Devon reached across the seat and grabbed the carriage blanket that was folded neatly in one corner. As he pulled the blanket toward him, a loud ping sounded in the carriage. Then another and another as something small and metal bounced along the floor and then rolled to a stop.

aNo!a Devon closed his eyes, refusing to even look. Chase St. John had left the blasted talisman ring neatly tucked in Devonas carriage blanket. And now, miles and miles from home, Devon was stuck, the ring was his.

He was doomed. Doomed unless he could come up with a way to circ.u.mvent the magical impulses of the ring.

The only hope Devon had was to avoid women. All of them. He reflected glumly on what head been told about Scottish women, of their innate pa.s.sion and flaming good looks and in that instant, he knew he was d.a.m.ned.

Well and truly d.a.m.ned.