Or he'll cry.""Mary...""The mutt should be housed out back," Miss Peabody replied."He is not a mutt! He's the best puppy ever! I named him Button 'cause he gots a broked tail, and his nose is black like baby James's kitten."

The logic of a four-year-old lost on him, he listened as she chatted about the merits of a dog, and howshe'd always wanted one-like she'd wanted a pony, kittens, rabbits and, last year, a parrot."I want him, Da.""Well, I see matters are under control," Brianna announced with a flourish. "I shall go then.""Brea," Ryan stopped her. "You were supposed to have had her back to me four days ago."Mary Elizabeth pulled back to study her father's face. "Are you going to send Aunt Brea to the corner?""Now there's a thought."His sister looked at Mary Elizabeth and smiled. "We had a wonderful time. She knows how to climb trees, Ryan."

Mary Elizabeth laughed and told him about the trees. Ryan was not impressed, and his eyes told his sister that they would talk later. "Oh, by the way," she said, as she applied her gloves to her hands. "Rachel

hopes you enjoy long betrothals. I was under the impression that you would be married in October,"

Brianna said airily. "I wonder why she wanted me to tell you that?"

Ryan's gaze narrowed on her back, shifting to Miss Peabody when he realized she was still in the room.

"Do you like my dog, Da?"

Still carrying Mary Elizabeth, he walked outside onto the terrace and sat with her on the chair. "Let me

see that thing."

"May I keep him?"

His daughter held the dog up for his inspection. As it wagged its stubby tail, completely unaware of its

mortal shortcomings, Ryan took one look into Mary Elizabeth's hopeful, blue eyes, his one true triumph in life, and was aware of an enormous shift inside him.

"Please, Da," she pleaded. "Please."

"Shall I take the young miss?" Miss Peabody said from the doorway.

"No, that's not necessary. I'll bring her inside."His daughter smiled. "My fairy godmother said you would let me keep the puppy.""She did, did she?""She said you were a bunny rabbit and gots a handsome tail when you're not an ogre.""I think I've read you one too many fairy tales.""What is that star, Da?" Mary Elizabeth pointed to the flashiest, biggest star south of the moon."That is a very important star." Ryan sat with his feet propped on the stone balustrade overlooking his yard. His London estate backed against a park. He could hear a carriage on the other side of the trees.

But for London, the night was peaceful. "In the olden days, seafarers used that one to help guide them over the oceans home."

A scented breeze moved over the terrace, wiping away the day's warmth. "Is that how you came home?" Her sleepy voice asked.

"No, Mouse." He smiled into her hair. "I took the train."

Mary Elizabeth nestled her head on his shoulder just below his chin. "Uncle Christopher says that you maked the train."

He tightened his arm around his daughter. "Not quite. Donally & Bailey helped lay the tracks the trains move upon. But I always wanted to build trains," he said.

"Aunt Brea said I could make things, too, when I growed up."

Ryan frowned slightly. "Did she?"

"I had fun. Aunt Brea said that I can come back and visit. Can I?"

"If she can stand your talking." He smiled.

She snuggled deeper into his chest. "I love you, Da."

Ryan looked down at his daughter's upturned face, the power of that love nearly terrifying him. He was unfamiliar with the protectiveness that followed wherever she went. Familiar only with the purpose her life gave his. A purpose that suddenly seemed cloudy and surreal. A purpose he no longer entirely understood.

"I love you, too, Mary," he whispered.

But she was already asleep when he pressed a kiss against her forehead. The puppy lifted its head, wagging its stub of tail.

Ryan frowned. "What are you so happy about?"

Chapter 14.

"G ood afternoon, Mr. Donally, sir." The uniformed attendant proudly held open the door as Ryan entered Ore Industries headquarters. A burst of wind and rain followed in his wake. "Welcome back, sir."

Carrying his satchel, Ryan continued past others into the marble-and-granite-encased lobby. He'd been out of the office three weeks, and people acted as if it were three years. The bellman cheerfully rolled open the lift door and stood aside as Ryan entered.

"It is good to see you back, sir." A jolt preceded the screech of cogs and wheels that set the lift in motion.

Ryan shifted his gaze to the back of the younger man's head as he spoke. No fewer than seventy-two people had thus far welcomed him back to London since his return. His private secretary had already accepted calling cards from two dozen visitors to his London estate only yesterday. He'd truly not anticipated this manner of frenzy since his betrothal announcement had made it to the broadsheets weeks ago.

"Your floor, sir." The lift jolted to a stop and, with a distracted nod, Ryan swept past the younger man.

"Mr. Donally-" His secretary shoved to her feet.

"Mrs. Stone." Ryan continued through the well-appointed reception area without noticing the magnificent Louis XIV decor, his shoes sinking into the luxurious carpet, muffling his footsteps. Mrs. Stone edged around the waist-high wall separating her paneled alcove from the anteroom, her heavy black skirts swishing in her hurried gait to reach Ryan's office door before him.

"Has my brother wired me yet from Scotland?"

Behind him, a staff meeting was breaking up, and he stopped to retrieve a handful of missives from two of his company officers. "Welcome back." Sir Boris fell into step beside Ryan.

Ryan threw open the door before he saw that Mrs. Stone had followed him. Impatient, he turned.

"If I may speak to you privately, sir," she said, pointedly ignoring Sir Boris.

Normally, Ryan wouldn't have agreed. Not when he owed every hour of his day to someone. Nodding to Boris to wait outside, Ryan motioned his secretary into the office and walked to the window to open the wooden blinds. "Speak, Mrs. Stone." He set his satchel and coat on the desk. "You have three minutes."

"I wish to take off two weeks," she said bluntly. "My niece is...indisposed. She has two small children. I was hoping that perhaps you would give me time to attend to her. I would even accept a week."

With his problems at D&B and the Paris acquisition in full negotiation status, Ryan needed her here. "Mrs. Stone-"

"My sister passed away ten years ago," she rushed to say. "Her daughter is my only family, sir. She lives in Manchester. It has been a long time since I've seen her. Or I would not have asked."

Ryan had never paid much attention to Mrs. Stone before, any more than he'd paid heed to any number of the people who worked for him. Strangely, it seemed as if he were noticing the smallest details in his life of late. His gaze passed over the salt-and-pepper-colored bun secured at her nape. She wore a black skirt and white blouse buttoned to her neck. He'd never seen her wearing anything different. Not in the four years since she'd talked him into hiring her to replace her husband after his passing. She knew the job, worked long hours, kept his personal books, and never faltered when he'd needed her to stay late. Nor had she in all those years asked for a day off work. For some reason, Mrs. Stone reminded him of Rachel. Perhaps it was the prideful way she carried herself.

He sat behind his desk. The thought of Rachel having to kowtow to any man the same way he wasmaking Mrs. Stone do with him made him frown. "Two weeks?""Yes, sir. I'll not be a day longer-""Don't concern yourself, Mrs. Stone. Obviously, this is of importance. When will you be leaving?"

Her blue eyes brightened behind her spectacles. "This weekend. Oh, thank you, sir."

Ryan didn't know where the hell he'd find a secretary. "Mrs. Stone"-he stopped her retreat. "The train fare to Manchester is not inexpensive."

"I plan on taking the mail coach, sir."

Ryan removed a key from beneath his desk and slid open a drawer. "Take the train. It's faster." Hell,D&B had laid the tracks. "I want you back as soon as possible."Mrs. Stone's hands wrapped around the money he offered. "I don't know what to say, Mr. Donally.""Thank you will suffice. Your family is fortunate to have you.""Bless you, Mr. Donally. I am the lucky one, sir."Pulling out a pair of folders from his satchel, Ryan realized her words about her family were not lost on him. He thought of the yapping puppy his oldest brother had given Mary Elizabeth, and Brea's determination since Kathleen's death to see that his daughter was made part of her own family, despite his own arrogance and lack of cooperation. Johnny's loyalty had never wavered.

Then again there was David who, in his infinite wisdom to wed him to Rachel, had reminded Ryan that the man with the biggest stick held the ultimate power.

"Mrs. Stone..." he called as she opened the door. "I need my afternoon schedule. It's not on my desk." "It is beneath the calendar." Her chin lifted at the implication that she'd forgotten such an important function of her job. Then proceeded to name off his itinerary, ending with a meeting Johnny had rescheduled with the head of public works-and the possible acquisition of three plump government contracts to expand Ore Industries' balance sheets.

Ryan sank back in the leather chair and, linking his fingers behind his head, observed her with a casual smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Stone. If you say anything else, I may realize how valuable you really are and decide not to let you go to Manchester."

She peered over her spectacles. "Then you won't mind my telling you that a writer from Vanity Fair was just here. I took the liberty of informing him that you were unavailable. Indefinitely. I didn't think that you would want to grant him a meeting after the last piece he'd written about you, and told him so in no uncertain terms."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stone." Amusement tinged Ryan's voice. "Tell Sir Boris that I need the second quarter financial report I ordered on D&B delivered to my desk."

"I believe it is on your desk, sir."

"It?" The report in question would fill more than one folder.

"A folder, sir. I put it on your desk."

Having had his fill of suspicious-looking folders, Ryan found and reluctantly opened this one.

You are such a bastard, Ryan Donally. I will not allow you to pillage D&B. Will return these papers after I have completed my analysis.

Love, R.

Written in her precise hand. A bouquet of forget-me-nots finished the sentence.

P.S., she added at the bottom, Negotiation comes in many forms.

She'd taken extra care to detail the flowers in purple.

"A love note, sir?" Sir Boris said from the doorway.

Ryan slowly looked up. "What is the status on D&B stock?"

As Sir Boris sifted through his papers, Ryan felt the kick of his pulse. The telltale heat in his veins that

came when he recognized a hunt for what it was.

"D&B stock has risen 5 percent this past week, sir."

Ryan shut the folder. She was buying up stock and running the price higher.

He wondered if he possessed the willpower not to strangle her.

Negotiation comes in many forms.

So did blackmail, he considered.

"I need you to secure a list of major stockholders," he said, suspecting who might be behind Rachel's

actions.

"At once."

He directed his gaze toward the window across the room. It had stopped raining. Rachel would not be at

D&B this time of the day. He knew where she took her meals and when she left the building. He knew