"Isn't that always the case," James murmured sympathetically.

"I did catch two medium-sized ones, though. I left them in a bucket outside."

"They're quite disgusting," Jane put in, having lost interest in her hand.

Lucas turned on her in an instant. "You don't say that when you get to eat them for supper."

"When I eat them for supper," she shot back, "they don't have eyes."

“That's because Lizzie chops off their heads, you nodcock."

"Lucas," Elizabeth said loudly, "I really think you should go outside and wash off some of that smell."

"But Mr. Siddons-"

"-was just being polite," Elizabeth cut in. "Do it now, and change your clothing while you're about it."

Lucas grumbled, but he did as he was told.

"He's such a trial sometimes," Jane said with a world-weary sigh.

James had to cough to keep from laughing.

Jane took this as agreement and further explained, ”He is only eight."

"And how old are you?"

"Nine," she replied, as if that made all the difference in the world.

"Jane," Elizabeth said from over at the hearth, where she was putting water on for tea, “may I speak with you for a moment?"

Jane politely excused herself and moved to her sister's side. James pretended not to watch as Elizabeth leaned down and whispered something in her sister's ear. Jane nodded and ran off.

"What was that all about?" he had to ask.

"I thought she might do with a washing up as well, but I didn't want to embarrass her by asking in front of you."

He cocked his head. “Do you really think she would have been embarrassed by that?''

"James, she's a nine-year-old girl who thinks she's fifteen. You're a handsome man. Of course she'd be embarrassed."

"Well, you would know better than I," he replied, trying not to let his pleasure show at her having complimented his looks.

Elizabeth motioned to the plate of biscuits. "Aren't you going to try one?"

He took one and bit into it. "Delicious."

"Aren't they? I don't know what Susan does with them. I've never managed to make mine come out as nice." She took one and bit into it.

James stared up at her, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her nibbling away. Her tongue darted out to catch an errant crumb, and-

"I'm back!"

He sighed. One of life's most unexpected erotic moments, interrupted by an eight-year-old boy.

Lucas grinned up at him. "Do you like to fish?"

"It's one of my favorite sports."

"I should like to hunt, but Elizabeth won't let me."

"Your sister is a very wise woman. A boy your age should not handle a gun without the proper supervision."

Lucas pulled a face. "I know, but that's not why she doesn't let me do it. It's because she's too softhearted."

"If not wanting to watch you mangle a poor, innocent rabbit," Elizabeth cut in, "means that I am too softhearted, then-"

"But you eat rabbit," Lucas argued. "I've seen you."

Elizabeth crossed her arms and grumbled, "It's different when it has ears."

James laughed. "You sound like young Jane with her aversion to fish eyes."

"No, no, no," Elizabeth insisted, "it's entirely different. If you recall, I am the one who always cuts off the fish heads. So clearly I am not squeamish."

"Then what's the difference?" he prodded.

"Yes," Lucas said, crossing his arms and cocking his head in a perfect imitation of James, "what's the difference?"

"I don't have to answer this!"

James turned to Lucas and said behind his hand, "She knows she hasn't a leg to stand on."

"I heard that!"

Lucas just giggled.

James exchanged a very male glance with the little boy. "Women do tend to get annoyingly sentimental when it comes to small, furry creatures."

Elizabeth kept her eyes on the stove, pretending to fix the tea. It had been so long since Lucas had met a man he could look up to and admire. She worried constantly that she was depriving him of something important by raising him herself, with only sisters for company. If she'd allowed any of her relations to take him in, he still wouldn't have had a father, but at least he would have had an adult male in his life.

"What's the biggest fish you've ever caught?" Lucas asked.

“On land or on sea?''

Lucas actually poked him in the arm when he said, "You can't catch a fish on land!"

"I meant on a pond."

The little boy's eyes grew wide. "You've fished on the sea?"

"Of course."

Elizabeth looked at him with a bemused glance. His tone was so matter-of-fact.

"Were you on a ship?" Lucas asked.

"No, it was more of a sailboat."

A sailboat? Elizabeth shook her head as she pulled some dishes out of the cupboard. James must have well-connected friends.

"How big was the fish?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe about this big." James measured a length of about two feet with his hands.

"Hells bells!" Lucas yelled.

Elizabeth nearly dropped a saucer. "Lucas!"

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Lucas said without much thought, and without even turning to face her. His attention never wavered from James as he asked, “Did he put up a fight?"

James leaned down and whispered something in Lucas's ear. Elizabeth arched her neck and strained her ears, but she couldn't make out what he said.

Lucas nodded somewhat glumly, then stood up, crossed the room to Elizabeth, and gave her a little bow. Elizabeth was so surprised that this time she did drop what she was holding. Thankfully, it was just a spoon.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Lucas said. "It isn't polite to use such language in front of a lady."

"Thank you, Lucas." She looked over at James, who offered her a secret smile. He tilted his head toward the boy, so she leaned down, handed Lucas a plate of biscuits, and said, "Why don't you and Jane go and find Susan? And you may eat these biscuits on the way to town."

Lucas's eyes lit up at the sight of the biscuits, and he quickly grabbed them and left the room, leaving Elizabeth openmouthed in his wake. "What did you say to him?" she asked in amazement.

James shrugged. "I can't tell you."

“But you must. Whatever it was, it was terribly effective."

He sat back, looking terribly pleased with himself. "Some things are best left between men."

Elizabeth frowned playfully, trying to decide whether she ought to press him further, when she noticed a darkening stain near his eye. "Oh, I completely forgot!" she blurted out. "Your eye! I must find something to put on that."

"It will be fine, I'm sure. I've had far worse injuries with far less attention paid to them."

But she wasn't listening, as she shuffled hurriedly through her kitchen in search of something cool.

"You needn't go to any trouble," he tried again.

She looked up, which surprised him. He'd thought she was far too involved in her search to be listening, let alone responding to him.

"I won't argue with you about this," she stated. "So you might as well save your breath."

James realized she spoke the truth. Elizabeth Hotchkiss wasn't the sort to leave projects unfinished or responsibilities unmet. And if she insisted upon tending to his bruised eye, there was very little he-a peer of the realm, a man twice her size-could do to stop her.

"If you must," he murmured, trying to sound at least a little bit put out by her ministrations.

She twisted her hands around something in the sink, then turned around and held it out to him. "Here."

“What is that?'' he asked suspiciously.

"It's just a wet cloth. What did you think-that I was going to slap Lucas's catch of the day on your face?"

"No, you're not angry enough today for that, although-"

She raised her brows as she covered his bruised eye with the cloth. "Are you intimating that you think you might someday anger me enough so that-"

"I'm not saying anything of the kind. God, I hate being fussed over. You merely- No, it's a bit to the right."

Elizabeth adjusted the cloth, leaning forward as she did so. "Is that better?"

"Yes, although it seems to have grown quite warm."

She jerked back a few inches and straightened. "I'm sorry."

"It's just the cloth," he said, not nearly noble enough to pull his gaze off of what was directly in front of him.

He wasn't sure if she realized he was staring at her breasts, but she let out a little "Oh!" and jumped away. "I can cool this off again." She did so, then held out the wet cloth. "You had better do this yourself."

He moved his gaze to her face, his expression as innocent as a puppy dog. "But I like it when you do it."

"I thought you didn't like to be fussed over."

"I didn't think I did."

That earned him a half-beleaguered, half-sarcastic, one-hand-on-hips pose. She looked rather ridiculous, and somehow at the same time amazing, standing there with a dishrag hanging from her hand. "Are you trying to convince me that I am your angel of mercy, come from heaven to-"

His mouth spread into a slow, hot smile. "Precisely."

She threw the cloth at him, leaving a wet spot in the middle of his shirt. "I don't believe you for one second."

"For an angel of mercy," he muttered, "you have a rather short temper."

She groaned. "Just put the cloth on your eye."

He did as she asked. Far be it from him to disobey her when she was in such a temper.

They stood regarding each other for a moment, and then Elizabeth said, "Take that off for one second."

He took his hand away from his eye. ' The cloth?''

She nodded once.

"Didn't you just order me to put it back on my eye?"

"Yes, but I want to get a look at the extent of the bruising."

James saw no reason not to comply, so he leaned forward, lifting his chin and tilting his face so that she could easily look at his eye.