"Thank you," Taylor replied. "But I'm not so thin-skinned. You don't need to worry anyone's going to hurt my feelings. I can take care of myself."

"Yes, of course you can," Alison told her in a pitying tone of voice.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" Jennifer wanted to know.

"No. As a matter of fact I…"

"But of course she has feelings for him. She hates him," Constance decreed.

"No, I don't…" Taylor began again.

"Love and hate go hand in hand," Jennifer explained. "I believe she should hate all men in general and William Merritt in particular."

"I don't believe hating anyone will solve…"

"But of course you must hate him," Constance argued.

Taylor decided it was high time she gained control of the conversation and turned the topic. "I've written long letters to all of you with important news," she blurted out before she could be interrupted again.

"Whatever for?" Alison asked.

"News? What news?" Constance demanded.

Taylor shook her head. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow. You'll receive your letters by late afternoon."

"Tell us your news now," Jennifer insisted.

"You're being very mysterious," Constance remarked.

"I don't mean to be mysterious," Taylor replied. "Sometimes it's easier to write down what I want to say rather than…"

"Spill it out, Taylor," Alison demanded.

"You cannot leave us hanging like this," Constance interjected.

"Are you going away?" Jennifer asked. She turned to Constance. "People always write letters when they're going away."

Taylor was sorry she'd mentioned the letters. "It's a surprise," she insisted.

"Now you've got to tell us," Alison said. "You aren't leaving this ballroom until you do. I won't be able to sleep until I've heard this mysterious news."

Taylor shook her head. The look on Alison's face told her she wasn't going to let the matter drop. Constance inadvertently came to Taylor's rescue. She spotted Lady Catherine on the dance floor, recognized the sapphire necklace around her neck, and immediately demanded to know why she was wearing Taylor's jewelry.

Taylor took her time explaining her reasons for giving the jewels away.

Lucas watched her from across the ballroom. He was penned in by a crowd of men who took turns plying him with questions about life in America. He was amused by some of their obvious prejudices, irritated by others. The Englishmen all seemed to be fascinated by the Indians. Had Lucas killed many?

He patiently answered the less offensive questions but kept looking at his timepiece every other minute. He didn't particularly care if he was being rude or not. When midnight arrived, he was leaving. Lucas rechecked the time, noted he only had a few more minutes left, and then went back to answering the men. He was in the middle of explaining that his ranch was surrounded by mountains and that the Sioux and the Crow allowed him and his brothers to share their land when he spotted the son-of-a-bitch heir to the family fortune shrug off his wife's hand and head for Taylor. His new bride chased after him.

Taylor spotted him, too. She looked ready to bolt. Lucas watched her bend to lift the hem of her skirt, then suddenly let go and straighten up again. She had obviously decided not to run after all.

No one was going to know the panic she was feeling, not even her dearest friends. Taylor made that vow and smiled until her face felt brittle. The humiliation. She knew that was what everyone was calling the cancellation of her wedding. They all expected her to act humiliated, she supposed. Well, by God, they were going to be disappointed.

Alison was going on and on about something or other, but Taylor wasn't paying any attention. She didn't want to injure her friend's feelings, however, and so she pretended great interest. She nodded whenever Alison paused for air and kept right on smiling. Taylor could only hope she was telling an amusing story and not a tragic one.

They were getting closer. William was weaving his way around the couples on the dance floor. Jane was in hot pursuit of her husband.

Taylor might have been able to control her panic if she hadn't seen the expression on her cousin's face. Jane looked livid. When she was in a cheerful mood, she was a little malicious, but when she was angry… it was simply too chilling to think about.

Taylor thought she was going to be sick. Oh, Lord, she simply couldn't do it. Her noble intention to stand firm hadn't lasted more than a minute or two. She really was going to run. She had neither the strength nor the inclination to be civil to her cousin. Cousins, she silently corrected. Her ex-fiance was related by marriage to her now.

Oh, yes, she was going to be sick all right.

Lucas saw the panic in her eyes, stopped his explanation about the Indians in midsentence, and pushed his way through the throng of men surrounding him. Both Morris and Hampton followed him as he headed across the ballroom.

"Taylor, what in heaven's name are you doing?" Alison demanded in an appalled tone of voice.

"She's taking great gulps of air," Constance said. She frowned over her own observation and leaned closer to Taylor in an attempt to understand her mysterious behavior.

"But why is she breathing like that?" Jennifer asked.

Taylor tried to calm herself. "I believe I should leave now," she began.

"You only just got here," Jennifer argued.

"Yes, but I really think I…"

"Dear heavens, he's coming over here."

Alison made the comment in a fluster and immediately set about straightening the sleeves of her gown.

Constance peeked around Alison, let out a gasp, and then turned back to Taylor. "Oh, wait until you meet him," she whispered. "Even though Mama has declared he's a sinfully bad man, I must admit he has the most adorable drawl."

"How would you know?" Jennifer asked.

"I heard him talking to Hampton," Constance explained.

"You were eavesdropping," Jennifer accused.

Constance nodded. "Yes," she admitted quite cheerfully.

Taylor was slowly backing away from her friends. She glanced over her shoulder to judge the distance to the entrance. Freedom, she decided, was a good thirty feet away. If she could just get to the steps, she could…

"Taylor, you simply must speak to the man," Alison insisted.

"Have you all gone crazy? I will not speak to him. Why, there isn't a thing adorable about William Merritt."

Taylor fairly shouted that statement of fact. Her friends all turned to look at her.

"William? No one mentioned William," Constance said.

"Do come back here, Taylor," Alison demanded.

"Oh, dear, William's on his way over, too," Jennifer announced in a low whisper. "No wonder Taylor's trying to sneak away."

"I'm not trying to sneak away," Taylor argued. It was a blatant lie, of course, but she'd go to her grave before admitting her cowardice. "I just want to avert a scene. If you'll excuse me, I…"

Constance grabbed hold of her arm to stop her from leaving. "You can't sneak out," she whispered. "It would make you appear to be quite pitiful, Taylor. We can't have that. Simply ignore him. Alison, will you quit gawking at that man?"

"Someone really must introduce me," Alison insisted once again. She was violently swinging her fan in front of her face.

"Morris might introduce you," Jennifer suggested. She backed up a space so she wouldn't be injured by Alison's fan, then added, "Isn't he beautiful?"

She asked the question with a long, drawn-out sigh. Alison nodded agreement. "Men are handsome, darling, not beautiful, but I do believe this one is both. God, he's huge, isn't he? I fear I'm becoming fainthearted just looking at him."

Taylor was diligently trying to get Constance to unhand her. She finally managed to pull free and was just about to pick up her skirts again and run for her life when she happened to spot the man Alison and the others were carrying on about.

She froze. Her eyes widened just a fraction, and she thought she might have forgotten how to breathe, for she was suddenly, unexplainably, feeling terribly light-headed.

He was the most incredibly handsome man she had ever seen. He was a giant of a man, lean, yet muscular at the same time, with broad shoulders and dark, dark hair. His skin was bronzed in color, certainly achieved by spending long days out in the sun, and his eyes, dear God, his eyes were the most beguiling color. They were a deep, rich, chocolate brown. There were creases at the corners, wonderful little creases, probably caused from squinting against the sun.

He didn't look like the sort who laughed much. He didn't appear to be the kind of man you'd want to meet up with on a dark, deserted corner either or spend the rest of your life with… Oh, God, what had she done?

Taylor reached up and snatched Alison's fan out of her hand. Before her friend could protest, she began to furiously wave the thing in front of her face. Lord, but it had gone warm in here.

Wouldn't it be outrageous if she fainted at his feet? He'd probably step over her on his way to the doors. Taylor shook her head. She really had to get hold of her thoughts and her composure, she decided. She could feel herself blushing. How ridiculous, she thought. She had nothing to feel embarrassed about. It was the heat, she told herself. Why, it was as hot as purgatory now.

Was the giant walking toward her the one with the godawful reputation? Lord, she hoped not. Just as soon as she recovered her wits, Taylor was going to ask Constance why her mama didn't like him. She wished she'd paid more attention to the conversation. Hadn't Constance said he'd taken a different woman to his bed every night this past week? She'd ask Constance that question, too, along with at least a hundred more, for she suddenly wanted to know all about the mysterious stranger.