The truth of his words rang clearly, and Sheridan's heart constricted.Every time she thought she couldn't love Nicholas more, she did.

"As soon as we get back to the house, I'm sending for the doctor."

"No! Ah, I mean, that's not necessary. I'm all right."

"No, you're not. You still look pale." His knuckles swept across her cheek,a slight frown tugging his brows together. Then he scooped her up in his arms.

"I can walk," Sheridan protested.

Nicholas ignored her and headed out of the tack room. Narcissus whickered,his sleek head bobbing as they passed. Sheridan smiled, warmth settling insideher at seeing the two horses restored to health. She and Nicholas had workedtogether to save them. They had made a wonderful team.

"I want to see Hannah."

"Later."

"Now," Sheridan countered.

Nicholas scowled down at her. "Stubborn."

He stopped at Wind Dancer's stall, lifting Sheridan enough to see over thetop of the stall door. Both mother and daughter stood on their feet, Hannah'sstilt legs sturdy for a one day old as she suckled her mother's teat. The bondbetween mare and foal had been forged. Everything was going to be just fine.

Sheridan sighed in contentment. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head backagainst Nicholas's chest. All felt right with the world as he carted her upthe wide expanse of lawn toward the house.

But her euphoria was short lived as Nicholas entered the front door.

And came face to face with Lady Jessica Reardon.

*Chapter Twenty*

Sheridan stood in the shadowed embrace of the hallway listening to the loud,muffled voices coming from Nicholas's office. She longed to creep down thestairs and put her ear to the door.

Was Nicholas telling Jessica that what she'd witnessed had been nothing?That her rage was unfounded, a terrible misunderstanding? For certainly he andJessica spoke of something. They had been holed up behind his closed officedoors for nearly an hour.

Sheridan didn't know why Jessica had come to Silver Hills, but she couldn'thelp wondering if Nicholas had invited the woman. It was not outside the realmof possibility--not if he intended to marry her.

Did he still plan to do so? Sheridan wondered. The prospect wrapped a chillaround her, despair settling on her shoulders like a sodden cloak. She hadbeen so close to reaching that elusive part of Nicholas, the part she doubtedhe'd shared with anyone, not even Jessica.

Sheridan had begun to believe Nicholas might not be upset to hear she waspregnant, that might even be happy about it. Now she was not so sure.

Either way, today she would tell him she carried his child.

"Was that Lady Jessica who just stormed out of here?"

Nicholas didn't turn around at the sound of Jules's voice. Instead he continued to stare unseeingly out his office window, wondering about what he'djust done, yet knowing he'd made the right decision.

"In the flesh," he murmured, his gaze drifting to the stables in the distance.

A slight smile lifted his lips as he thought about Sheridan and how,together, they had made magic. Whatever the future held for them, he wouldface it squarely. She'd said she wanted to heal him, and in so many ways shehad.

She hadn't told him she loved him, but she had conveyed what she felt withher eyes ... and with her body. He knew he could trust her with his heart.

"May I presume you've finally come to your senses, dear cousin?"

Nicholas turned to face Jules. The girl had always been far too perceptivefor his peace of mind.

He leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Come to my senses? About what, dearcousin?"

Nicholas noted the dark smudges beneath Jules's eyes and worried about howshe was sleeping, if the babe was causing her trouble. Jules's petite framecarried William's child--and William was a huge man.

Nicholas wondered if William would arrive in time to return his wife to their home in Sussex before the babe was born. Of course he would. The babe wasn't expected for at least another month.

Sheridan's face rose in Nicholas's mind then, her beautiful eyes staringinto his, promising passion and a life that would never be dull.

"You love her that much, hmm?"

Nicholas shook his head, focusing his attention on Jules. A delighted smiletugged at her lips. "To whom are you referring?" As if he didn't know.

"Why, to Sheridan, of course. And please do not try to deny it. Sheridantried the same thing, and I saw through her as clearly as I see through you.You two love each other, and it is time you both stopped acting likechildren."

Nicholas cocked a brow. "Acting like children, are we?"

Jules nodded. "I think you should march up those stairs and tell her howmuch you care before you lose the best thing that has ever happened to you."

Nicholas wanted to march up those stairs and do that very thing, but he washaving himself too good a time nudging his cousin to end it just yet.

"And what about Lady Jessica?" he asked, endeavoring to look properlyserious.

Jules made a face. "She can go hang, the snooty little--"

Nicholas held up his hand. "I get the point."

"I should hope so. If you had opened your eyes and not behaved sostubbornly, you would have seen Jessica was not right for you a long timeago."

"And I assume you knew all along she wasn't right for me?"

"I did."

"And of course you knew Sheridan was right for me?"

"I did. You two complement each other perfectly."

Nicholas shook his head, amused. "William has his work cut out for him."

"As do you. Now, if you would stop procrastinating." She glanced pointedlyat the door.

Nicholas knew his cousin was right. He was procrastinating about speakingto Sheridan, but suddenly he felt like a green lad with his first crush. Whatif he did that whole romantic thing Damien claimed women adored, dropped tohis knee and proposed to Sheridan, all very gallant, and she said ... no?

Well, he'd just have to convince her to say yes. That's all. He smiled,thinking about a rather enjoyable method to employ to change her mind, shouldsuch means become necessary. Perhaps he'd use it even if it wasn't necessary.His grin broadened.

Nicholas pushed away from the wall and cupped Jules's elbow, leading herout of his office. "I will speak to Danny all in due time, cousin. First Iwant to show you something."

She eyed him. "Show me what?"

"You are too suspicious, puss." When she continued to bore holes into theside of his head, he said, "I have a gift for the baby."

Her severe mien melted into a smile. "A gift?"

Nicholas chuckled. "You women are all the same. Start mentioning gifts andyou become sweet and malleable."

"You men are all the same. Start mentioning commitment and you run theother way."

"Touche", Your Grace."

Jules inclined her head, acknowledging her victory. "Now, about this gift?"

"Ah, yes. The gift. Well, it's something every child should have."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"Why, a pony, of course."

Sheridan returned to the landing. Nerves had set her to pacing her roomuntil she could no longer stand the oppressive confines, the walls closing inon her, the space seeming to get smaller and smaller with each passing moment.

She reached the top of the stairs in time to see Nicholas and the hint of awoman's skirt as he breezed out the front door. Sheridan's heart plummeted.Had Nicholas resolved the problem with Jessica? Was Sheridan no more than adistant memory? A tumble in the hay?

Sheridan placed a hand on her stomach, trying to hold back the knot ofdespair forming as she wondered if she had been dismissed yet again.

No! She would not allow Nicholas to treat her like fodder. He would face her and hear what she had to say. He didn't have to want her ... love her. Butshe would not be some convenience, his Irish whim. No English aristocrat wouldever make her feel worthless again. No one would make her feel that way again.

Sheridan started down the stairs. She would await Nicholas's return in his office. Neutral ground. On her terms.

As soon as she entered Nicholas's office, his presence surrounded her inthe masculine flavor of the room, the aroma of brandy and cigars, the tidydisarray of the papers on top of his desk.

She moved through the room at an unhurried pace, her fingers smoothing overthe top of this teakwood table or that piece of leather furniture, enjoyingthe subtle textures. She stopped to admire a stunning oil painting, a huntingscene, the man portrayed sitting astride a magnificent stallion--perhaps aforebear of Narcissus or Eclipse.

The man in the picture appeared to be Nicholas's brother, Gray. Intenseslate-colored eyes seemed to follow her as she resumed her wandering, as ifasking her why she disturbed sacred ground, this bastion of male privilege.

She made her way to the big mahogany desk that was the focal point of theroom. Nicholas's desk, the place he spent a good portion of his day. Perhapsat this very spot he had decided Lady Jessica Reardon was the one for him.

Where were he and Jessica right now? They had gone outside. Could Nicholashave taken her to the stables, to the small tack room where he had shownSheridan heaven such a short while ago?

Was he doing to Jessica what he had done to her?

She pushed the tormenting thought aside. She had other things with which toconcern herself, like how she would tell Nicholas about their child. Was itbest to be blunt? Or should she lead up to her revelation slowly? She hopedthe answer would come to her before he returned.

She sank down into Nicholas's black leather chair. It swallowed her like a bird of prey, clearly revealing that her size did not come near to equalingthe size of the chair's usual occupant--a tall man, broad shouldered, solidlybuilt, who, with one glance from his beautiful emerald eyes, could melt herfrom the toes up.

A piece of correspondence on Nicholas's desk caught Sheridan's eye, oneword in particular standing out.

Ireland.

Sheridan told herself the missive was none of her business, that even tolift the paper would constitute a violation of Nicholas's privacy. This was his home, and she was only a guest.

Nevertheless, knowing all that, Sheridan reached for the missive anyway. Itwas addressed to Nicholas and sent from a place called Mulholland manor.

County Cork, Ireland.

Sheridan's heart chilled with each word she read.

Dear Sir: Enclosed please find a bank draft for the rents received from your tenants.Except for a few minor incidents, harvesting is going well. You should make atidy profit this year.

Your servant, Henry Smithers, Caretaker No, Sheridan thought, Nicholas was not a landlord-- not one of the hatedEnglish aristocrats who lived off the fat of the Irish peasants who toiled forthem. He had not lied to her. Yet her mind refuted her disbelief and forced her to look at the compelling evidence against him.

Hadn't he lied to her in the past? Hadn't he made pretty speeches andcleverly charmed her time and again? What more did she need to prove thatNicholas had deceived her? The letter was in front of her ... and Nicholas's own words rang in her ears.

I don't own any property in Ireland.

Liar!

Sheridan sprang from his chair, a feeling of revulsion singeing her flesh,her heart railing at her for being ten times the fool. Tears flowed down hercheeks, a single drop splashing on the letter.

"Ah, there ye are, Danny girl," a voice boomed.

Startled, Sheridan's head snapped up, her gaze flying to the speaker. IanMcDonough stood in the doorway. His smile dissolved, and a frown immediatelycreased his brow. Sheridan quickly tried to wipe away her tears, but it wastoo late. He had seen them.

"What's the matter, lass?" Concern etched his face as he entered the roomand hurried toward her. "What's happened?"

Words clogged in Sheridan's throat, and pain slashed her like a whip. Sheshook her head, damning the tears that would not stop.

Ian wrapped his large, work-roughened hands around her upper arms. "Has themon done somethin' tae ye?"

The man had done so much to her that the hurt would follow her all the daysof her life. She had confided much to Ian since meeting him. They were morealike than she and Nicholas would ever be. Ian came from a similar background,and he understood her. She had told him about her love for Nicholas, knowinghe would take her secret to the grave.

Ian pulled her into his warm embrace, comforting her. "I swear, if NicholasSinclair has done anything tae ye, lass, I'll--"

"You'll what?"

Those softly hissed words sent a streak of lightning down Sheridan's spine.Slowly she turned her head and met Nicholas's fierce green eyes. Gone was anytenderness.

It had been replaced by sheer, indomitable rage.