Neil Hamlin was a b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Brenn considered riding back to London and confronting the man.

Bundling his jacket up under his head, Brenn closed his eyes. He needed sleep. Tomorrow the good

people of the village would want to know the status of the building. They had been more excited about

the restoring the manor than he'd been. It meant jobs, wages, and prosperity for these people.Purring interrupted his thoughts. Miles. The cat curled up next to his head, swishing his tail under Brenn'snose.

He pushed Miles away, but his rejection only served as a challenge to the animal. He crawled back

toward Brenn.A man shouldn't have to cuddle a cat. Especially when he had a wife like Tess. She had turned into thekind of bedmate that kept a man warm at night. And he hadn't minded her whispered words of love. Infact, they'd meant a good deal to him.

Miles settled down to loud purring and soon Brenn found himself dreaming.

At first, he didn't realize he was dreaming. Everything was vividly real. He was in the cottage. The main room was lit only by a cheery fire. All else was dark.

And then Tess walked into the room. She was naked. Her firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s, flat stomach, and long, lean legs

shimmered in the firelight. She turned to him and he saw that her eyes had been replaced by diamonds.

In fact, she was covered with diamonds, thousands and thousands of diamonds. They coated her skin, winked at him from her hair, tipped her eyelashes.

She placed a finger against her lips, warning him to silence. Bending, she began to softly blow air over his

skin.

He was nude, too. Nude and aroused. He reached for her, wanting to be inside her, to feel her pulsing around him. She resisted at first, backing away.

Brenn grabbed her and pulled her to the floor with himself on the bottom.

Slowly, she sank down on top of him.

This was heaven.

He placed his hands on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, thrusting up- But there was no welcoming warmth.

This phantom of light and diamonds was not his Tess. He could tell now. She moved against him but

there was no feeling, no joy.

He ordered her to get off, to leave him alone but the words did not leave his mouth. Instead, she stared at him with her blank diamond eyes. They held no emotion, no feeling.

He struggled to free himself. He wanted his Tess! Not this she-devil. He wanted the real woman! He

didn't want the money in place of her.

"Brenn! Wake up!"

Her voice came to him as if from a great distance. He heard her call his name again.

The dream demon faded and he was again in the dark barn. "Tess?" It had seemed so real.

Tess knelt down beside him. She was still dressed and her clothes were wet. Her damp hair hung loose

over one shoulder. "I know how to raise the money."

He came up on his elbows, still groggy-or else he would have told her that it didn't matter. But his mouth only formed one word. "How?"

"This." Tess stood. A moment later, he was pelted with hard objects. He sat up and pushed them off.

One was a fork. Another was a spoon.

"What is this?" he asked.

"The contents of my mother's silver chest. Even Neil agreed that they don't fashion silver like this any

longer."

"Silver?"

"The finest. Brenn, we can sell them."

Now Brenn woke up. He picked up a spoon, feeling its ornate pattern and heavy weight.

"There is drawer after drawer," she told him, excitement in her voice. "Forks, knives, serving pieces!"

"There must be a b.l.o.o.d.y fortune here." Hope rose inside him. He leaned back and laughed. "Yes! Yes,

this will do!"

She stood, a silhouette in the darkness. "It is enough then?"

"Aye. I imagine it will be more than enough."

"Good. Good night."

Before he could blink, she turned and started walking toward the open barn door.

He rolled to his feet, pieces of silverware dropping off of him. "Tess?"

She kept walking.

The image in his dream flashed into his mind. His body hardened and he wanted her just as he'd dreamed

her, gloriously naked and sitting on top of him. He trailed after her.

"I've been thinking, Tess," he started. She didn't slow her pace or answer. He lengthened his stride. "Ishould never have blamed you for Neil's actions. He robbed both of us."The night was dark. The rain came down steadily. He splashed through a puddle. She seemed to skirt them without having to watch her step.

He hurried to catch up. Rain plastered his hair to his head. "Ah, Tess. I was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I don't lose mytemper often but when I do, I'm not the better for it.""Ummm," she answered. The door to the cottage opened and for a second, the still burning fire in the hearth filled the opening with light.

"Tess!"

She turned, one hand on the door, the other against the door frame. "What is it?"

Brenn hobbled to a stop in front of her and tried his most charming smile. "I forgive you, Tess. Your

brother tricked us both, but, ah, I won't hold it against you."

With her back to the light, he couldn't see her face. He leaned closer. "So listen, love, let's be off to bed now and put our argument aside."

His answer was to get the door slammed in his face.

A heartbeat later, the bar sc.r.a.ped the door as it fell into place. She had locked him out.

Chapter Sixteen.

Brenn debated breaking down the door. Especially when Miles hopped up on the window and looked

outside at him standing in the rain. The cat pressed a paw against the gla.s.s.

"No, that's fine," Brenn told him. "I don't want to sleep with her if she's going to be that way." It was lie, but it made him feel better to say it.

The next morning, he woke to the sound of someone talking. Ill-tempered, he rolled over, pulling a horse blanket over his head in an attempt to shut out the noise.

"Hold still," Tess's voice said.

Brenn poked his head out from under the blanket. "Tess?"

"Now, stop that," her voice said. "You almost stepped on my toe."

He sat up. Every muscle in his body ached. He rose stiffly and followed the sound of her voice. It came from the direction of Ace's box.

Sure enough, there she stood, dressed for riding in a military-styled habit cut of gold velvet cloth. On her head was a smartly designed cap modeled after a Tarleton helmet, the military headgear of the artillery.

Of course, the artillery's helmets were not fashioned out of leopard skin and trimmed with a ruff of