"But irresistible," he said softly, close behind her, too close.

"Not to me!"

"When do I get my kiss?"

"Certainly not now," she said, moving away and facing him. "Not ever! You are despicable. If you were truly a gentleman you would keep your silence without a price."

"Then you must be right. I'm a scoundrel, a rake, and a-what was it? A perverted philistine?"

He was making fun of her again. She lifted her chin. "I must get back."

"When do I get my kiss?" he persisted.

Her bosom heaved. He had no scruples. She had no doubt he would reveal her secret if she denied him. It was a risk she could not take. "Tonight."

Chapter 6.

The thought of seducing her had crossed his mind, once or twice. But it wouldn't be right, and he knew it, because he knew that if he seriously set out to seduce her, he would succeed. She would have no defense against his wel -practiced, superior tactics. That knowledge definitely raised some guilt.

If he were smart, he would ride out of Natchez now, this instant, instead of lurking by the barn waiting for their rendezvous. And their kiss.

Did she real y think him such a cad that he'd tattle on her to Louisa Barclay? That upset him. Apparently, she real y did think the worst of him-and she didn't even know him. He tried to remember someone in his past, especial y a woman, who had not liked him. He couldn't think of a single one-up until now. Grace real y didn't like him.

Wel , one kiss did not make a seduction. And one kiss would not hurt either of them. And one kiss was certainly the least he deserved...

But would she show up? He waited impatiently. Somehow he figured she was scared enough about him keeping her secret, that she would. She had agreed to meet him behind the third barn at ten o'clock. He heard footsteps and turned.

Even if he hadn't been expecting her, he would have recognized her in the dim glow of the moonlight from the stiff, squared set of her shoulders.

He smiled at the familiar sight. She stopped a few yards from him, and he could just make out her expression-tensed and grim. He wondered what he would see in her eyes if it were lighter out. Anger? Apprehension? Excitement? His own body had begun a slow, delicious, steady throb. Damn. He wanted this woman. Of al women, he wanted her.

"Come here," he said softly.

She didn't move.

He smiled, a flashing of white in the darkness. "Then I'l come to you," he whispered. He moved forward slowly, four easy strides, until he was standing an inch away from her. She looked up.

Oh Gracie, he thought, if you relax you'l like it.

Oh dear Lord, she thought, I just cannot believe I'm doing this.

Her eyes were dark liquid pools, at once anxious and angry. They glittered. He wanted to see them glaze with desire-with desire for him. "Don't be mad at me," he whispered. "It's your charms that are at fault." His voice was a soft, heavy caress. "I can't seem to help myself."

"My charms?" she said sarcastical y. "Oh no, Mr. Bragg, I think it's your rutting proclivities that are entirely to blame."

His eyes widened with shock.

Hers narrowed with triumph.

"Grace," he managed, "you do have a way with words."

"Is the truth too much to bear?" she asked, too sweetly.

"Why don't we test my rutting proclivities," he said grimly.

She stepped back.

He stepped forward.

"I've changed my mind," she gasped.

"Too late." His hands closed over her shoulders.

"Then just get it over with," she snapped. But a tremble swept over her.

He winced at her reaction and with his fingers spread, began kneading her muscles softly. "I know you're not cold," he murmured, his blood thickening deliciously in his groin. He heard her breathe and felt her body stiffen. "Relax," he whispered. "This is supposed to be pleasurable." His voice was very husky. "Give me a chance. Let me show you just how good this can be."

"I detest you and what you stand for," she said, choking on a sob.

Rathe froze at that particularly female sound of anguish. For some insane reason, he thought of Lucil a, the fifteen-year-old he had deflowered when he was a boy. Unlike Grace, she had wanted him as much as he had wanted her. Grace was trembling beneath his touch. Rathe suddenly hated himself and his lust. He removed his hands. "I guess I'm more of a gentleman than either of us thought. You have my silence," he said with heavy disappointment.

He turned abruptly and left.

Al en arrived promptly at nine as they had arranged. He swung down from the buggy, beaming, dressed in his Sunday suit. "Grace! I've been looking forward to this al week!"

Grace hurried to him with a fond smile, genuinely glad to see him. Although her first week was shorter than normal because she had arrived on a Tuesday, she was already exhausted emotional y. The girls had begun to settle down and were improving both their literary skil s and their manners, to her relief. But there was the constant strain of teaching Geoffrey on the sly and of worrying about that scoundrel, Rathe Bragg, knowing her past. He hadn't appeared again since the night he had almost kissed her, which suited her just fine. So it came as something of a surprise, when Al en drew back after pressing his lips to her cheek, to see him sitting on his stal ion, staring with what distinctly looked like a frown. Their gazes met, and Grace was angry with herself for blushing as if she were guilty of some trespass.

She clearly remembered the promise in the tone of his voice when he had been about to kiss her-and the obvious disappointment when he had not. She herself had stood frozen, watching him disappear with long, hard strides, unable to believe that he had changed his mind, that he had actual y done the right thing. She had felt a wave of triumph, but it was mingled with regret. The salute he had sent her as he rode away was somehow both mocking and bitter.

"How are you, Al en?" she said, stil clasping his hand, tearing her gaze from Rathe with difficulty.

"Just fine, Grace. I've been counting the days like a schoolboy." He grinned.

Grace attempted a smile in return as he helped her into the buggy. Al en climbed in after her, spotting Rathe for the first time. "Hel o, Rathe. A beautiful day, isn't it?"

Rathe's eyes had drifted from Grace, who looked fetching even with the sil y spectacles, dressed in a green print gown, to Al en, puffed with pleasure, arranging a wicker basket and red checked tablecoth on the seat between them. He stared at the picnic basket a beat longer before managing a slight smile at Al en. "Al en, I didn't know you were acquainted with Melrose's new governess." His drawl came out thicker than usual.

Al en beamed, taking one of Grace's hands in his. "Grace and I share a bit of history," he explained cheerful y. "In fact," he shot her a warm look, "one day I hope she'l do me the honor of becoming my wife."

A heavy silence, fil ed with the scent of magnolias, the whisper of the dining-room fan, and the drone of bees, descended. Then Rathe smiled.

"Wel ," he drawled, "the best of luck to you both."

"What's wrong?" Al en asked as they departed. Grace silently watched Rathe swing down from the stal ion, clad in his indecently tight doeskin breeches. She hastily averted her gaze from the sight of his hard buttocks and thighs, flushing. She had never before thought men's breeches indecent.

"How do you know Rathe Bragg?" she asked careful y.

"Why, he's an old friend of the woman I board with," Al en replied. "A family friend, I believe. I've chatted with him a number of times. He's an interesting man-but no progressive thinker, as far as I can make out." He shifted his eyes from the Melrose driveway toward Grace. "Are you al right?"

"Of course," she responded too quickly. "Al en, I wish you hadn't said that-about marriage."

He looked at her. "But it's how I feel; and I'm proud of it."

"Your wanting to marry me should be private, just between the two of us."

"I'm sorry, Grace."

They traveled without mishap down a long, shady thoroughfare, the elaborate planters' homes giving way to more modest clapboard ones. Al en amused her with stories of his students and Grace found herself tel ing him about her own remarkable pupil, Geoffrey.

The church service seemed interminable. Grace fidgeted, eager for it to end so she could get to work and begin organizing the ladies. She hadn't mentioned her plans to Al en, but she was positive that she would have his support. As soon as the service was over she hurried outside and hovered by the exit.

"Grace, what are you up to?" Al en demanded.

She smiled at him. "I just want a chance to meet a few of the ladies."

He looked at her. "You told me you were going to stay out of trouble."

"Oh, Al en," she cried. "I just can't sit back and do nothing!"

He sighed. He knew her so wel .

A middle-aged couple emerged. They smiled at Grace, and she beamed back. The congregation filed out and began mil ing about the churchyard sociably. Neighbors chatted with those they hadn't seen al week. Grace waved at Martha Grimes, the woman she had met on the train, who was standing with another woman, undoubtedly her daughter. "Al en, mingle with the men," she ordered, and he shook his head but went off to do her bidding. She went over to three women chatting animatedly in the shade of a huge magnolia tree. "Hel o."

"Hel o," said a plump, matronly woman. "You're new in Natchez, aren't you? Are you the new governess at Melrose?"

"Yes, I am," Grace said, "My name is Grace O'Rourke." She held out her hand, then wanted to kick herself, but it was too late to withdraw it.

The women stared at her hand. Final y the plump woman took it. "So women shake hands up north? I'm Sarah Bel sley, and this is Mary Riordan and Suzanne Compton."

Grace shook the other women's hands too. "I was wondering if we might have a women's meeting one night this week."

"What kind of meeting?" Mary asked.

"A meeting to discuss some issues that are very important to today's modern woman," Grace said, holding her breath.

"Oh, I think it's a wonderful idea," Suzanne said. "And that way we could introduce Miss O'Rourke around."

"Oh, I would so appreciate that," Grace put in quickly. "And please, cal me Grace. It's so very hard to move to a new place where-"

Sarah laughed and patted her arm. "I wil organize a ladies' social for Wednesday evening, dear."

"Oh, Sarah, thank you," Grace cried, clasping her palm.

When Grace climbed into the buggy forty minutes later she was flushed with exhilaration. Al en picked up the reins. "Al ends accomplished, Grace?"

She grinned at him. "So far, Al en, so far."

Al en chose a beautiful spot for their picnic. The meadow was green and fragrant with honeysuckle. Tal , stately oaks provided shade, and oleanders crept along a fresh white fence in a riot of pink. Nearby, a spotted cow chewed its cud and eyed them lazily. Grace leaned back on her elbows and laughed.

Al en grinned. "You're feeling mighty pleased with yourself, now aren't you, Grace O'Rourke?"

Laughter bubbled out of her. "You know me too wel ."

He raised his glass of lemonade. "Natchez wil never be the same."

Grace lifted her glass. "Amen."

They sipped in companionable silence.

Then Al en said, "You do realize the ladies here are more concerned with finding husbands for their daughters than attaining the vote."

"I realize."

"Natchez is especial y conservative, Grace. I think it's because there's so much old money here. Even the War only put a dent in it. Why, there isn't even a temperance union here."

"That's sinful," Grace said. "Is Silver Street as bad as they say?"

Al en laughed. "Now how would you know about Silver Street?"

"I have ears," Grace said.

"Yes, it is," Al en said seriously. "And it's no place for you to explore."

She smiled. "Plenty of saloons and gambling hal s and dens of iniquity?"

"What's going on in that sharp mind of yours?"

"Maybe the ladies wil find temperance easier to swal ow than suffrage."

Al en shook his head with a fond smile.

At the sound of riders coming down the road, they looked up curiously. Two big chestnuts and a bay came into view. Grace saw Al en stiffen.

"What's wrong, Al en?"

The riders veered off the road, toward them.

Al en got to his feet.

"Al en? Do you know them?"

"They're a pack of Southern riffraff," Al en said, low, "even if they are the old planter class. Rawlins is one of their leaders. I want you to stay out of this, Grace."