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"Dear God, please don't do this to me," she moaned aloud to the heavens, her footsteps never faltering as she flew down the tree-lined path. If what they said was true, she doubted she could run far enough or fast enough to get back to where she belonged.

* * *

Nicholas remained frustrated and restless as Stephen drove him back to Wildwood. It had taken little time to conduct most of his business, but Cameron had gone to sea with the latest shipment to England, and now it would be months before he returned. What was Nicholas supposed to do with his niece, Amanda, since her governess had left?

His thoughts came to a jarring halt as the carriage swerved to the right then came rapidly to a stop, almost unseating him. He opened the door and stepped down as his driver jumped off the high box seat to come to his assistance.

"What on earth is the matter with you, Stephen?"

"Lordy, I'm sorry, sir, but the horses spooked when that...that person flew by." His driver waved frantically past the back of the carriage and Nicholas turned to look.

"What?" He stared after the apparition running as though the very devil were on her tail. "Wait here," he instructed his driver, before taking off after the vanishing figure.

For two days this female had been constantly on his mind, even as he dined with Lycinda and her family in Philadelphia. As he had sat across from the demure and dainty Miss Edwardson, images of flashing green eyes had come to mind. A full, womanly figure beneath the muddy fabric of an overlarge shirt and men's trousers had transcended his vision as Lycinda entertained at the piano after the lavish meal.

He had quickly conducted the most pressing of his business, had bid her and her father good-bye, and had rushed back to Wildwood. Why? He couldn't say except he felt a sense of responsibility towards this strange woman and there had been an instant attraction impossible to deny.

Now he had to race like the wind to keep her from escaping before he could determine the cause of the attraction. Finally he slowed to a trot, coming up behind her as she bent over to catch her breath. A dozen or more questions played in his brain as he eyed her curved bottom in the strange blue trousers she wore.

"Why are you running away?" He voiced the first thought that came to mind.

She screeched, spinning around at the sound of his voice. He realized immediately she verged on hysteria, for her eyes were wide and wild, her breath coming in short gasps. Cautiously, he held out a hand, approaching her as quietly as he would a frightened filly.

Her reaction was immediate. Racing towards him, she pounded on his chest with her fists, tears streaming down her cheeks and sobs choking her with their intensity.

"Go away! I don't want you; I don't need you! I only want to go home, don't you see?"

He curled his arms around her, hugging her close to stop her tantrum. With her arms trapped between them, she could no longer hit him, though the blows were hardly dangerous. Nicholas tried to soothe her, cooing soft words as he often did with Amanda, but she would have none of it.

"Let me go. I only tried to help Mackey. You have no right keeping me prisoner." She leaned back as far as his circling arms would allow, the green fire of her gaze searing him. Even with her short blonde hair blowing wildly about her face, Nicholas thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. As she ranted at him, he felt the blood stir in his veins. Her heaving breasts against his chest created sweet torture for him.

"I'll let you go if you calm down." He kept his voice pitched low and soft.

"I
am
calm!" she hollered.

He smiled at the contradiction and began to relax his grip when she brought her fists up and smacked him under the jaw. He fell back a step, his arms going completely slack. She twisted around and sprinted towards the trees.

"Stop it!" He grabbed the back of her pants and jerked her to a halt. She twisted around, but he didn't give her a chance to hit him again. His strong arms tightened around her. She opened her mouth to scream, and Nicholas decided it was time to put an end to her tirade.

His kiss demanded her total acquiescence, but once he began, he realized the mistake would cost him dearly, for he surrendered as well. She was soft and hot, her lips molding perfectly with his. As he tasted her sweetness, she melted against him. The heat and scent of her penetrated his senses and sent them reeling. He slid his hands down her back, pressing her to him.

Passion raged within Nicholas, but apparently the woman in his arms didn't feel the same. She began wiggling to get away from him instead of closer to the fire he blamed her for starting. He cautiously raised his head, steeling himself for her outraged reaction.

Instead of hysteria this time, she took a calming breath and looked him straight in the eye. "Please. Take me home."

Nicholas released her and took a step back, willing his body to cool down; hoping his ardor didn't show too easily on his face. "My carriage is at your disposal, but since Philadelphia is over sixteen miles away and night is approaching, perhaps you would consider waiting until morning."

"This is Dallas! I live in Dallas." Her voice became softer, yet he could hear the rising note of despair. "1419 Tatum Drive--in Dallas." When she looked at him, her eyes full of tears, his heart turned over. A woman's tears had always been his weakness, but for some reason this particular woman's anguish tore at his heart.

"You never have told me your name," he whispered. It seemed vitally important to him at the moment; perhaps in fear she would disappear from his life and leave him no way to trace her.

"Jaci Eastman. Now, I thank you for your assistance, but I must get home." She dismissed him quite effectively and turned down the road. Without a backward glance, she walked away from him, but he wasn't about to let her out of his life that easily.

He signaled Toby, his young footman, who came running. "Watch her, but don't let her know you are." He whispered his orders, positive Jaci Eastman would return once she realized they were miles from nowhere and there weren't any neighbors to help her out. Nicholas wanted to give her time alone to cool down, but he didn't want her to be alone. He didn't intend to hold her hostage, but neither did he want to let her go just yet.

It was well past the dinner hour when the front door quietly closed. He didn't leave his chair by the fire in the library, but listened intently for signs of her passing. Not long after her footsteps faded, Toby popped his head around the partially opened door.

"She be home, now, sir." The boy grinned, knowing he had done his job well.

"Thank you very much, for looking after her." Nicholas flipped him a coin. "If you hurry to the kitchen, I believe Delta still has some dinner warming for you."

Toby caught the coin, smiling his thanks before rushing off to feed his growing body. Nicholas sighed in relief, thankful the lady had returned unharmed and had not stayed out in the chill weather all night. He closed the book he had on his lap and extinguished the lamp, heading up the long flight of stairs to his room.

For whatever reason, Jaci Eastman had fallen into his life and now it was up to him to do something with her. As far as he could tell, she had no relation and no place to go. Her strange story about a home in some place called Dallas didn't ring true, and he would send a message into the city and check it out. In the meantime, he would allow her to remain at Wildwood. As for himself, he would make sure he kept his distance, for she did strange things to his insides.

He stopped at the door to the guest room, tilting his head to the side. In the quiet of the night, he heard her crying. Without thinking about his actions, he opened the door. Moonlight washed the room in silvery light.

She had not undressed, though her strange shoes lay helter-skelter on the floor. She hadn't even turned back the coverlet on the bed, but lay curled in the middle, weeping with such anguish Nicholas thought surely her heart was breaking.

He couldn't fathom what possessed such a beautiful lady to ache so, but as a gentleman it fell to him to comfort her. Trying not to frighten her, he spoke softly as he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to touch her shoulder.

She didn't push him away, but instead cried even harder. She wouldn't answer his whispered questions and he soon gave up. His hand smoothed her hair away from her face; his thumb continued to wipe at the tears. Gradually she quieted, but he knew she didn't sleep, for her body remained taut as a bowstring.

Much later, she spoke. "I can't go home, can I? I'll never go home again."

Although she asked a question, the resignation in her voice implied she didn't expect an answer. It seemed that speaking the words out loud had been answer enough, for almost immediately, she fell into a deep sleep.

Recalling Amanda's initial statement about sleeping princesses, he thought maybe the child was right. Perhaps the strange and beautiful Jaci Eastman was theirs to keep.

Chapter Three

Jaci curled into a tight ball in the window seat, tears coursing down her cheeks as silently as the rain streaking the windowpane. She tucked the voluminous white nightgown around her feet, unable to get warm. She closed her eyes and dropped her head to her knees in despair. What had she ever done in her life to deserve being thrown back into some forgotten piece of history?

She had run the first day until exhausted, but she found nothing--not one solitary thing-- that looked even vaguely familiar. The lush foliage and tall trees didn't belong to the super city of Dallas.

A bone chilling fear had overcome her and she had collapsed on the ground, so deep in misery that she hadn't even reacted when a hand touched her shoulder. Somewhere in a more sane part of herself, she had realized the boy standing over her must be from the reenactment.

Or rather, from Nicholas Westbrooke's home. She would have to get used to thinking that. When she finally realized she had no recourse but to rely on his hospitality until she figured out a course of action, the boy quietly guided her back to the house since she had lost her bearings.

She remembered crying herself to sleep, surprisingly comforted by his gentle voice and touch. When Jaci allowed her thoughts free rein, she recalled the power of his kiss and the way she responded to the seductive aura surrounding him. In her dreams he always came to her--handsome, strong, and very masculine. Her reaction to that one kiss frightened her to death, so now she slept very little. Besides, the turmoil in her brain refused to let her body slow down enough to rest.

She didn't have to accept her situation permanently, she reminded herself. She had accidentally fallen into this world and she could just as well find a way home. Nothing would prevent her from returning to Dallas, Mandy, and her nice, safe life. If she only knew how.

Jaci knew she wasn't being held captive, yet a prisoner she remained, locked in a world she didn't understand for reasons she couldn't begin to fathom. To keep from dealing with questions that had no answers, and a world gone awry, she refused to come out of her room. She wouldn't see anyone except the maid, whose name she learned was Molly.

"What, no tea and scones?" she asked as Molly set the tray of coffee and cookies on the desk. Even though she didn't read historical novels, Mandy did, and often carried on about the social life of the past. Once, she had even found prepackaged scone mix and brought it home to try. Didn't everyone back in this time period eat them?

Molly laughed at her question and gave her an incredulous look. "You must be living in the wrong century, miss."

Jaci's coffee cup clattered on the china saucer. A fellow time traveler; someone to help? Her heart thudded recklessly as she sought to find out. "How did you know?"

Molly's brows came together in a frown. "Tweren't hard, miss. We ain't--haven't--drank much tea since the War for Independence, and that be almost a hundred years ago."

The maid shrugged as though it was no big deal, but Jaci's heart plummeted. She would drive herself crazy with questions, assumptions, and useless, wishful thinking. Angered by the feeling of naivety, she stubbornly remained silent whenever the maid brought her a food tray, and she continued to refuse to see anyone else.

For two days, no one interfered with her plan. Today proved different.

First the little girl, Amanda, tried to come in, but the last thing in the world she wanted was to talk to anyone who reminded her of her own sister.

So she had locked the door.

The next morning the tray service rattled as the maid put it down outside the door, probably hoping Jaci would eventually eat.

She refused.

"Molly has duties other than waiting on you, especially when you appear sufficiently recovered to come downstairs for your meals." Nicholas's voice jarred her out of her musings when he waltzed into the room as though he owned it.

Jaci groaned, forgetting he
did
own it. "How did you get in here? I locked the door."

He smiled. Balancing the tray on one hand, he held up a key. "The master of his home must be master of
all of it.
" He placed the tray in front of her, and then moved across the room to the wardrobe. "Upon my request, Dr. Stillwell, who took care of you, sent a few of his sister's things for you to wear. Since it appears, Miss Eastman, that you are temporarily stuck here, I have taken it upon myself to supply at least the necessities."

She stared at him.

"Miss Eastman, do you understand?"

"What's going to happen to me?" she asked in a whisper. "I have no clothes, no money, no way to get home."

"Well, shall we start with breakfast? After you eat, find something to wear, then join me in the library and we will discuss your future." He turned to her once more. "Are we agreed?"

She looked out the window to a world foreign to her in every way. She contemplated making a wisecrack, but she was in no position to argue, even when he treated her like a child.

"Agreed," she stated without preamble, turning her attention to her breakfast tray.