She doubted there'd ever come a time when Nicholas could be her enemy,though. Still, she wondered, as she had far too many times since that day atthe hotel, if Nicholas's reasons for wanting to be friends had more to do withhis feelings about who Sheridan was than with how Jules would react.

"Well," Jessica sighed. "I have to leave, darling, but I will beanticipating tonight."

Sheridan tamped down the shame that made her want to slink out of the roomand hide. She'd always faced down any threat. She didn't intend to back down now.

Folding down a handful of blooms, she smiled at her nemesis. "Och now,what's happening tonight?"

Jessica turned her way, her eyes shooting blue daggers. "Do you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"Leaving." Returning her gaze to Nicholas, Jessica pouted, "Are yourservants always so belligerent?"

That did it! Sheridan wasn't taking any guff from Miss High and Mighty. Shehad seen plenty of Lady Jessica's type in Ireland, daughters of the wealthylandlords, galloping about in the fields all day while their Irish servantstoiled.

Well, they weren't in Ireland now.

And Sheridan Delaney was nobody's servant.

Nicholas stepped deftly in front of Sheridan, blocking her as she reachedfor Jessica. "Miss Delaney is my cousin's friend," he explained.

"Jules?" Jessica's tone clearly implied that it figured Jules would have afriend such as Sheridan. The woman quickly returned to form and gave Nicholasa doe-eyed look. "I know my being here isn't proper, but I wanted to speak toyou for a moment-- alone."

The request, Sheridan noticed, took Nicholas by surprise. He hesitated,then pivoted on his heel and pressed the blighted bouquet into Sheridan'shands. "Do you mind getting a vase for these, Danny?"

Did she mind? Did he mind walking with a limp?

She pasted a smile on her face. "And why should I mind? They are justlovely flowers now, aren't they?" And she knew a lovely spot for them.

Her step light, she whisked past the lovebirds, her prize clutched tightlyto her.

Standing outside the door, Sheridan listened to the low-voicedconversation, making out only a word here and there, her nerves jangling whenher highness giggled at something Nicholas said.

Her teeth gritted, Sheridan hastened to the kitchen, filled a lovely vaseto hold the lovely bouquet, and with a purposeful stride, she returned to thefoyer. She glanced at the round mahogany table in the center of the hallwayand then down at Nicholas's sweet-smelling blossoms.

Another giggle echoed through the house.

Sheridan held the flower-filled vase out in front of her, smiled, and recalled another Delaney trait Tit for tat.The vase crashed to the floor.

*Chapter Fifteen*

He who cannot risk cannot win.

Those words reverberated through Nicholas's head as he stared vacantly outhis office window the next morning.

What would make him think of the American naval leader John Paul Jones at a time like this?

The answer came to him in the form of a mental picture of an Irish hellionstanding beside a shattered vase, lilies and other flowers strewn around her,water running in a rivulet on his recently polished parquet floor.

Her expression was not the least contrite, not with that slight smileplaying about her lips.

Her challenge clearly said: I have not yet begun to fight.

Famous last words.

Nicholas dragged a hand through his hair, surprised to find he had anyleft. What could he have been thinking to give Jessica's flowers to Sheridan?Had he actually thought they'd make it to the foyer without mishap,intentional or not?

He shook his head. Living with Sheridan was like having one foot in agrease slick at all times. Unstable.

He had seen the tumult brewing between Sheridan and Jessica, like twohissing alley cats sharpening their claws on each other's hide. Yet ifNicholas were honest with himself, he'd admit he had enjoyed getting a riseout of Sheridan. The girl was chockful of strong emotions. Passionate. Andwhether that passion was expressed in anger or desire, she was a sight tobehold.

Perhaps, if he wanted to take his honesty a step further, he might confesshe'd had an inkling of what Sheridan might do with Jessica's bouquet. Whenhe'd seen the destruction she'd wrought, he had scowled on the outside, butcrowed on the inside.

He hadn't crowed long, though. The entire household had assembled to enjoythe comic opera while Nicholas sought to work his way through Jessica'stirade.

He had just managed to calm her when dear, demented Uncle Finny slipped outof a crack in the woodwork and pinched her behind.

Nicholas struggled to resist the urge to level the man and erect a normalhuman being in his remains. Better yet, Nicholas could end the entire dementedmasquerade by flinging himself into the black hole of Calcutta and pulling thehole in with him. Problem solved.

His soon-to-be intended bolted from the house screaming as if being pursuedby the hounds of hell, toppling the entourage to their knees in a gale oflaughter.

Before Nicholas could seek out the initial cause of his troubles--a petitelass with a capacity for great destruction--Jules whisked Sheridan away,sequestering them in Jules's bedroom.

Of course, his agony hadn't ended there. What Nicholas had thought would bea better-than-average evening with Jessica turned into a disaster.

He had discovered the girl had quite a temper, which surprised him. He hadalways believed she possessed a certain ethereal serenity, an unflappability.

Not so. She could pitch a fit with the best of them. Her eruption had madeNicholas wonder what else he didn't know about her.

Nicholas jumped as a brisk knock sounded at his door. Consequently, hebanged his head against the window-pane. "Damn it," he muttered. "BloodyArmageddon has arrived." He rubbed his head and winced. "Never expected thegrim reaper would knock."

Lord, he'd become conditioned to the pandemonium already, waiting forsomeone to come winging through the door, like one of those crazy pookas fromwhom Sheridan's uncle claimed they were descended.

Whoever dared to bother him would not be taking a trip to the moon ongossamer wings.

With a resigned sigh, Nicholas flung over his shoulder, "Come in."

"I'm already in."

Nicholas reeled around to find his brother, Damien, slung against the doorframe, appearing vastly amused and every inch a man at peace with the world,even after choosing to forever shackle himself to that madness called woman.

Damien cocked a brow, his gaze trailing over Nicholas's less than pristineappearance. "A rough night, brother?"

"Don't ask," he grumbled, wondering when he had lost his sense of humor.

Damien chuckled. "That good?"

"You don't want to know."

The throbbing in Nicholas's head had just abated when a shriek that soundedlike the ill wailing of a calliope under a coach wheel rattled the pictures onthe walls.

Damien leaned back, peering into the hallway. "Someone is writhing on yourfloor, brother. You'd better come quick."

Why, Nicholas wondered, had he thought for even a moment that today wouldremotely resemble those halcyon days he had once known? A case of rising gorgewas fast developing, and that didn't generally happen until after he'd eatenbreakfast. This was an all-time record.

Striding past his brother, whose amused expression grated on Nicholas'snerves, he proceeded into the hallway to see what new method of torture wasbeing inflicted on him in this conspiracy to drive him insane.

"Oh, lud, this is it," Aggie moaned, her corpulent body prone on the floor,a hand clutched around her cross. "Everything's goin' dim. The wor-rld isfadin'. There's me sister, Minnie, waitin' for me at the pearly gates." Shefrowned. "She looks heavier than I remember her."

Nicholas contemplated cutting notches into a piece of wood so he could tickoff the number of times Sheridan's aunt swooned, gasped, gurgled, saw thewhite light, and claimed to have spoken to every relative who had passed on tothe final reward--a fate Nicholas wished for himself in that moment. Aggie hadno intention of going quietly into that good night.

Aggie spotted him then. "Oh, me brawny boy, come keep me company in mefinal hour." Nicholas sighed and headed toward her, wondering why death hadchosen to take a holiday in his home. "Not ye, lad." She pointed a crookedfinger at Damien and used it to beckon him forward. "I want ye."

Damien's eyebrows rose and he pointed a finger at himself. "Me?" It was thefirst time Nicholas could recall his brother looking truly afraid. Nicholasknew the feeling.

"Seems your presence has caused today's bout of death for Aggie," Nicholassaid, his humor restored. "Yesterday it was the milkman. The day before it wasa young chap who accidentally knocked upon the wrong door." Nicholas shook hishead. "Poor sod will never be the same." He clapped Damien on the back. "Well,cheer up, brother. There's only one baptism of fire, and today you're thelucky recipient."

"Come, come, now, me muscled marauder." Aggie's finger wiggled like a fatworm too long in the apple orchard.

"You heard the lady, brother. She wants you. And this is one time I won'ttoss a coin to see who wins the wench. She's all yours."

"I knew I should have stayed in bed this morning," Damien muttered beneathhis breath.

"And let me enjoy all this alone? Perish the thought! We are kin, afterall." Nicholas winked. "Share and share alike."

Damien glared. "If you'll notice, I'm not laughing."

"I noticed. I, on the other hand, am laughing to beat all hell."

"Laugh out loud and my fist will give you a one way ticket straight down."

Grim-faced, Damien quietly asked, "What does she want from me?"

"My guess is a rousing tumble. You wouldn't mind obliging her, would you?Perhaps I can avoid having Father Sheehan here again. The man always takes thebest slices of meat at dinner. And here I thought gluttony was a sin."

Another death gasp rose into the air. "Quickly, lads. Me time is at hand."

Damien hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "What would happen if we ran theother way?"

"It will just prolong the agony." Nicholas gestured his brother ahead ofhim. "Lead on, MacDuff."

Nicholas and Damien cautiously approached Aggie, kneeling down on oppositesides of her. She took one of their hands in each of hers, her grip as strongas a blacksmith's. "Ye ar-re good lads to be seein' to me in me time of need."

Emery shuffled up to them, his stoop more pronounced than usual. "Shall Ifetch Father Sheehan?" he boomed, his meager chest collapsing like a windbag.

Nicholas sighed and nodded. "Yes. And tell him to be bloody quick aboutit."

"You want me to give him a kick? Yes, sir." Emery ambled away.

Damien shook his head. "Jules told me things were interesting around heresince Sheridan Delaney and her family arrived."

Nicholas scoffed. "I see she gave you the sugar-coated version. Now let metell you the truth. My sweet dreams have been postponed by a nightmare with anIrish accent.

"No bleating sheep are bounding over fences when my eyes drift shut for thenight. No fluffy clouds with silver linings are floating in azure skies. Norolling green hills with tall grass blowing gently in the wind reach towardthe horizon."

Damien chuckled. "Not even a buxom barmaid named Belinda to bounce on yourknee, brother?"

"Nay, and nay again, brother. Rather I see priests, leprechauns, Henry VIIIeating a chicken leg, crossed swords hanging over my head, Richard theLionhearted and the knights of the Round Table--that one is somewhatbaffling--and there are midgets juggling fruit, and"-- he frownedslightly--"one enchanting shamrock."

"That beats any dream I've ever had hands down."

Speaking of hands, Nicholas tried to surreptitiously extract his fromAggie's punishing grip. She only squeezed harder.

Grimacing in pain, he inquired, "So what brings you here today? I'msurprised you would leave your wife's side with such a rampant case of mutualfascination."

"Wife!" Aggie groaned and yanked them closer.

Ignoring the pain radiating up his arm, Nicholas added, "I thought you andEden were still post-nuptualizing on a cloud of euphoria."

Damien held his face away from Aggie, who extolled the glory of his paleblue eyes, and grimaced at Nicholas. "Trust me, your ugly face is the lastthing I wanted to see today."

"If you think that's ugly, you should read my thoughts right now." Nicholasexpelled a long-suffering sigh. "Since I've discerned that you haven't comehere merely to exchange gibes with me, then what, pray tell, has torn you awayfrom home?"

"I've come to retrieve the transfer of ownership papers I had my solicitorsend you a month ago. One would think you'd hasten them back as a gesture ofgoodwill, perhaps even penning a brief reply, such as 'Thank you for yourgenerous gift, dear brother, now drop dead,' sort of thing."

A slight frown puckered Nicholas's brow. "Transfer of ownership papers?"

Damien returned his frown. "Yes, didn't you get them?"

Nicholas recalled the document singed in the fireplace, stomped on by hisboot, and clawed by one feathered piranha.

Between wooing Lady Jessica and the three-ring circus that had become hislife, the papers had been pushed to the side and forgotten among his othercorrespondence.

He gave his brother a sheepish grin. "I haven't read them yet."

"Haven't read them? Well, that's gratitude."

"Aye, 'tis a bad thing ye've done, me lad, to ignore yer brethren," Aggiefelt inclined to add before resuming her pitiful moaning.

"You're giving me one of your properties?" Nicholas asked.

Damien nodded.