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"No decent woman would dress like a local wh--" he couldn't force himself to say such a debasing word, even in anger, "--a tavern wench. Unless, of course, you want to be treated as one." She gasped at his words, but he didn't retract them.

"Look,
Mister
Westbrooke, I don't know why I'm here, but I refuse to give up my lifestyle just because I got thrown into your life."

She tried to get by him but he reached out and grabbed her arm. The heat from her skin burned through him, momentarily melding them together. Slowly he raised his gaze to her face, only to see the fire of anger flashing from her eyes, not remorse or tears as he would have thought.

"No
gentleman
of your time would handle a lady in such a manner. Would he?" The insinuation in her words was clear.

"Are you a lady, Miss Eastman?"

"I've never tried to be a lady. I doubt seriously that I even want to be one," she snapped. Jerking her arm from his grasp, she hurried over to where her clothes lay in a pile.

The turmoil within Nicholas grew stronger as he watched her bend over and jab her long legs into trousers. Damn, she had him tied in knots, but regardless of the consequences, he had to get close to her one more time.

He walked up behind her as she slid her large shirt over her head, momentarily blinding her to his approach. He gently pulled the bottom hem of the shirt down and her head popped out the top. Instead of releasing the material, he used it to pull her back against him. He tucked his chin over her shoulder to further pin her in place, whispering very close to her ear.

"Forgive me, sweet Jaci. You are lovely to the extreme, and I sometimes forget myself." Knowing that her closeness would only be torture for his own body, he released her and turned, once again becoming part of the shadows.

Jaci refused to cry. She had decided days ago that crying was a waste. It hadn't brought her mother back all those long years ago, and it wouldn't change her circumstances now. But, oh, she was mad.

Nicholas's words rang in her ears all the way back to the house. How dare he comment on her inadequacies as a lady. How dare he take advantage of her, kissing her senseless, yet getting mad at her simply because she had responded to him.

It was Saturday, so she needn't worry about talking in a civilized manner to the five-year-old Amanda. Instead, she sputtered the rest of the morning alone in her bedroom. She paced back and forth, only stopping to glower at herself in the mirror before storming off again. Gradually, though, she began to cool off, and tried to look at the situation in a more rational manner.

Lately, she had begun to feel like part of the family. Amanda, because of her age, loved her unconditionally, and it helped keep Jaci occupied and less frantic to know she had a job. Mrs. Jeffrey, the housekeeper, was always friendly, as were Delta and the twins, Toby and Travis.

Only Selkirk remained solemn and aloof, refusing to have a conversation no matter what she said to him. Well, it was his loss. She mentally patted herself on the back for trying.

She especially valued her time with Nicholas. They managed to get into quite lively discussions if he happened to catch her alone while Amanda napped. She avidly read the newspaper and, of course, took up the cause for women's rights that were beginning to take root in the cities. While she tried to confine her comments to the current state of affairs, sometimes she would slip and say something that only a person from the future would. The result, like the time she told Nicholas not to have a cow, was funny in retrospect, but took fancy talking at the time to make it believable.

She had thought they were becoming friends, and friends didn't slam each other the way he had this morning in the barn. His comments stung.

To tell the truth, there had never been any time in her life to truly be a woman. For all the years when Mandy was young, she had been too busy being mother and father, supporter and breadwinner. Did she even know how to be a woman--a lady--here in the nineteenth century? Things were so different. What if she tried, and he laughed? She gasped as she realized how much Nicholas's opinion mattered.

She dug through the closet, this time looking at the wardrobe Mrs. Sullivan had fashioned for her. Regardless of her protests, Nicholas had insisted she accept everything Mrs. Sullivan made. Now, as Jaci surveyed the rainbow array, she was glad.

She held up a silk stocking and recalled her days of pantyhose. Suddenly memories she had boxed away came bursting forth--Mandy at her first high school dance, Mandy going on her first job interview. Jaci hoped Mandy had learned all the important lessons of life she had tried to teach her; the lessons that would insure she survived on her own.

She rubbed the silk stocking against her cheek, deciding that stockings and garters were sexier than pantyhose. While she had never consciously thought about being feminine and frilly before, now desire to see approval in Nicholas's gaze prompted her to act.

"If Nicholas wants a lady, I'll give him one. Then we'll see how he reacts." She raised a stubborn chin as she rang for Molly.

The day flew while Molly tried to turn her into a lady. Amanda sat on Jaci's bed, happy to watch for a while before she fell asleep.

"Miss Eastman, you don't got--don't have--any reason to worry about being a lady," Molly reassured her for the umpteenth time. "'Sides, there ain't--isn't--anyone here to impress except Mister Westbrooke, and he don't--doesn't--" Molly sighed, not even finishing her sentence.

Molly sat with Amanda quite often as Jaci gave grammar lessons, and was trying hard to improve herself. Sometimes it seemed an insurmountable task. Jaci knew exactly how she felt when it came to insurmountable. "Mister Westbrooke doesn't what, Molly?"

"Well, he doesn't seem to care. After all, he's practically engaged to Miss Lycinda, and so what good will it do to catch his eye?"

Jaci started to deny wanting to catch Nicholas's eye, but decided to let the comment pass. She thought it strange how everyone kept referring to Lycinda, but never actually labeled her a fiancee. Were they going to marry, or was it some kind of game? And if so, on whose part?

"
Practically
engaged, Molly? Can you please explain that for me? After all, I wouldn't want to put my foot in my mouth tonight." When Molly had come upstairs to help Jaci, she had informed her that the Edwardsons would be at the table for dinner this very night. That, of course, had set Jaci's stomach quivering.

"Well, miss, it seems the Edwardson and the Westbrooke families have been friends for longer than anyone can remember. That being the case, it was only natural that Mister Westbrooke and Miss Lycinda would marry."

"An arranged marriage? I didn't think they did that anymore," Jaci mused out loud.

"Well, of course that's done: in the finest homes and families, that is." Molly appeared surprised at her comment.

"So, when is this magical wedding to take place?" What right did Nicholas have seducing her if he was going to marry another? She conveniently forgot that she had already known this fact when she threw herself at the man.

"That's the strange part," Molly whispered, as though she had a secret. Jaci lifted a brow in question and the maid continued. "It's been ten years since his parents died, and five since sweet Miss Sarah passed on. That's plenty of grieving time for a body, and yet he's made no move to marry the lady."

Lady.
There was that magical word again. Aloud, she stated, "Perhaps he's waiting for the right moment to ask her."

Molly snorted. "The right moment. Tell me there ain't been no right moments in the last five years." She didn't bother to correct herself, but looked Jaci straight in the eye, her face serious. "I don't think he consciously wants to marry her. I think he likes it fine here with his horses and races and our sweet little angel, Amanda." Molly nodded her head as though to emphasize her words, and Jaci felt a tiny glimmer of hope.

Well, why not? If she was stuck in this century, she might as well enjoy herself. At the moment, that meant finding a way to make an impression on the master of the estate,

Nicholas Westbrooke.

"I think Miss Eastman should marry Uncle Nicholas." Amanda's voice surprised both women and Jaci turned to the bed.

"Oh, dear." She wondered how much Amanda had overheard.

"Sweetie, your uncle is going to marry Miss Edwardson." She brushed at the girl's wayward curls.

"No." The five-year-old shook her head and stated the single word as though even the heavens listened to her.

Jaci smiled. "And why not?"

"Uncle Nicholas looks at you funny, like he does his horses. He looks at Miss Edwardson different; like squash for supper." As with most children, Amanda spoke the truth as she saw it, regardless of feelings and attitudes. Five-year-olds didn't usually display tact.

Molly burst into laughter and slipped out the door, leaving Jaci to find a way to change the subject.

"Your uncle will decide who he wants to marry, no matter what you think. We'd best let the subject drop."

"But Miss Eastman," she protested, "why don't you want to marry Uncle Nicholas? You would be the bestest wife. You're funny, and you help a lot around here, and I love you."

Jaci knew it made perfect sense to Amanda, which made it more difficult to argue against.

"Honey, I love you, too, but the two people getting married have to be in love. That's what counts."

"Don't you love Uncle Nicholas?" Amanda pleaded with her eyes and voice and Jaci would have loved to contemplate that particular notion. She simply could not.

"Please. He's handsome, and strong, and he has lots of money."

Jaci laughed, releasing the tension. "I appreciate all those virtues, but--" "He must be a good kisser, too. I saw you kissing him the oth--"

"Amanda Westbrooke!" Jaci's cheeks burned at the thought she had been spied on. But looking at Amanda's innocent face, she realized the girl was being honest in a way adults feared. She said what she thought, not what others thought she should say.

She decided it best to change the subject. "If you want to eat dinner with the grown-ups tonight, you had best go have Molly help you change. It wouldn't do for you to be late."

"I really get to eat at the big table?" Her attention effectively caught elsewhere, Amanda scooted off the bed and raced out the door.

Jaci breathed a sigh of relief, or was it trepidation, for the events of the evening yet to come?

Later, she entered the parlor, surprised to find it empty. Apparently Nicholas's guests were late arriving. She walked to the windows, taking the time alone to compose herself.

She ran a nervous hand down the front of her dark green, velvet dress, hoping she had chosen correctly for this dinner occasion. The silk of her underthings whispered as she walked, and she felt totally decadent with lace garters tying her silk stockings just above her knees.

Molly had assured her she looked beautiful, and Amanda called her "totally awesome." Jaci mentally flinched, hoping the phrase Amanda had picked up from her wouldn't be repeated around Nicholas.

The thought of him brought her right back to the conversation which had taken place while Molly and Amanda helped her dress. What difference did it make, she asked herself, who Nicholas married? She wouldn't be around to see it.

She gasped softly as she glanced out the window, all thoughts of Nicholas fleeing. The ground was covered with glistening white snow; huge, wet flakes continued to float downward in an ever increasing storm.

"Penny for your thoughts," Nicholas said from the doorway.

"We don't have snow in Dallas," she replied without thinking. "At least not like this." She turned to smile at him. She gasped again as she took in his appearance.

Dressed in formal black attire, he appeared as the devil himself, wickedly handsome and deadly as sin. He had slicked his hair back in a queue, but it refused to obey and a wave curled over his brow. He sauntered into the room like the king of England, and she repressed the impulse to curtsey.

"Does this look all right to you?" he questioned as he tugged on the cuffs of his white shirt, barely visible beneath the cut of his vest and coat.

"All right?" He was much more than all right. Jaci let her gaze drift down the length of him and back up.

"Yes; you know." Nicholas waved his hands up and down, encompassing his clothes. "Damn, I hate dress up affairs. I don't know why I even suggested it."

A frown marred the sculpted planes of his face and she longed to smooth away the lines with a kiss. Instead, she settled for a light touch to his bow tie and a brush of her hands across his shoulders, as though straightening that last little bit.

It worked; the frown was replaced by a smile which made Jaci hold her breath in wonder. Could anyone be more charming and...more out of her league than this man? She turned back to the window.

"You speak of Dallas as though it were the garden spot of the entire world. From what I hear, Texas is a heathen country full of Indians, wild cattle and wilderness." Nicholas poured himself a brandy as he spoke. "Would you care for a drink?"

She shook her head, squaring her shoulders for a fight. If there was one thing in the world she would defend, it was her birthright as a Texan. "Texas is far from heathen, sir, though she did have a hard fight for independence. But as part of the United States, you have no right to speak of her so."

Nicholas tilted his head and gave her a strange look and she swore she was trapped. He smiled and lifted his glass in salute. "Though Texas might be rough and tumble, she breeds the most beautiful and spirited of ladies. For that reason alone, I retract my disloyal comments." He took a sip of his drink before meeting her gaze with a quite serious look. "If you insist on returning to your city of Dallas, I will finance your trip and ask no more of you."

Jaci stood in silence, daring for one moment to believe she heard a wistful note in his voice. When his words registered, she had only one answer.