"It was horrid," she claimed, but she appeared confused, as if maybe she'd liked it more than she should let on.

"It wasn't horrid. Don't be a shrew about it."

"But...you manhandled me. You forged ahead as if I wouldn't mind."

"I'm not a foolish boy, Miss Marshall. Nor am I a waffling man who can't decide what he wants. I take what I want. I don't dither about it."

"You want me?"

"In every way I can possibly have you."

"I can't guess what that means."

"Don't worry, if you ally yourself with me, I'll show you."

"With each word you speak, I am more shocked, and you are more shocking."

"I've shocked you with a little kiss and a few flirtatious remarks?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll likely astound you with what I attempt next."

His comment must have sounded alarming, because she hastily stepped back, putting even more space between them.

"I've had enough of you," she said. "Don't wait for me in the woods. Don't watch for me to pass by. Don't accost me ever again."

"I don't have anything else to do."

"Find something else."

"No. I'm having too much fun bothering you."

She wagged a finger at him. "Don't try it again or I'll...I'll..."

"You'll what?" he asked when she couldn't finish.

"I'll tell my mother."

"There you go, threatening to tell your mother on me. Grow up, Miss Marshall. Fight your own battles."

"I'm not fighting a battle with you. Obviously you haven't realized it, but you're so far beneath me I can barely see you."

"And don't be snotty. I don't have the patience for that kind of conceit."

"If I'm displaying too much conceit, you don't have to tolerate it. Stay away from me."

"I can't. I like making you angry. You're very pretty when you're angry."

"You're being ridiculous again," she scolded.

"You don't recognize the peril of your situation."

"My situation is fine."

She whipped away and stomped off. He thought about marching after her, about stopping her just to prove he could. But he wasn't leaving Kirkwood, and there would be plenty of opportunities to wear her down.

He'd spent many years around desperate people. He had been one of those desperate people so he fathomed how circumstances could grind down a person, how you chose paths you never imagined you would. She'd ultimately descend to that low spot too, and he'd be there for her as she fell from the bottom rung.

"Miss Marshall?"

He assumed she'd ignore him, but apparently he was already having an impact. She halted and glared over her shoulder. "What?"

"When you hear from Mr. Bean that he's severed your betrothal-"

"Mr. Bean will not sever our betrothal. We've been engaged since I was a girl, and he's a gentleman."

Kit was betting it would happen before the afternoon was over. "When he does, let me know right away."

"For what reason would I, Mr. Roxbury?"

"So I can latch on to you before any other fellow has the chance."

"Latch on to me. You talk as if I'm a hog at the fair."

"You're destitute and in trouble, and I'm willing to have you anyway. From where I'm standing, you're lucky I'm interested."

"Lucky!" she huffed. "Goodbye, Mr. Roxbury. You're a menace and a nuisance."

"You can call me Kit. Or Christopher. That's my Christian name."

"Are you still laboring under the delusion that I would call you by your Christian name?"

"Why not? Why shouldn't we be friends?"

"Because you're an idiot, and I don't like you."

With that parting shot, she flounced off. He watched her until she rounded a bend and vanished from sight, then he strolled after her at a leisurely pace.

He couldn't figure out why she intrigued him. He was eager to chase after her, but if he caught her, she probably wouldn't be worth having. But he loved all that sass and temper, loved how her eyes sparked with irritation when he was aggravating her. It would take a long time to grow weary of her, and he would relish all the interactions they'd share prior to that moment arriving.

He continued on, wondering if he shouldn't confide his attraction to Damian, if he shouldn't admit she'd captured his fancy. Damian might be humored by the notion of Miss Sophia being ruined and having to serve as mistress to a man she didn't like-that man being Kit. He might deem it a fitting conclusion.

Or he might not think that so it was likely best to keep it a secret.

Until what point? an irksome voice taunted.

He didn't have an answer to that question, and he wouldn't fret over it. He'd survived turmoil all his life. He'd survive this too.

He started whistling, speculating as to where he should wait so he'd have a clear view when the messenger came from Mr. Bean to break his betrothal. Though Sophia didn't believe him, he wasn't wrong about Mr. Bean. She'd be free and unencumbered by nightfall or he'd eat his hat.

Damian at 13...

I can't believe you're finally going."

"It's taken ages, hasn't it?"

Damian smiled at Michael Scott. For months, he'd been languishing on a prison barge anchored in the middle of the Thames. No one had any information as to why they hadn't departed for Botany Bay.

There were rumors of a lack of funding for the voyage, refusal of the insurance companies to provide coverage for the perilous journey, a dearth of crew members to work the sails. There weren't many sailors who would willingly sign on to a vessel filled with criminals.

Then suddenly, whatever the problem, it had been solved. After interminable delays, they were leaving the next day.

All morning, families had been coming on board to say goodbye to their sons, brothers, or husbands. They brought money and supplies to make their loved one's conditions more bearable.

Damian had no family and hadn't expected a guest so it was a comforting surprise to have Michael appear.

"I wish I'd visited sooner," Michael said.

"It doesn't matter," Damian insisted. "It's grand that you're here now. I don't feel nearly so invisible."

"We haven't stopped worrying about you."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I tried every trick I could to get you released, but your judge won't budge on the penalty he imposed. He's determined to punish you boys, and none of the guards will cross him."

"Maybe he had his pocket picked too many times."

"Maybe," Michael agreed, and they laughed.

"Bugger him," Damian spat. "The fat old sot can choke for all I care."

"My lawyer claims the Crown will try to educate and civilize you so you'll become an upstanding citizen of the realm."

Damian snorted at that. "I've met the teacher, and I've met my fellow shipmates. Trust me, there will be no learning or civilizing for this group."

"Nevertheless, I want you to study hard whenever schooling is available to you. I want you to come back and work for me. I plan to be very rich someday so I'll need you to have the skills to assist me."

"You really think I'll be back?"

"People make it-occasionally."

"Name one." Of course Michael couldn't. They were quiet for a minute, pondering the dire future that was approaching much too quickly. Then Damian said, "I doubt I'll be back, Michael. In fact, I doubt I'll survive it."

"You have to survive it for me. I have to imagine someone can return from there."

"Why?"

"So if they ever arrest me-"

"They never could!" Damian loyally declared.

Michael shrugged. "Who can guess what might occur? I have to hope it's possible to come back. If anybody can manage it, let it be you."

Damian was wise beyond his years, and he looked at the world through very clear eyes. No one returned from the penal colonies. Even if a person lived to complete his sentence, he had to purchase his fare back to England. What convict could ever earn the money to book passage?

But he was so fond of Michael and owed him so much-his very life it seemed. He couldn't bear to disappoint him.

"I will be the one who comes back," he vowed. "I swear it."

"You know how to find me when you do."

"Yes."

"If it takes ten years, if it takes twenty, I'll be watching for you."

"It will be my motivation for staying alive."

Michael stepped nearer and leaned in to whisper in Damian's ear. "This will help you to pay your way."

Michael slipped a bag of coins into Damian's shirt. He'd already provided a satchel with a coat, blankets, and other supplies. Yet in a place where bribery was common, hard coins were the best protection in any situation.

"Thank you," Damian said. "For everything."

"Be careful with it," Michael warned. "If anyone noticed me giving it to you, there's no telling what could happen. You're surrounded by criminals."

Damian smiled. "And I'm the worst of the lot."

"Ha! You were trained by the master."

"Yes, I was."

They stared then, and the moment became awkward. Damian actually wondered if he might burst into tears, but Michael saved him by patting him on the shoulder.

"I'll see you again," Michael said. "In London. Someday I'll turn around, and you'll be standing there with that stupid grin on your face."

"I will, Michael. Just for you."

"I'm counting on it, Damian."