For a moment he didn't move, and Grace thought she was wrong-he didn't care, and that, perversely, dismayed her.

Then he stood. "Excuse me," he said to the room in general. Before she knew it, he had come around the table and was pul ing her chair back, with her in it. She protested. "I believe we have something to discuss," he drawled, and because she knew him wel now, because his words were so thick and slurred, like Southern honey, she knew he was very, very angry.

"Rathe..."

He hauled her to her feet and jerked her with him into the hal and out the back door. Outside, she twisted free, furious. "How-"

Rathe's look was murderous, cutting Grace off in mid-sentence. She took a nervous step backward.

"Are you out of your mind?" he demanded.

"This is not your affair."

He started for her.

She backed away.

"You need looking after," he said, stalking her.

"I can take care of myself."

"The way you did on Saturday?"

"I..." She backed into the wal with a gasp.

His arms came up on either side of her, closing her in. At this proximity he was even more intimidating, for she could see that he was madder than she had thought. "You could have been seriously hurt on Saturday," he said tensely. "Just like you could have been hurt that day on the waterfront."

"But I wasn't." She swal owed, her mouth terribly dry.

"Because I was there. Dammit, Gracie! The next time I may not be around to save your silken skin!"

"I can take care of myself," she shouted back. "I've been doing it for years!"

"You have nine lives," he snapped. "Ever since I've known you, you've just barely escaped seriously hurting yourself!"

"I cannot sit around and do nothing."

"Dammit! Can't you at least keep to one program? Do you have to go sticking your nose into everything you possibly can?"

"Is there only one injustice in the world?" she flung back.

"You know what you need?"

"I'm afraid to ask!"

"You need a thrashing," he said, his face inches from hers. "A real thrashing, the kind that wil teach you some sense."

"Let me go," she ground out angrily, pushing against the steel wal of his chest. But he didn't budge.

"Then you need a protector," he said more level y. "Face it, Grace, you need me."

"You are the most arrogant, conceited man I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

"You are the most unreasonable, lunatic woman..." he growled, then leaned forward, pinning her with his body, finding her mouth with his.

Beneath his onslaught, Grace froze. She tried to resist, she truly did. But it was hopeless. Her mouth softened, parting gently, and her body began a slow melting. She raised her hands and hesitantly put them on his shoulders. A deep, guttural cry of triumph escaped Rathe.

He didn't move his hands from the wal on either side of her neck, keeping her imprisoned with his big body. He pul ed at her lush lower lip with his teeth, then licked the seam of her lips insistently. "Open for me, Grace," he breathed.

She opened. His tongue thrust in, hot, hard, urgent. His hips, at the same time, moved sensual y against her, and he began rubbing his long, thickened arousal back and forth. Grace groaned, flinging her head back, leaving Rathe free to shower her throat with kisses, to seek the recess of one delicate ear. When his tongue began to trace its spiraling contours, Grace shuddered helplessly. In response, he rubbed himself more urgently against her, tel ing her what he wanted, and that he wanted it now.

"Damn," he cried, burying his face in her neck.

Grace could feel his entire body pulsating against hers. She didn't want him to stop. Not now. Not ever.

He separated his body from hers, but he took her firmly by the shoulders. "We have to go back inside."

She could not believe herself. She was disappointed, she wanted to fling herself back in his arms.

"Grace," he said, taking a breath. "You're getting in over your head. I don't want you teaching."

Her heart was stil beating furiously. "Maybe," she said, wetting her dry lips, "maybe if this town had some decent law and order a person could teach freely and in peace. And besides, you have no right to tel me what to do-you of al people. You're the reason I was unemployed!"

Rathe raised his gaze to the heavens and swore. "Damn," he said softly. "You have more tenacity than anyone, man or woman, that I've ever met."

"It's the truth."

He stared at her. A muscle in his jaw jumped. "Do you want the truth?"

She bit her lip.

"The truth is you and me, sweetheart."

"I don't have to listen to this!"

He barreled on. "The truth is what I do to you-what you do to me. The truth is we belong together, and you know it."

The truth.

It was not the truth!

They did not belong together. It didn't matter that he was handsome. What mattered was who and what he was. He was a cal ous philanderer, selfish and self-absorbed. He was not the man for her, not the kind of man she should even look at. She didn't know why his kisses stirred her so, but hoped it was because of her lack and his wealth of experience.

There was no doubt about becoming his mistress! She'd never do it. He would have to be the last man on earth, and she the last woman!

However, if he continued to be so persistent, she was going to have some problems. How could she keep Rathe at arm's length, and at the same time coax him into helping clean up this town?

Grace, you're playing with fire, a little voice said.

But what other options do I have? she asked herself miserably. She had a terrific headache.

After supper she adjourned to Al en's room with a book, intending to cheer him with a favorite story of theirs, and cheer herself as wel . She was determined to forget, for the moment, Rathe Bragg, Sheriff Ford, al her worries.

Al en was thril ed to see her. He was stil weak and sore, although he had sat up earlier that day. He turned his head to her, and smiled slightly, unable to do more because of his puffy lips. "Grace, hel o."

"Hel o, Al en," she said, sitting beside him and taking his hand. She clung to it. This man, who was good and just, loved her enough to want to marry her, understood her enough not to push her. Yet in his arms, she felt nothing at al . A terrible kind of despair rose up in her.

While he, he was the worst sort of philanderer, and he only wanted to make her his mistress-his toy, his plaything. He understood her not at al , and was pushing her remorselessly. And in his arms, she felt everything. Dear Lord, just one hot look was enough to make her pulse pound.

She began tel ing Al en about her day, too rapidly, rushing headlong in flight from her memory of Rathe. It took her a while to notice Al en's consternation, though at last, at the sight of his tensed countenance, she froze. "Al en? What is it? Are you in pain?"

"I don't want you teaching, Grace," he cried. "I've changed my mind." He tried to sit up. The movement made him gasp with pain, for two of his ribs were cracked.

"Please, Al en, you'l hurt yourself!"

Al en lay weakly back. "Grace, don't be a fool-worse, a martyr. You saw who did this. I don't want you involved. I was wrong to let you see Mayor Sheinreich..."

Grace felt tears rising, tears of frustration. She touched his cheek gently, and he turned his face ful y into her cupped hand. "Al en," she whispered, "you are so dear to me. I love you very much."

"Oh, Grace."

"Being as I didn't get through to her," came a thick, rough drawl from the door, "maybe you can."

Grace gasped, whirling. "What are you doing in here?"

Rathe was standing with his arms crossed against the doorjamb. He didn't look charitable. "I should ask you that very question. What, no chaperone? Shame on you, Miss O'Rourke." His face was hard. "Tel her, Al en."

"Promise me, Grace, promise me you'l tel Mayor Sheinreich you've changed your mind. Please, Grace."

But Grace wasn't listening. "You!" she shrieked. "You tel me I need a chaperone when I'm with Al en?"

Both men looked at her.

"You dare to insinuate that Al en would be anything other than a gentleman-even as he's lying here hurt in bed?"

"Calm down, Gracie," Rathe said.

"Calm down! After you have just accused me of needing a chaperone? After what you just did out on the back porch? You dare to chastise me?"

Rathe reddened.

"What's going on between you two?" Al en asked.

Neither Grace or Rathe heard. "I apologize," Rathe said stiffly.

Grace had opened her mouth, about to keep on blasting him for his morals and his double standards. Now she swal owed air. "You what?"

"I apologize," he repeated.

"You're apologizing to me?"

"How many times would you like me to say it?"

"Once is fine," she murmured, dazed. Then she glared. "Wait a minute. Exactly what are you apologizing for?"

His gaze was level. "For chastising you."

She wanted to scream.

"The one thing I am not," Rathe said, "is a hypocrite. I wil never apologize for what I've asked of you."

"Are you implying that I am?"

"Implying? Why should I imply something when I can state it openly."

"Me?"

"A hypocrite," Rathe said, at the door, "according to my dictionary, says one thing and does another." He gave her a look, then walked away.

"What is going on?" Al en said.

Grace flushed. Was she a hypocrite when it came to being in his arms?

"Grace? What's going on?"

Slowly, she turned to Al en. "That man is impossible." She tried a smile. "Nothing. I was hoping he might take on Ford, but instead we seem to be constantly at each other's throats."

"Rathe? What do you mean-take on Ford?"

"Someone has to stop him," Grace said. "Rathe may not have any morals, but he's tough and he's not afraid of Ford. Most importantly, he can hold his own against him."

"Grace, you can't go after Sheriff Ford! That is begging trouble! Is that why Rathe apprehended one of the men who accosted you?"

"What?"

"You never told me about that, Grace." Al en turned an accusing look on her. "I had to hear the gossip."

"It wasn't important. Rathe caught one of the sailors? What happened? When?"

"Yesterday. He's locked up, awaiting trial. The circuit judge wil be in town next week. Grace, why didn't you tel me?"

Grace was stunned. "He's already made a difference, even if it was for al the wrong reasons." She bit her lip, apprehension fil ing her as she imagined the confrontation that had probably occurred between Rathe and the sheriff. "As you can see," she said slowly, "he is the perfect man to stand up against Sheriff Ford."

But there was no fervor in her words.

The next day, Grace was gathering up her books in the empty church where classes were held, as the last of her students left. Geoffrey was hanging about shyly, having appeared, to her delight, that afternoon. Apparently he had chores in the mornings that he couldn't escape. "Would you mind carrying these books for me?" Grace asked with a smile.

He was thril ed, taking the books with pride.