Somehow he could not picture Grace ever doing that!

He shifted very uneasily in his seat. Was it possible that, for the first time in his life, he was going to be thwarted? Never had he wanted anything as much as he wanted Grace. He kept thinking she would come around. But was he wrong? Was Grace real y going to evade him? Would she walk out of his life, never to appear again?

That last thought made him sick, and he knew he could never let it happen. He would kidnap her first.

He looked at the telegram, and realized it was from his family. If his mother knew he was thinking of treating a woman like this, she would give him one rousing lecture...and maybe a smack or two. Rathe couldn't even smile at the picture of his tiny mother trying to hit him when he was six feet tal , built like an oak, and thirty years old, to boot. He knew his parents wanted to see him. If he had any common sense, he would pack his bags and leave Natchez and never come back. He picked up the telegram.

DEAR RATHE,.

WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME STOP STORM AND BRETT AND KIDS ARE HERE STOP HAD HELLUVA TIME FINDING YOUR WHEREABOUTS STOP WE WANT TO HEAR ABOUT.

NICK STOP COME SOON WE LOVE YOU STOP DEREK.

His sister, Storm, and her husband, Brett, were at the ranch with his niece and two nephews. That alone was the best reason there could be to get going. It had been almost a year since he'd last been home, and that was too long. And he hadn't seen Storm in more than that, because she and her husband lived in San Francisco. If only his older brother Nick, were there. But Nick was in England, at Dragmore, the estate he had inherited from their English grandfather.

Rathe had been in England earlier that year on business, and the rest of the family was clearly anxious to hear his report about Nick.

But he knew he couldn't leave Natchez now, not with Grace here, not when he was so obsessed he couldn't even get randy around other women. If Nick or Derek knew they'd be howling with laughter, tel ing him it served him right.

Rathe shut off his thoughts.

Grace felt awful as she departed Harriet's with her two valises and single carpetbag. Al en had gladly loaned her the money. Grace had not told him that she was leaving, nor had she told him she had been asked to do so. She didn't want to upset him. After she was established someplace else, she would let him know, explaining that she had left in order to take a cheaper room. Two of the women who were boarding at Harriet's were sitting on the porch, watching her every move as she huffed down the path to the street. "Good riddance," she heard one of them say. "To think baggage like that claims to be a schoolteacher! It's a sin!"

Grace raised her chin, firmed her lips, and walked on.

Of course, the hotels on the cliffs were too expensive. On the edge of the waterfront she paused, putting down her bags, massaging her hands.

Sailors were unloading a barge. Drays moved down the street. A couple of drunks were stumbling out of a saloon. The line of hotels, with their shabby facades and faded signs, stretched from where she was standing out into the distance and out of sight. She saw Dan Reid on the boardwalk in front of Max's, and flushed thinking about last night.

Just then a boy, barefoot and dirty and about thirteen, ran into her, almost knocking her down. Grace cried out.

"Oh, 'scuse me, ma'am," he said, steadying her. "Are you al right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, shaken. "Thank you." She gave him a warm smile.

He grinned back, apologized again, and took off.

Grace picked up her bags and continued down the street. It wasn't until she was standing inside one of the hotels, registering, trying not to notice the dirt in the corners and a mouse scurrying across the floors, that she reached for her reticule and realized her money was gone.

She had been robbed.

The night was warm. She had nowhere to go. She knew she was in a desperate situation. She could not ask Al en for the last of his money. He would give it to her. Then he would have nothing.

She sat on a tree stump in a clearing in the woods on the outskirts of town, shivering despite the balmy temperature. Her bags were at her feet.

Through the trees, she could just make out the sluggish, meandering Mississippi, shining in the moonlight. Two men on a raft drifted past her, poling along.

She was shielded by trees and shrubs; nevertheless, she held her breath until they were out of sight.

Every snapping twig, every rustle of leaves, made her jump and crane her head around. What was she doing? Did she real y think she could spend the night out here? It was so dark. She told herself there was nothing to be afraid of, that this was better than a street corner-and in the daylight, when she had arrived, it had seemed safe. In town she would have certainly been accosted. But what about the wild animals? Were there snakes out here? Lions? Wolves? Oh, God! She knew nothing about the wilderness! And even if she survived tonight, what about tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that?

Tomorrow wil bring a job, she told herself firmly. Al you have to do is survive this night. Tomorrow you wil find a job, a job with room and board. No one can see you from the road or the river. Just be stil and quiet and you'l be safe.

There was a movement in the bushes behind her. Grace jumped to her feet, clamping a hand over her mouth to stil the shriek that wanted to escape. It was only a gray tomcat.

Rathe paced the confines of his room at the Silver Lady Hotel. He knew Grace didn't deserve his concern, but he couldn't help it-he wanted to know where the hel she was.

He had been shocked by Harriet's response when he had casual y asked her, just before supper, if she had seen Grace-not that he had anything to say to her, because he didn't. But he hadn't seen her since yesterday night at Max's, and he couldn't help wondering where she'd been al day-and if she'd changed her mind-not that he cared!

Harriet told him she had left her establishment.

"Left?" he echoed blankly. His first thought was a horrified one: She had left town, disappeared from his life!

Harriet was confused. "You haven't seen her? I thought you two were getting married."

"What?"

"Rathe, honey, she had to leave. I run a respectable place. But seein' as how you asked her to marry you, I figured it would al work out for the best.

She didn't go to you?"

Rathe managed to piece together what had happened. Grace had been asked to leave because of the night she had spent with him. She had also borrowed ten dol ars from Al en. Ten dol ars! Two of the ladies had seen her leaving with al her bags, heading for town. How far could she get on ten dol ars? And just where the hel was she going?

He reminded himself that she had practical y rejected his proposal outright. Stil , he marched to the train station to see if she had taken the afternoon train east. She hadn't. Immensely relieved, he returned to his hotel and decided she could surely stay out of trouble for one night. She had obviously taken a new room somewhere. He'd find out about it tomorrow.

He was expecting room service. He had a brandy in one hand and was clad in a dark blue robe. When the knock came, he opened the door. He had the vaguest image of the blur that was Grace. Before he could get a better look, she catapulted into his arms, where she clung, shaking like a leaf.

He held her, shocked. "Grace, what is it, what's wrong?" He was terrified, for he knew that only the most unimaginable of horrors could make her leap into his embrace like this.

She whimpered, pressing against him. "Oh, Lord, it was so awful, so awful..."

Firmly, he moved her back so he could look at her. Her face was stark white. Three long, bleeding scratches marred its perfection. There were twigs in her hair, brambles on her arms and bodice, mud on her skirts. "Jesus, what happened?"

She gripped his lapels, almost tearing the silk. Her hands shook. "Lions, Indians, and then there was this owl..." She started to cry.

He blinked, cupped her face. "Grace, were you attacked?"

"I think there was a wolf, but maybe it was a dog..."

"Were you attacked?"

"I was in the woods and I was running and I couldn't see. I thought I was running back to Natchez, but I ran for hours and hours! And I think there were snakes! I wound up in the swamps!" She began sobbing. "Something slithered over my shoulder!"

Rathe put his arm around her and led her to the bed. He sat and held her. "It's al right now," he crooned. He stroked her hair, then began removing brambles between the caresses. "What were you doing in the woods at night, Grace?"

Her face was pressed into his chest. When she spoke, her mouth moved against his flesh, and he could feel her breath. "I was robbed, I lost Al en's money. I had nowhere to go. I found this little spot-it was so pretty in the daylight. But at night..."

He bit back a smile. He decided not to tel her that there were no wolves or lions in this area, and that there hadn't been in years. His hand curved around the back of her scalp, holding her head close. "Everything's al right now, Grace. I wish you'd come to me first."

She sniffled.

He couldn't resist, he brushed his lips over her temple. Slowly, she raised her red-rimmed eyes to his face. "You think I'm sil y, don't you."

With one forefinger, he touched her adorable nose. "No, I don't. The woods are a frightening place at night, especial y if you're a city girl. But you're safe now, Grace." His voice was a caress, a rich murmur. "Don't you know I would never let anything harm you?"

That made her sit up ful y, putting distance between them. She studied him seriously, then removed some moisture remaining around her eyes away with her knuckles. Rathe wanted to bend over and flick the tear away with his tongue. Then touch it to her lips, part them, glide past. Instead, he sat unmoving, waiting.

She took a breath. "I've-I've been thinking..."

He didn't smile. "Yes?"

"About your offer."

His heart began to hammer. His face remained careful y expressionless.

"I don't think marriage is a good idea..."

He stared. Disappointment overwhelmed him.

"But Rathe?" Her voice was smal and too high. "I've changed my mind about the other-the other offer."

He could not believe this.

"About being your mistress." She coughed.

"About being my mistress," he repeated foolishly.

"Yes." She took a breath, then managed a smile. "If, that is, the offer stil stands, I've...decided to accept."

"I see." He got to his feet, looked at her, then walked to the window. Should he ever expect the ordinary from Grace? And why in hel was he upset?

He hadn't wanted to marry her to begin with. Now he would have her-without paying the price of marriage. So why were his fists clenched and his temper roiling so dangerously? He turned back to her. She was watching him anxiously. "Of course the offer stil stands."

She sighed in relief.

"Just as a point of interest," he said, "would you mind explaining one thing to me?"

"Of course."

"Most women would have chosen marriage. Instead, you chose to be my mistress. I'm having a little trouble understanding your logic."

She bit her lip.

"Grace?" There was warning in his tone.

She lifted her chin and gazed at him. "Marriage is a permanent union. The other is a temporary."

"Ah, yes, how foolish of me."

She clasped her hands and shifted uneasily.

"Perhaps I should make a few stipulations. I expect your services for the next year."

She flushed. "For the next year?"

"At which point," he continued, perversely satisfied to have been derogatory, "we wil make a mutual decision as to whether to renew our liaison or not."

"A year?"

"Certainly you can manage to bear my presence for one year? After al , it's not a lifetime." His eyes flashed. He could feel himself losing control of his temper.

"A year. Wel , yes, I guess so."

"Thank you. You do understand, don't you, that I have exclusive rights."

"Exclusive rights." Her eyes fil ed with tears.

"Ah, shit," Rathe growled.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes. "I guess I'm just tired. Do you think we could possibly wait until tomorrow to begin our-our liaison?"

"Tomorrow. Yes, that is definitely a good idea." Rathe knew he had to leave, now. He did not want to make her cry, yet he was furious and doing just that. With very stiff strides, he crossed the room and opened the door. He tried not to slam it closed behind him. He failed.

Chapter 19.

Rathe quietly entered his room at the Silver Lady Hotel. It was several hours later. He leaned heavily against the door, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Then he pushed himself off with an effort.

He was drunk, quite thoroughly, and he knew it. He navigated around the furniture in the room with some difficulty, bumping into a chair, causing it to scrape against the floor. He froze, not wanting to wake Grace.

He found a lamp and lit it. He wanted to look at her, real y look at her, feast his eyes on her. He stood over the bed, holding the lamp up, staring.

She was so beautiful. His heart did a series of the strangest somersaults. Beautiful and extraordinary. He smiled at that thought. After Grace, an ordinary woman would bore him to death.

He was no longer mad. In fact, he had trouble remembering why he had been so angry. What did it matter that she hadn't wanted to marry him?

Most men would consider themselves lucky. Right now, watching her as she slept, curled up on her side, her hair streaming over her shoulder, he was feeling very lucky too. Lucky and lustful.

He eyed her breasts, swel ing out of her thin chemise. He methodical y stripped off his clothes, barely taking his gaze off of her, until he was stark naked. He crawled into bed beside her, taking her into his arms from behind. She stirred.

This woman was his. It was an overwhelming thought.

He nuzzled her neck and hugged her hard against him. He ran his hand down her torso, to her waist, and over her hip. No woman had ever felt this good.