"Who's that, Al en?"

Al en looked up from the book he was reading. "I don't know, I-" He suddenly stood. "Grace, don't say a word."

She stood too, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. As the two riders came closer, her heart sank. She would recognize Rawlins' white-socked chestnut anywhere. And then her dismay increased. Ford was with him.

"Wel , wel , if it ain't the little schoolmarm," Rawlins drawled. "Teachin' al the little niggers with her Yankee friend."

Ford grinned, his eyes on Grace. "Hear your man left town." He edged his horse closer.

Grace was afraid. "Good day, Sheriff, Mr. Rawlins. What can I do for you?"

Rawlins threw back his head and laughed.

Ford smiled. "She talks like she's al ful of vinegar, don't she? But I seen you the other night, al decked out, pretty as a peach. You're with the wrong man, honey." He reached out and touched her shoulder.

Grace inhaled. Al en stepped between them. "Sheriff, what brings you al this way?"

Ford's eyes reluctantly left Grace. He looked at Al en. "My friend here is al fired up. Thought he'd reached a little understandin' with the lady, ya see. But 'pears he didn't. So I thought I'd accompany him while we discussed things." He grinned.

Rawlins, sitting negligently in the saddle, suddenly threw his leg over and slid to the ground. He began walking toward them.

"What would you like to discuss?" Al en asked hoarsely.

Grace reached for Al en, grabbing his arm. She whipped her head around as Ford slid to the ground, put his arm around her and dragged her against him. "Let me go," she cried, trying to pul free and look at Rawlins at the same time. Ford easily wrapped her in his arms, holding her from behind.

The man was husky and strong as an ox, and Grace went stil , her heart pounding so fast she felt faint. Sweat gathered and made her dress stick to her body.

"This is my last warnin' to you dumb Yanks," Rawlins spat. "We don't want no nigger school in Natchez." He hit Al en, one punch, right in his cracked ribs. Al en cried out and fel to his knees, clutching himself.

Grace gasped and struggled furiously. "You bigoted bul y! Let me go!"

"God, bet she's somethin' in Bragg's bed," Ford said, nuzzling her neck. One of his large hands closed over her breast. Grace froze, stunned, disbelieving. He fingered the nipple, then released her. She bolted to Al en, putting her arms around him. Rawlins and Ford mounted their horses. "Are you al right?" she cried as they thundered away.

Al en was on his knees. "That bastard!"

"Al en, are you al right?"

"It could be worse."

Grace helped him up. He was sweating. "Bragg wil most likely kil him," he stated grimly.

"No!" Grace was frantic. "Al en-we can't tel Rathe. Please!"

Al en looked at her sadly. "Oh, Grace."

"I don't want him hurt."

At last he nodded.

Grace began cal ing to the children who had gathered in a tight, frightened bunch. "It's al right, those dreadful men are gone and they won't be back today. Come on, everyone! Time for class!"

Al en grabbed her arm. "You are insane, Grace! You can't continue with this!"

"Someone has to teach them. And until you are official y back at work, I intend to do that."

"Grace, these men are not little boys. They have guns and whips. They hurt people, they kil them."

"I realize that. But I have an advantage. I'm a woman. And they might manhandle me a little, but I doubt even Ford would hurt me."

"I disagree!"

"Anyway, tomorrow I intend to have a trick or two up my sleeve. I am going to purchase a gun."

Al en stared.

"Not to use it," she said, flushing. Al en felt the same way about violence that she did. "Just to carry it."

"Oh, God," was Al en's reply.

"I don't believe this." Ford was on his feet.

"Believe it." Rathe smiled. It did not reach his eyes. He was hot, soaked with sweat, and dirty. But the man he shoved forward was even dirtier -and bruised as wel . He had a closed black eye, a swol en mouth, and various cuts.

Ford recovered, and began to grin, thumbs in his pockets. "You don't quit, do you, boy?"

Rathe leveled a stare on him. "Never. Just think of how this is going to make you look, Sheriff. Prisoner escapes, prisoner returned. Good for you, don't you agree?"

Ford spat. "Al over some colored trash."

"And a lady."

Ford just looked at him.

Rathe control ed himself. He did not want to fight with Ford now, not over Grace, not when he wanted a bigger victory-the sailor tried and judged guilty. He would sacrifice the battle for the war. "Later, Sheriff."

Ford laughed.

Outside, Rathe nodded to the Pinkerton man he had hired to guard the prisoner, then began hurrying with long strides to Cliff Street. He could not wait to see Grace.

She wasn't in their room, and he assumed she was out shopping. He hoped she was buying herself something pretty and extravagant. He smiled at the thought. He had brought home a few gifts for her, which he careful y placed on the table. One of them was something pretty and extravagant. He thought they had gotten close enough for her to wear it. But maybe not.

He had not been able to forget the last night they had spent together. Grace had been a tigress in his arms. He had been stunned by her fierce, demanding passion. And he had responded. He had imagined that Grace had deep, hidden fires, but never had he dreamed they could be so hot, so bright. Never had he imagined making love to her in such a hard excess of frenzy. She didn't know it, but she had actual y left marks on his neck from her teeth and on his back from her nails. He had worn them proudly.

While he'd been gone he had worried about her, too, knowing the penchant she had for getting into trouble. But what trouble could she possibly get into? He knew she was no longer in the Ladies' Christian Temperance Union, due to her relationship with him. And she was no longer teaching. That was one thing he wasn't sorry about, that he was indirectly responsible for her having been dismissed. Fortunately he had found out about the informal class and forbidden it. That was one issue Grace did not need to be involved in.

He lol ed in a hot bath, hoping she would return while he was in it. He would drag her down, clothes and al , letting her know just how much he had missed her. After the other night, she couldn't stil be prim and proper-could she? He grinned. There was only one way to find out.

He had, however, just stepped out of the tub and was wrapping a towel around his waist when the door opened and Grace appeared, and then froze, eyes widening. He grinned. "Hel o, sweetheart."

She was staring right into his eyes, her lips parted in a soundless exclamation, a vision in pale blue silk. Then her glance dropped, taking in his mostly naked body, and high spots of color began to form on her cheeks. He couldn't help it, he was having an instant erection from wanting her so badly, missing her so much. "Come here, sweetheart."

She did the unexpected. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his damp body. Rathe hugged her fiercely. "I like this welcoming!"

She clung. He wanted to give her her gifts, but he also wanted to do something else, and his hands held her hips hard against his. "Oh, Grace, did I miss you."

Her lips met his. Her mouth was open, moist, eager. He cupped her face in his palms, so he could look into her eyes. "I don't think I can behave right now, Grace."

She smiled, mouth trembling, and he was startled to find tears in her eyes. "Now is not the time to be reformed," she whispered.

He whooped. He lifted her and carried her to the bed. She lay sprawled against the white sheets, holding her arms out to him. It was a moment he would never forget. A magnificent, breathtaking sight-Grace holding her arms out to him.

He laughed, and dove on top of her. She giggled in surprise. He yanked her reticule out from beneath them and tossed it to the floor, where it landed with a thud. He straddled her, stil wearing the towel. "Now, you," he said, with laughter in his voice. "You are in big trouble!"

"I am?" asked amazing Grace. She reached for the towel, and pul ed. "Oh dear," she said. "I guess I am!"

He showered her with the gifts.

The lightweight boxes and the wrapped parcels fel to the bed, sliding across her body. Grace sat up, clutching the sheet. "What are you doing?"

Smiling, he took a red, red rose out of the dozen in his hand, and tossed it at her.

"Rathe!"

He tossed another, and another. One fel on her bel y, one on her hand. She started to giggle. He started to laugh. He tossed the roses until they were strewn al around her on the big, white bed.

"You're impossible!"

"And you like it like that," he said, sitting and kissing her lightly on the mouth.

She couldn't contain her smiles. They were like sunbeams and starbursts. "Open one," Rathe urged.

"What have you done?"

She opened a box and found a beautiful turquoise shawl, shot with silver and gold threads. "Oh." She lifted her eyes to his.

"Like it?"

"I love it." She hugged him, hard and fast.

Rathe knew he was grinning like an idiot. "Open another."

She did, and bit her lip to contain her pleasure. "How did you know I like chocolate?"

"Good guess," he replied smoothly, not about to tel her he'd never met a woman who didn't.

"You've done too much," she scolded.

"Open another."

She reached for a box.

"Not that one, the other one."

She looked at him, then smiled, and took the box he shoved toward her. She unwrapped it slowly, then pul ed out a chiffon wrapper, lace-trimmed, the creamiest white. A wisp of nightgown fol owed. "Oh."

"Do you like them?" Rathe asked hesitantly.

She did. She had to admit it, she did. The material was sheer, but so finely made, the stitches exquisite. They were garments fit for a princess, not her. "Only a queen should wear this," she said, blinking back a sudden tear.

"You are a queen," he said, taking her hand. "My queen."

Their gazes locked.

If only he meant it, she thought.

Why won't she believe me? he wondered.

"There's one more."

Grace smiled, unable to contain an expression of eagerness. "This is too much!"

"Nothing is too much for you."

She looked at him sternly. "Words come a little too easily from those lips of yours, sir."

He bit back a smile. He placed a hand on his heart. "I plead guilty, madame."

She opened the box, and drew out the scantiest silk drawers she had ever seen. They were black. They would only reach the top of her thighs-if that. They had lace garters with red rosettes. With it came the shortest lace chemise Grace had ever seen. It was doubtful it would reach her waist. "Oh, how nice," she said, holding up the chemise. "A handkerchief."

Rathe started to laugh. He couldn't help it, and soon he was in tears. She was laughing, too. Extraordinary Grace! He had expected any reaction but this. He swept her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"You are so very bad," Grace said into his neck.

"I'm holding out. I need you, Grace, to reform me."

She touched his cheek.

He was sheepish. "Is it too much?"

"A bit."

"Can't blame me for trying."

"No, I can't blame you for trying."

Rathe got up and began to gather the empty boxes and wrappers. Grace watched, unable to take her eyes off of him, fil ed up with the unbearable pleasure of love. I'm in love, she thought, holding her chest. Truly in love!

"So what have you been doing?" Rathe asked, placing everything in one neat pile for the maid. Grace was about to reply when he spotted her reticule on the floor. He picked it up; she froze. "What the hel 's in here, anyway?" he asked. "This thing weighs a ton."