"Next time?"

"I never intended to turn you into a recluse, Glory. There'll be other parties and balls. Now that people understand the way I feel about you, they'll treat you differently. You've already won most of them over; the others will follow as soon as they get to know you."

"I did enjoy the dancing," she told him.

"I have one more dance in mind just as soon as we get home."

Glory blushed crimson. Nicholas turned her into his arms and captured her lips.

The dance had already begun.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Nicholas left her a few hours after sunup. She won-dered how he could be up and dressed so early after their night out and the hours they'd spent making love.

"I hope you don't mind," he said. "I'll be back before noon to take you to luncheon." He headed toward the door, calling back over his shoulder, "Cook will have breakfast ready shortly. I can have it sent up, if you prefer."

"No. That's all right." She had to face Elizabeth St. John Blackwell alone sooner or later. It might as well be today. "I'll see you at noon."

Flashing her a smile, he closed the door behind him.

Glory rose a few minutes later, called for Cheryl, who helped her into a day dress of mint green merino with tiny covered buttons up the front, and headed downstairs. She passed Bradford in the hallway on his way to the dining room. He smiled appreciatively when he saw her, and Glory smiled at him in return.

"My morning's looking brighter already," he said, offering her his arm. They entered the dining room together. Elizabeth perched at the head of the table, back ramrod straight, chubby hands settled in her lap. She wore a navy blue serge day dress; her dark hair, perfectly smooth, hung in ringlets to just above her shoulders.

"Good morning, Mother," Brad said, seating Glory, then stopping to plant a kiss on his mother's pudgy cheek.

"Good morning, Mrs. Blackwell," Glory said. Receiving no immediate reply, she pulled her napkin from its silver ring and smoothed it across her lap.

"I wondered if you'd have the courage to join us without my stepson's overbearing presence to protect you."

"Mother," Brad said, "why don't we give Glory a chance? Get to know her a little before we pass judgment?"

At Brad's use of "we," Glory smiled, admiring his tact and the way he attempted to manipulate his mother. He was indeed the most grown-up young man she'd ever met.

"Huh!" Mrs. Blackwell scoffed. "I don't need to know her. I've already learned far more about her than I need to know." She lifted her head, ridding herself of an extra chin. "Just look at her, sitting there as pious as you please, a rich husband to smooth over her indiscretions. The woman's a strumpet. Did you know she blatantly slept in your stepbrother's cabin on board his ship? Right in front of the whole crew! Shameless, that's what she is. A shameless hussy!"

Glory's temper fired. "I was forced to sleep there against my wishes. Your stepson believed me guilty of deceiving him, which I did not! He purposely ruined my reputation. It's only right he do all he can to repair the damage he caused!"

Elizabeth eyed her coldly. "Maybe you're right, Brad," she said, ignoring Glory and speaking as if she weren't there. "I should have known that no-good stepbrother of yours was behind all this scandal."

Glory shoved back her chair with such force it caught in the folds of the carpet and went crashing to the floor. "How dare you! How dare you talk about my husband like that? Nicholas is a fine man. He made a mistake, that's all. He's been good to you, cared for you, protected you. If you ever say another word against him, I'll . . . I'll-"

"You'll what?" Nicholas asked from the doorway, his voice heavy with amusement-and more than a little affection.

Glory flushed beet red. When she turned back to Elizabeth, she noted Brad's secret smile along the way. "I'll implore my husband to abandon you and to remove you from his house, which he should have done years ago." Elizabeth's bravado withered. "Why, I never-" She rose from her chair. "If you'll excuse me, Brad, I have some menus to plan." Without a backward glance, she marched indignantly from the room.

"I'm sorry you were caught up in the middle of this, Brad," Glory said a bit contritely. "None of this is your fault."

"It's all right, Glory. Mother has needed that for some time. Unfortunately, neither my brother nor I have the courage to speak up to her."

Glory glanced at Nicholas, who had picked up the fallen chair and was waiting for her to reclaim her seat. Glory sat down and returned her attention to Brad. Nicholas took the seat beside her.

"I wouldn't really do that," she said. "Encourage Nicholas to throw your mother out, I mean. That's none of my affair. She just made me so mad I lost my temper."

"A wife is supposed to defend her husband," Brad said, causing Glory to blush a second time.

Nicholas grinned but said nothing.

Servants brought coffee and served platters of eggs and bacon. The smells mingled, and Glory's stomach growled. "I thought you wouldn't be back till noon," she said to Nicholas as she lifted her silver fork.

"I came to see if Brad would substitute for me at luncheon. Both Black Witch and Black Diamond are in port. There are some cargo adjustments I'd like to make."

"I'd love to take Glory to luncheon, if she can stand to be away from you that long." His teasing note made Glory smile.

"I think I can survive for a few hours."

"I'm afraid it's going to be longer than that," Nicholas said. "We have a chance to win a contract with an Albany manufacturer. I want to accompany Max Faulkner to Albany to make arrangements. Make sure he can handle the negotiations. I'll come back as quickly as I can. Then we can return to Tarrytown."

Glory felt lonely already. "How long will you be gone?"

"No more than four days, five at most. I wouldn't go at all, but the sooner Max takes over, the more time we'll have together."

Glory nodded. They finished the meal in silence; then Nicholas stood and bussed her on the cheek. "I'll pack a few things and be right down."

He returned with a small carpetbag and Glory walked him to the front door. "I'll miss you," she told him.

"And I you. More than you'll ever know." Standing on the wide brick steps, he watched her, his hand coming up to touch her cheek. "Tell me you love me."

She wanted to. How she wanted to. "I . . ." She wet her lips. It was the final commitment. "I . . ." Nicholas kissed her until her knees went weak.

"Stay out of trouble till I get back," he teased, but she didn't miss the note of sadness in his voice. Glory watched as his long strides carried him down the brick path to the street where a pair of matched bays nickered in front of the waiting carriage and pawed the cobblestones. Nicholas climbed into the brougham, and the carriage rolled away.

"How about a walk?" Brad said, seeing her forlorn expression as he walked up beside her. "The crocuses are beginning to bloom."

"Yes. I saw them yesterday. They're lovely. I'd enjoy a walk very much."

Grabbing a light cashmere shawl against the still-brisk air, Glory accepted Brad's arm and walked with him into the garden. Bright sunlight sparkled on the rows of blue and white crocuses. A red-breasted robin perched atop the garden wall. Glory thought of the lovely gardens at Black-well Hall and realized with a start she had come to think of the estate in Tarrytown as her home.

"Tell me about Nicholas's mother," she said to Brad as they walked along. "His real mother."

Brad led her to a small stone bench at one end of the garden, and they sat down. Brad smiled at her, glad, it seemed, for her question. "Her name was Collette Dubois before she married Alexander Blackwell. She was a beautiful French Creole. Dark, like Nicholas, very exotic. Of course I never knew her. Nicholas knew her only briefly. He was just seven when she left Alexander for a French plantation owner. Alex never got over her. After Nicholas ran away to sea, Alexander would get drunk and talk about her. I'd let him ramble on, fascinated. She seemed the most exciting creature. No wonder Nicholas loved her so much. Alexander said Nicholas used to cry himself to sleep calling her name."

Glory felt a pain in her heart. She could easily imagine Nicholas as a small boy, his dark eyes bright with unshed tears, yearning for a mother's love and never finding it.

"I don't think Nicholas ever stopped loving her," Brad continued. "I know Alexander never did. She was quite a notorious lady. Took one lover after another, right in front of her husband's nose. He just looked the other way. He loved her so much he would have done anything to keep her."

"Did Nicholas know?"

"Other children used to taunt him about her. It wasn't until later that he understood why." They sat silent for a time. The robin flew from the garden wall and winged its way overhead. Then, "Glory, I know what happened on the strand. About Nathan, I mean."

Glory felt the sting of tears, the memory so painful she had to look away. "How could he have believed that of me, Brad? We were so close. I thought he loved me. I trusted him."

"Nicholas has never known a woman like you, Glory. His mother betrayed him; my mother treated him badly. He couldn't trust a woman. Any woman. After he grew up, he was afraid to fall in love, afraid he'd end up the way his father did. He only pursued women who weren't a threat. Women with no loyalties, who required no attachments or involvements, most of them married. Their cheating only perpetuated his mistrust. It was an endless circle until you came along."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you loved him. Really loved him. You were honest and sincere. Trustworthy. When he saw you with Nathan, he believed he'd misjudged you. That you were really no different from the rest. By then he loved you so much, he couldn't stand the thought of being betrayed again."

Glory didn't realize she was crying until Brad handed her his kerchief.

She looked up at him and smiled through her tears, feeling as if a burden had been lifted from her heart. She understood. For the first time since they'd left the strand, she understood why Nicholas behaved as he had.

"He loves you, Glory. When he found out the truth about you and Nathan, he felt more miserable than ever before in his life. He realized he'd wronged you. He hoped there was still a chance for the two of you to find happiness." Brad squeezed her hand. "He still wants that happiness, Glory. And even if he won't admit it, he needs you-desperately."

Glory brushed away the last of her tears. "Thank you, Brad. You'll never know how much this talk has meant to me."

"You do love him, don't you?"

"More than anything in the world."

"Have you told him?"

She shook her head. "But I can now. Thanks to you." He helped her up from the bench.

"He still isn't completely sure of you, Glory. He needs to know how you feel. Don't wait too long."

"I won't, Brad. I promise."

"He's a good man," Brad said. "The very best."

"I know. If you wouldn't mind, Brad, I'd like some time alone."

"I understand."

He left her there in the garden, alone with her thoughts and wanting more than anything in the world to be wrapped in her husband's strong arms, to say the words she'd said in her heart a thousand times. As she walked among the flowers, she stopped at the end of a row to pick one perfect bud.

The sound of a man's voice and running footsteps jolted her from her thoughts. "Glory!"

Across the garden, Glory saw Nathan racing toward her. His clothes were disheveled and tom, his face wet with perspiration.

The soft petals fell from her trembling hands. "My God, Nathan, what is it?" Eyes searching, she glanced in the direction from which he'd come. "How did you get in here? Where did you come from?"

He answered her in panting, fragmented sentences. "I climbed the garden wall. I didn't want anyone to see me. I got your note. You said you'd be at Nicholas's town house for the Whitmores' ball." He glanced worriedly behind him. "The slave catchers, Glory. They came to the school looking for me. My roommate warned me. He showed me a poster with my name on it offering a reward."

"Oh, my God."

"I've got to get away, Glory. Maybe Nicholas could help. I could go to Boston, then on up to Canada."

"How could Mother do such a thing?" Glory asked.

"I don't know. She always disliked me, but I never thought she'd go this far."

"You'll be safe here until Nicholas gets home and we can decide what to do."

" 'Fraid not, Miz Summerfield. Boy's done broke the law. He's got to pay."

Glory spun toward the heavily accented voice. A tall, thin man with a wispy mustache held a pistol aimed at Nathan's chest.

Glory glanced toward the house. "Brad!" she screamed, picking up her skirts to run. In two quick strides, a second man stepped into her path, cutting her off. He clamped a hand over her mouth and circled her waist with his arm so tightly she could scarcely breathe.

"Let her go," Nathan warned. "I'm the one you want."

"I ain't gonna hurt her," the man who held her said almost pleasantly. He was tall and well built, with sandy hair and an almost boyish face. "She's gonna go with us as far as the docks." Beneath her fingers she could feel the rough texture of his homespun shirt, the muscular chest inside. "We don' want no trouble gittin' you aboard the ship."

"How did you find me?" Nathan asked.

"Figured you'd run soon as you knew we was lookin' for you. Waited outside the school. You led us here."

"But you'll let her go at the docks," Nathan pressed. The tall, thin man stepped forward and punched him hard in the stomach, doubling him over.

"Ain't none o' your business what we do with her, nigger boy. Now, turn around." Eyeing the pistol and gasping for breath, Nathan did as he was told. The thin man bound his wrists, then tied a gag over his mouth.

"You gonna come along peaceful?" the man who held Glory asked with an appraising glance, "or are we gonna have to gag you, too?" His bright green eyes twinkled, as if the thought amused him somehow.

"If it's money you're after," Glory said, "I'll pay you not to take him. More than any reward."

"Money ain't the only reason," the thin man said. "This here nigger put hisself above the law. He thinks he's better than we are, can't you see that?"

"No, I can't. Nathan's just as good as you and I. Not any better. But not any worse."

"Hush now, darlin'," the younger man said. "It ain't fittin' for a white woman to talk like that. Now, get going, or Spence here will have to give your darkie another lesson in manners."

"I'll do just as you say. Just don't hurt him." As they moved toward the gate at the rear of the garden, Glory searched her mind frantically, trying to decide what to do. It suddenly occurred to her that even if she could gain Brad's attention, he might not be able to stop the two men. The fugitive slave law gave slave catchers the right to return runaways even from the North. These men were de-termined to take Nathan back to Summerfield Manor. Until they arrived there, Nathan would be at their mercy. Slave catchers were notorious for their cruelty. The only way Nathan was sure to reach the manor unharmed was for Glory to go with him.

But what about Nicholas? a tiny voice warned. She looked at Nathan, bound and gagged, being dragged along like a common criminal. Just as before, she had no choice but to help him. She would do what she must-and pray to God her husband would understand.

Emerging from the alley, Glory spotted a wagon waiting halfway down the block; a third man, with thick mutton-chop sideburns and a gray stovepipe hat, sat holding the reins. As they drew near, Glory felt the younger man's hand circle her waist, lifting her up. The feel of his warm breath as he held her a little too close sent a shudder of apprehension down her spine.

"Spence, you get in back,'' he said to his partner. "We wouldn't want the lady gettin' her skirts dirty." He winked at her as he climbed up on the seat, pinning her between him and the muttonchopped man. The wagon rumbled away, jolting along the cobblestone streets. In a few short minutes they reached the nearby docks.

"What are we gonna do with the girl?" Spence asked.