s Emma walked next to Kenny along the less populatedpart of San Antonio’s beautiful Riverwalk, it occurred to her that Lady Sarah Thornton might have been foolish for having returned to England when she’d so clearly loved Texas. There was something special about this state that she couldn’t help but respond to: its energy, its people, and its sheer, raw size. She found herself taking a long, deep breath for no reason, almost as if her lungs had developed a larger capacity. Somehow she felt bolder here, and, in a way she couldn’t explain, less limited.

The last five days had been magical. Kenny had shown her two of Texas’s most colorful cities: Austin, then San Antonio. In Austin, he’d regaled her with anecdotes from his college days as he’d shown her the University of Texas campus. When she finished her work at the library, he’d taken her through the state capitol building and given her tours of the city’s parks and shops. At night, they’d visited wonderful restaurants and listened to Austin’s best music.

San Antonio had been even more wonderful. In the mornings, while Kenny practiced at the range, she finished up the last of her research at the Daughters of the Republic of Texas Library at the Alamo. Then they spent their afternoons together. She’d never laughed so much, or argued so much either. Her body felt warm and languid from Kenny’s lovemaking, and she couldn’t imagine how she would ever live without it or without him.

A cloud of depression settled over her. Her time in Texas was nearly over. These last few days had been enchanted, but it was Friday and she would be flying home on Sunday evening.

She turned her face into the breeze, unwilling to spoil what little time she had left with introspection. Instead, she considered the guided tour of the Alamo Kenny had given her that afternoon. As he’d led her through Texas’s most famous shrine, she’d realized all those volumes of history and biography she’d seen scattered around the house hadn’t been put there by Patrick as decorative accents.

His hand felt large and comforting curled around hers. She admired a lovely old building on the other side of the river, then smiled up at him. “You’re a real history buff, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“For one thing, you know a lot more about Texas history than most people.”

“I wanted to major in history in college, but my high school grades were so crummy that my counselor recommended against it.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Not really. He was probably right. Even taking easy subjects at UT, I pretty much made straight C’s. And then I dropped out my senior year to turn pro.”

“Yes, well, I should imagine it’s difficult to do much better than C’s when you hardly ever went to class.”

He darted her a curious glance. “How’d you know that?”

“By spending five minutes in your company. Really, Kenny, I’ve never known anyone so afraid to challenge himself.”

He dropped her hand and looked aggravated. “You happen to be standing here with a man who’s won two majors in the past three years. I know everything there is to know about challenge.”

“But winning tournaments is different, isn’t it?” She took his hand back and gave it a comforting squeeze. She knew this weekend was especially hard on him with the Masters being played at Augusta, but he’d maintained a stoic silence on the topic. “The golf course is probably the only place in the world where you’re not afraid to let people see you working hard.”

“That’s because it’s the only place in the world where Ido work hard.”

She smiled at him and pressed her cheek against the side of his arm for just a moment. “Give it up, Kenny. You work hard at lots of things. Your exercise program, for example. It’s only because you make everything seem so easy that you don’t look like you’re doing anything.”

“You are so full of it that—”

“I should be fertilizer, I know. Youwant people to believe you’re lazy. It’s almost as if you think you don’t deserve anyone’s good opinion.”

“Bull.” Tension ticked at the corner of his mouth, and she knew she’d hit a nerve.

There were so many topics neither of them wanted to talk about, including his suspension and her problems with the Duke of Beddington. For the past five days, she’d been drifting along in a sensual haze, acting as if tomorrow would never come. She’d seen no signs of anyone following them, and now, with her return only two days away, she had to face the fact that she’d been behaving irresponsibly. She hadn’t tried to contact Hugh or done a single thing to upset him. It was as if she’d been lulled into a sensual world where the future didn’t exist.

A flutter of panic ruffled her stomach, stealing away some of her pleasure in the day. “Are you certain you can’t remember the names of anyone who was in the drugstore that night?”

“I told you the last time you brought this up that I was concentrating on finding the right shoelaces, so I wasn’t paying attention.”

“But surely you spoke to someone.”

“Not that I remember.”

Her spirits plummeted. She was no better off now than she’d been when she’d stepped off the plane. “Beddington knew I bought a tabloid, so his spy had to have been right there in the drugstore. But why didn’t he report anything else?”

A shapely female jogger approached, her ponytail swinging, but Kenny didn’t seem to notice. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t look at other women when he was with her. He really was a wonderful man, despite his foibles. Intelligent and entertaining. He also had a surprisingly old-fashioned sense of courtesy. Already today he’d been interrupted at least a dozen times by fans, and he’d responded to all of them politely while, at the same time, making it evident that his first obligation was to her.

They had reached the end of the accessible part of the Riverwalk, and they turned around. It was quiet here, tucked down below the city streets, with only the occasional interruption of a passing river taxi or a stray tourist. The feeling of privacy reminded her of St. Gert’s in the late afternoon. Even with the girls racing about, there were wonderfully secluded spots tucked away here and there.

“I should never have assumed the spy was a man,” she said. “It could just as easily have been a woman.”

“Now I recall I do believe I saw Old Mrs. Cooligan over by the Fannie Mae display. She’s eighty if she’s a day, but she’s real spry.”

“Go on and make fun. It’s creepy knowing that I was being followed, but not being able to figure out who was doing it. And why have they stopped?”

“I understand, sweetheart. And you know how I feel about your attachment to that pile of stones on the other side of the pond, so I’m not going to say anything more about it.”

“I know what you’re thinking.” She regarded him peevishly. “You’re thinking I’m going to turn into one of those dotty, dear things. That I’ll start talking to myself and collecting cats and wearing ratty old jerseys that smell like mothballs.”

“I have to confess those things didn’t enter my mind. Now, seeing you in a black garter belt with—”

“Just because I’m British and unmarried, and because I have a respect for tradition, doesn’t mean I’m eccentric.”

“I believe your freeway just sprouted a strange exit ramp. Where exactly are you headed with this?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Forget it.”

“You know, Lady E, instead of accusing me of psychological abnormalities, you might try looking inside your own muddled brain.”

“Me? I’m as clear as a glass of water.”

“If that’s so, why do you keep seeing yourself as some dried-up old maid?”

“I don’t. But I know I’m not exactly a sexpot.”

“Now, there’s a lie.”

“It isn’t a—” She looked up at him. “What are you saying?”

“That you’re a sexpot.”

“You’re only being nice.”

“I’m only being male. See, I’ve got this thing about your mouth—”

“There you go again! It’s so unfair. If I were a man, I’d be considered a strong leader. But because I’m female, I’m bossy.”

“We’re not talking about bossy—although you are. We’re talking about the fact that you’ve got about the sexiest mouth I’ve ever seen on a woman.”

“My mouth is sexy?”

“Uh-huh.”

She swallowed. Stared at him. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“I only lie about things that aren’t important. Do I have to remind you of what you were doing with that mouth around eight o’clock this morning?”

She didn’t see how he could still make her blush, but it happened. “Yes, well, thank you.”

He laughed and drew her close. “Thankyou.”

Instead of trying to contact Hugh, Emma spent the next morning in bed at the ranch making long, lazy love with Kenny. She couldn’t imagine any woman having a more thrilling, more considerate lover, but she wished it weren’t so important for him to stay in control. Not that she wanted to take over all the time—it was lovely having someone so blissfully competent in charge—but occasionally she’d like to have the upper hand, if only so she could experiment on that lovely body of his. It was a problem she was certain they could have worked out over time, but there was so little left.

After a leisurely breakfast, they headed for the stable, and, for the next few hours, rode through the woods, then along the Pedernales. Kenny, mounted on Shadow, slouched comfortably into a western saddle, while she rode China on an English one.

“Kenny, have you noticed...? It’s probably just wishful thinking on my part, but my tattoo seems to be fading a little.”

“Just settling deeper into your skin, is all.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She heard a rustling in the woods and saw an armadillo rooting near a fallen tree trunk. Imagine being so close to such a curious animal. Her thighs ached pleasantly from being on horseback, or maybe she was still experiencing the aftereffects of their lovemaking.

He tilted his Stetson lower over his eyes. “I’ve been thinking... your next term doesn’t start for another week, and the Antichrist doesn’t seem to be in any rush to lift my suspension, so there’s no need for you to hurry back. Why not stay a little longer?”

She straightened, then shot him a quick glance. “I have nonrefundable airline tickets.”

“I’ll take care of the tickets. Don’t you worry about it.”

At least he was no longer in a hurry to get rid of her. The idea should have made her happy, but she felt depressed instead. If they hadn’t been sleeping together, Kenny wouldn’t have wanted her to stay. “I’m an administrator. Classes might not start right away, but my job does. Two weeks is the longest holiday I can take.”

“I don’t get it. You already told me the duke’s going to fire you. What difference does it make if you don’t show up?”

“He hasn’t fired me yet, and until he does, I’m responsible for St. Gert’s.” She worried her bottom lip. “I still have another twenty-four hours or so. Maybe something will come to me.”

They rounded a bend, and, as she saw the house in the distance, she thought how much she loved it. She loved this ranch, this state. She felt like a different person here, one who wasn’t so lonely.

He frowned. “It just doesn’t seem like you need to rush off right now when we’re having such a good time.”

They were having a good time—the best time of her life—and she couldn’t repress a certain wistfulness. “Better to end it on a positive note, don’t you think?”

It took a moment for him to respond. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she said briskly, concealing the ache she felt.

Anything else he might have wanted to add was lost as the stable came into view. He straightened in the saddle and uttered a particularly foul obscenity, the same one that sent St. Gert’s girls to Emma’s office for a pointed discussion of appropriate language.

She followed the direction of his gaze and saw a group of men standing next to a paneled white van. One held a professional-quality video camera on his shoulder and was filming them as they approached. Another stood slightly off to the side looking down at the notebook in his hand. He was shorter than the others and more formally dressed in a dark brown sports coat, tan slacks, and a pale green sport shirt. As they drew nearer, she spotted gold snaffles glimmering on the vamps of an expensive pair of loafers.

“Keep your mouth shut,” Kenny growled. “I mean it.”

“Who are they?”

“Trouble, that’s who.”

As they rode closer, Emma noted that it was the man with the notebook who held Kenny’s attention. Of medium build, he had a square-jawed face, small nose, and a brush haircut. A pair of high-fashion sunglasses hung by a cord around a muscular neck.

The cameraman moved closer, pointing his lens directly at Kenny as he reined in his horse. “This is private property, Sturgis.”

“I’ve never seen your ranch, Kenny. I heard it was nice. How about taking me on a tour?” The man had the deep, well-modulated tones of a professional broadcaster. His smile was oily, and Emma detested him immediately.

“I don’t think so.” Kenny dismounted, passed the reins over to his stable boy, then helped Emma down.

“This is business, Kenny, and I want an interview.”

“You’re the last reporter I’d give an interview to. By the way, how’s that eye healing up? Who’d have figured you’d turn out to be a bleeder?”

The man shot Kenny a look of undiluted hostility, then turned to Emma. “Sturgis Randall. I’m withWorld Sports Today on the International Sports Channel.”

“This is Emma,” Kenny said before she could respond.

That was all—no last name and no title from the man who loved telling everyone they met, from store clerks to busboys, that she was royalty, even though she wasn’t.

Sturgis nodded, then dismissed her. He was far more interested in his mission than in Kenny’s companion. “While you’ve been out playing cowboy, Tiger’s ten under at Augusta. The fact that you’re not there to challenge him is big news, and I’m going to report it.”

“And here I thought you’d already done enough for me.”

Sturgis bristled. “You attacked me in front of a few million golf fans.”

Emma had heard the story from Torie, and she knew Sturgis had thrown the first punch, but, as usual, Kenny didn’t defend himself.

“Both of us are professionals,” Sturgis went on. “We can put it behind us. Let’s see the ranch.”

“Some other time.”

“The folks at Global National think an interview is a good idea. And since they’re one of your sponsors and a big advertiser on my show, they seem to be calling the shots on this one. But maybe you don’t mind losing a sponsor....”

A sense of outrage came over Emma at this invasion of Kenny’s privacy. The fact that he was a public figure didn’t give anyone the right to barge in on him like this.

Kenny’s face was set in stone. “No interview. I already told your boss that.”

“And every other reporter in the country.” His tone grew unctuous. “I understand, Kenny. So I’ll tell you what... we’ll just film your ass as you run away.”

His expression grew smug, while Kenny’s complexion darkened with anger. It took her a moment to understand, and then she realized he’d made it impossible for Kenny to refuse without looking churlish. Randall must know that Kenny wouldn’t be able to stomach the idea of every golf fan in American seeing footage of his backside as he walked away from the camera.

And then her skin prickled as she realized that she’d been presented with a golden opportunity. A reporter! A television camera! Just when she’d been about to give up, she’d been handed a chance to disgrace herself in a more public manner than she’d ever imagined. She caught her breath. Even Beddington couldn’t ignore this!

Kenny heard Emma’s quick inhalation and then saw the calculation in her expression. Her eyes darted from Sturgis to the cameraman, and every hair on the back of his neck stood up. Lady E had just realized she had a national audience right at her fingertips ready to witness whatever shenanigans she came up with.

He braced himself. Emma was quick, and any second now she was going to throw herself into his arms, or strip naked, or start doing a hula.

If he didn’t want to sink his career, he had to get her out of here, even if it meant submitting to an interview. “All right.” He shrugged. “Why not? It’ll be a good chance to set the record straight.” He turned to her. “Emma, this is going to be boring. Wait for me inside, will you?”

He braced himself for the worst and tried not to think about the fact that she was about to turn him into the biggest joke in professional golf. Lee Trevino’s pranks, Ben Wright’s comments about lesbian golfers, even Fuzzy Zoeller’s remarks about fried chicken and collard greens after the ’97 Masters, would be nothing compared to whatever Emma was getting ready to bring down on his head.

And then... nothing. He watched with astonishment as she took a deep breath, nodded, and turned away. He felt like pinching himself. Was she really going to walk away?

Without giving the cameras a second glance, she walked straight toward the house, leaving behind what might be her last chance to cause a public scandal. And he knew exactly why she wasn’t kicking up. Because she didn’t want to hurt him.

“We’re ready to go,” the cameraman called out. “Over there.”

He tore his thoughts away from Emma and headed toward the fence, trying not to think about what she’d just sacrificed. Distracting pictures started floating through his mind of the way she’d looked that morning as she’d slept next to him with her forehead puckered as if she were trying to conjure up scandalous schemes in her sleep. He remembered butterscotch curls spilled across the light blue pillowcase like ribbons of honey trailing over the sky.

“Kenny?”

He tensed. Since when did an ol’ boy like him start thinking aboutribbons of honey? He sure didn’t need that kind of distraction right now, and he resolutely turned his attention back to Sturgis.

“Let’s get this sonovabitch over with.”

Fool!Emma yanked open a drawer looking for a corkscrew. She’d let the opportunity of a lifetime slip by! And why? Because she was an idiot, that’s why! A completeid-jut!

The door banged as he stalked into the kitchen. He looked tense and irritable. Good! She wanted an argument right now. She craved one! Anything to release this awful frustration.

He stopped next to the counter, took off his hat, looked at her, and smiled. As he gazed at her, all the tension seemed to melt from his body, and the transformation was so astounding that she couldn’t quite absorb it. It was as if a great thundercloud had been dispersed by a single shaft of light.

His smile was so warm she felt as if she were being bathed in it. His eyes... those astonishing eyes... Her skin prickled, her heart pounded, blood surged through her veins. Her ears rang, her sight blurred, her bones quivered. She gripped the edge of the counter.

After days of being so sexually aware of him that her body seemed to exist in a constant state of arousal, this was entirely different. This reaction had come from someplace so deep inside her that she hadn’t known it existed.

Every self-protective instinct she possessed began to scream.Not this! Please! Anything but this. Not with this man. Please, God, not... love.

She loved him. It wasn’t infatuation at all. And the knowledge of her love hadn’t come as a gentle unfolding, the way she’d always imagined it, but as a life-shattering cataclysm. It was so inappropriate. So impractical. So horribly, exceedingly painful.

“Something wrong?”

“Wrong? N-no. No, not at all. Of course not. How did your interview go?” She hoped he didn’t noticed her hands tremble as she finally found the corkscrew and tried to insert it into the bottle of wine he’d chosen earlier.

He took it from her. “I got through it without punching him, so I guess it went okay.” He turned the corkscrew and once again cursed her with that bone-melting smile. “Thanks for not taking advantage of the camera.”

She snatched up a salt shaker just to busy herself. Patrick was out for the day taking photographs. Earlier, she’d been glad of the privacy, but now she wished he’d return. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

She bit her bottom lip and ran her thumb over the ceramic top.

“You’re a pretty terrific person, you know that, Lady E? And I don’t just mean in the bedroom.”

She turned back to him, and her voice sounded small and uncertain, completely unlike herself. “You think I’m terrific in the bedroom?”

“Don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but that’s because of you, isn’t it?”

He gave a sharp nod. “Absolutely it’s because of me, so prepare yourself for a major letdown when you start trying it with somebody else.” He began to smile, but then his mouth seemed to suffer some sort of cave-in.

She realized she couldn’t imagine making love with anyone else. She couldn’t imagine being that uninhibited and vulnerable. Why had she allowed herself to have sex with him? She never did anything casually, so why had she thought sex would be the exception? When she’d given him her body, she’d been unconsciously giving him every part of herself, including all those parts he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want.

She moaned.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just eaten bad shrimp.”

“Worse than that.”

“Emma?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“Sure you can. Tell me.”

Tell him that she loved him? Not bloody likely! She could just imagine his reaction. First he’d look stunned, then horrified. There’d be no more talk of extending her stay, no more ease between them, none of those flashing smiles that made her feel as if she were drowning in an ocean of sunlight.

Then the most astonishing thought came to her. Why not be honest? It had always been her nature to take the bull by the horns, and this would be the perfect way to save herself. If she told him the truth, it would be like an amputation. Quick and brutal. His horrified reaction would put an end to any silly daydreams she might have about little violet-eyed children and happily-ever-after.

Without letting herself ponder the matter for a moment longer, she found her mouth opening, heard herself speaking, “The most ridiculous thing has happened.” She cleared her throat. “I just realized I—It’s most annoying, completely foolish, but—” Her tongue felt clumsy in her mouth. “You’re going to be absolutely stunned. Probably angry. And I quite understand.”

He waited patiently.

“Oh, never mind. Forget I—” But even as she began to retreat, she stopped herself. She possessed many faults, but cowardice had never been one of them. And who made the rule that a woman could only protect her pride by hiding her deepest feelings? She was made of sterner stuff, and she blurted out the words.

“You see, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He stared at her as if snakes had started to sprout from her ears.

She snapped up her head. “Do not say a word! I’m so furious with myself I could scream. Can you imagine? It is so bloody ridiculous! You! Of all people!” She snatched up a meat fork from the counter. “Why don’t I just stick this right through my heart instead? Or decide I’m in love with Tom Cruise? Or—or Daniel Day Lewis? Or some silly rock star? It would be just as irrational.” She slammed down the meat fork, crossed her arms over her chest, and began tapping her foot to keep from falling apart. “Yes, well, I’m not going to put up with this, am I? There are some things that simply cannot be endured. I’m putting an immediate stop to it.”

His mouth opened and shut, then opened again. “How—how are you going to do that?”

She shot up her chin. “I just did, didn’t I?”

She was afraid she was going to cry, and there was only so much humiliation she was willing to undergo. The telephone rang, and she ignored it. “I know it’s not your fault, but I’m quite furious with both of us right now, so please excuse me.”

The phone rang again. She began to move away, then bumped into a barstool and nearly knocked it over. Furious, she snatched up the receiver. “Hello!”

“It’s Torie. Grab Kenny and get over to the house!”

“What’s wrong?”

“You’ll see when you get here. Hurry!” Offering no more information, Torie hung up.

Emma slammed down the receiver. “Your sister is having some kind of crisis.”

“What’s wrong now?”

All she wanted to do was flee to the privacy of her bedroom, which apparently was no longer possible. “I don’t know, but she wants us both over at the house right away.”

“We’d better go, then. She prob’ly murdered Dex and wants us to bury his body.”

The trip to the Traveler estate was agonizing. She couldn’t bear being trapped with his pity or his embarrassment, and she immediately turned up the radio just loud enough to make conversation impossible. He didn’t turn it down, so she knew he didn’t want to talk either.

Shelby appeared as soon as they entered the house. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

“Oh, Lady Emma, we’ve had the most unexpected visitor. A business acquaintance of Warren’s—a big investor—but I don’t think he’s here because of Warren. I think it’s because of you! Just wait until everybody in town hears I’m entertaining a real, live duke!”