of the girls, Tess leaned across the table. "I've started writing a book, just as you suggested."

He didn't remember the suggestion.

"The day we left London," she prompted. "Don't you remember?"

"Maria Edgeworth."

"Yes," she said.

He'd talked about Mrs. Edgeworth to needle her, but if writing made her this happy, she could write

Bibles for all he cared. "Are you going to write about matchmaking and husband hunting?"

Tess laughed. "I could." She sobered. "I started writing about our journey. Actually, it is more of ajournal, a bit like Minnie's was."Brenn felt a touch of guilt.Within the hour, they pulled away from the Duck Pond Inn's yard. The three little girls and Darryl waved farewell enthusiastically amid calls to come back. Sarah was more reserved. But then, even weeks ago,

before he'd set off for London, he'd known she didn't like his plan.

Women's heads were full of romantic nonsense."I don't think she liked me," Tess said, once they were out of sight of the inn."Sarah does like you. She's just always been too serious.""Well, I can understand some of her worry.""You can?"Tess nodded. "She is obviously concerned about the type of wife you've married. I mean, we really haven't known each other long." She hesitated and then asked in a soft, worried voice, "Brenn, why did you marry me? Was it only to save me from scandal?"

"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously. Tess was too perceptive.

"When you were telling that story last night, the girls wanted to believe it was about us. Amanda and Lucy both asked me about it this morning."

Brenn felt a rush of relief. She didn't suspect a thing. His smile was genuine as he said, "Well, they have

vivid imaginations. They place themselves in every story I tell."Her hand came down close to his which was resting on the seat. "Did you know I'd begged anintroduction to you the night of the Garlands' ball? I knew you were searching for a wife, but there wasmore."

"What more?"

"I saw you staring at me and, well, I don't know...it just seemed as if something special pa.s.sed betweenus." She fixed a hopeful blue gaze on him. "Did you not feel the same?"Brenn remembered the moment clearly. He'd wanted her. It had been l.u.s.t, guilt-free, undeniable.But he couldn't tell her that.And yet, Sarah had goaded his conscience. He had to be honest with Tess. So he admitted, "From the moment I saw you, I wanted you."

He was glad he had told the truth, because she was in his lap in a heartbeat, raining kisses on his face. "I

knew it!" she said. "This morning, before I came down to join you, I wrote the shepherd's story in my copybook. It is the first thing I wanted to write because I never want to forget it."

Pleased with himself, Brenn shifted her weight in his lap and put his arm tightly around her waist. His mind

pictured other ways she could show her appreciation but at that moment the coach stopped. He pulled down the window and shouted for Tim. The postboy jumped down from his horse.

"I beg pardon, my lord," Tim said. "But you wanted to stop when we reached the Welsh border."

Tess opened the coach door and was out in an instant. Brenn followed her. The coach rested on a small knoll. The sky was a vivid blue with huge puffs of clouds floating across it. The sun caught and gleamed off a stream that wound its way across the landscape. Along the steam, sheep dotted the fields like miniature versions of the clouds in the sky.

A gentle breeze captured a few stray strands of hair, blowing them into her face. She pushed them back.

"It looks like England," she said with a touch of disappointment.

"England?" The word burst out of Brenn. How could she not see the difference? Even the earth smelled differently to him. It made his senses feel alive, and had from the first time he'd crossed this border.

It was his home.

With a jolt, he realized that Tess didn't feel his kinship with the land. He started to understand what Sarah had been trying to tell him.

And he began to worry.

What was Tess going to say when she beheld Erwynn Keep?

As they traveled into Wales, Tess noticed that Brenn had become very quiet. She shouldn't have blurted out that she couldn't see a difference between Wales and England. She'd immediately sensed the change in his att.i.tude as soon as the words left her lips.

So because she wanted to please him, she talked about how much she was looking forward to arriving atErwynn Keep. "Do you have your drawings close at hand?" she asked. "I'd like to look at them again.""I'm not certain where they are," he answered, his voice sounding strained."You aren't coming down ill, are you?""No. Why?"

"You don't sound like yourself.""Nothing is the matter," he said and, to prove it true, he started talking about the farm equipment he hadordered for Erwynn Keep's fields.

Tess didn't think any conversation could be more boring than one about the different shape of plows.

Around one o'clock, they pulled into a village off the main road. Tess was famished; they hadn't come to a town for hours. Brenn a.s.sured her Wales was more populated by the coast.

It was too bad they hadn't been traveling along the coast when she'd grown hungry.

Tim drove the coach to an inn whose door sat invitingly open. It was located at the end of a row of houses lining either side of the road.

The luggage coach pulled up behind them. Willa hopped out, needing relief. She ran to the back of the inn, muttering about never finding a place to stop in this uncivilized land.

"Willa exaggerates," Tess told Brenn, before following Willa.

"I am not exaggerating," Willa defended herself when Tess came around the corner. "I feel we are driving into a heathen nation with accommodations to match!"

"Don't be silly.""Clarence was telling me stories. These people don't think like us."

"They don't know us.""Not us-the English."Tess shook her head with a laugh."It's true," Willa stressed. "They call us Saxons.""So? It's just an antiquated way of saying the English. They may be a bit backward here, but they are good people," she declared with confidence.

A few minutes later, she questioned her opinion.

The inn was so small, it was obvious that there would be no private room. The main room was busy, but

all talk came to a halt when their party walked in.

Tess leaned back toward Brenn. She covered her mouth with one gloved hand before saying, "I have

been known to cause a stir when I entered a room, but I've never struck anyone speechless."

He chuckled. "Come sit over here." He directed her to a trestle table in a far corner.

A man who had the bearing of an innkeeper approached. He spoke to Brenn in gibberish.

Now it was Tess's turn to stare.

Brenn spoke gibberish back. It surprised Tess to see that the innkeeper understood what he'd said and

answered Brenn in English."We've got rabbit today. A good cheese and ale.""That will be fine," Brenn told him.Tess sat at the table, feeling very much the center of speculation. The table was not the cleanest. Willa's eyebrows came up to say, I told you so. Tess frowned at her to sit down.

As the innkeeper turned to fetch their luncheon, the other customers decided to go back to their business.

The air filled with the sound of a foreign tongue.

"What language are they speaking?" Tess whispered to Brenn.

"Welsh."

"Welsh? Why don't they speak English?"

Brenn laughed. "Because the Welsh are cursedly independent."

"Do you speak their language?"

"Just enough to say I don't speak Welsh."