n the plane, Kenny buried himself in a book he’dbought at the airport gift shop, and Emma pretended to read a magazine. They barely spoke, but this time she didn’t challenge his silence because she had nothing more to say to him.

She was so ashamed of herself. How could she have agreed to this travesty of a marriage when she’d known there was nothing between them except sex? There was no honesty, no understanding, no real commitment. Yet she’d married him anyway, just like a dotty, dear thing making a desperate, last-minute lunge for the brass ring.

As they arrived in Dallas and made their way down the concourse, Kenny had never moved more slowly nor looked more unapproachable. Not even the fans who recognized him seemed to want to come any closer. It wasn’t until they’d reclaimed her luggage that he finally looked fully at her.

“What’s it going to be?” he said stonily. “Are you running back to England like a scared rabbit, or are you going to stay here and fight?”

She’d been thinking of nothing else since they’d left Hoover Dam, and she’d already made up her mind what she was going to do. “This isn’t a war.”

His eyes were as cold as frozen amethysts. “Let’s just say it’s a test of character, then. Who has it and who doesn’t.”

“Are you implying that I’m lacking in character?”

“I don’t know yet. Are you running or are you staying?”

His attitude infuriated her. “Oh, I’m going back to Wynette, all right. I’ve already made up my mind about that.”

A flicker of satisfaction passed over his features. “You’re finally making sense.”

“Unlike you, I know this isn’t a game, and I’m going back so we can sort this out. But I’m not staying at the ranch.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m not running, but I’m not moving back in with you either.”

“That doesn’t even half make sense! You were living at the ranch before we got married, so why would you move out now?”

“Stop looking so outraged. This isn’t a real marriage, and you know it.”

“It’s as real as it gets, and I’ve got the license to prove it.”

“Stop it, Kenny. Just stop. You know exactly what I mean, so don’t try to hide behind that righteous indignation.”

“I don’t have a clue what you mean.” He picked up her suitcases and stalked toward the parking garage.

She didn’t even try to keep up with him. She was going to attempt to live up to her responsibility because that was the way she was made, but she wouldn’t go scurrying after him.

When she finally got into the car, the radio was blasting. He glared at her and began pulling out of the parking space. As she fastened her seat belt, the sports report came on.

No official word yet from PGA commissioner Dallas Beaudine concerning golfer Kenny Traveler’s latest brush with—

He punched another button and turned the volume up. He needn’t have bothered because she had no intention of bringing up the subject of their marriage right now. The next move was his.

The trip to Wynette seemed to take forever. Although they’d both ignored the airline food, neither of them felt like eating, so they only stopped for gas. Just before dusk, Torie called from Wynette to find out what time they’d be getting in. She also told Kenny that she’d spent the night at his condo, and Emma found herself wondering whether Dexter had been with her, although that possibility didn’t seem to occur to Kenny.

The miles crawled by, and finally they reached the northern edge of Wynette. “Would you drop me off at the hotel, please?” Even as she was saying it, she wondered why she’d wasted her breath because she knew exactly how he’d respond.

“If you’re going to run away from home, you’ll have to do it on your own. I’m not going to help you.”

She was too tired to argue with him. Tomorrow was soon enough. She leaned back in the seat, closed her eyes, and didn’t open them again until they reached the ranch.

They entered the house from the garage. Kenny moved ahead with her suitcases, then set them down to unlock the door. He held it open for her and she stepped inside.

One moment the kitchen was dark, and the next it blazed with light.

“Surprise!”

“Surprise! Surprise!”

“Here comes the bride...”

Emma gazed at all the bright, cheery faces that filled the kitchen and realized that her miserable day had just taken a turn for the worse.

“Time to cut the cake!” Patrick called out after the toasts had been delivered and guests introduced.

Kenny and Emma moved from opposite sides of the room toward the confection Patrick had created, a creamy vanilla tower with two of Peter’s Fisher-Price figures perched on top, along with paper flags of the bride’s and groom’s respective countries. Emma wondered if anyone had noticed that the bride and groom in question had been talking to everyone except each other.

Her head ached, and she wanted nothing so much as to curl up and go to sleep. She gazed enviously at Peter, who had fallen asleep on Kenny’s shoulder, leaving a drool mark on the collar of his golf shirt.

In addition to the Traveler family and Dexter, Ted Beaudine was present, along with Father Joseph, a few executives from TCS, and a score of Kenny’s friends from the Roustabout who’d been entertaining each other with more stories of Kenny’s misbegotten childhood: how he’d stolen one woman’s science project, thrown someone’s best pair of sneakers onto a power line, lost someone else’s little brother.

She pushed aside the protective instincts that their gleeful stories of Kenny’s headlong rush toward self-destruction always aroused in her. He was a grown man, and if he didn’t choose to defend himself, it was no concern of hers.

She moved toward the cake from one side of the room, while Kenny approached from the other. As Warren came forward and took Peter, he smiled fondly at Emma. “If I haven’t said it before, welcome to the family, Lady Emma. I couldn’t have found a better woman for Kenny if I’d picked her out myself.” He regarded his son with that overly eager look that broke her heart. “Congratulations, son. I’m proud of you.”

Kenny barely acknowledged his words as he positioned himself in front of the cake. Her heart ached for both of them: the father who wanted to make up for old sins, and the son who couldn’t forgive a childhood of neglect.

Patrick handed Emma the cake cutter, which he’d decorated with red, white, and blue ribbons. “More patriotic than bridal,” he sniffed, “but I didn’t have much warning.”

She smiled at him, then looked down as Kenny’s hand settled over hers, that broad, tan palm sheltering her own smaller, whiter one, those strong, elegant fingers curling around hers. The sight of their joined hands made her eyes sting. If only their hearts were as tightly linked.

Kenny took a sip of wine, then moved across the kitchen to turn off a light that had been left burning on the sunporch. Lady E had fled upstairs the minute the last of the guests had left, and he knew it wasn’t because she was in a hurry to hop into his bed. No, Lady E was holed up by herself tonight. He wondered if she’d go so far as to lock her door, but then he knew she wouldn’t. She’d rely on his honor instead to keep him away.

His honor. To the public, it was badly tattered, but nothing could make him regret what he’d done to Hugh Holroyd.

He stepped out onto the sunporch, then saw too late that he wasn’t alone. His father sat on the couch with Petie curled up asleep in his arms. He felt himself stiffen as he always did when he was with his father. “I thought you’d left.”

“I sent Shelby back with Torie. I wanted to talk to you alone.”

Warren was the last person Kenny wanted to talk to tonight, or any night for that matter. “In case you haven’t notice, I’m on my honeymoon.”

“From what I saw tonight, it doesn’t look like much of a honeymoon. Lady Emma was barely speaking to you.” Petie made a little mewing sound in his sleep, and Warren cuddled him closer.

Had his father ever held him like that? He was startled to feel a stab of jealousy. It made him ashamed, and then something inside him relaxed. Emma was right. Warren had learned from the past, and all the worries Kenny’d been having about his little brother were groundless. Petie wasn’t going to have to earn their father’s love.

“Petie should be in bed,” he said gruffly.

“He will be soon.” Warren pressed a kiss to the top of the baby’s head. “He was so comfortable, I didn’t want to disturb him.”

Once again, that queer, painful stab. Petie was being given his father’s love as a birthright. Torie had received the same thing. Only Kenny’d had to earn it—one tournament at a time.

Now his father wanted to pretend that everything was fine between them. But it wasn’t fine. Kenny had needed a father when he was a kid; he sure as hell didn’t need one now.

“I’m concerned about you and Lady Emma.”

“Her name’s Emma. She doesn’t use her title. And there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Warren stroked Petie’s back and gazed out the sun-porch windows toward the dark pecan grove. “I’m not much of a praying man. I can’t do it right—just doesn’t come naturally to me—so I leave it up to other people. Like Shelby. Now, she’s a real good prayer, and she says Emma’s the answer to her prayers for you.”

“I didn’t ask Shelby to pray for me.”

“No, you didn’t. I asked her.”

“If she’s so good at praying, put her to work getting me back on the tour.” Kenny tossed back the remaining contents of his wine glass and turned toward the kitchen, but his father’s voice stopped him.

“Come back here and sit down.”

“It’s late. I’m tired.”

“I said,sit down.”

It was the nightmare voice from his childhood:“Set your butt right down on that chair. You’re a damn disgrace! You know that, don’t you? A spoiled little brat...”

But Kenny wasn’t a kid anymore, and if Warren wanted a showdown, then by damn they were going to have one. He set his wine glass on the table, leaned against the doorjamb, and stared insolently across the sunporch at his father. “You got something on your mind, just come out and say it.”

“All right.” Warren had to look up at him, but it didn’t seem to bother him as much as Kenny wanted it to. “I know you don’t think much of me, and it’s no mystery why. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, and you’re not going to forgive that. But you’re still my son, and I can’t stand by and watch you screw up the most important thing in your life because you’re still fighting all those things that happened to you when you were too young to defend yourself.”

Kenny’s lips felt stiff. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the way your past keeps affecting your future. I like Lady Emma. We all do. And when the two of you are in a room together, you don’t seem to be able to take your eyes off each other. You’ve never been like that with any other woman.”

He wasn’t going to explain that his marriage to Emma was more an accident than a lifelong commitment. Instead, he stared belligerently at his father. “I married her, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you married her. But it’s plain that the two of you still have a lot of problems to work out.”

“Whether we do or not isn’t any of your damn business.”

“Listen to me, Kenny. For just once in your life, listen. I’ve never been happier about anything than I am with the way you’ve made something of yourself, even though I know Dallie Beaudine deserves the credit rather than me. More than anybody on the face of this earth, including your sister, I understand exactly what you’ve had to overcome to get where you are. And I’ll tell you this: There aren’t many people who could have done it.”

For a moment a flash of gratitude shot through him, but the praise had come too late. “Get to the point,” he snapped.

“What I’m trying to say is... as I get older, all the things I’ve done to make money have become less important in my life. I’m proud of the company. I built it up from nothing, and I’m sure as hell not going to stand by and watch it get eaten up. But when I’m sitting out on the patio on a Sunday afternoon, and I start counting my blessings, it’s the people I love that come to my mind, not the company.”

Kenny didn’t want to hear this. “You sound like a fucking Hallmark card.”

But his father refused to retreat. “You’ve got a chance to have a real life for yourself, one that doesn’t start and end on the golf course. You’ve got a chance to build a relationship with a good woman, to have children, and ride your horses, and enjoy this ranch. Don’t screw it up.”

Fury at Warren’s hypocrisy boiled inside him. “Maybe you’d better think twice about that advice you’re handing out. If I start taking time to smell the roses, I won’t be able to win so many golf tournaments. And then you won’t have anything to brag about at all your corporate cocktail parties.”

Warren didn’t flinch from the attack, which made Kenny feel small and mean. Instead, he nestled his palm around Petie’s head and rose to his feet. “It’s all right, son. I understand. I’ve gotten used to feeling guilty where you’re concerned, and you don’t have to forgive me.”

Petie stirred and tried to drag his eyes open. They drooped shut again as Warren snuggled him closer. “You’re a good man, Kenny. And that’s thanks to Dallie, not to me. You’re decent and smart as a whip; you care about other people. I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s time you accepted what the rest of the world’s already figured out—there’s a lot more to you than just another rich boy who can play some golf.”

He began to move to the door, but Kenny couldn’t let him go like that. It felt too much as if his father’d had the last word. “You’d better not pull any bullshit with Petie,” he snarled, “or you’re going to answer to me.”

His father’s expression grew so sad he could barely stand to witness it. “I like to believe I learn from my mistakes, and I plan to do my best with him. Even so, I’m not perfect. But I guess you know that.”

He shifted the baby in his arms and disappeared, leaving Kenny with the feeling that he’d left something important undone.

Emma spent a lonely, unhappy night in the guest room. She missed the solid feel of Kenny’s body next to hers, the way he hogged the covers when he turned over, and reached out in his sleep for her. As she made her way to the bathroom the next morning, she glanced out the window and saw him swimming laps, but instead of his customary slow crawl, he was churning through the water as if he wanted to conquer it.

She rested her cheek against the window frame and watched him reach one end of the pool and immediately race back toward the other. As he attacked the water, she considered the way everyone would react when they learned this marriage wasn’t going to last.

Kenny screwed up again. I always knew it wouldn’t work. The only thing he’s ever been good at is playing golf.

The legend of lazy, spoiled Kenny Traveler would only grow larger.

She told herself that wasn’t her problem, but she felt dismal. She showered and dressed, then headed down to the kitchen. Patrick had left a note on the counter directing her toward a bowl of fresh fruit in the refrigerator. He also suggested she not answer the phone. As she retrieved the fruit, she heard the front door open, then the sound of Torie’s voice, with Dexter’s quieter response.

Torie sailed in wearing a cropped blue and purple batik-print top and shorts, along with chunky leather sandals. “I guess I should ring the bell now that this isn’t bachelor’s quarters anymore. Sorry, Lady E.”

“That’s all right.” Emma smiled at Dexter. “Have some coffee.”

“Thank you.” He moved toward the kitchen, then looked up as Kenny came in from outside. A gray T-shirt clung to his damp chest, and water dripped from the curly ends of his hair, while his bare feet left damp tracks on the terra-cotta floor.

“Hey, bubba.”

Kenny managed a smile for his sister, then spotted Dexter and glowered. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him.”

Kenny gave his sister a dark look. “Why’d you do that? I thought you wanted to get rid of him.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot harder than I figured.”

He frowned, then looked at her more closely. In three strides, he crossed the room, shot out his hand, and cupped her chin to tilt it toward the light. “Did he do that? Did he put that sucker bite on you?”

“He might have.” She shrugged off his hand. “By the way, you must have had about fifty messages yesterday on the answering machine at your condo. Everybody in the world is trying to get hold of you. Your fight with Hugh’s got you on the front page of the sports section all over again.”

Kenny whipped off the towel draped around his neck and spun on Dex. “You got her drunk, didn’t you? Last night. You weren’t having any luck seducing her when she was sober, so you got her drunk.”

Torie sank back on a counter stool and smiled. “He did worse than that. A lot worse. Didn’t you, Dex?”

Emma felt a prickle of alarm as Kenny grew very still. He dropped the towel, and the muscles beneath his damp gray T-shirt tensed. “What are you talking about? What did he do?”

Her eyes sparkled. “He beat me.”

“He what?”

Emma immediately stepped between the two men and rested her hand on Kenny’s chest. “Your sister is deliberately baiting you. Torie, stop it at once.”

Torie tried to look cowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Kenny turned to Dex, his expression threatening. “Maybe you’d better tell me exactly what you did.”

Dexter filled the mug Emma had given him with coffee. “Torie’s a much bigger threat to herself than I am.”

But Torie wasn’t done having her fun. She hooked one heel of her sandal over the rung of the stool and looked injured. “He spanked me, Kenny. He overpowered me, threw me right over his knees, and spanked me. Bare butt. Or closest thing to.”

Kenny went completely still. He stared at Dexter. “Is that true?”

Dex stirred a teaspoon of sugar into his coffee and gave an absentminded nod.

To Emma’s astonishment, all the tension seemed to trickle out of Kenny, and, for the first time, he regarded Dexter with interest instead of suspicion. “No kidding. Even I wouldn’t have the nerve to do something like that.”

His reaction upset Torie. “You should beat him up, Kenny! Although maybe I’d better warn you that he’s stronger than he looks. Still, he’s not exactly Hercules, and you’ll be able to take him without too much trouble.”

Dexter sipped from his mug and nodded at Emma. “Excellent coffee.”

Emma suppressed a smile. “I’ll pass on your compliments to Patrick.”

Kenny looked from his sister to Dexter, then walked over to pour a mug for himself. He leaned back against the counter and studied the other man. “So, Dex, how’s come you’re still alive to tell the tale?”

Dexter wiped up a small coffee spill, then sat on the stool next to Torie. “All I’m prepared to say is that your sister and I slept together, and, since I compromised her, I intend to marry her.”

Torie dropped her forehead and banged it three times against the countertop. “You are such a geek.”

“Doesn’t sound like she’s too enthusiastic about it,” Kenny said.

“She’s enthusiastic.” He reached over and stroked her shoulder. “But she has her pride. She’s also frightened, which is understandable, although it doesn’t make any difference. She and I made a deal, and we’re getting married.”

“What kind of deal?”

“That’s private,” Dex said as Torie opened her mouth to respond. He regarded her with amusement. “Victoria, has it occurred to you that you really don’t need to reveal our private life to everyone?”

“Kenny’s not everyone.”

Dex lifted an eyebrow and caressed the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

“Oh, all right,” she grumbled. Then, trying to regain lost ground, she turned the conversation. “I couldn’t help but notice last night that the two of you weren’t exactly acting like a couple of lovebirds. What happened, Lady E? Has Kenny started beating you, too?”

Emma grabbed the sponge from the sink and dabbed at the clean counter. “It’s complicated, that’s all.”

“Not that complicated,” Kenny said. “Some people just want to make it seem that way.”

Torie looked back and forth between Emma and her brother. “I don’t know why, but I’m siding with Lady E on this one.”

Kenny slammed down his mug, sloshing coffee all over the counter. “You don’t even know what’s happening.”

“I know that Emma’s levelheaded, and you’re notoriously screwed up when it comes to women.”

“Levelheaded? She let the whole world believe that you’re her lesbian lover!”

Torie grinned at Emma. “That was sooo cool.”

Kenny grabbed his mug and headed for the door. “I’m taking a shower.” Then he stopped to regard Emma with chilly eyes. “Maybe you’d better make your big announcement before I leave. I don’t want to deprive Torie of the chance to blame me for this, too.”

He was giving her the opening she needed to tell them that she wasn’t staying at the ranch but moving to a hotel.

Kenny Traveler screwed up again. I always knew it wouldn’t work. The only thing he’s ever been good at is swinging a golf club.

She realized she couldn’t do it. Her plan to stay at the hotel had seemed sound yesterday on the plane, but now she was in Wynette, where news carried quickly, and she simply couldn’t tolerate having Kenny once again held up to public ridicule, especially when she knew he wouldn’t defend himself. “Well, the truth is that I’ve decided to get serious about learning to drive.” She turned to Torie. “And since Kenny yelled the only time he rode with me, I’m wondering if you’ll give me another lesson.”

He leaned against the doorframe and watched her, a wary expression in his eyes as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I don’t know why you think I’d blame you because Lady E wants to learn to drive, Kenny. Sometimes I believe you have a persecution complex.” Torie smiled back at Emma. “How about driving me over to see Father Joseph this afternoon?”

Kenny’s attention shifted from Emma to his sister. “Why do you want to see Father Joseph?”

“I don’twant to see Father Joseph,” she replied, clearly exasperated. “Ihave to see him. Haven’t you been listening?”

“Apparently not well enough.”

“This thing with Dex, is all.” She fidgeted.

“The spanking?”

“No, not that! Weren’t you paying any attention? Or didn’t you hear what he said?” Her chest expanded as she drew a deep breath. “The sonovabitch is making me marry him.”

Dex regarded Kenny steadily. “I believe I did mention that.”

Torie gazed at her brother, an expression of entreaty on her face that made Emma want to hug her. Torie couldn’t quite swallow her pride enough to admit that she’d made a mistake about Dexter. She simply wanted Kenny to understand.

Long seconds ticked by. Torie’s hand crept toward Dexter’s. He covered it with his palm.

Kenny finally spoke. “Well, I guess you’ll have to go along with it, then.”

Emma smiled. Kenny wasn’t nearly as obtuse about other people’s hang-ups as he was about his own.

Torie snuggled a bit closer to Dex, whose serious eyes held a decidedly dreamy expression. She, on the other hand, gave a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know why Dex had to fall in love with me. And I don’t know how I’ll ever hold up my head in this town again. He’s got something like a thirty-two handicap.”

“I’ve already apologized for that, Victoria. If you’re willing to work with me, I’m sure we can shave off a few strokes.”

“I s’pose. But even then, you’ll prob’ly never be much more than a hacker.”

“That’s true.” His lips curved. “And I’m sure I’ll spend the rest of my days listening to you complain about sacrificing your reputation to marry me.”

“Damn right I will.” She gave him a melty, un-Torielike smile. Then she seemed to remember her brother was watching and reddened in embarrassment.

Kenny was too much the older brother to let her off scot-free. “So what brought about this change of heart? Other than the spanking.”

“Nothing. Nothing, really. It’s just—Never mind.”

“You might as well tell me,” he said. “You know I’ll worm it out of you sooner or later.”

“Oh, all right. Dex is—he—well, he wants a kid of his own and everything, but he’s still... he’s still willing to take a chance on me.” Her voice began to soften. “And if things don’t work out—which I already warned him they wouldn’t—he said we could adopt.”

“I see.” Kenny wasn’t done needling her. “That’s why you’re marrying him, then? Because you’ll finally get to be a mother?”

Emma watched Torie struggle between her pride and the truth. “Can you blame me? You know how much I want a baby. And he’s—I mean, for all his faults, any fool can see that he’ll be a good father. Except when it comes to sports, but I figure between you and me, we can make up for his shortcomings in that department. And then there’s... there’s just something about him.” She gave an uncomfortable shrug, clearly wanting to put an end to the conversation. “Something sweet and... Oh, I don’t know.”

“Your sister’s fallen in love with me,” Dex said, in case Kenny had missed the point.

Torie looked up at her brother and scrunched her face in embarrassment. “He’s just so damn good. And understanding. And he’s funny. Not funny like you and me, but funny in his own strange way. And he likes my emus. I don’t know how it happened—God knows I’m embarrassed about it—but I guess there’s no figuring the human heart.”

Kenny looked thoughtful. “Tell you what, Dex. Why don’t just the two of us work on your game by ourselves. Torie’s a terrible golf coach. She cusses too much.”

Emma knew Dex had been prepared to fight Kenny to the bitter end, but it was obvious by his slow smile that he was glad he didn’t have to.

“I’d appreciate that.”

As the front door closed behind the two lovebirds, Emma turned to Kenny. He hadn’t shaved, and his hair stood up in short tufts on one side where it was beginning to dry. Even so, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and she had to struggle to conceal the weakness that came over her.

“That was very nice,” she said briskly. “You could have made it much more difficult for Torie, but you didn’t.”

“What did you expect me to do? Lock her in the attic?” He regarded her searchingly. “Changed your mind about moving to a hotel, did you?”

“I simply decided to keep our private business private.”

“Good. I’ll help you carry your stuff into my room.” He turned to the stairs.

“No, thank you,” she told his back. “I’m staying where I am while we sort this out.”

He stopped on the second step, looked down at her, and sneered a spoiled brat sneer. “Like hell.”

It didn’t surprise her that he was being difficult about this, since he was difficult about everything that had to do with her. “It’s for the best. I don’t have any illusion that you’ll understand, but I’ve discovered that I don’t seem to possess the proper temperament for uncommitted sex.”

“We’remarried.”

She fiddled with her wedding band. “Yes, well, that’s only a bit of paper. We’re not married in our hearts, are we?”

He descended one step and studied her. “I see where this is going. You want to tie me up, don’t you, in some needy little slobbering package you can take out and play with when it suits you, then tuck away when it doesn’t.”

Looking into those bleak, hard features, it was hard to believe this was the same lazy fool she’d met two weeks earlier. She spoke quietly, “You’ve just described your own motivations, not mine.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed.

“Oh, Kenny...” She sighed, threw up a hand, then let it fall to her side. “I can’t do this all by myself. You have to help a little.”

“I’m not the one locking the bedroom door.”

“But sex is all you want from me. Don’t you see how that hurts?”

“Even if that were true—which it’s not—I don’t see what would be so terrible about it. Since we didn’t go about this marriage in the regular way, we have to build on our strengths.”

“That kind of havey-cavey thinking might work with your old girlfriends, but not with me. Our sexual activities allow us to pretend everything is fine, but we both know it’s not.”

“Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong. Everythingis fine if you just stop and let it be fine. You spend so much time worrying about what’s wrong with us that you never stop to consider what’s right.”

“Sex.”

“Is sex all you can think about? How about the fact that we enjoy each other’s company, that we like history, and Texas, and riding horses. We enjoy good wine, we both see right through Torie, Petie likes you, and you seem to be able to tolerate my father and Shelby. Neither of us is a snob, and we don’t have much patience with hypocrites. I happen to think there’s a lot that’s right between us.”

She’d always focused on their differences instead of their similarities, and she was so taken aback that she didn’t realize he’d been edging closer until he touched her elbow with his fingertips. Just like that, her insides turned to pudding.

His fingers skimmed her arm and brushed the outer slope of her breast. Her skin prickled, her limbs felt heavy, and her body urged her to give in to him. Would it be so bad to do it his way? Would it be so bad to go through the outward motions of having a real marriage, even though there was no lasting connection between them? What difference would it make? She reminded herself that she was accustomed to spending her life with emotional leftovers, but she didn’t want that from Kenny. More important, she didn’t deserve it, and she stepped back.

His arm dropped to his side, and his eyes darkened. She watched his lips thin and knew he was furious, just as she knew he would walk away without saying a word.

Not long after, he left for the practice range, and she forced herself to go to work on the laptop computer she found in his office—an office that, as far as she could tell, only Patrick used. For the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon, she alternated between working on her article about Lady Sarah Thornton and making notes for Penelope Briggs detailing the information she would need to get the spring term off to a smooth start. She stopped when Torie arrived for her driving lesson.

Emma made it into town and back to the ranch without hitting anything. As she carried the laptop out onto the sunporch to resume work, she decided that Torie’s happiness was the single bright spot in an otherwise depressing day. Patrick emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of iced tea topped with orange slices.

“The word’s out. The International Sports Channel just broadcast your wedding announcement.”

She could see that he was worried as he set her glass on the table, then carried his own over to the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, exactly. I’m probably just being paranoid.” He took a sip of tea, then straightened the lamp on the table next to the couch. “The announcement was short, no comment on the fight at the Roustabout, just a brief statement that Kenneth had married a member of the British aristocracy, Lady Emma Wells-Finch, daughter of the fifth Earl of Woodbourne.”

“The press was bound to find out sooner or later.”

“That’s not what worries me.” Patrick slid his finger around the rim of his glass. “There wasn’t any mention of your occupation, no sense of the type of person you are. The announcement made it sound as though he’d married a flighty piece of Eurotrash.”

Emma finally understood why he was upset. “And so the legend of the spoiled playboy golf pro only grows bigger.”

“Exactly.” Ice tea sloshed over the rim of his glass as he set it down with a thud. “His image has already taken a beating, and this doesn’t help. By not making the announcement on his own, it’s almost as if he’s deliberately shooting himself in the foot. I can just imagine what that bitchy Sturgis Randall is going to say during his show this evening. I’m not even watching.”

But neither he nor Emma could resist, and after a dinner at which Kenny remained notably absent, Emma carried their coffee mugs over to the couch while Patrick turned on the television.

Sturgis Randall waited until the end of his program to pounce.“The fact that his career is on the skids doesn’t seem to be bothering golfer Kenny Traveler. Instead, the troubled champion has taken a bride. And no ordinary American girl for our Kenny. Instead, the Texas millionaire, who also happens to be the heir to giant Traveler Computer Systems...”

“That’s not true!” Patrick exclaimed. “He made Warren disinherit him years ago.”

“... has chosen a British blueblood, Lady Emma Wells-Finch. That’s Wells-Finch, with a hyphen. It seems the beautiful noblewoman is the daughter of the fifth Earl of Woodbourne.”

“Beautiful!” Emma was outraged. “I most certainly am not beautiful!”

“In the meantime, Traveler’s troubles with the PGA have gotten worse since he was involved in a brutal barroom brawl with an elderly international businessman.”

Emma shot up out of her seat. “He’s not elderly! And it wasn’t a barroom brawl!”

“No official statement yet from acting commissioner Dallas Beaudine.”Sturgis gave the cameras a smarmy smile.“A word of advice, Kenny... Since your golfing career doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, maybe you and your socialite bride can take up fox hunting.”

Emma couldn’t bear it. “How can he get away with that?”

“His ratings are good. In America, that’s all that counts.” Patrick jabbed at the remote to turn off the television. “Let’s go to a movie. We need a diversion.”

It was a little after eleven and the lights were still on when Kenny returned to the ranch. He’d practiced all day, then stopped at his father’s house to play with Petie for a while. Afterward, he’d parked down by the river so he could nurse his various grudges against Emma for making something difficult out of something simple, but the river wasn’t a good place for him. He kept remembering that they’d made love there.

As he let himself into the kitchen, he felt a stab of guilt for leaving her by herself all day. Then he reminded himself that he wasn’t the one causing all the commotion in this marriage.

He headed to the refrigerator to see if Patrick had left him anything. As he pulled out a plate of cold chicken, the door that led from the backyard to the sunporch squeaked. He looked up and felt a catch in his throat as Emma walked in.

Her hair was tousled and her cheeks flushed from the breeze that had picked up outside. She looked so pretty, and he wanted her so much. He didn’t like the feeling. He didn’t like wanting things he couldn’t win with big drives, solid irons, and steady nerves.

She started as she saw him. “Oh, I didn’t know you were back.”

Guilt hit him again, but he determined not to let it get the best of him. “I do happen to live here.”

“I’m aware of that.”

Her calm response made him feel like a prick. “You want some chicken? There’s plenty here.”

“I ate earlier.”

“Some wine, then. We could take a bottle upstairs.”

“No, thank you.”

He moved around the counter toward her. He’d hit golf balls until his muscles ached, but he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Now he knew he couldn’t keep his hands off her a moment longer. Somehow he had to talk her out of her stubbornness. Or seduce her out of it.

Maybe it was her steady gaze or that inherent sense of dignity she seemed to carry around with her whether she was buying lice shampoo or stealing salt shakers, but he suddenly wasn’t so sure he could seduce her.

Patrick came into the kitchen. “Well, well, look who finally remembered where he lives.” He waved the piece of paper he held in his hand. “This fax came in earlier. Looks like it’s showdown time in Dodge City.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It seems that a certain Dallas Fremont Beaudine is requesting the pleasure of your company on the first tee at Windmill Creek Country Club at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Great,” Kenny muttered in disgust. “This is just great.”

Patrick turned to Emma. “Francesca scribbled a note on the bottom. She’d like you to call her as soon as you get up in the morning.”

Kenny slapped down the drumstick he’d just picked up. “So he’s back in town. Now, doesn’t that just put the icing on the cake.”

Patrick folded the fax neatly in half. “If I were you, Kenneth, I’d be very nice to Lady Emma. Who knows what tales she might tell Francesca.”

But as Kenny looked across the counter into Emma’s solemn eyes, he knew she wouldn’t say one bad thing about him to Dallie’s wife. And somehow that bothered him more than anything else.