“I’ve been cuckolded by the pair of you all this time!” Malcolm accused, stumbling back. He met the dubious smile that traced the other man’s lips and watched him turn the pistol aside and release the hammer. “All this time you’ve been wallowing in your lusts and making me out a fool!”

“I thought he was my husband!” Lenore flared, clutching the sheet over her bosom as she came upright in the bed.

“She is my wife,” Ashton stated and saw the rage his statement brought forth in the tanned visage.

“If she is your wife, then why in the hell did she marry me?” Malcolm demanded.

“That’s what I would like to know,” Ashton replied. “I really can’t understand why Lenore married you.”

Malcolm’s arm slashed out toward the woman. “She is Lenore!”

“Lierin,” Ashton casually corrected.

The younger man gnashed his teeth in frustration and searched about for the clever argument that would finally convince the man, but he found none. He whipped his arm around and, with the gesture, commanded her to leave the bed. “Get out of his bed now and come home where you belong.”

“I think you’d better leave, Malcolm,” she replied.

“What! Are you bashful in front of your own husband? Will you bid me go and let him stay and view all that you have?”

Lenore raised her gaze to his jeering countenance. “I mean, I think you’d better pack your clothes and leave the house…this morning.”

Malcolm gaped and, stepping back, shook his head. “No! I have a right to be there!” He shot out his chin toward Ashton. “He’s the one who has to go. Not me!”

“I don’t want to take the risk of your staying here and doing some harm to us. I’d like to feel safe in my own house. I have a care for the baby I carry.”

“What about him?” Malcolm’s face reddened beneath that one’s amused regard. “Where is he going to stay?”

“Wherever he likes,” Lenore answered simply. “I intend to ask him to escort me back to England. I used to have a nanny, and I know she will recognize me, and she holds nothing against Ashton. She will put to rest any doubts about my identity.”

“And if you find out that you are Lenore?” Malcolm smirked.

“I shall take a long time in thinking over my situation. To be married to you and give birth to another man’s child is hardly acceptable.”

“I’ll agree to that!” Malcolm jeered.

Lenore ignored his sarcasm. “It would be too difficult living in the house with you after this morning. Therefore I must ask you to leave before I return.”

“If I go now, I won’t stay. I’ll be back.”

“There won’t be any reason for you to come again, Malcolm. If I am truly Lenore, it is finished between us. I will obtain a decree of divorce….”

“So you can marry him?” Malcolm cried. “That should give the gossips something to talk about.”

“I can’t help what they talk about, Malcolm,” she replied. “I must think of the child.”

“Yes, I suppose the little bastard will have to have a name.”

Ashton’s eyes fixed the man with a chilled stare. “You’re as free with your insults as your threats, Malcolm, and I grow weary of both of them.” He casually checked the pistol’s priming. “I think it’s about time you leave. I have matters to discuss with the lady.”

The tawny-haired man glared at them for one last time and, unable to vent his frustration, took his departure. He stalked toward the house, mulling over several options in his mind. He was not finished yet with Mister Wingate.

Ashton rose to his feet and, wrapping a towel around his hips, went to peer out the tent flap. Flipping it closed, he came back to the bed. “As Malcolm said, he’ll be back,” he muttered. “He’s not going to give up this easily.”

“I don’t see any reason for him to come back.” Lenore searched his face as he sat on the bed beside her. “Why should he?”

“There are many reasons why he might be prompted to, and all of them center around you.”

She smiled and her eyes shone with the combined glow of love and amusement as she laid a hand upon his bare thigh. “Lord help us if he’s as persistent as you, Mister Wingate.”

Ashton tossed her a grin. “I was fighting for something I desperately wanted, madam. My queen!”

A warm chuckle escaped her. “And now that you’ve won the game?”

The wide shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. “There are a few more maneuvers to be taken to seal my final victory; then it shall be complete.”

“Are you still insisting that I am Lierin?”

He slid closer and, reaching across her, braced a hand on the bed as he lowered a kiss to her shoulder. “I can’t believe there are two of you exactly alike.”

Lenore laughed nervously and caught his arm to keep from falling as his encroaching presence threatened to press her back upon the bed. He murmured against her throat, and she rolled her head to the side as his lips moved upon her skin. His free hand wandered down her bare back, pressing her toward him, and she forgot the covering of the sheet. It tumbled to her hips as she slid her arms around his neck and met his passionate kiss with eagerly parting lips.

Ashton cast a glance toward the small clock that graced the interior of his tent, wondering how soon Lierin would return from town where she, Mr. Evans, and her father had ventured in the carriage. She had invited him to the house to share the midday meal when they came back from Biloxi and then had laughed when Ashton gallantly assured her that her presence was all the nourishment he needed to subsist.

Sarah had viewed the trio’s departure from the doorway of the tent as she waited for him to bid the younger woman farewell, and then, in Lierin’s absence, he had deigned to give his attention to the ledgers she had brought. The River Witch had not yet taken up its station offshore, but aboard the Gray Eagle there was increased activity as Captain Meyers and the crew began making preparations for her departure to the Caribbean. Sarah would be transferring her work to a cabin aboard the steamer, and Ashton spoke of his plans to send her back to Natchez on the steamer if things went well concerning Lierin. For the first time since he had made her acquaintance in the Under-the-Hill tavern, Sarah dared to ask him about the woman he was in love with and how Lierin, or Lenore, had come to be in her present situation. Ashton told her what he could and left her to make her own decision about the other redhead.

As he finished, Sarah sighed pensively. “It’s horrible to be caught up in something that’s as frightening as that, not knowing whether you’re sane and just a victim of someone else’s malice…or if you really are mad and you deserve to be kept away from…everything.” She gazed down at her tightly clenched hands. “Sometimes I wonder about myself…if I’ve been affected by my own hatred and need for revenge.” Lifting her head, she stared across the space of the tent, seeing naught that was within her view. “I glimpse a man’s face…and then I think: I know him! He was one who helped make my life hell! He took my name and scribbled it across a sheet of paper! And then all that I owned became my husband’s, to do with as he willed, while he cast me in hell. He had no reason to wait for my demise, and it amused him to keep me alive. And why not? He had everything, with but a flick of a pen….” Her brows drew down harshly. “Someone else’s pen. Not mine!” She rubbed a narrow hand over her arm and, blinking back tears, met the gently inquiring gaze of her employer. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wingate. I’m rambling on again.”

“No need to apologize, Sarah,” Ashton murmured compassionately. “It sounds as if you need someone to talk to.”

“Aye, that I do, Mr. Wingate.” She heaved a laborious sigh. “I watched my father ruined…possibly murdered, and then I found myself falsely…imprisoned.” Her gaze flicked up briefly, uncertainly. “It was not the sort of prison you’d normally imagine, Mr. Wingate. It was a hellish place…with chains…and whips…and roaches crawling over the food. A man was hired to tend me, to make sure I did not escape…and then he was killed…and I know not the reason…except that he had begun to show some pity for me. And now, I see things that seem familiar…and I fear what might happen to another…if I don’t speak out…and yet, I’m not sure about myself…or if I’m actually seeing what I think I’m seeing.” She stared up at him, and the pleading was there in her eyes, desperately yearning for him to comprehend what she was trying to tell him. “Don’t you understand, Mr. Wingate? I was in there too long. Much too long.”

Ashton felt the hackles rise on his neck and could find no reply to make. Sarah made him anxious, but he could not quite pin down the reason. He watched her become flustered and embarrassed by her verbosity, and to ease her distress, he reached to pour her another cup of coffee. Lightening it with a meager dribble of cream and a lump of sugar, he handed it to her. Her gaze raised hesitantly, and his empathy for her welled up within him as he saw her gathering tears. As she reached out to receive the offering, he set aside the coffee and took her hand in both of his.

“It’s all right, Sarah,” he soothed her. “I have listened to all you’ve said…and I think I am beginning to understand.”

Her gaze searched the bronze visage anxiously. “Do you, Mr. Wingate?”

“Aye, Sarah, I think I do.”

The woman left, and a deepening anxiety set in. Ashton glanced often toward the clock, wishing Lierin would return, and nervously paced the floor. He spent several moments changing clothes, donning riding breeches, shirt, and tall boots. After all, he had promised Lierin to take her out riding that afternoon. He had even planned to take her beyond his camp in the late evening and introduce her to the delights of cavorting naked in the surf, perhaps even to end the interlude by making love to her there on the shore. The idea had tickled his imagination more than once since he had arrived, but right now, he would just be satisfied if she returned quickly…so he need not fear for her safety.