Rachel's image lured him like a Lorelei and flooded his mind. His burning need for her consumed the whiskey's potency and kept him sober. He remained in a frustrated temper, unable to dispel his mood or the rush of lust that settled between his thighs.

Ryan imagined her hands touching him. He imagined more.

He imagined her hating him forever when she learned of his ultimate purpose there. Normally, whimsy played no part in his mood, but tonight he had a touch of conscience only because he was trying to protect her interests the only way he knew how. The business had changed since it had been a family-owned operation. But there were parts of the old he missed. The simplicity of developing one company rather than managing a corporation and, though he'd kept D&B independent, he knew he no longer could. Not even for Rachel.

Leaning his head against the back of the settee, he raised the bottle to his lips and drank, loathing his infernal preoccupation with her. Assuredly, he was mentally deranged.

Rachel leaned against the narrow casement, staring across the yard that separated her cottage from Ryan 's. She had been in her bed, buttressed against the pillows, her paperboard propped against her knees, when voices outside had sent a jolt racing across her senses. The lamp beside the bed hissed in the late-night darkness.

Sliding her feet into her slippers, she'd grabbed her wrapper and hurried to the window, where she eased back the thin drapery.

Ryan stood briefly on the walkway leading to the cottage, talking to his driver, the chalky moonlight shimmering over his hair, making it black. Whatever was said made Ryan angry. When he entered the cottage, she'd heard the door slam even from where she stood.

Earlier that afternoon she had caught a glimpse of him in town with Allan Marrow. In the fading sunlight, Ryan had appeared weary and impatient before he'd looked up to see her coming out of the D&B office. Saying something to Marrow, he'd walked away in the direction of a waiting buggy. He'd been avoiding her these past days as much as she'd been attempting to avoid him. Rachel wondered if the effort was as difficult for him.

She had made a few purchases yesterday, necessities that would tide her over for the trip back to Dublin tomorrow. Later, Blakely had brought her to the cottage with her trunks and her books and papers.

Despite her talk with Mr. Marrow, he clearly did not relish the idea of her leaving him in Rathdrum alone. He was an Englishman, after all, in Ireland, and half feared for his life. She knew that Marrow was really only worried about his performance. Until now, she had always been there for him. A part of her wanted to feel smug and irreplaceable. Instead, she felt only worry for the people who worked for her.

Why wasn't that reason enough to despise Ryan for taking her off the job?

The light across the yard went out as she watched and, for a moment, she thought she saw a shadowed movement in the window facing hers. Moonlight filtered through the trees, laying a soft visible path across the ground between the two cottages. Her legs were unsteady. Closing her eyes, her mind wandering in reckless defiance to the night that Ryan had kissed her, she leaned her forehead against the glass to cool her face before she turned back into the room.

What was happening to her?

"May I speak with you, mum?" Elsie stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind her, and Rachel nearly jumped.

"Yes...of course." She covered her heated face with her hands. Had Elsie seen her staring at Ryan's cottage? "What do you need?"

Elsie took a step into the interior of the chambers. "I'm not so blind or naive as you think. You should know, considerin' where ye met me. I've not been the proper lady's maid. You've been patient with me while I've been learning the books."

"You're not with me to be a lady's maid forever, Elsie."

"And for that, I am grateful to ye for helping me with my studies." She raised a palm to her heart and suddenly looked younger than her eighteen years. "It is because I love ye...like you were me own mum. My own sister," she primly corrected with a blush, "that I wish for you to have what is in this box." Elsie shifted nervously before revealing a small wooden box the size of her palm. "God curse me to be sure, but I am glad to get this out of my keeping."

Rachel took the box, confused. "What is this about?"

"Sometimes when a woman's birthing is too much for her or if she has had many children...the midwives would secretly give her these. They are illegal," Elsie whispered. "But I was told that they work."

Elsie dipped out of Rachel's small chamber. Rachel turned up the lamp. She held the box in the light and removed the lid. Inside were four sponges with strings attached. She had heard of this form of contraception, and knew that such devices came from the Mediterranean. She lifted a sponge and held it to the light for further examination. Even as enlightened as she was about most things, she felt the crawl of heat into her face.

How had Elsie known?

Rachel shut the lid of the box and lay back on her cot with an audible groan.

Rachel's shoes were damp from running across the wet grass as she stepped into the church to find David. She'd tied her hair back with a yellow ribbon. She'd dressed in her most demure dress, but even so, the peacock blue bodice clung to her chest. Breathing in the calming scent of incense and beeswax, she crossed herself with holy water from the font and proceeded toward the rectory.

The door opened, and David stopped when he saw her.

"I need to make a confession," she blurted.

"Now?" He acted surprised, as if she'd never made a confession in her life. "Do you think we can do this tomorrow?"

Rachel's mouth opened. "I hope you don't treat all of your parishioners like this, David. This is hard enough to do as it is."

"Have you committed some grievous wrong?"

"Yes!"

His chest seemed to rise and fall with a narrow-eyed exhalation. He finally agreed to hear her confession.

Rachel followed him to the booth and waited until the window slid up between them.

She'd not been to confession since leaving London. Even before then, she had managed to hide most of

her sins from David. She hated people knowing her weaknesses. Now, she didn't know where to begin."Rachel..." David's disembodied voice came from the other side of the mesh screen. "It's late, and Iwish to retire to my bed."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin."

"About to sin?" David leaned forward, and she glimpsed his face through the screen.

"I am going completely mad," she said to those probing eyes. "I swear I feel as if I'm going to lose

control of myself."

"Trust me, you're not the only one," she thought she heard him say. Then he drew away, and she wasn'tsure he'd said anything at all."You know more about me than anyone, David." Rachel drew in a shaky breath. "These last weeks have been the hardest in my life. I swear I am either going to have carnal relations with Ryan or kill him. I cannot decide."

The window slammed down, startling her. The booth shifted.

A moment later, her cubicle door was thrown wide. David stood like some fierce Jehovah, with his hand gripping the latch. "Out!"

"I...absolutely will not." Rachel pressed back against the wall, insulted. "Not until I confess."

"When did you last see my errant brother?"

"Yesterday. In the village. He didn't even talk to me. If we'd done anything at all, I would be confessing

my sins. Not my intent to sin."

"Are you in love with him, colleen?"

Her voice paused if only for a breath, but David recognized the hesitation for what it was. She only knew

that no other man made her feel as alive as Ryan had when he'd kissed her. Both times. No other man had ever made her laugh or cry with the same intensity. No other man had ever made her want to buy pretty bonnets and clothes or want a family.

"I may suffer some physical infatuation," she admitted. "But who doesn't. You know what Ryan is like?"David cocked a brow. "Frankly, I have no idea."The strength of her emotions caught her. "He's charming-"

"Aye," David scoffed, "when he chooses to be."

"Generous..."

"When he wants something."

Rachel frowned. Ryan was one of the most generous people she'd ever known. "He's beautiful," she

said with squared shoulders. "He's like the sunlight on fields of clover. He warms me, David.""He sounds a lot like you, colleen," David said quietly.David's face had blurred behind her tears. "If I was truly in love, I would not have lost my temper a few days ago. I tried to hit him, David."

"You lost your temper because he is taking you out of Rathdrum, colleen."

"Yes," she said emphatically, regaining some of her equilibrium and purpose. He understood the

dichotomy of her turmoil completely. "He wants to buy me out of D&B.""And you've put as much blood and sweat into building D&B as any of the Donallys.""As a matter of fact, if I saw Ryan, I'd probably shoot him."Maybe she'd shoot him. Or maybe she'd make love to him. To her, either choice held the same element of catastrophe. "I need you to stop me from doing something I'll regret forever," she whispered. "I'm desperate. How could you allow us both to stay here? This is your fault."

"Is it now?"

Rachel stubbornly refused to apologize. "Yes."

David folded his arms, his eyes as black in color as his sleeves. "So you're wantin' me to save you from eternal damnation, are you?"

"Maybe a small miracle." Rachel fidgeted with the lace on her bodice. "In the form of a lightning bolt on

his cottage, perhaps?"

David stood aside, inviting Rachel to step out of the confessional. "Follow me." The command seemed furtive with purpose, his robe swishing around his calves as he turned toward the rectory, expecting her to follow him.

Coming slowly to her feet, Rachel didn't like the set of his shoulders or the dark expression in his usually warm eyes.

"Now," he called over his shoulder.

"Get your bloody hands off me." Ryan threw back his shoulders to dislodge the grip of the behemoth who had practically dragged him to the rectory against his will. His gaze shot to Rachel, surprised and concerned to see her standing with her hands clutched in front of her, her attention fixed on the floor, looking more like an erotic porcelain doll with her wild curly hair framing her face, rather than the capable, self-possessed woman he knew her to be. His eyes narrowed on the other man standing close behind her. With his bright red hair and worn overalls, he looked like a twin to the bastard who had dragged him there.

"What the hell is going on?" Abruptly, as if sensing his baffled attention, Rachel snapped her gaze up like a chastened schoolgirl. Candlelight caught in her dark auburn hair, and the urge to rip the man's hands off her overwhelmed him. "Are you all right?" he asked, his black gaze briefly touching on the bloke who had his hand on her arm.

"You're getting married," David said, with a casual bluntness that alerted Ryan more than any angry intonation and forced his gaze from Rachel's.

"Naturally." Ryan cocked a brow. He wished now he hadn't drunk so damn much. "And who is my fortunate bride this special day?"

David smiled like a wolf. "I'll allow you to pick from the women in this room."

Ryan had forgotten that grin, but recognized the danger of its presence. David used to smile like that before he kicked Ryan's ass or dunked him in the horse trough. Nearly five years Ryan's senior, David never let him forget it. "Your sarcasm stinks like bilge, David," he quietly warned. "You can't marry me to anyone. This is not amusing."

"Do I look amused, baby brother? I warned ye both I would do this if you couldn't resolve the state of affairs between the two of you."

"Do what? Hell, I haven't done anything."

"I am going to handfast you to Rachel. An ancient Irish wedding tradition that does not require the blessing of either church. You may have decided that you are no longer Catholic. But you are Irish, despite what you want to believe. These vows will do for now."

Rachel struggled with the man's grip on her arm. "You cannot do this, David."

"Not only can I do this; I intend to do it now. I am extremely weary and wish to retire to my chambers." David nodded to the man holding Rachel. "I'm finished with the problem the two of you pose. You can work out the details of this arrangement later."

Mentally circling for some way out, Ryan was torn between laughing at his brother and murdering him. "This is insane. You cannot coerce either of us to do this."

"I know a merchant captain in Dublin looking for able crew members. To make matters clearer, in case you still doubt my intentions, if you don't extend your hand, I will have you shanghaied to San Francisco. These men are here because I can trust them to see the job done correctly. We might not see you again for a year."

White-hot anger set in. Ryan pressed a finger and thumb against the bridge of his nose, fighting a fierce headache that was suddenly beginning to form. "Dammit, David." He lunged forward, only to have his arms caught by the behemoth standing behind him. His brother would do it, too. "You call yourself a priest? I'll have you arrested."

"Aye," David said, the twinkle in his eyes betraying the sage tone of his voice, "'twould be within your official right to do so. Kidnapping is illegal. Even between family members. But you'll still not be acting on the threat before a year is passed."

"It won't be a year for me," Rachel said, in a strangled whisper. "I won't do this."

For thirty seconds, Ryan had forgotten Rachel standing behind him. He whirled on her now, suspicious that she was somehow the cause of all of this. Wasn't she always the cause of every great disaster that hit him? "What did you tell him, Rachel?"