He held her at arm's length, and his eyes were serious. "I meant it when I said I wanted to talk. I want to know who you are and what you were doing in your nightgown on that Liverpool dock the night I found you."

"I'd really rather go into it some other time, " she said, as lightly as she could manage. "I have an awful lot of work to do."

He pulled her close to him. "Listen to me. I know that what you've been through is painful. I've not pressed you since we left England, but I'm here now, and you're safe. I won't let anything harm you, and I want to know everything about you."

It was some minutes before she could speak. Against her will, she began to remember that night when she'd met Travis and her life before that. For years she'd been free, had come to know other people, to see how they lived, and she could see how much of a prison her childhood had been.

"I grew up totally without freedom," she began, at first without emotion, but as she thought of the way she'd been treated in her early life, she began to grow angry.

Travis never rushed her, only held her close to him, his arms and body keeping her safe, as she poured out her whole story. It was a long time before she got to that night when she'd overheard Farrell and her uncle conspiring together. He never said a word, but his arms tightened.

She continued her story, telling Travis how she felt about him, how he frightened her, but how she clung to him, wavering between her need to prove her own worth and wanting to hide behind his strength. She poured out all the terror she'd felt at his plantation, laughing somewhat at that scared little girl, afraid to give orders to her own servants.

She finished with the story of her leaving him, of the trail she'd left behind, of her tears when he didn't come after her.

"I could have helped you at home," he said when she'd stopped talking. "But I knew you would have resented me. The day Margo came, the day you burned your hand, I could have killed Malvina."

Twisting around, she looked at him. "I had no idea you knew about that. "

"I know most of what happens on my own plantation." he said. "I just honestly didn't know how to help

you. I knew you had to learn how to help yourself."

"Are you always right, my dear lovely husband?" she asked, caressing his face.

"Always. And I hope you remember it and obey me in all things from now on."

She gave him her sweetest smile. "I plan to fight you every inch of the way. Every time you give me an

order I'll—."

She broke off when he kissed her soundly, just before he pushed her from the bed.

"Get up, get dressed, and go see that Brandy has enough food for my breakfast." A pillow landed on his

face.

"Here I tell you I am ma.s.sively wealthy and you don't even comment. Some men would like to get their hands on my money."

Eyeing her naked form, he smiled slowly. "I'm looking at what I like my hands on. As for your money,

you can pay for that circus you wanted, and what's left you can give to our children.""The circus I wanted," she sputtered. "All that was your idea.""You wanted the courting.""Courting! That was the most heavy-handed, awkward, gaudy, inept courting I've ever seen! Any Englishman could do better."

Lazily, Travis leaned back on a pillow. "I'm the one who had you coming to his room wearing a bit of transparent nothing, just begging me to make love to you, so maybe my courting wasn't so bad after all."

Regan sputtered for a few more minutes before beginning to laugh as she dressed. "You are insufferable.

Shall I serve your breakfast in bed, or would you prefer a private dining room?"

"Now there's a good wench. Try and keep that att.i.tude. I think I'll eat in the kitchen; just be sure there's lots of it."

Regan left, still laughing, and Travis wondered how he was going to have to pay for his last remarks. But

whatever she did, life with her was going to be a joy. She was certainly worth all the pain he'd been through in the last few years.

Slowly, contentedly, he began to dress.

Most of the townspeople stopped by that day to congratulate Regan on her forthcoming marriage and to say goodbye to her, as they knew she'd be leaving very soon. Contrary to what Margo seemed to think, no one thought Travis was a fool. The women thought he was wonderfully romantic, and the men liked the way he went after what he wanted.

At midmorning, Regan was up to her ears in work. A maid was complaining about some odd-colored ink on a set of sheets, and everyone else seemed to be complaining also. Or maybe it was Regan's imagination caused by her sadness at leaving the big inn she and Brandy had built.

"You're sad, aren't you?" Travis asked, coming up behind her.

She still wasn't used to the keen perception of this man. She'd had no idea he was so aware of her needs and problems when she'd known him before, and now his sensitivity was startling.

"You'll feel better once you're at my house. What you need is a new challenge. "

"And what happens when I learn all there is to know about running a plantation?" she asked, turning toward him.

"Couldn't happen, because I come with the plantation and you'll never learn enough about me. Now,

where's my daughter?"

"She's usually with Brandy at this time of day. I didn't check because I thought you were with her." After a moment's thought, she smiled. "Where is the pony you bought her? Wherever it is, that's where she is."

"I looked in the carriage house, but she isn't there, and Brandy hasn't seen her all morning."

"Not even for breakfast?" she asked, frowning. "Travis!" she said in alarm.

"Wait a minute," he soothed. "Don't get upset. She could have gone to a friend's house."

"But she always tells me where she's going—always! It's the only way I can keep up with her while

I'm working."

"All right," Travis said quietly. "You look through the inn, and I'll walk around town. We'll find her in minutes. Now go!" he said laughingly.

Regan's immediate thought was that perhaps Jennifer had a stomachache from yesterday's excitement

and she had gone back to her bed, forgetting to tell anyone where she was going. Quietly, Regan walked through her bedroom and slowly opened her daughter's door. Expecting to see her daughter asleep in her bed, she did not at first understand the turmoil of the room. Clothes were strewn everywhere, drawers open, the bedclothes half on and half off, shoes scattered on the bed and floor.

"She's been packing!" Regan said aloud, relieved at the sight.

It was as she knelt to pick up a shoe that she saw the note on the pillow. Jennifer would not be returned

unless the sum of fifty thousand dollars was placed at the foot of the old well south of town two days from now.

Regan's scream of anguish could be heard throughout the inn.

Brandy, her hands and ap.r.o.n covered with flour, was the first to reach Jennifer's room. With an arm

around Regan's heaving shoulders, she led her to sit on the bed, taking the note from her.

Brandy looked up at the people standing in the doorway. "Someone find Travis," she commanded. "And tell him to get here immediately."

As Regan stood, Brandy caught her arm. "Where are you going?"

"I have to see how much money I have in the safe," she said, dazed. "I know it's not enough. Do you

think I can sell something in two days?"

"Regan, sit down and wait for Travis. He'll know how to get the money. Maybe he even has some with

him."

Regan didn't seem to be aware of what she was doing as she sat back down, clutching the ransom note and one of Jennifer's shoes.

Travis burst into the room moments later, and at the sight of him she jumped up and ran to him.

"Someone has taken my daughter!" she cried. "Do you have some money? Can you get fifty thousand dollars? Surely you can get that much. "

"Here, let me see the note," he said, one arm firmly around her. He read it and reread it several times

before looking up at the room.

"Travis, " Regan said. "What do we have to do to get the money?"

"I don't like this, " he said under his breath and turned to Brandy. "Have you been in the kitchen all

morning?"

Brandy nodded.

"And you heard nothing? Did you see any strangers in the hall?" he asked, nodding toward the corridor