Jennifer seemed pleased at that. "Wait till you see Daddy."

It took Regan a while to calm her racing heart, and when she could speak again there was no time to ask after Travis as the elephant was once again paraded before them. The clowns did more tricks, making everyone laugh, and the little bear danced. But all the while Regan was looking for Travis.

The band had been playing constantly, and now it struck up some eerie music that made everyone quieten.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," bellowed a good-looking man in a red coat and shiny black boots, "we bring you a death-defying act. Our next performer will walk a tightrope—without a net. If he falls* well, you can use your own imaginations. "

"I don't think I like this part," Regan said, looking upward at the rope strung between two poles high above the ground. "Perhaps I should take Jennifer and leave."

The look on Brandy's face changed. "Maybe you should stay, Regan," she said in a funny voice.

Following Brandy's stare, Regan wasn't sure of what she saw.

Travis walked into the ring, one arm raised, as if he'd always worked in a circus. The costume he wore, of black cotton, fit him like a second skin, showing the big muscles in his thighs, his small tight b.u.t.tocks, and his broad, hard chest. A black cape lined in scarlet satin hung from his shoulders. With a flourish, he tossed it to a beautiful woman wearing a tiny bit of green satin. "No wonder the man drives you crazy," Brandy said.

"What in the world is he doing out there?" Regan gasped. "Surely even Travis wouldn't do anything so foolish as*"

She couldn't continue as the horns blared and Travis calmly began to climb the swaying rope ladder to the tiny platform high over their heads.

"That's my Daddy! That's my Daddy!" Jennifer yelled, bouncing up and down on the hard wooden seat.

Regan couldn't move. Her eyes didn't blink, her lungs didn't function, even her heart stopped beating as she stared at Travis on the platform above them.

At the top he again raised his arm to the crowd below, and everyone clapped loudly. There was complete silence as Travis began his slow, careful journey across the taut rope, a long pole in his hand, and it seemed an eternity before he made it to the other side.

The applause made the benches rattle, and Regan buried her face in her hands, tears of relief coming quickly. "Tell me when he's on the ground again," she said to Brandy.

Brandy was unusually quiet.

"Brandy?" Regan said, peeking out through her fingers. Her friend's expression made her head swivel to look up at Travis again. He was standing on the platform, calmly looking down at her, seeming to be waiting for something. When she looked up at him, he hooked something onto the platform pole and

another thing onto the wide black leather belt he wore.

"He's going to walk it again," Brandy whispered. "But at least he's using a safety cable this time."

Travis was several feet across the rope before everyone began to realize just what his "safety cable"

really was. Slowly the banner began to unfold. "Regan" was the first word they saw, and after having seen the sentence hundreds of times in the last two days, they needed no one to read it for them.

"Regan!" they read as one. "Will" came next, then "You." Each word got louder and louder, and finally, when Travis stood at the opposite platform, they reread all of it together. If they'd worked for weeks they couldn't have orchestrated it better. "Regan, will you marry me?"

Regan's body turned red from her toes to her hair roots and possibly spread to the tips of her hair; it certainly felt as if it did.

"What does it say, Mommie?" Jennifer demanded as everyone around her began to laugh.

Regan was afraid to speak for fear of what she might say. She absolutely refused to look at Travis, who was climbing down the rope ladder amidst great cheering, clapping, and general hilarity.

"I'm going home," Regan finally whispered. "Please see to Jennifer," she said, and, her head held high, she left the ribboned seat and walked in front of the crowd and out of the canvas-wrapped enclosure. People were calling things to her, but she ignored them as she started the long walk back to the inn.

Using her key, she went inside her own apartment and thought perhaps she'd never leave it again, except maybe to sneak away one night so that she would never again look at a person from Scarlet Springs.

It came as no surprise to her that propped against her pillow was a note on heavy ivory paper. It was an engraved invitation, exquisite, costly, for her to join Travis Stanford for supper that night at nine o'clock. A handwritten message was at the bottom, saying he'd pick her up at the door to her apartment at eight-forty-five.

Feeling completely defeated, she knew there was nothing else she could do but meet him. If she refused, would he perhaps have his elephant knock her door down, or maybe he'd arrive riding it? She was ready for anything even Travis could imagine.

No one bothered her all the rest of the evening, and she was grateful to whoever had arranged such a phenomenon. She'd had more than enough of everyone's attentions.

At exactly eight-forty-five, a knock sounded on her door, and Travis stood there, dressed elegantly in a dark green coat and lighter green pants. He smiled at her and glanced at the pretty apricot silk dress she wore.

"You are prettier than ever," he said, offering her his arm.

The moment she touched him she forgave him. She wished she could have kicked herself for doing it, but all her anger and frustration, all her desire to shoot him, left her instantly.

Swaying, she leaned against him for just a second, and as she did so he took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. Searching her face, his eyes holding hers, he bent and kissed her gently, sweetly.

"I've missed you," he whispered, before smiling and leading her toward a handsome two-seater buggy.

"Oh Travis," was all she could manage as he settled beside her, to which he laughed in a seductive way and clicked for the horse to move.

It was a clear, warm, moonlit night, heavenly fragrant and still. It was almost as if Travis ordered just such a night. After the last few days she had no idea what she'd been expecting from him, but what she saw when he halted the buggy was not it.

A quilt of patches of velvet tied with gold threads was spread on the gra.s.s beside the stream, and set on it were many cushions of midnight blue and gold. Crystal gla.s.sware, porcelain, and delicious-smelling food were laid out, all of it surrounded by candles whose sharp glare was shrouded by globes of pink frosted gla.s.s. It was a heavenly, unreal scene.

"Travis," she began as he lifted her from the wagon. "It's lovely."

He led her to the cushions and helped her into a comfortable reclining position before he opened a cold bottle of champagne. When she held a gla.s.s, he gingerly lowered himself to cushions opposite her.

"Travis, are you hurt?" she asked.

"Every d.a.m.n bone in my body is hurt," he said with half a groan. "I've never worked so hard in my life as I have in the last few days. I hope you don't need any more courting."

She gasped as she started to speak but instead filled her mouth with champagne, working at not choking. "No, I think I've been courted enough, " she said in all seriousness. "In fact, no one in town may ever need any more courting, " she added.

"Don't press the issue," he said in warning, easing his back to a better position, grimacing at the ache. "Fix me something to eat, would you?"

Orders, Regan thought, but smiled as she heaped a plate full of hot chicken, cold roast beef, chutney, and a mixture of rice and carrots. "Was it difficult to learn to walk that rope?"

"In three days it was. Another couple of days, and I could have done it without the pole."

"You could have taken another day," she said sweetly.

"And give you time with that sn.o.b of an Englishman, Batsford? What's he been doing lately, anyway?"

"I'm afraid I've been a little too busy to notice, actually."

At that Travis smiled smugly and leaned back against the cushions, giving his attention to his food. "I'll be glad when you get home with me and I can get regular meals. Lately I've been eating with one hand, writing with the other."

"Writing? Oh yes, I wondered if the notes had been written by you. Personally, I mean."

"Who the h.e.l.l else would ask you to marry him? Oh well," he smiled at her look. "I didn't mean that, and you know it. You think Jennifer liked the circus?"

"She adored it. Between the pony and the roses, I think you made her the happiest little girl alive."

The look on Travis's face was angelic. "I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get that d.a.m.n elephant here on time or not. That's some animal! I'll wager it left enough manure behind for six acres of corn. I was thinking about taking a wagonload home with me to see how good it is. Chicken manure is, of course, the best, but you can't get much of that. Maybe this elephant—."

He stopped because of an explosion of laughter from Regan. Narrowing his eyes at her once, he looked away, ignoring her totally.

"Oh Travis, has there ever been anyone else like you on earth?"

With a wink, he grinned at her. "I did do well on that little rope, didn't I? Now give me some of that pie.

You think Brandy'd like to come back and cook for us?"

Regan paused for a moment as she cut the pie. He'd asked her to marry him a few thousand times in the

last few days, but never once face to face, and he'd never bothered to wait for an answer. And never had

he said he loved her.

Handing him the pie, she spoke. "I think Brandy has other things she wants to do, but I am sure I can find a better cook than your Malvina."

Chuckling, Travis took a bite of the pie. "She gave you a hard time, didn't she? Our old family cook died six years ago, and Margo found Malvina for us. She never gave me any trouble, but she and Wes have had a few spats. You could have gotten rid of her, you know. "

"I shall," she said, eyes glittering. "I look forward to doing it."

Travis was so quiet for so long that she glanced at him. In the moonlight, surely it was a trick, but his soft

eyes looked almost wet. It couldn't be, because in essence she'd just said she was returning with him, could it?

"I am glad to hear that," he said quietly, then smiled to himself and returned to his pie. "Wes can help you

with whatever you need while I'm in the fields. "

"I think I'll be able to manage. What's Wes like? Does he spend most of his time in the house?"

"He's a good sort, sometimes a little headstrong, and I have to take him down a peg or two, but in

general he helps me."

Regan tried not to smile. "You mean he voices his opinion and dares to differ with you, and you*

do you come to fisticuffs?"

"See that?" Travis said defensively, pointing to a tiny scar on his chin. "My little brother gave me that, so

there's no need for you to act like he's the injured party."