Though he'd disliked the thought of being married at first and had clung to his freedom for as long as possible, now he couldn't imagine life without her. He couldn't remember sleeping alone, eating breakfast alone, or wandering through life instead of living it, which is what he had done before Fiona. With her, helived . Without her...

He refused to consider that. He'd always lived in the present; perhaps that was what he needed to do now. He couldn't give Fiona a wedding like this-what was done was done. But hecould do something to bring a smile to her face.

A few moments later, he sat back in his chair and grinned. He knew what he'd do. All he needed was a little help from Devonsgate.

The morning sun splintered through the crack in the curtains. Fiona opened her eyes, searching the unfamiliar room.

Jack was gone.

She sat up and scooted out of bed. Where was he? She started to tug the bellpull to call the maid but then decided that with the number of guests in the house, it would be quicker if she dressed herself. She washed using the pitcher of fresh water by the bed, then hurriedly dressed.

Jack's riding boots were gone. Maybe he'd just gone for a ride or- The door opened, and Jack walked in, her cloak folded over his arm. He smiled upon seeing her, and until then, she hadn't realized she was holding her breath.

"I am glad you are up."

She looked at her cloak. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, we are. Devonsgate arrived earlier and he is with the carriage."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." He looked at her shoes. "You'll need half boots; the ground may be uneven." He went to the wardrobe for a pair of boots.

She sat down to remove her slippers, but he shook his head. "Change them in the carriage. I want to leave before anyone else awakens."

Fiona stood. "Very well, though I have to warn you, I'm starving."

"Excellent. I want youand your appet.i.te for this little jaunt." He placed her cloak around her shoulders

and fastened the hook beneath her chin.

The gesture was sweet, simple, and completely unexpected. There was something tender about Jack this morning. Was he realizing that perhaps the time would come soon when they would part? Once she was with child...

Beneath the voluminous cloak, she rested her hand on her stomach. It was possible she was already with child. She frowned, trying to remember the date of her last courses.

"Ready, my love?" He held the door open.

She went through it, wondering at the gleam in his eyes. He appeared excited, almost playful.

At the carriage, Devonsgate greeted them with a bow and a smile. "Ah, madam! How are you this fine morning?"

"I'm cold!" She rubbed her arms beneath the cloak. "I hope you will not freeze on the carriage."

"I have a toasty topcoat. I find this weather rather invigorating, after the heat of town."

Hamish snorted. "The air is fresher, too."

Fiona agreed; the gentle morning wind carried the scents of fresh hay and roses.

One of the footmen opened the carriage door, and they were soon on their way. It was a lovely ride,

over the hills and through a thick forest. Along the way, Jack made her laugh with tales of his brothers

and parents. The carriage pulled up to a wide, gra.s.sy spot near a small stream. Fiona alighted, one of the footmen a.s.sisting her. "Where are we?"

"Strathmore Forest. I used to come here when I was a child. There is a small clearing down that path. I thought we might set up the food there." As Devonsgate disappeared down the path with a heavy basket, Fiona drew a deep breath. The scents of damp gra.s.s and clean water soothed her. The gra.s.s was a deep, rich green that begged for bare feet. A babbling brook rushed past them, the water tumbling clear and clean over mossy rocks. Large trees overhung them, the vivid blue sky dappling through.

Hamish dismounted and tied his horse to the back of the carriage, then pulled his pistol from his belt and stood at a tree not far away, scanning the woods. Fiona frowned, realizing that not only was Hamish armed, but the footmen were as well. "Jack, do you really think that is necessary?"

"I doubt whoever caused your accident has yet realized we've left, but I feel safer being prepared." He clasped her elbow as he directed her to a little path. "I used to hide here when I was a boy." "From whom?"

"From my ch.o.r.es, actually."

She laughed.

He grinned back, his gaze sliding down to where her hand rested on her stomach.

Fiona quickly removed her hand and flushed; she hadn't realized she'd been standing so.

A deep look of possessiveness flashed over his face, but he merely gestured to the path. "After you, my

lady."

She walked down the winding path, her half boots rustling through the gra.s.s, her toes cooling as the leather chilled on contact with the damp ground. She was supremely conscious of the freshness of the air,

of the breeze that tugged at her hair and brushed her cheeks, of the warmth of Jack's hand cupping her elbow as he led her around various dips in the path.

"I hope you brought plenty to eat," Fiona said. "My stomach is demanding attention."

They rounded a corner, and she halted. A large blanket was set with grapes and cheeses, tarts and

crumpets and sweet breads, accompanied by jellies, jams, and marmalade. Devonsgate stood to one side, a napkin hung over one arm.

"Devonsgate! This is lovely!"

"Thank his lordship. It was his idea."

Fiona turned. "Jack, thank you."

The faintest hint of a smile curved his mouth. "It's nothing. Now, come and eat. You've gotten a bit pale these last few days."

He settled on the blanket next to her. "We've had a wild time of it, haven't we? First our marriage, which was not the usual fare. Then we had to adjust to each other. Your brothers did not make things easier, either. Plus the problems with Lucinda and the runaway horse...And now, here we are, attending a wedding." He picked up a knife and began peeling a pear. "I don't like weddings."

"Really? Why not?"

He cut the pear into slices and placed them on a plate. "Devonsgate, please give her ladyship some juice."

Devonsgate poured some juice into a winegla.s.s and handed it to Fiona. "And you, my lord? I daresay

you'll wish for some ale or-" "No. I will have juice, too." Devonsgate and Fiona looked at each other in amazement, then Fiona looked at Jack. "Juice?" He shrugged. "What's good enough for my son is good enough for me." Son? He thought she was-She blinked. She kept wondering, yet her mind skittered around the thought as if it were too hot to touch. Silently, she began to add up the weeks. It was possible. Yes, it was possible. Her eyes watered.Was she carrying Jack's child?

"Fiona, drink your juice," Jack said gently.

She took a convulsive gulp, the liquid tart on her tongue.

"Devonsgate," Jack said, his gaze never leaving Fiona, "I believe we have all we need. You may retire to the coach."

"Thank you, my lord. If you need me I am but a step away." He bowed deeply, gave the blanket one last critical look, then disappeared up the walk.

Jack sipped his juice, grimaced, but quickly hid it. He set down his gla.s.s, picked up a small plate, and placed an apricot tart on it, along with a wedge of cheese. "Try these."

She picked up the tart and nibbled on the edge. She'd donned a white muslin morning gown trimmed with pink rosettes that peeked from between the gap in her cloak. In her hurry to dress, she'd used far too few pins, and her hair was in imminent danger of falling down.

She looked fresh and young, the smattering of freckles dusting her nose so appealing that he was tempted to trace their progress with a kiss.

Fiona bit into a tart. "Jack, why do you dislike weddings?"

"I find all the trappings and the flowers and such ridiculous."

"I suppose," she said slowly. "But still..." She blushed. "You may think me silly, but the ceremony itself was beautiful. They really love each other. Jack, sometimes...sometimes, don't you wish things were different between us? That our wedding had been more normal?" She flushed deeply. "Of course, we wouldn't be together then. But if we had...do you miss that?" She sighed. "I am making things difficult, aren't I? I am sorry."

"No, please go on. What did you like about the wedding?"

She looked surprised but pleased. "The whole thing was lovely-the ceremony, the reception. We didn'

t have that."

He grinned. "No, our wedding was quite different. The groom was drunk and unconscious."

She put down the tart, her cheeks hot and pink. "I wish you wouldn't remember that."

Jack laughed. "I will do my best to forget, though it will be difficult."

She sighed, and silence filled the s.p.a.ce between them. Jack's flippant remark died on his lips. She was

serious. This meant a lot to her.

"What do you wish our wedding had been like?"

She gave him a quick smile. "It is silly even to wonder. We had no choice in our marriage, especially you." "I am not sorry we married." The words surprised him, but he knew instantly they were true. Now there was a purpose to his life, a reason for everything.

Her gaze flew to his face."No?" "Not at all. Considering everything, I think we've done well." She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "I think we've done well, too." He took her hand, noting how small it was in his. "Fiona, I-" A shot rang out. Jack was on his feet, his pistol in his hand before the echo died. But the thick woods revealed nothing-no movement, no sound. Nothing but an eerie, unnatural silence. "d.a.m.n them!" His chest pounded with shock. "Someone must be hunting." Fiona didn't answer. He turned. A stunned expression on her face, she opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. He knelt. "Do not be frightened. When I find-" Blood, rich and red, soaked her pristine white gown. "No!" he gasped. Her lips quivered. "I-" Her eyes fluttered, and then, slowly, she fell forward into his arms. Jack caught her, dropping his pistol to the blanket."Devonsgate! Hamish!" Jack's mind thundered with fear. He had to do something to save her! The blood was spreading so fast.

"d.a.m.n it, Devonsgate!"he yelled frantically. "Fiona! Please, G.o.d, no!" Tears blurred his eyes as he

scooped her into his arms.

A whisper of sound brushed across his ears, then- CRACK!.

Something exploded across his head. He fell, pushing himself to one side, cushioning Fiona against him.

He fought with all his will to stay conscious, to reach for her again, but thick, black, cold silence

swallowed him whole.