"But an important one." He clicked his glass against hers. "Drink up," he ordered.

She sipped the wine. It was surprisingly good. He served. His movements were fluid and economical. His

fingers were long and tapered, his knuckles large. Capable hands. Like his mother's. Or, since he looked

like he could wield a sword as easily as a serving knife-a gentleman's hands.

The trout was fresh and moist. Baby peas and carrots were also offered. Being the wife of a man of means had advantages.

"Is the hunting party still here?" she asked by way of conversation.

"They dine out tonight," he told her, refilling her wineglass. "The inn will be quiet until they return."

She nodded, conscious that meant they would really be alone. She drained her drink.

"Easy," he warned. "If you keep this up, I'll fear you are trying to avoid me through drink."

Rosalyn did feel a bit light-headed, but it was not an unpleasant feeling. "I never thought I would marry,"

she said and then wondered why she had blurted out such an admission.

"Why not?" he asked. Was he still on his first glass of wine? Or had she drunk it all?

She decided not to check. "I was fine alone," she answered blithely.

His intent blue eyes studied her a moment over the brim of his wineglass. "I like this new style to your

hair."

Her cheeks grew warm. "It's too curly," she demurred, shifting her gaze away from his.

"I think your hair is one of your best assets," he told her, his voice so warmly seductive that Rosalyn

almost dropped her fork. She set it down.

"You are flattering me."

"Ummmhmmmm," he agreed.

"Men don't flatter me, not usually," she answered. "Why are you?" But she had an idea why, an image of

his bare chest this morning springing to her mind.

Colin picked up her fork, speared a piece of trout, and held it up for her. She leaned forward and ate it off the tines.

"I flatter you because you are beautiful," he said. "In fact, I don't understand quite why you've wanted to

hide your beauty. You're contrary to every other woman I know."

Rosalyn didn't know how to react. Defensively, she said, "When people see my hair, it reminds them of my mother."

He set down her fork and leaned his arms on the table. "What is the matter with that?"

She reached for her wineglass. "In Father's family, everything." She put her lips to her glass but didn'ttake a sip. If anyone should know the whole story, it was her husband. "You didn't marry that well. Mygrandfather was a candler in Norwich. Are you surprised?" she challenged.

"Not really," he answered. "And I'm the cobbler's son, remember. We all have to come from

somewhere. It's what we do with our God-given talent that matters."

Rosalyn set down her glass. Her husband was a freethinker... and she liked it. "Yes," she agreed. "The story is my father saw Mother making a delivery one day and was so struck by her beauty that he followed her. From that day on, he paid court until she agreed to marry him."

"I imagine his family did not take the news well.""That is an understatement. You've heard my mother ran off?"He nodded.Of course. That story always made the rounds. She folded her hands in her lap. "I was always reminded that my father didn't marry well. Mother disgraced not only herself but also the family. Since she wasn'tthere to pay for her sins, they took it out on me.""What of your father? Didn't he protect you?""My father found solace in the bottle and died three years later.""How old were you?""Fourteen."

"So, after that you lived with relatives?" "One right after the other. Aunt Agatha, the one George wanted me to join in Cornwall, was my least favorite of a distasteful lot." It was Aunt Agatha who had complained the most about her hair. Rosalyn had been sixteen when she'd been sent there, a lonely girl who'd already seen more of life than she wanted. She lowered her hand to her lap. "Society can be cruel to those who don't meet expectations."

"If one lets them," Colin countered. "You're lucky you look like your mother."No one had ever said that to her before. "What makes you say so?"He grinned. "Because you don't look like your cousin Woodford or any of the relations I met in London from your father's side. Their noses are all twice the size of yours."His bald statement stunned her."You're right. I don't. I never have." The admission was freeing. Laughter suddenly bubbled up inside her. She couldn't stop it.

Colin began laughing with her, as if he enjoyed her amusement.

She thought of her cousins, of the things that had been said to her and whispered behind her back all her

life. Things that had cut her deeply. She laughed harder. And then there was her father, who'd barely recognized her presence and the things she had tried to do to make him care. Her laughter grew louder. Harder. Until suddenly, laughter turned to tears.

Rosalyn broke down. Deep, heart-wrenching sobs doubled her over. She couldn't stop them. They

came from a place deep in her soul that no one had known about... not even herself.

The tears she had spent her life refusing to shed could not be denied now. They poured from her, steaming from her eyes and choking her throat.

She turned from Colin, embarrassed to have lost control over her senses.

But she couldn't escape him. He came around the table and knelt in front her. His arms circled hershoulders.She tried to turn away.He would not let her.In the end, she didn't have the strength to fight. Not anymore.Had it been the wine? Or the sympathetic ear that had made her break down?She didn't know. She didn't care. She put her arms around Colin's shoulders and sobbed against his jacket like a child.

"I just wanted them to like me," she managed.

"I know," he cooed, sitting on the floor and bringing her down into his lap. He wrapped his arms around

her. "We all want that."

"They didn't. They never cared." The hurt rolled through her, bringing fresh tears in its wake. Shesoaked his jacket and shirt with them.Colin rocked her gently. "They are behind you now. They don't matter."Rosalyn pulled back slightly. "But they are family." Her nose was running, and her words sounded nasally.

He shrugged. "Family can be important if they are kind and have good hearts. They can also be

destructive if they don't." He pulled her cloth napkin down from the table, and she thankfully blew hernose."I wasn't raised to believe that," she said. "My family was all I had. I didn't even have a home to call my own, or even a trinket of my parents. George took it all.""Yes, but he doesn't count anymore. Now you have Mrs. Covington.""She's not really family.""She is. Friends become the family of our choosing." He took the napkin from her, chose a clean corner, and wiped the tearstains from her cheeks. "Family is our link to ourselves," he mused, "and in a way it is a pity. I was blessed with a good one. You weren't so fortunate, but that doesn't mean you have to let them hurt you."

"All they've done is take care of me. I shouldn't be ungrateful.""All they've done is ignore you," he contradicted. "They've made you feel an unwelcome burden. Beingangry at their treatment is right and natural."

His words were cathartic. He was right. Being shuttled back and forth amongst bickering family and

being criticized for her every fault had hurt. Deeply hurt."You've lost both your parents," he continued. "I understand your sense of loss. I miss mine. I didn'trealize how much until I returned to Clitheroe and was around Mart's family. If I, an adult, find it hardbeing an orphan, what must you have felt?"

Rosalyn sat in the haven of his arms, but the guilt that had been her constant companion for so long refused to dissipate. She discovered she was reluctant to let it go. She'd carried it for so long, and she was accountable for some of it.

"My mother is alive," she confessed. Not even Covey knew her secret."I beg your pardon?" he said, leaning closer. Her voice had been so low that he'd not heard her."My mother is alive," she repeated.Colin accepted the information without reaction, and she realized he didn't fully understand what she meant."My mother lives here, in Scotland, with her riding instructor. I've received letters from her."Now he understood. "Have you written back?""No." She dropped her gaze to the knot in his neck cloth. "I would never contact her.""Why not?"The question stunned her. "Because she disgraced the family. She left my father." Fresh tears threatened.

She swallowed them back before adding, "She left me."Anger mixed with shame. "They are married now. I have two sisters and a brother."Colin reacted as if he didn't know what to do with this information."I wouldn't see her," Rosalyn said. At his continued silence, she emphasized, "Ever."She waited, daring him to criticize her. Turning one's back on a parent was a sin. It was unnatural.It was painful.He must have sensed her sorrow. His hands covered hers in her lap, and he laced their fingers together.Rosalyn looked down at their joined hands, and the hardness in her chest dissolved."It's all right," he said quietly. "However you choose to handle it is your decision and no one else's.""Since I've moved to the Valley, she writes me every year," she said. "She wants to come see me.""If you don't want to see her, you don't have to.""Sometimes I wish I could see her," Rosalyn confessed. She glanced up at Colin to gauge his reaction.

Anyone else of her acquaintance would have a very definite opinion about such a matter.However, in his eyes, she saw only acceptance. Whatever decision she made was hers.

And in that moment, she began to fall in love.

Funny, she'd never believed it existed, and yet here it was, shimmering in front of her, more beautiful than

the poets' praise, more real and vibrant. Whether she had believed in it or not, it had always existed. She'd just never seen it- before Colin.Now, she couldn't imagine her life without it."Rosalyn?"He didn't know what had happened to her. She heard his confusion in his voice. Had she changed that much? That quickly?

Yes, she had.

So she did something completely alien and radical. She kissed him.

Chapter Twelve.

Colin went very still, surprised by what was happening and afraid that if he moved, she'd stop.

She pressed her lips against his, tentatively at first, and then with growing ardor. His poor mouse, she still didn't know how to do a kiss right, although she was on the right path.

He released the breath he was holding and decided to show her.

Putting his arms around her, he kissed her back, urging her to open to him. Her hands slid up to his neck.

When his tongue touched hers, she didn't draw away but sucked gently on it. Her breasts flattened against his chest-and every fiber in Colin's body reacted with a force that defied any law in the universe.