGregor.” She emphasized his name.

She was grateful Mr. Russell did not try to follow them. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Alexander whispered fiercely, “Did ye invite him here?”

“No, I did not.”

“Why would he follow ye here if he didnae feel welcome.”

“What? I’m a mind-reader now? I think you’d better rephrase that question.”

“Fine, I will. Is there something going on between ye and Mr. Russell?”

She stared at him for long moment and then lifted one shoulder. That small gesture set his temperature rising before she even responded with, “Not at this time.”

“Not ever,” he said fiercely.

***

jerked her elbow out of his grasp, and he watched her walk up the stairs. When she was at the top, he couldn’t stand it any longer, and followed her.

She made it all the way to her bedroom, before he caught up with her. “Lizzie!”

With a gasp, she turned around. “What do you think you’re doing?” She glanced around. “You can’t come up here.”

He took a deep breath, and then pushed her into her bedroom, shut the door, and then backed against it.

Shock held her immobile in the center of the room. Her mouth was agape. “Alexander! What do you think you’re doing?”

His jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure himself. “Staking a claim.”

Before he’d even realized he intended to do it, he crossed the room, hauled her into his arms, and pressed his mouth to hers.

She struggled for a moment, and then all at once, gave in, and clutched him as tightly as he held her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, as they shared frantic kisses, one after the other.

His hands grasped her hips and he pulled her tight against him.

She was his, and he wanted her to know it.

What had to be minutes later, he finally lifted his head and looked down at her, satisfaction rising within him at the sight of her plump, well-kissed lips. “Lizzie, ye are mine, do ye ken?” his voice was a deep rumble. “I’m not going to let you go. Ye can have one suitor, ten, fifty, or one hundred show up hoping for your hand in marriage, and none will make a difference.”

He gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Ye’ve been mine since the day ye were born, but I’ve also been yours. Do ye not ken that? Does that mean naught tae you?”

He could see that it did, as her face softened, gentled. She lifted a hand to cup his jaw. “Why did you tell me that you loved me earlier?”

Unable to help himself, he swooped in for another long kiss. When he lifted his head, he told her, “Because I do, Lizzie. How could I help it?”