Shay tried his best to help Sean overcome his shyness and learn to speak again, yet after two and a half weeks Sean did little more than grunt. Shay was running out of patience and out of time. He had hoped to have Sean speaking as a surprise to Kristen by the time of the masquerade ball. He wanted to show her how reliable he was and how easily he could turn her past trials into present pleasures, but he had less than five days left to do it.

Secretly, Shay arranged for Hattie to make a gown for Kristen in her spare time. An idea she wasn't at all adverse to, since she desperately wanted to see him settle down, and had decided in her own mind that Kristen was the best candidate for the position of wife and lover. He didn't mind, however. It was nice to have the old woman looking after him, even if he didn't have the heart to tell her he never wanted to get married. Kristen was unique though, he had to give her that, but not so much that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. A few weeks in the privacy of his bedroom didn't bother him though.

As the days progressed, Shay began to grow desperate. He wanted to hear the boy speak more than ever and he quickly realized it wasn't just for Kristen's sake. He wanted to hear it for himself. He needed to know the boy wasn't mentally damaged from whatever it was that had caused Kristen to run away from her home in Ireland. He knew there was something, or perhaps someone chasing her, forcing her to run head-on into seclusion. He hoped sooner or later she would feel comfortable and secure enough to confide in him what was happening, but as for now, he'd have to wait until she was ready.

He'd seen the walls close around her many times over the past three months he'd known her, and he didn't like the feeling of being left outside. He wanted to be a part of her life, but she kept him at arm’s length, even refusing to call him by his name. It was always, “Mr. Sinclair,” never Shay. The thought of her saying his name was near as mind consuming as hearing Sean say anything at all.

He was also starting to grow very frustrated. More than once, he had considered going to Millie’s, but the thought of sharing a strange woman’s bed didn’t seem to appease his appetite. He had no desire to see another woman, even Caroline, and the town was starting to talk. It wouldn’t be long before he had to contend with the California Debutant face-to-face.

The day of the ball arrived, and Kristen found herself feeling depressed and left out. She had hoped secretly, Shay would be able to get Sean to speak. She not only wanted to go to the ball, but she was eager to know her brother was growing secure in the knowledge they were safe.

Most of the women who had ordered gowns had picked them up over the past week. Only two remained, a Queen Anne costume and the most beautiful white Angel Kristen had ever seen. She knew the Queen Anne belonged to Caroline Baker, who had sent word to Hattie, ordering it to be ready by Thursday - which was two days ago.

Hattie sniffed with amusement when the girl's note arrived, assuring Kristen the gown wouldn't be picked up until the day of the ball. Too many outfits ordered and created had made Hattie an expert on the Caroline Bakers of the world. The Angel though had yet to be claimed. Hattie didn't appear to be upset over the lost material, or the gown that would go unclaimed. She merely shrugged her shoulders and promised the store would be empty of all costumes by sundown.

The tinkle of the bell caused Kristen to jump and glance up to see the beautiful brunette standing in the door's frame. Her red velvet gown shone its value in the light, as did her diamond necklace. Her hair was in the elegant ringlet style she had seen her wear before, and her cheeks and lips were dusted with a soft pink color. She was the perfect picture of the sort of woman Kristen had been imagining would hang on Shay's arm. The sort who could attract a man such as Shay Sinclair without the slightest inkling of trouble.

"Who are you?" Caroline asked snidely as she inspected Kristen with as much interest as a lump of horse manure in her path.

"Oi’m Kristen O’Malley, ‘Attie's apprentice." Kristen felt her stomach knot as she sat under the woman's eye.

"Apprentice? What exactly do you do for our dear Hattie?"

"Ah’ve been ‘elpin' ‘Attie wi’ de gowns for de barl t’night."

"Not my gown!" Caroline snapped, quickly turning and shouting for Hattie.

Seconds later a very distraught Hattie hurried out of the back room where she had taken a moment of solitude to relieve herself. Her skirts were bunched around her legs in a disarray and her hair fell in grey wisps across her forehead.

"Sakes alive, Caroline. What on earth is wrong with you?"

Hattie was far from being the sort of person to mix words. She spoke her mind as she liked, and damned anyone who couldn't understand. It was one of the many factors Kristen admired and respected about the woman.

"Just what do you mean allowing this...creature to touch my gown?" Caroline snapped, pointing toward Kristen. "I gave you explicit instructions nobody was to work on my costume except for you. How dare you go behind my back and hire this barroom harlot as a seamstress?"

"Nigh, see ‘ere," Kristen snapped, her Irish temper boiling to the surface. "Oi’m not a barroom ‘arlot, nor sum creature."

"How dare you," Caroline growled, her hand flying to her chest.

"Now, now, both of you," Hattie said, trying to soothe the tempers running rampant in her shop. "Kristen is here from Ireland, where she's a very well-known seamstress. She has more credentials than the Queen herself, and more talent than I could ever hope for. So, I can assure you, your gown is the best one ever made. You did say you wished you could have a Paris made costume, didn't you? Well, you've got one better. You've got an Irish original."

Kristen stood her ground, even though she could hardly believe what she was hearing. Caroline's brow rose at the words 'Irish original'. It was obvious the girl wanted her way and was going to achieve it, one way or the other. The idea of having something better than anyone else only went to prove the point.

"I still think you should have asked my opinion before you agreed to let this...woman, work on my costume. You know my father demands the very best for me, as well as my mother. Next time, I expect you to get my approval before you allow anyone to interfere."

"I didn't think you'd mind since it wasn't costing your father anything extra," Hattie said with a knowing smile. "An original gown by Lady Kristen would have cost three times what I was charging, but since she was here and so graciously offered to help me, I thought you wouldn’t mind. If you don't like the idea of having a one of a kind gown, I'm sure we can put something together for you, of course, it wouldn't be to your usual standards, but I'm sure with a little time..."

“Lady?” Caroline asked as she perked up, squaring her shoulders with an arrogant stance.

“That’s right,” Hattie interjected. “Lady Kristen of Dublin Ireland, world-renown in Paris and London and a personal seamstress to Princess Beatrice herself.”

"Well,” Caroline said nearly stumbling over her words as she swallowed repeatedly. “That makes a difference. However, in the future please make certain you inform me before making such important decisions."

"As you wish Caroline, dear," Hattie said, ushering the brunette through the curtain and giving Kristen a mischievous wink as she disappeared behind her.

Kristen's spirits were lifted so much she could honestly say, even though her ego remained bruised, Hattie hadn’t been that far off the mark. She was just thankful the older woman didn’t know who or what she truly was. America was strange though, she thought. Nobody here really cared what nationality you were or where you came from, so long as you had money or title, nothing else mattered.

“Yes, I believe it will do quite nicely,” Caroline said as she pushed her way through the heavy curtain, followed by Hattie who carried her costume. She paused as she looked at the beautiful blonde. “Excellent work…Kristen, wasn’t it?”

“Lady Kristen,” she answered, playing along with the story her friend had started.

“Yes, of course, please forgive me. Well, it was very nice to meet you and thank you again for the gown. I believe my parents will be most pleased when I explain it to them.”

“Might Oi make wan suggesshun, Miss Baker,” Kristen began, setting her sewing aside and walking over to the brunette who seemed to shrink slightly in her presence. “Yer kept ‘Attie an’ me waitin’ ter peck up de dress, an’ we ‘ad many ter make for t’night’s festivities. Next time, be punctual or yer may find we’ve given de dress ter de first lady askin' for it. ‘Tis rude ter keep a lady loike ‘Attie waitin’ an’ it shows brutal manners from yer parents.”

Caroline was instantly flustered, and she tried to comment, but her mouth kept opening and shutting like a lake trout. Kristen stood her ground. She was not accustomed to being insulted by the likes of her and she wasn’t about to start now. Before the woman could regain her composure, Kristen stepped around the back of the counter, collected her small beaded bag – thankful she had chosen to bring the elegant, expensive item with her that morning – then looked back to Hattie.

“Ah’ll be seein’ yer in de mornin’,” she said fighting the urge to laugh as Hattie winked at her.

“Have a pleasant night your Ladyship,” she told her. “And thank you for all your help this week. I wouldn’t have had the courage to finish up here without you.”

Kristen knew what she was talking about and nodded, glanced once more at the brunette who had paled under the verbal scolding, then left the shop and walked casually down the street.

She knew she shouldn't have allowed a woman such as Caroline Baker to ruffle her feathers, as her mother would say, but she did. Kristen was angry and upset and wasn't certain if she wanted to scream or cry. Both ideas were quickly dismissed though, as she looked around the streets at the number of people passing by. There never seemed to be any privacy in this town and she grunted inwardly at the revelation. She needed to be alone and have a few minutes to collect herself, and the only place in this whole city where she could to do just that was at the hotel. At least there she'd be able to pull the drapes and console herself in peace.

Less than five minutes later Kristen was at the hotel hurrying up the stairs to her room. She had never retired so early before and felt sinful for leaving her job at Hattie's, but she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with that spoiled brat any longer.

She quickly unlocked the door and slipped into her room, making as little noise as possible. She didn't care much for the way she was feeling, or the looks the hotel's manager had given her when she passed him. Her mother had told her never to judge a person by how they appear or act, yet her lessons didn't settle her nerves when she saw the leering gleam on the drunken old man's features.

Kristen pulled the ribbon from her hair, allowing the weight to pull the golden stands down to her hips. She slipped her feet from her shoes and stretched her toes. If she was being sinful for leaving work early, she thought with a smile, then the evil side of life had its pleasant points.

She had just stretched out on the bed when she heard a soft rustle outside her door. She ignored it at first closing her eyes to the sound, but when the door suddenly swung open bringing with it a rush of cool air, she jumped off the bed with a loud yelp. She stared at the man standing in the doorway with wide eyes. Never, in all the weeks they had been there, had anyone dared to enter their room, least of all without knocking.

Kristen saw the gleam in his eyes before she smelled the stomach-wrenching odor of whiskey. Red Eye, she had once heard the hotel clerk call him, was a good six feet if not taller and nearly as muscular as Shay or Uncle Charles. He stood – or rather swayed – in the doorway inspecting her with a lustful grin. Kristen wanted to scream, would have screamed, if her voice weren't trapped inside her throat. She had never expected she would have to bolt her door once she was away from the Baron and cursed herself for relaxing her intuitions. It was just that she felt secure and safe here. She thought all her troubles were still a continent away.

"I paid Bill twenty dollars fer ya," the man slurred as he quietly closed the door, blocking out the light.

Kristen quickly scolded herself for shutting the drapes. At least with the setting sun, she wouldn't feel as if she were trapped in a dark hole.

"Don't be shy luvy," Red Eye growled as he began to sway closer to the bed. "Bill swore yer worth a twenty-gold piece, so don't play games. I ain't in the mood."

"Oi don't nu wat yer want," Kristen replied, finally finding her voice, "but Oi suggest yer a go before Oi ‘ave ter call de magistrate."

"Magistrate?" Red Eye hooted with laughter. "We ain't got no magistrate here, we only gots a Marshall and he's gone to Miss Millie's, so quit playing hard to get. Now, come here girl, and give me my money's worth."

Kristen screamed as he advanced toward her, scurrying across the covers of the bed. She had nearly reached the other side, when a sweaty hand grabbed her ankle, pulling her back. She tried to scream again, but the sound was muffled as Red Eye fell across her back, pressing her face into the bed.

She felt the familiar horror of the past four years swell up around her and felt the sting of tears burn her eyes. The smell of whiskey filled her nostrils when he leaned across her and started licking her neck, trying to force her to turn her head toward him. Kristen managed to let out a loud, muffled scream as the back of her dress was ripped open beneath the strength of the man's fingers.

"I like it rough," Red Eye chuckled, his mouth latching on to her earlobe

Kristen opened her mouth to scream again but found herself winded when Red Eye crawled fully on top of her. A minute later she felt the cool air brush her exposed back and realized she was no longer covered by the smelly drunk. She heard the hard thud of something heavy falling to the floor next to the bed and rolled over, scrambling off the opposite side of the thin mattress. She wiped the tears from her eyes in time to see Shay lift her assailant from the floor, thrusting his large tanned fist square in the drunk's chin. Red Eye fell back again, stumbling across the edge of the dresser to land in the empty tub.

"Leave me sister alone!" a small voice shouted from the open doorway.

Kristen and Shay both turned at once, seeing Sean with his hands clasped in tight fists and his face set in a hard, angry glare. Kristen couldn't believe her ears. He'd spoken! Her little brother had spoken. Shay had done it, he'd kept his promise and made Sean speak.

Shay stared at Sean for a moment as though he were numb. He hadn’t expected him to speak – let alone shout. It was both a delight and a pleasure to hear. It was at that moment Red Eye moaned with unconscious pain, bringing them back to the reality of the situation. Shay glanced at Kristen, seeing her torn dress hanging from her shoulders and his blood boiled. He quickly turned to the chair beside the dresser, picked up her robe, and took it to her covering her with it gently. Once she was covered, he pulled her into his strong embrace, cradling her against the security of his chest.

Kristen slowly became aware of what had happened. The fear and horror awakened within her and she began to sob. The years of pent up fear came crashing down on her all at once. The torment of all those years of hiding raked her soul and she continued to sob into Shay's shoulder until her entire body shook with the force of her release. She had forced herself to remain brave for four long years as she rejected and fought the Baron, only to find her weakness in this small, rundown room a world away from home.

Shay held Kristen until the old woman who cared for the hotel hurried into the room, pushing past the curious sightseers who had gathered outside in the hall. He ordered her to find the Marshall and bring him at once then ordered the hall be cleared. He turned back to Sean and smiled proudly. Since making the pact with Kristen, he had tried desperately to get the boy to speak, only to have it finally happen for his sister's sake. The love for his sister turned out to be stronger than his fear of the past. He had overcome his private torment, but Shay had to wonder if it had been a one-time occurrence, or if he was willing to try again.

"Are you okay, son?" he asked, hoping his tone relayed his feelings as well as he wanted it to. Sean nodded, bringing a frown to Shay's brows. "I didn't hear that, could you say it again?"

Sean smiled, knowing what his friend wanted.

"Oi’m gran’," he answered shyly, a blush tinting his lightly tanned cheeks.

Shay chuckled and held out his free arm, pulling him into a warm, welcoming embrace.

"I knew you could do it," he whispered against the boy's hair as his arm tightened around Kristen, her tears ceased, and her chin raised off his chest.

"Sean," she sobbed, replacing one current event with another. "Yer did it."

"Oi didn't want yer ter get hurt," the boy said, hugging his sister's neck.

Shay wiggled out from between the two. This was a moment he had waited weeks for, but he knew Kristen had waited longer. The two siblings needed privacy, they needed to be alone and share this new beginning without interruption.

"I'll see to this mess," Shay said nodding toward the now conscious Red Eye. "You two get packed."

"Packed? But..." Kristen hesitated after seeing the man's determined stare.

"Don't argue with me woman. It's time you moved out of here and into someplace safe. You have your choice. Either you move out to the Double Arrow with me, or you move in with Hattie. Hattie told me she had an extra room you could have, but the final decision is yours."

"Oi can't..."

"You can, and you will. Now either you choose, or I'll decide for you."

Shay stood for several seconds waiting for her answer. He secretly hoped she would choose his ranch over Hattie's room, but he knew better than to hold his breath. After what she had just gone through, he knew she needed the comfort of a woman's embrace – not his.

"Tank yer," she said softly, still holding onto her brother. "Ah’ll take ‘Attie's room."

"I thought you might," he sighed softly before turning to grab Red Eye by the shirt collar. "Come on you son-of-a-bitch. It's time for you to see your new surroundings; the inside of a jail cell that is."

"Shay wait, it wasn't jist ‘im...Oi mean...’e said ‘e paid de clerk score dollars ter ...dat is..." Kristen hesitated.

How could she explain she had been bought and paid for, however unwilling, as though she were a common whore? By the look on Shay's face, she didn't have to say anymore. He knew all too well what she meant and who was to make good on the bill, and it wasn't going to be Kristen.

"I'll take care of it," he told her, dragging Red Eye by the collar until they were out of the room heading down the stairs.

Kristen closed the door and hugged Sean once again. They had come so far, but it had taken her being attacked to bring her sibling out of his secluded shell.

"Sean, me love," she began, easing away from him. His violet eyes matching those of her own told her he was worried and scared about what was happening. "Oi nu tings ‘aven't been pure gran’ for yer, but yer canny quite nigh. Yer ‘av ter spake an’ yer ‘av ter learn ter read an’ write. ‘Tis up ter yer night ter reclaim wat de Baron stole from yer. Do yer understan’?"

"I'm scared," he said, tucking his head into her arm.

"Oi know, but Mommy wud ‘av been gran’ proud av yer. She loved yer so much."

Kristen wasn't certain if it was wise to bring up their mother, but she knew how much Sean had loved her and how much Lilith had loved them both. Perhaps with the knowledge of that love, Sean would find the strength to keep working.

"Ah’ll try," was all he said before he pushed away from her and went in search of their bags.

Packing their clothes made Kristen remember the man who had rescued her and returned her brother to her. She had to thank Shay and to let him know just how much she appreciated all the hard work he had gone through, but how do you thank someone who has given you back your life, and helped you see into the future?

Hattie had already made up the room, hearing the news of what had occurred at the hotel. She brought in a small cot for Sean and made up it up with fresh sheets and blankets. The small dresser was emptied as well as the wardrobe for their clothes. All was ready when Shay arrived with Kristen and Sean an hour later.

Kristen felt uncomfortable having to stay with Hattie, even though Shay insisted she was willing and eager to have them. She knew she should thank Shay for saving her virtue as well as possibly her very life, but she just couldn't find the words to express how she felt. She wanted to thank him for helping Sean too, but couldn't say that either. Her nerves were a jumbled mess, her head ached from all that had occurred that very afternoon, and the only thing she could think of was taking a bath and going to bed.

Her new room was very different from the one at the hotel. Like the hotel, it was on the second floor, but it was large and spacious with two windows looking out across a small rose garden. The room was bright and airy and the scent from the garden below drifted up through the open windows. The bed was a large four-poster with a thick hand quilted cover and four feather pillows. Shay had told her of how Hattie's husband died in the civil war and how she had never found the desire to remarry. She had a son, who was now in college back east, and a daughter who had married last year and was living in Minnesota, soon to have her first child. The room was the daughter’s and resembled everything she had imagined when she thought of living in America; quaint and comfortable.

She placed their few articles in the dresser drawers and opened the wardrobe in the corner of the room preparing to hang her dresses when she suddenly stopped. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat. Her fingers developed a mind of their own as they reached out, stroking the most beautiful white satin gown she'd ever seen. It was trimmed with delicate gold embroidery and had a small golden halo and mask hanging on a hook next to it. It was the Angel costume from the shop, the one Hattie had insisted would be picked up by the end of the day. It was here, but how and why?

Kristen had turned to go in search of Hattie and ask about the gown when she saw Shay leaning against the frame of the open door, his arms folded across the massive expanse of chest muscles. He was superbly handsome, his dark eyes shining through a face of sun-gold, his seductive smile curving across his perfect teeth. He looked as handsome as the devil himself. How could any man look so incredibly wonderful, and who gave him the right to look that way?

"Do you like it?" he asked, pushing away from the door frame to walk across the room to her.

"’ Tis bonny, but Oi don't understan’..."

"I told you I'd take care of it. All you had to do was promise me every dance. I kept my end of the bargain, you have to keep yours."

Kristen blushed under the man's intent inspection.

"Oi don't nu anyone in town, so yer ‘av me complete attenshun."

"You'll know a lot more than just a few people after tonight. I promise at least a dozen eligible men will be quite eager to make your acquaintance."

His tone was light yet filled with a seductive huskiness she couldn't understand.

"Oi’m not at al' attractive an’ Oi canny imagine any man wantin' ter luk at me," she said shyly, turning her back to him.

"I've looked," Shay whispered, his hands holding gently to her shoulders. "I've looked quite often."

He turned her back around, so he could look into her eyes, but once she was facing him it wasn't her eyes that caught his attention, but her lips. Full and soft and inviting, so inviting he couldn't refuse their summons. He pulled her to him, gently tipping her chin up to meet his gaze, as his lips captured hers in a willing encounter.

The touch of his mouth brought a rush of heat through Kristen's innocent soul. No man had ever made her feel as though her skin was on fire. Her heartbeat like a wild steed, pounding ferociously inside her chest. Her palms began to sweat, and her knees weakened, forcing her hands to wrap around his neck to prevent herself from falling to the floor.

Slowly, his mouth began to move, bringing an unsettling flutter to her stomach. Kristen could feel the moist heat of his tongue, tasting and licking the outline of her lips. She heard a low moan and realized with a start it had come from her. She also realized she was clinging to him, allowing him to ravish her mouth.

Gradually and with a great deal of reluctance, she pushed him away. She needed time to consider what was happening to her and why she felt this strange tingling traveling up her legs and spine.

"You'd better get ready if we're going to make the ball in time," he told her softly, his fingers caressing the soft skin of her cheek.

"Oi’m not sure if Oi’m up ter goin’," she told him, her voice sounding strangled in her throat. "Oi tink Oi shud stay ‘um wi’ Sean."

"Hattie will stay with him and after the day you've had, I think the best thing for you is to get out and enjoy yourself. Besides, you promised to go with me if I helped your brother speak. Are you backing out because of a sudden case of nerves?"

"Naw," she whispered.

How could she tell him, he set her very soul on fire merely by looking at her? How could she explain she wasn't certain if she could be around him and keep her hands to herself?

"Alright then, get dressed. I'll be back in two hours to pick you up."

With that said, he kissed the tip of her nose leaving her to hold onto the bedpost for support.

An entire evening alone with this man? Was it possible for her to survive even a minute with him, let alone several hours? She sighed deeply, reaching in the wardrobe for the costume. Her fingers trembled, and her stomach lurched. She slid the delicate material off the hanger, laying it carefully across the end of the bed before sitting next to it.

Why an angel, she wondered. Shay had insisted on calling her Angel since that first night she nearly fell out of her window staring at him but was there another reason for the costume? Something perhaps more significant? All Kristen knew for sure was, if she were to be an angel, she couldn't think of any place more perfect to be then in heaven…with Shay Sinclair.