“A moment later,the gunshot startled them all, well, all of them except Chad Kinkaid, who fired it. The dogs that had followed him in had still been barking around his horse's feet. The shot hit the dirt near them and sent them hightailing it elsewhere.Amanda had squealed in surprise,one hand had flown to her chest and was still there. "Was that really necessary?" she asked derisively.Chad Kinkaid pulled his hat back down over his forehead,gathered his reins in preparation of riding off, and with a lazy smile,said, "No,ma'am. It was a pleasure though.”

“Rupert yanked Rebecca off her seat to the floor! If that weren't bad enough, he dropped down on top of her, not with his full weight,, but enough to make it uncomfortable.Rebecca had,of course, heard the gunfire that had prompted Rupert's actions. She wasn't deaf. Still, annoyed, she asked, "Do you really think a shot is going to get through the back panel of a coach this sturdily built? And fired from a moving vehicle? Anyone aiming isn't likely to hit us a'tall.""They're on horseback," was all he said."Even worse.Have you ever hit what you aimed at while racing along on a horse?""Yes."She snorted,but believing him at all.”

“What is Chad short for?" she found herself asking out of pure nervousness."Short for?""It's a nickname,isn't it?""No,darlin',it doesn't get any longer."She heard the humor in his tone,which annoyed her.It had been a natural mistake. The name didn't usually stand on its own.And she should take him to task over that "darlin'," except she'd heard for herself how common the use of that word was out here,no different than the old-timers calling her "missy," or the train attendant calling her "ma'am." It meant nothing. There wasn't a speck of endearment in it."Thank you for clearing that up for me," she said a bit stiffly."My pleasure."She had a feeling he would have tipped his hat if he'd been wearing it just then rather than holding it in his hand. She'd like to tip his rocker over. He could be so damn irritating-no,it probably wasn't even him, it was her reaction to him,her nervousness, her-wanting him when she knew she couldn't have him.”

“Merry Christmas,Ja-"To which he immediately cut her off with a very testy, "Bloody hell it is." Though he did halt his progress to offer her a brief smile, adding, "Good to see you,Molly," then in the very same breath, "Where's that worthless brother of mine?"She was surprised enough to ask, "Ah,which brother would that be?" when she knew very well he would never refer to Edward or Jason, whom the two younger brothers termed the elders, in that way.But then,Jason shared everything with her about his family, so she knew them as well as he did.So his derogatory answer didn't really add to her surprise. "The infant."She winced at his tone,though, as well as his expression, which had reverted to deadly menace at mention of the "infant." Big,blond, and handsome, James Malory was,just like his elder brothers, and rarely did anyone actually see him looking angry. When James was annoyed with someone, he usually very calmly ripped the person to shreds with his devilish wit, and by his inscrutable expression, the victim had absolutely no warning such pointed barbs would be headed his or her way.The infant, or rather, Anthony, had heard James's voice and, unfortunately, stuck his head around the parlor door to determine James's mood, which wasn't hard to misinterpret with the baleful glare that came his way. Which was probably why the parlor door immediately slammed shut."Oh,dear," Molly said as James stormed off. Through the years she'd become accustomed to the Malorys' behavior, but a times it still alarmed her. What ensued was a tug of war in the reverse, so to speak, with James shoving his considerable weight against the parlor door, and Anthony on the other side doing his best to keep it from opening. Anthony managed for a bit. He wasn't as hefty as his brother, but he was taller and well muscled. But he must have known he couldn't hold out indefinitely, especially when James started to slam his shoulder against the door,which got it nearly half open before Anthony could manage to slam it shut again.But what Anthony did to solve his dilemma produced Molly's second "Oh,dear."When James threw his weight against the door for the third time, it opened ahead of him and he unfortunately couldn't halt his progress into the room. A rather loud crash followed. A few moments later James was up again suting pine needles off his shoulders.Reggie and Molly,alarmed by the noise, soon followed the men into the room.Anthony had picked up his daughter Jamie who had been looking at the tree with her nursemaid and was now holding her like a shield in front of him while the tree lay ingloriously on its side. Anthony knew his brother wouldn't risk harming one of the children for any reason, and the ploy worked."Infants hiding behind infants, how apropos," James sneered."Is,aint it?" Anthony grinned and kissed the top of his daughter's head. "Least it works."James was not amused, and ordered, barked, actually. "Put my niece down.""Wouldn't think of it, old man-least not until I find out why you want to murder me."Anthony's wife, Roslynn, bent over one of the twins, didn't turn about to say, "Excuse me? There will be no murdering in front of the children.”

“You don't look like a Rupert."Startled,he raised a black brow at her. "Dare I ask what I look like to you?""A hungry wolf."He didn't laugh at the description, but he did abruptly release her. "Wolf, perhaps," he said drily. "Hungry? Not at the moment."She had enough sense to guess she'd just been insulted. Had she touched a nerve perhaps? Good,because he was certainly touching too many of hers.Regaining her balance after stumbling back from him,she went to straighten her skirt in an indignant manner,but forgot she wasn't wearing one.How could she appear to be offended while she was wearing britches? She settled for grabbing the hat off the floor and shoving it back down on her head.The very idea! Not hungry at the moment? As if she didn't know he was implying she wasn't to his taste.”

“The letter was the one that Albert Bridges had sent to their aunt. Of course, Marian hadn't doubted he was who he said he was.She hadn't needed proof.But she pretended to be satisfied with the proof he offered and with a sniff and a shoveof her spectacles more tightly to the top of her nose,she said primly, "Very good.I'm glad we are in capable hands," and she walked away.It was probably his annoyance that made him say to her back, "Capable? No,just my hands." At least,she hoped it was just his annoyance.”

“You've already slept the entire day. Why not take over for Matthew now?""You really think I could sleep with your eyes devouring me all day?"Her face turned red with rage and mortification. That faker! She had been staring at him at various times throughout the day. She probably had his face so memorized that she could sketch it without his being present. But he couldn't keep his knowledge of that to himself? He had to make sure she was embarrassed right down to her toes?But he didn't rub it in further. At least,she thought he was done with the subject when he lay down on his seat and turned his back to her. "Get some sleep yourself," he ordered. "You'll need to be at your best tomorrow, too."She was just lying down when he added, "And keep your eyes off my arse."Waves of heat crept up to her cheeks. That pretty much guarenteed that she wasn't going to get any sleep until he was out of the coach.”