"This bottle is one of the finest in the world," he told her. "And, I admit, it's my personal favorite."

Grace tried another taste and found it more than quite good. She looked at Rathe and smiled.

"By the end of this day you wil be a champagne aficionado," he said, chuckling. "What are you in the mood for, Grace? How about fresh fish?"

"Yes, that sounds absolutely wonderful," she said, sipping the champagne. Rathe was right, it was delicious. And very relaxing, too. She could feel her shoulders dropping, the tension slipping away, and it was divine. She looked up to find Rathe regarding her again, and she smiled at him. His eyes widened in surprise, and then he beamed. "What I wouldn't give for more of those smiles," he murmured.

"Then you'l just have to take me on more boat rides," she said.

He stared in mute surprise, then laughed. "Why, Miss O'Rourke! Are you flirting with me?"

Grace blushed, touching her hand to her lips. Had she just done that? She was saved from responding when something was placed in front of them-something suspicious-looking, jel ylike and reddish-yel ow. Seeing her expression, Rathe laughed. "It's caviar, Grace. A true gourmet treat."

"Caviar?" She cleared her throat. "Fish eggs?"

"Don't think of it that way." He placed a smal amount on a cracker, Grace watching, fascinated. He held it out to her; Grace drew back. "For me?"

"You cannot possibly drink this champagne without trying caviar." There was something in his eyes, something too intimate. Grace looked at the cracker, so close to her mouth-close enough that if she opened her lips he could slip it inside. She took it from him and nibbled cautiously. It was terrible.

She didn't want to hurt his feelings, though, so she finished what he'd given her, then took a long sip of water.

"Wel ?"

"It's quite-er-interesting."

"You have to acquire the taste."

"Undoubtedly. Whyever would one want to acquire a taste for something so awful?"

Rathe laughed. "I have no idea. And I'l let you in on a little secret-I can't stand the stuff myself."

Grace laughed. "Then why..."

"I wanted you to try it." His gaze lingered, al lightness vanishing.

Grace's smile disappeared, too. She was ridiculously touched. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Their glances held.

"I have a confession to make," Grace said later, over their excel ent sauteed redfish.

"Ah, a confession. What could you possibly have to confess?" He was teasing. "No, wait! Your desire for me?"

She laughed. "No, not my desire for you."

"Ah, but you did say my desire for you. Dare I dream it exists?"

"Rathe! Do you want to hear my confession or not?"

"I am dying to hear it."

She leaned forward. "I've never had champagne before."

He laughed, taking her hands in his and holding them tightly. This time, Grace did not attempt to remove them. "I know," he said softly.

She blushed slightly. "You do?"

"Of course."

"You seem to know too much."

"There are advantages to being with a worldly man."

She couldn't look away, even though she knew she should. She could easily imagine the advantages-wonderful, exciting afternoons like this, afternoons that should be endless but unfortunately weren't. And she thought about the way he had kissed her earlier that day. His lips had been firm but gentle, and even now, remembering, something tightened and spiraled deep inside her.

"Grace," he said, his tone no longer light but husky. "You're beautiful."

She knew it wasn't true. It was on the tip of her tongue to protest. Instead, she said nothing, held enthral ed by the magnetism of the man before her.

"More champagne?"

"No, thank you," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I'm feeling a little euphoric as it is."

"Euphoric?" He chuckled. "I love the way you use words, Grace. I also like seeing you so relaxed." His gaze slid casual y over her.

It took her a moment to realize what he was referring to. Not just their easy conversation and camaraderie, but to the fact that she was sitting in a very improper manner-she was slouching! Had she been slouching al afternoon? She sat abruptly upright, shocked. She darted a glance around the room, but no one was paying them any mind. "Oh, dear!"

He took her shoulders in his hands and pushed her back against the chair. "Relax. Today is for you, Grace-solely for you. For your pleasure. No one here cares that your spine isn't straight. Doesn't it feel good?"

She hesitated. "Yes," she admitted. "It does feel good. To be like this, with no cares. But Rathe, this isn't real. The life we left in Natchez is real."

"Oh no, Gracie," he said softly. "This is just as real, and just as important. Crusading is fine. But so are idle afternoons, and that's something you have to learn."

She blinked at him, thought of arguing, then decided against it. Not only was she feeling too fine, but maybe, just maybe, he had a point.

He was studying the tablecloth, his face downturned, his long fingers stroking the linen. Grace looked at his thick, gold hair and had the insane urge to touch it. She stared at his hands, at his strong fingers, moving so lightly now, toying with a spoon. She knew the strength he harbored in those hands-and the gentleness. She found herself wishing he would cover her palm with his again.

"Grace," Rathe said, raising his gaze to hers. The intensity of his tone commanded her ful attention. "You do things to me."

She stared, perplexed.

He leaned forward. "My life hasn't been the same, not for a moment, since I met you."

Every fiber of her being tensed, and at the same time, her heart was beating with sudden joy.

"Do you realize that?" It was a demand. "Do you realize I finished my business in Natchez last week? Do you know why I've stayed?"

She was wide-eyed. "You can't mean..." She couldn't even say it. He was being the charmer again; nonetheless something inside her was ful with yearning.

"Yes, I've stayed because of you."

Her hand touched her heart.

"I can't sleep at night, my thoughts are so ful of you."

She managed to recover. "You can't sleep at night because of your various paramours."

Despite himself, he grinned, then sobered and reached out, touching one thumb to her cheek. "There's been no one since I met you."

Grace knew her disbelief was written al over her face.

"I mean it," he said urgently. "I want you, Grace. I want to hold you and take care of you, day after day and night after night. I want to clothe you in the finest silks and satins and the most beautiful jewels. I want to provide for you, protect you. I want to take you with me, to New Orleans, to New York, to Paris." He smiled. "I want to lose myself in loving you."

Grace's heart was lifting uncontrol ably against her breast. She could not believe that this gorgeous man was proposing to her. "You want to marry me?" she heard herself ask incredulously.

For a faint instant, his eyes went wide. "Darlin'," he said huskily, his balance instantly recovered, "I'm not ready for marriage, not yet. But I'm mad for you, completely mad for you. Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you."

Confusion had risen tumultuously, only to suddenly be replaced by stunned insight. "You don't mean..."

"I'l make you so very happy, I promise," Rathe said, cupping her face. "Look at today, how good it was. As my mistress, you won't lack for anything, not ever. And you'l also have my protection, a man's protection, which is even more important. Grace, you won't be sorry."

Grace found she was clutching the edge of the table for support. She wished she hadn't drunk the champagne, which she wasn't used to. It was dul ing her reflexes, making it difficult for her to react.

He leaned forward, stil cupping her face, his eyes bril iantly blue. "Say yes," he said hoarsely.

Despite the anger-and disappointment-unfolding within her, there was also a tightening in the deepest pit of her bel y. He pul ed back to regard her searchingly. Grace's hand closed around her water glass. "You bastard," she hissed, tears fil ing her eyes. "How dare you! I would never be your mistress!" And then she flung the contents of the glass right into his face.

Chapter 11.

Grace ran out onto the deck, almost fal ing on the stairs in her haste. She was suddenly very sober. She was also spitting mad and completely upset. Instinct made her glance over her shoulder-to see Rathe leaping down the stairs and coming after her with pure determination. Instead of continuing her flight, Grace stopped short, whirling, fists clenched, ready to do battle.

"I do not think," Rathe said, his voice tight, "that there was any cause to throw the water in my face!"

Her brows shot up. "No? You insulted me! You made me the most indecent offer! I have never been so outraged in my life!"

Somehow, Rathe doubted that. "I insulted you?" He was incredulous. "To the contrary."

They glared, their eyes blue and violet fires, flaming inches from each other, so close their noses almost touched.

"It's not an insult when a man wants a woman, Grace, especial y when he wants her the way I want you."

"I am not flattered," she snapped.

"Should I be a hypocrite and deny my feelings? Pretend to you, and even to myself, that they don't exist? That's not my way, Grace."

"And your way," she said glacial y, "is not my way, Mr. Bragg!"

His face went dark. "Do you think I make that kind of offer every day? Wel , let me set you straight! I've never kept a mistress before," Rathe informed her tersely. "I meant my offer as a compliment, Gracie."

"A compliment?" She could not believe her ears. "You, Mr. Bragg, are the most antiquated specimen of the philandering male sex I have ever had the misfortune to come across!"

His jaw clenched. "Just tel me something, Grace. I know you need money. I can give you al you need. It would be my pleasure. And believe me, you would find pleasure in our relationship, too. I can make you happy, Grace."

"You?" She wished she could laugh in his face, but she was too distraught. "You are entertaining some grand il usions if you think a man like yourself could ever make me happy!"

"I see." Rathe gritted his teeth, his eyes gleaming coldly. "You have no trouble showering Al en with your kisses. Do you love him?" he demanded.

"Are you going to marry him?"

She blinked. "I do not shower Al en with anything."

"Don't lie to me, I've seen the two of you together."

She stared, speechless.

"Grace, I know you're no fool. You haven't even bothered to think about this. There are other benefits to such an arrangement besides money."

"Other benefits!"

"Such as protection," he said stubbornly. "You need me, Grace. Today proved it."

"Al today has proved is that you are one cal ous, arrogant, bigoted male, ruled by your basest needs!"

Rathe inhaled. "That wasn't very nice, Grace. Was I ruled by my baser instincts this afternoon? I'm trying to help you."

"Help me? By getting me into your bed? Hah!"

He grabbed her chin. His eyes were cold. "I haven't cal ed you names, Grace. But maybe I should."

She shrugged free. "Go right ahead," she said, but something inside her tightened with dread. She knew what he would say. Prude, shrew, spinster. The words she hated most.

Rathe opened his mouth, then closed it. "I could awaken the passion in you, Grace."

She actual y felt relief that he hadn't used those detestable words. "I do not intend to give you a chance."

"Are you going to give Al en a chance?"

"That," she retorted, "is none of your affair!"

"I'm making it my affair. If I hadn't made you my affair today, Grace, you would have been raped. You think about that!"