"What's wrong?" Sparrow asked her old nanny.

"Sparrow, this is my sister. She traveled here to tell me our grandmother has died. The family would like me to return home to settle some affairs, but I told her I didn't want to leave you alone right now due to our situation." Shea-Ann glared in Lock's direction.

"I'm so sorry," Sparrow said to Shea-Ann's sister. "How sad for your family. It's not a problem for Shea-Ann to go home with you. I have everything under control here."

"I doubt that," Shea-Ann said.

Sparrow embraced her old nanny. "He's chained up, and I have no problem running this farm on my own. He even cleaned up. See."

Shea-Ann glanced around the clean house. "I hate to leave you, but it's important for me to go home."

"Go. Really."

"I could be gone for a couple of months. It will take time to sail there, then there are the family affairs to see to..."

Sparrow shook her head. "Please, don't worry. When will you be leaving?"

Shea-Ann's sister spoke in a soft voice. "In the morning. I'm sorry to arrive with such bad news."

"Not at all. Both of you sit down and I'll bring you something to eat. Lock and I will get along just fine while you're gone, won't we?" Sparrow glanced at the pirate and tingled with uncertainty when she saw the strange, half-smile on his lips.

When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically soft and polite. "I'm certain we will."

He ran the tip of his tongue over his top lip, and Sparrow shivered. How could she live alone with Lock and not give in to the incredible desire to kiss him again a or perhaps do something even more regrettable?

The next morning, after seeing Shea-Ann and her sister to the edge of the farm, Sparrow walked back to the house, already missing her nanny, but with a giddy feeling deep in her gut. She knew Lock was tied up, and no matter what he said, he couldn't escape or hurt her. Still, now that the pathetic weakness due to the torture had worn off, something about him terrified her. Maybe it was her own desire she feared. How could she find a pirate-a thief and a murderer-attractive? She might be a farmer, but she was still of royal blood. She had been raised as a princess: educated, cultured, taught right from wrong. Lock was her opposite in every way. Not that she doubted his intelligence. He was well versed in languages and his piercing eyes reflected a quick mind, but he was a criminal. He cared nothing for justice or the law. He was rough, arrogant, and possessed a tongue vile enough to sour a vulture's stomach. What was it about him that made her legs weak and her heartbeat quicken? She wondered how such a man could excite her, how any man could excite her after what had happened to Thea. Perhaps she was still naive, but when Sparrow looked into the pirate's eyes, she didn't see the coldness that had shone in the eyes of the fiend. Lock had a soul and a heart. She felt it.

"So, we're alone." Lock leered at her as soon as she stepped into the house. "This worked out well for you, didn't it, girl?"

"The last person I want to be alone with is you, but circ.u.mstances can't be helped."

He tossed her a roguish grin as he washed dishes from the morning meal. "I think you like a man in your kitchen, washing your undergarments and feeling those plump little b.r.e.a.s.t.s of yours."

"Not only are you completely wrong, but why must you be so rude?"

"I've been on my best behavior, Princess."

"I don't have time to argue with you. I've got a farm to run." Sparrow took her hat from the table and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

She spent the day caring for her animals, two pigs, two horses-usually three, but Shea-Ann had taken hers-several chickens, a goat, and Daphne. Sparrow liked animals, but she admitted to a special fondness for Daphne. There was something sweet and soothing about the cow's large, dark eyes, and Sparrow couldn't help thinking of her almost as a pet.

Sparrow usually enjoyed working her farm. At times it was difficult with just her and Shea-Ann, but her life was her own. When she'd been a princess, everything had been planned for her, and Sparrow's heart had always been independent.

When she reached the garden, the two girls Sparrow hired from the village were already weeding. The girls were sisters, Ginny, age eight, and Emerald, fifteen. They were nice children from a decent family, and their banter often reminded Sparrow of her relationship with her own sisters. She hadn't seen much of her remaining family members since their banishment, but she'd heard both her other younger and older sister had married and had several children. Only Sparrow remained alone. Not that she felt she was really alone. After all, she had Shea-Ann.

"Sparrow," Emerald brushed wild red hair from her dirt-stained face and offered a toothy smile, "we heard you bought a man."

Sparrow sighed. "I'm afraid it's true."

"Some of the women in the village said he was a pirate, that he's seven feet tall and has hair like a warlock."

Ginny wrinkled her freckled nose and said, "Yuck."

"He's not quite seven feet tall," Sparrow couldn't restrain her amused smile. The warlock's hair she couldn't argue with.

"They say he was whipped and racked, and he didn't even scream."

Sparrow's smile faded. In spite of how much Lock irritated her, she still felt sick whenever she thought of how much he'd suffered.

"Our aunt was at the village that day," Emerald continued. "She said he was handsome-before the whipping."

"He's still handsome," Sparrow spoke before she thought.

"Can I see him?"

Ginny looked at her older sister as if she'd sprouted a second head. "What do you want to see a man for? Ma says men are mean, stupid, and dirty. She says pigs make better company."

"When you get older, you'll understand," Emerald said. "Can I see him, Sparrow?"

Sparrow looked hesitant. "I don't think that's a good idea. He's dangerous."

"Where is he?"

"Chained in the house. Look, when you girls finish weeding, I have to get money for you, so you can look at him from the doorway."

Emerald beamed, and Ginny shook her head. "I still say yuck."

The girls worked almost each day until late morning. Sparrow and Shea-Ann paid them a weekly fee, and usually provided them with a meal before sending them home. When they'd finished their work that morning, they followed Sparrow back to the house.

She opened the door, and Lock's pale eyes riveted to her from where he'd been sitting on the floor.

"I have children with me, so try to behave yourself," she told him.

Emerald and Ginny lingered shyly in the doorway while Sparrow opened the trunk at the foot of her bed.

"He does have hair like a warlock," Ginny said to Emerald in a loud whisper. Emerald motioned for the girl to keep quiet. They stepped over the threshold and approached Lock.

Sparrow leapt between them. "Stop there! Don't get any closer to him. That's as far as his chains reach."

The girls jumped back, their eyes wide.

"I don't believe this," Lock muttered. "I'm not going to hurt a couple of children."

"I wouldn't put anything past you to get your freedom," Sparrow said.

"Maybe you're not as dumb as you look," he told her.

"You don't smell," Ginny said to Lock.

"I don't smell? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ma says pirates stink like dead fish. That's why she tells us to stay away from the docks, because pirates will steal us and make us stay on their ships forever. She says they'll make us eat octopus guts. Ma says pirates have no teeth."

"Ma's a real sweetheart, ain't she?" Lock sneered. He growled and gnashed his teeth like a wolf, causing the girls to leap back even further. "I have plenty of teeth."

"Don't you have anything better to do than frighten helpless children?" Sparrow snapped. She approached the girls and paid them with coins from her purse, then offered them a basket of apples and berries. "Don't be afraid. He's chained up and can't get out without the key, and I keep that."

The girls' huge eyes fixed on Lock as he stood and rattled his chains. Sparrow's stomach clenched at the sight of him, so tall, his muscles flexing and his two-toned hair flying around him.

"I want Ma!" Ginny screamed and flew out the door.

"He is seven feet tall!" Emerald breathed, terror and fascination in her young eyes before she lifted her skirts and raced after her sister.

Lock dropped back onto the floor, a pleased smile on his lips.

"I can't believe you just did that." Sparrow placed her hands on her hips. "That little girl will most likely have nightmares for a year."

"Ah!" Lock waved his hand. "That's probably the most fun she's had in her life. Nothing like a good scare every now and then."

"You really are a pirate," Sparrow hissed before trudging back to the barn.

She was shoveling out the stable when three of the women from the village stepped inside.

"Good afternoon, Sparrow," said a chubby woman of late middle age who Sparrow knew to be a fisherwoman.

Another of the women, the local blacksmith, a tall, muscular blond, added, "We took a ride out here to have a look at your man."

"Excuse me?" Sparrow stopped shoveling and stared at them.

The last woman, whom Sparrow recognized as a seamstress, giggled. "Emerald and young Ginny said he's something to see, of course I'd take Emerald's description as more apt. Ginny made him out to be a combination of a wizard and a wild boar."

"The girls did say he was a giant." The blacksmith winked. "I saw him from a distance during the whipping, but I wouldn't mind a closer look."

"You rode all the way out here to look at my slave?"

"None of us were fool enough to buy him, with his reputation, but we'd still like to have a look," the oldest woman said.

"He's a person," Sparrow said. "You can't just look at him like so much horseflesh."

"Why not?" asked the seamstress. "Do you think men don't display their female slaves? It just so happens, in our village we have the power."

The blacksmith smiled. "That's why I love it here. Never got along in my home village."

"Just one little look, Sparrow. There are others who've been talking about coming up here to get a look at Lock the White. He has quite a reputation, you know."

"He's a rotten criminal, and I think he's gotten just what he deserves," the seamstress said. "If you ask me, most men should be in chains."

"So how about it, Sparrow? Give us a look?"

Sparrow was about to adamantly refuse, knowing how much Lock would hate being gawked at like a slave on display. How much he'd hate it...

"All right," she said. "But just for a minute."

The women followed her to the house. When they stepped inside, Lock, clad only in his loincloth, scrubbed dishes in a basin of water. He glanced at them.

The women stared then burst into laughter.

"Just like all men should be!" The blacksmith clapped Sparrow on the back. "Barefoot and working in the kitchen!"

"What the h.e.l.l's this?" Lock demanded, his pale eyes sweeping each of the women.

"They wanted to have a look at you." Sparrow tossed him a gloating smile and folded her arms across her chest.

"Not bad." The seamstress took a few steps closer, but still remained a safe distance away from Lock as he stood, towering above the group, his fists clenched almost as tightly as his teeth. "Strong lines. Stunning height. Pity about his back, though."

"And he's big." The fisherwoman giggled, her plump cheeks stained pink. "Biggest man I've ever seen in these parts."

"What am I, a horse?" Lock snarled. "Get these b.i.t.c.hes out of here!"

"Need to teach him some manners." The blacksmith glanced over her shoulder at Sparrow. "But at least he speaks our language."

"You'll have to train him to do more than the washing up," the seamstress said. "Once he's tamed, you can move him to the barn and let him do the heavy work."

"That hair is rather pretty," the fisherwoman looked thoughtful. "If you cut it off, it would fetch a good price from the wig maker. Odd color, though, she might take off for that. You can keep letting it grow, cutting it off, and making a profit, just like you do with sheep."

"You're all daft. Every last one of you." Lock bellowed, "Get out!"

"Why are men so loud?" The seamstress winced. "My sixth husband was loud up until the day he died."

"Six husbands?" Lock curled his lip. "What were you, poisoning them until you found one you liked?"

"I sort of like his voice." The blacksmith's eyes raked Lock from head to foot. "Deep and powerful. And he has a fine body-save his back, of course. I'd bed him down so long as he kept a shirt on."

"I wonder if other parts of him are as big as the rest?" The fisherwoman blushed again. "He looks like he's toting a log beneath that loincloth."

Lock smiled humorlessly and said, "Why don't we find out?" He jerked off his loincloth and flung it aside. In spite of the scars marking his flesh, the women stared at his body like cats ogling a bowl of cream. From his broad, sculpted shoulders to his long, muscular legs, he was pure, raw male, and his long, thick, semi-erect c.o.c.k and huge b.a.l.l.s dangling beneath paid tribute to that fact.

"Merciful G.o.ddess," the fisherwoman murmured, touching a hand to her breast.

"If he wasn't such a killer, he'd have been worth the price you paid for him," the seamstress breathed.

The blacksmith stared at his c.o.c.k and said, "More."

Sparrow knew her face was bright red as she turned toward the door and held it open for her guests. "I think that's quite enough. You asked to see him, so now you've seen."

"You know, Sparrow, I don't think we'll be able to keep the other women away," the blacksmith said. "Not after the description I plan on giving them."