"And Boss-man didn't love her."

Nicholas swung on his heel and threw his hand against the mantel, staringdown into the cold grate, where only a few dying embers remained. "I loved hermore than life."

"Then go get Missy. Bring her back."

"Why should I? She obviously couldn't wait to get out of here with herlover."

Ho-Sing sighed. Loudly. "Boss-man should be skinned and boiled in oil--inHo-Sing's ever so respectful opinion."

"You're a traitor, Ho-Sing."

"Ho-Sing fly flag of honesty. Boss-man throw hands over eyes and stuffcotton in ears."

Nicholas reeled around. "You weren't here. You didn't see what I saw."

"Ho-Sing no have to see with eyes. Ho-Sing see with heart. Boss-man onlysee with eyes. Mind closed to possibilities."

"You sound like Jules."

"Round missy makes sense." Ho-Sing pointed to his chest. "She see withheart."

Nicholas didn't want to admit what was in his heart. Even after everythingSheridan had put him through, he still loved her, wanted her back. Wouldforgive her.

God, what a fool he was! An obsessed, drunken fool.

What if the baby is yours? his bloody inner voice prodded, posing thequestion Nicholas had been trying to blot out all day. Yet no matter how hardhe tried, the thought remained unabated, lurking at the outer edge of hismind, slowly chipping away at him, seeking entrance.

Well, Mr. Sensitive? the voice prodded. What about your baby?

That baby is not mine.

How do you know?

I just know.

But what if it is your baby? What then?

Then I'll marry Sheridan.

Oh? You think she'll have you after what you've done? A stubborn, pridefulIrish lass like Sheridan? Think again.

She won't have any other choice. She doesn't want our baby to be a bastard.

Who says the baby will be a bastard? Sheridan's beautiful. Another man willwant her, pure or not.

Over my dead body.

I'm sure she can arrange that.

Nicholas raked a hand through his mussed hair. What was he supposed to donow?

Go after her. Before it's too late.

But what if it is already too late?

Talk to her. Tell her how you feel.

What if she doesn't feel the same way?

If you don't go after her, how will you ever know?

I'm afraid.

Do you love her?

With all my heart and soul.

Then go.

"Ho-Sing, have Jeremiah saddle Narcissus and have him out front in fiveminutes."

Nicholas strode toward his office door. Sheridan had a good lead on him,but Narcissus was his fastest horse. Together, they'd find her.

"Boss-man go get Missy?"

Nicholas stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled. "Boss-man go get Missy."

Sheridan peered out into the darkened skies through the coach window, herchest constricting with each passing mile, each stride the horses tookcarrying her farther away from Silver Hills. From Jules.

From Nicholas.

Sheridan imagined Nicholas toasted his good fortune now at having suchtrouble out of his life. If only Sheridan felt the same way.

Even after discovering his deception, knowing he was a hated landlord, shecouldn't forget the glimpses of the charming little boy, the depth ofcompassion in his eyes, and the sweet sense of completion she experienced whenthey made love.

Sheridan glimpsed Ian outside. He rode beside the coach. He had insisted onseeing her safely back to London. He had not mentioned the fact that he had toreturn to London to start looking for another job. But she had overheard thecoach's driver, Nash, telling Ian of a few gentlemen he could contact.

For long moments, Sheridan watched Ian sitting tall and proud in thesaddle, and she wondered if ever a time would come when she wouldn't causeheartache and grief. She had been the reason Ian had lost his job.

Uncle Finny's grunting snort brought Sheridan's head around. He slumped onthe seat beside her, his beloved flask still clutched in his hand.

Across from her, Aunt Aggie lay in her favorite position. Supine. Shesnored as loud as Uncle Finny. Both had had a busy day. Mayhem and madnesstook a lot out of a person. But Sheridan loved them dearly. They were family.She could only hope they would love her baby as much as they loved her.

The Delaneys had been and always would be devout Catholics, and having achild out of wedlock ...

Sheridan could hear her mother's voice, her words now seeming prophetic.

For nearly eight hoondred years those blighted English have been steppin'on our necks.

What would her mother say about the English now?

A sharp crack of blazing white lightning brought Sheridan's head up with ajerk. It seemed as if the sky had suddenly blackened from the gray gloom ofonly moments before. Then the rain began and a powerful wind buffeted thecoach.

The lantern posted on the box next to Nash hurled through the envelopingdarkness as if a mighty hand had scooped it up.

Sheridan threw back the panel behind the driver's seat. Rain-moistened airwhipped in through the opening, driving her back, sending her hair flyingabout her like a witch's tangle.

She clutched the edge of the opening and pulled herself forward. "Nash!"

Alarmed dark eyes snapped in Sheridan's direction. "Close the panel, miss!"he bellowed over the rising howl of the wind. "You'll catch your death!" Nashtried to shut the panel, but Sheridan pushed it back. "It will be all right!Just stay inside the coach!"

"What's happening?"

Nash shook his head, rain pummeling him in earnest, running in rivulets offhis brown felt hat. "The storm... it just came out of nowhere. I've never seenanything like it."

Neither had Sheridan. A force, frightening and unseen, howled in the windand merged with the encompassing darkness, blotting out the hunter's moon thathad blazed so brightly the night before. Even the horses whinnied and shiedaway from the onslaught.

Nash spoke, but Sheridan didn't hear him. A sudden flash of memory held herin thrall.

Something was coming ...

Something that had begun to take shape on that day long ago.

Rain, hard and battering, pelted down, thundering on the roof like athousand pebbles ...

Oh God. Jules!

"Turn the coach around!" Sheridan cried, tugging hard on Nash's coat sleevein her urgency.

"What?" Nash didn't hear her. His attention was focused on controlling thehorses.

"Ye must turn around right now! We have to go back to Silver Hills!"

"Go back?"

"Aye! Now turn around!"

He flashed her a brief look over his shoulder. "We can't go back."

"We must!"

Nash shook his head. "The river under the bridge we crossed a while backfloods in the smallest amount of rain. In this downpour it will be impassable.The rising water could sweep us downstream. We can't take the chance."

"But I have to go back!"

Nash didn't hear her. "Whoa, girls!" he called out to the horses who threwtheir heads up, fighting the bit. "Whoa!" To her, he shouted above the risingclamor of the storm, "We have to find shelter!"

Now Sheridan knew why she hadn't seen herself in the vision she'd had ofJules. She had only gotten a glimpse of that one brief second in time. Whatwould happen to Jules without her help? She had promised Jules she would bethere for her.

Sheridan's gaze cut to the window. Outside Ian fought with his spiritedmount--a fleet-footed steed on loan from Nicholas's stable. There had been no room in the coach with her, Uncle Finny, Aunt Aggie, and their belongings. Noteven the seat on the box next to Nash had been free because Scally's cage wasperched there.

A loud squawk pierced the air.

Sheridan flew to the window in time to see Nash lunge for Scally's cage asit rocked against the side of the coach. The rope that secured the cage to thebox had worked its way free.

The cage banged one more time and the cage door sprang open. Scally's blackform bulleted to freedom. But the little bird was no match for the gale winds.

"Scally!" Sheridan cried as the bird was whisked away into the darkness,spiraling upward into the sky.

Sheridan squeezed her eyes shut. If only she'd kept Scally inside with her,this wouldn't have happened. But she had banished him because she couldn'tstand his endless chatter ... or the reminders he chirped about Nicholas.

Nash pulled to a stop underneath a thick canopy of beech trees. Sheridanforced back her heartache over Scally. She couldn't help Scally, but she couldhelp Jules.

She turned to find her aunt's petrified eyes pinned to her. Leaningforward, Sheridan took her aunt's hands in hers and squeezed. "'Twill be allright," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "I have togo back to Silver Hills. Jules needs me. Ye and Uncle Finny stay here. Nashwill take care of ye. He is a good man."

Her aunt nodded. "Be careful, lass."

"I will," she vowed and then exited the coach, uncaring of the torrent ofrain plastering her hair to her head and soaking her to the bone. "Ian!"

Nash grabbed Sheridan by the shoulder, hauling her back as Ian's horsereared. Its mighty hooves slammed into the ground in the spot where Sheridanhad been standing only a moment before.

She shivered, realizing what might have happened should Nash not haveintervened. She took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder, silentlythanking him. Then she rushed over to Ian.

"I have to return to Silver Hills! I need yer horse."

Ian hesitated, perhaps thinking to ask her why she would want to returnafter what had so recently transpired. He must have seen the desperation inher eyes, because he asked no questions.

"All right, lass. I'll take ye."

"It's too dangerous. Ye stay here with Nash."

"Dangerous?" His booming laugh rang out. "For a Highlander? 'Tis nae much credit ye give me, lass." He reached his arm down, his features set in adetermined line.

Sheridan had no time to argue. She grasped Ian's arm and swung up in frontof him in the saddle. He kicked his mount into action. As the horse's hooves dug into the muddy earth, one thought plagued Sheridan.

Dear God, don't let me be too late.

Nicholas urged Narcissus into a faster stride, rain pouring down over thetwo of them as they headed along the darkened road.

Memory served Nicholas well this night. Only instinct guided his movements,knowing the twists, turns, and perils that awaited him, made all the worst bythe onslaught of the storm.

Had Sheridan found shelter? Or was she somewhere out in this darkness,stranded and afraid? God, if anything happened to her...

He had been such a bloody fool. His anger had sent Sheridan flying out intoa storm, had caused her to risk herself and their baby in her rush to get awayfrom his condemnation.

Their baby. Nicholas's gut clenched. God, how he wanted to believe Sheridancarried his baby. He wanted children. He wanted the opportunity to love andcherish them as he had never been loved and cherished.

Yet were he honest with himself, he would admit the real reason he wantedto believe the baby was his: to keep Sheridan with him. To make her stay. Tofind a way to tie her to him and never let her go.