Why we are married." Married.He couldn't wrap his pained head around the thought. "It cannot be binding." "Yes, it is. I-I made certain it would be." Some of his fury must have been evident, for she put out a placating hand. "Please, Jack. I only did what I had to do. I had no choice."

He stood and took a step toward her, every fiber of his body pulsing with anger. "Youhad no choice?You were not the one who was dragged to the altar unconscious!" She had stolen his freedom

from him. She, of all people.

She stepped away, her back near the wall. "Jack, I am truly sorry. I only did what I had to."

"Hadto? What was so urgent that you felt such a thing was necessary?"

"I had to stop the feud. Our families are at risk."

"Are you crazed? That argument is as old as the mountains."

"Not anymore." Her eyes flickered with a flash of emotion deep within. "Jack, surely you know about

Callum?"

He paused. "Your brother?"

"Yes. He was my youngest." Her voice caught on the last word, her lip quivering.

Jack blinked. "Was? Fiona, what happened?"

"There was a fight in a tavern a week ago. Your half brother Eric fought Callum. Callum died. Surely

you knew-" She broke off, her expression uncertain. "The last time I saw anyone in my family was five years ago, at my grandfather's funeral." They'd been none too happy to see him, either, especially after they'd discovered that his grandfather had left hisentire fortune to Jack. "I have not seen Eric or anyone since." "Eric and Callum met in a tavern. They had an argument. Blows were exchanged. Callum died." He frowned, unable to look away from her tear-bright gaze. "I didn't know." "Your family says it was a simple brawl, that Callum's death was an accident. But my brothers do not believe him." The sharpness of her voice told him it wasn't only her brothers who believed Eric's guilt. Jack had been born almost a decade before either of his half-brothers. By the time he'd been fifteen, he and his stepfather had already reached the nadir of their relationship, a fistfight that had left them bloodied, bruised, and too angry ever to live under the same roof again.

So at the tender age of fifteen, Jack had packed his portmanteau, strapped it to the back of his favorite horse, and left for England. He rarely came home to visit. His family were all strangers to him now, and Jack was used to being alone. In fact, he treasured it.

"None of this has anything to do with me," he said.

She paled, her lips tight. "Callum is dead. Do you understand that?"

"Talk to Eric," he said harshly. "This has nothing to do with me."

She grabbed his arm, her fingers pressing through his linen shirt. "Someone killed my brother."

He looked down at her for a long time, noting the tension around her mouth, the tiredness around her eyes. She was exhausted. The realization sent a quiver of something through him, a faint sense of...worry? Regret?

He pulled his arm free. "You have the wrong Kincaid. You should have captured Eric or Angus, someone other than me."

Her eyes blazed. "How can you say that?"

"I do not concern myself with my family, nor they with me. I never have. Why would I begin now?" He could still remember the day he'd left his house. Stiff with anger and pride, he'd hoped one of them-his mother or stepfather or even one of his little brothers-would ask him to stay, beg him not to leave. Instead, there was an air of palpable relief. In the months following, the lack of further communication had cemented the fact all the more-they didn't care and never had.

Jack had decided that he didn't care, either. He had a decent income, provided by his mother's brother, and he'd rented rooms in the fashionable part of town. He fell all too easily into a life of ease as he gambled, gamed, chased women, drank to excess, and learned to treasure the one and only thing that was truly his own: his freedom.

By the time he was nineteen, he had a reputation as a hardened libertine and an inveterate gambler. He was also known for his outrageous good luck. Fortune, it seemed, really did smile upon those less lucky in areas of the heart. Until, at the age of twenty-two, on one of his sporadic jaunts to his homeland to run his hunters through the moors, he'd met Fiona MacLean. He would not become entangled again. "I will not be involved in this, MacLean. Find yourself another."

She lifted her chin, her eyes blazing up at him. "It's too late, Jack."

"I refuse to believe that."

Her brows rose. "Do you think me a fool? That I would go to this much trouble for something that could be undone so easily? Our marriage will stand, Kincaid. It will stand forever."

Jack stared at Fiona, a sinking sensation in his stomach. Was she right? Was there no setting this union aside?

d.a.m.n it all, how had this happened? And why with the one woman he hadn't been able to resist?

Only once in his life had he allowed himself to be swayed by his heart. He'd gambled it all-and lost. He 'd been mad for Fiona from their first meeting. Within a week, he'd decided that she was the one, and with all the pa.s.sion of youth, he'd pleaded with her to run away with him.

She'd reluctantly agreed. He'd made arrangements, bought a carriage and six, and waited for her at the a.s.signed location. Night had drawn, but she had not come. In her place had arrived a thunderstorm like none he'd ever witnessed, along with two of her brothers. Gregor and Alexander had brutally informed him that their sister had changed her mind.

Jack had thought they were lying, until they'd given him the letter she'd written.

Dear Jack, I cannot do this. Please leave and do not look for me again. My feelings for you are not what they should be. I am sorry if you believed otherwise. Sincerely, Fiona.

His jaw tightened at the memory. He'd been left with nothing to do but turn the carriage and ride away, humiliated and furious.

d.a.m.n it all, he'd known better than to put his faith in something as fickle as emotion, yet he'd been unable to resist.

It was a mistake he never made again. Emotion was to be sipped and savored briefly, like champagne, before it went flat.

"I refuse to believe this marriage will stand."

Her jaw firmed, her eyes narrowing. "I made certain it would. With you as a member of the family, my brothers will halt their quest for blood."

"I know your brothers. It would take more than a mere marriage to keep them at bay."

She dropped her gaze. "Perhaps."

Jack tensed, his gaze narrowing. "Perhaps?"

She shrugged and began to turn away.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her back around. "Explain yourself."

"No! Not while you're holding me so!"

"You b.l.o.o.d.y witch," he snapped. In two short steps, he had her trapped between his body and the wall, the warmth of her skin seeping through her pelisse. For some reason, that only angered him more. "Whatever it is that you've done, you will undo. I willnot be married. Not now, not ever!" He lowered his face until their eyes were even. "I will not give up my freedom, and I don't give a d.a.m.n about Callum or my brothers or anyone else."

There was a moment of shocked silence. Fiona might pretend to be brave, but he could see from the way her lips trembled and her chest rose and fell with her short breaths that she was frightened.

"I will not undo anything," she said in a low, breathy voice. "We are married. We will stay that way. I am sorry, but there is nothing you can do about it." He had the sudden impression of being held underwater, unable to breathe. His fingers tightened on her shoulders cruelly.

She did not look away, though her lips whitened. "Let me go, Kincaid."

"No."

She struggled, kicking back against the wall. "Let me go, now!"

"No. Not until you-"

The door to the room slammed open and Hamish stalked in. Red-haired and red-eyed, he looked like a

fiery angel seeking vengeance.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," Jack muttered. He released Fiona and turned to stand before her. "Hamish. What a pleasant surprise." Hamish's red brows lowered as he glanced from Jack to Fiona, then back. "What's goin' on here?" "Nothing that concerns you," Jack said. "I am pledged to watch the mistress. If ye lift a hand to her again, I'll end yer miserable life." "Did you have anything to do with this d.a.m.ned marriage?" Jack felt his head, wincing when his fingers brushed a sore knot. "I've a feeling you a.s.sisted her far more than was necessary." "I wish I'd given ye that k.n.o.b, but I didn't. Ye fell from yer horse and smacked yer head." Hamish flexed his hand, the size of a large rock. "Had it been me, ye wouldn't be awake now." "Hamish." Fiona stepped around Jack. "There was no need for you to intrude." "I heard ye call out." "I fell against the wall." "Balderc.o.c.k," Jack said rudely. "I pushed you." Hamish's huge hands balled into fists. He started forward, but Jack was ready. He lifted a foot and sent the lone chair flying directly in the path of the big Scotsman. Hamish grabbed the chair and threw it to one side, where it smashed against the wall and splintered into a dozen pieces. Jack raised his fists and- Fiona shoved him back, the edge of the bed catching him behind the knees and sending him thudding to the mattress. The distant rumble of thunder echoed.

"That is enough!" Fiona snapped, her eyes sparkling with anger. "Hamish, leave us! Kincaid and I must speak."

"I'm not leavin' ye with the likes of Black Jack Kincaid!"

"If I need you, I will call," Fiona said firmly.

The Scotsman didn't look convinced. "I don't-"

"Hamish," she said in a quiet tone. "Go."

Jack raised his brows, distracted from his own irritation by the strength of the rebuke in her voice.

Hamish must have heard it as well, for he flushed a deep red, then turned to the door. "I will be in the hallway." He paused to lock gazes with Jack. "I can be back in here in a trice."

Fiona nodded. "That won't be necessary."

The Scotsman grunted his disbelief but obediently left, closing the door behind him.

Fiona had changed, after all. There was some steel to her now, a determination he'd never seen before.

For some reason, that made him more uneasy than facing Hamish.

Still, Fiona MacLean was responsible for this mess. Jack did not deserve to be punished for the sins of his less-than-loving family. h.e.l.l, he didn't deserve any of this. Jaw tight, he turned to his enemy. "Fiona, I will never accept this marriage."

Fiona fought to hold on to her tenuous control. She'd known Jack would be angry, but nothing had prepared her for the rage burning in his gaze. Her shoulders still ached where he'd gripped them, and she shivered from the cold fury in his face. "Jack, please. You must accept this."

"Why?"

Slowly, she placed her hand upon her stomach. "Because I have told everyone I am carrying your child."

He stepped back. "You didwhat ?"

"I sent word to both of our families that I was with child and that was why we'd married."

He blinked.

"That's the only reason Father MacCanney agreed to wed us. He thought I was carrying your child."

"You b.l.o.o.d.yb.i.t.c.h. "

She winced. She deserved that, she supposed. "Kincaid, I would not have involved you if I'd had any other choice. The feud-" "The feud is nothing more than squabbles over boundary lines and livestock."

"No, now it's different. Callum died. If something is not done, and quickly, neither of us will have a moment's peace for the rest of our lives. We'll be too busy tending graves to enjoy anything."

Jack's expression darkened. He spun on his heel, took a quick step toward the wall, then halted. He turned back to fix a cold blue stare upon her. "You really believe your brothers would do something rash."

She thought of her brothers' expressions when she'd last seen them-the hatred and anger. "Yes," she said, her voice barely audible. "They will seek vengeance. And they will succeed. Then their actions will be answered. If not by your father, then a cousin or an ally. You know how it is done."

He nodded abruptly. "Aye. I do know." Jack raked a hand through his hair, wincing when he touched a tender spot over one ear. "And so it will begin." He crossed to the window. "Does my father know of all this? Of your brothers' vow for vengeance?"

"I wrote to him and told him everything."

He turned, his face in the shadows. "You told him that you planned to capture me? To force me to marry?"

She bit her lip. "Not that part, no."

"Of course not."

She sighed, her knees a little weak. It had been such a long week, filled with sadness and emotion. "I told my brothers the same thing: that I was with child and you were the father."

Jack leaned a shoulder against the bedpost and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Who is the father, Fiona? I should know, in case the b.a.s.t.a.r.d arrives to take retribution."

Her cheeks burned. "There is no child. I mean, not yet. I haven't been with anyone since you and I-"

She bit her lip. Blast it, she hadn't meant to tell him that.

His expression shuttered. "I don't believe you."

"It doesn't matter what you believe. What matters is that-" She crossed the few steps that separated them. "Jack, you were right in what you said before: just getting married won't stop the feud."

He scowled, his clear blue eyes locking with hers. "Then what will?"

Lord, he was going to force her to say it. "To end this feud once and for all, we must also have a child.

And soon."