"Ah, Shay, where is ‘e?"

Kristen's voice was filled with regret and her sorrow pierced him to the core. He knew he had caused this pain, this grief she was experiencing was his to bear. It was impossible, no matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to break his vow never to hurt her.

"We'll find him Angel," he promised, helping her down from the horse's back.

They had ridden nearly twenty minutes and still could not find either Sean or Midnight.

"’E's so wee an’ frightened. Oi shud ‘av considered dat."

"You didn't know he would interrupt us. Neither of us did. What could have sent him off like that? What's happened to the two of you that scared the hell out of the kid?"

Kristen turned away trying to ignore the man's question, but he wasn't to be ignored this time. It was time for answers and it was time she offered them willingly.

"Kristen, don't hide from me," he ordered turning her to face him. "Not after all we've been through. You nearly scared the hell out of me last night running away the way you did, then Sean attacked me today. What's going on?"

"’Tis a long talean’ we ‘enny time ter discuss it. We ‘av ter fend me brah’der."

"We will, trust me."

Shay knew her concern for her brother wouldn't allow her to open up to him, but he couldn’t help her unless she was honest with him. He walked silently beside her for several long moments, before pushing the issue.

"Tell me about the Baron," he told her in a calm voice.

Kristen nearly choked, halting her pace to a staggered and sudden stop. She stared at the man as though he had grown two heads and a fork tongue.

"’Oy do yer nu aboyt ‘imself?" she whispered her question, afraid to ask very loudly just in case she hadn't heard him right.

"Sean told Hattie he was mean and did bad things. He also said he frightened you. Is that who you're running from Kristen?"

"Oi tink me brah’der talks too much."

This comment brought a soft chuckle from Shay at the irony of her statement.

"I want to know Kristen. Tell me what's going on. Is this Baron after you?"

"I don't know. I hope not. I think I led him 'stray when we left Ireland."

"What do you mean lead him astray?"

"Shay please, Oi’m not ready ter discuss it. Yer jist ‘av ter understan’ an’ bear wi’ me. Thar’s too much at stake. Oi love yer, Oi truly do, but Oi jist canny spake aboyt it...Saints be praised! Indians!"

Shay looked across his shoulder to see Sean being guided back across the fields by several Indians on horses. He was still on Midnight's back but looked frightened.

"It's alright Angel, they're friends of mine, but it looks as though they've narrowed our search for your brother."

"’Ill they ‘urt ‘imself?"

"No. The Indians in these parts are peaceful, especially these. If they did hurt your brother, I'd have to tell my sister. You see, Tracy married the one in front. His name is White Wings, the others are his brothers."

"Wat do they want?"

"They come here once a month to visit and we exchange goods. They give me furs or horses and I give them whatever staples they need. That's how I got Midnight. His Indian name was God's Devil. I renamed him."

"Tank heavens."

Shay chuckled at Kristen's response, sensing the apprehension and fear inside her along with the Irish determination not to judge before knowing. That was one of the wonderful things he loved the most about this woman.

There was that word again. Love. He had to stop thinking like that.

Shay waved to his friends as he walked with Kristen toward them. He smiled at Sean, frozen like a carved statue on top of Midnight. He prayed the boy wouldn't allow this fright of seeing Indians turn him back into his shell. Shay hated the thought that the boy would let anything reverse his progress and fought with himself not to yell at Sean, knowing that would surly do the trick if the sight of White Wings hadn't already.

Sean jumped down from Midnight the second the Indians stopped, running like the wind toward his sister. He spotted Shay and diverted his path, running back into the open field.

"Shay stop ‘imself!" Kristen shouted as the man took off after the child.

Shay overpowered him in a matter of seconds, wrestling him to the ground. He held the boy prisoner, pushing his arms into the dirt above his head.

"Stop it now," he shouted over the boy's screaming. "Sean listen to me. The Baron isn't here, nobody's going to hurt you or your sister."

"Yer were, Oi saw yer. Yer were attackin' ‘er."

"No, I wasn't, I was kissing her."

"Why? De Baron tried, but Kristen cried. Why did she let yer?"

"Because she loves me, and I love her."

There, it was out, only it didn't quite sound as terrible as Shay had thought it would. In fact, it sounded pretty good, it felt pretty good too, even if it was said only to soothe the boy's hysterics.

"But yer ‘urt ‘er," the boy screamed.

"Naw ‘e didn't, Sean," Kristen said as she ran to join them, hoping her calm, breathless tone would aid in relieving the boy's hysterics.

"Den why ye bleedin'?"

Kristen stared at her brother disbelieving what he asked. She wasn't bleeding, there was no cause for her to bleed. Then she heard Shay's inhale and looked at him. His eyes were examining her skirts and the stain of blood on the center of the light blue material.

"Saints be praised!" she cried, brushing her hand across the blood stain.

"That won't help Angel. I'll have Mira wash it when we get back to the house."

"Why ye' bleedin'?" Sean asked again, calming down for the moment.

Shay helped him up and glanced back to his friends, who he knew had heard every word.

"Let's get back to the ranch," Shay said, slipping his arm around Kristen's waist and turning her back toward the grazing mare.

Kristen was humiliated beyond words and she was certain the deep blush glowing across her face told everyone what had happened. She mounted the horse then accepted her brother, as Shay handed him up. A soft smile and a wink made the color burn hotter across her cheeks, but not for the same reasons she had blushed before. Shay climbed on the back of Midnight and turned to his friends, signaling for them to follow.

An hour later Kristen sat in Shay's bedroom, her dress and petticoat removed, her long golden hair hanging loose about her shoulders and the soft glow of her bath still shining pink on her delicate skin. Shay had insisted she bathe after retrieving her soiled clothing, promising to send word to Hattie of their safety. He barely spoke two words to her as he hurried in the room and out again, disappearing through the small doorway.

Kristen was certain he regretted making love to her. Why else would he be avoiding her? If she hadn't been stranded in this room with nothing but a blanket covering her, she would have gone in search of the man and demand he explain himself.

Irritated beyond the point of modesty, Kristen began searching the room for something even remotely decent to wear. She finally came up with one of Shay's blue work shirts and the black pants from his costume. Tightening the belt from the top drawer around her waist as snug as possible, she slipped on a pair of Shay’s socks, stuffed the shirt tails into the waist of the pants and rolled the sleeves up as far as they would go.

She stood back and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her long blonde hair hung loose about her shoulders, the oversized shirt buttoned all the way only came to the cleavage of her breasts and the pants had been turned at the hems until a thick roll circled her slender ankles. Far from being a Lady Kristen original, but it’d have to do. Now she had to find Shay.

Kristen hurried down the stairs struggling to keep the top of her shirt together, when she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Quietly, she stepped around the corner, ignoring the rooms as she passed through them until she reached the kitchen. There she stopped and listened. Shay and the one he called White Wings, were talking in words she couldn't understand. Was this the Indian language, or was it some sort of code made up for the sake of listeners? Logic dictated, and she ruled out the later of her thoughts.

Shay and White Wings continued speaking as though no one was around, even though they both had heard her soft steps when she joined them. The smell of her floated around him and Shay could barely concentrate on what his brother-in-law was saying. White Wings laughed, noticing the man's distraction.

"She's very beautiful," he told Shay in his native tongue. "Is she yours?"

"You can't own another person, old friend," Shay answered with a slight blush to his tanned features.

"Why not? Your people have been doing it for centuries. Why should you stop now?"

"Let me rephrase that, I don't own her. She's running from something, or rather someone, and until I know the whole story, I can't even hope to lay possession on her."

"I assume she’s not married, since it was virgin blood that stained her dress."

"No, she's not married, but it is a man she's running from. I don't know for sure what relationship he has with her though."

"Ask her."

"I've tried, she doesn't answer."

"Make her tell you."

"How? I can't force her if she's not willing and I won't cause her pain. I care too much for her to bring anymore tears to her eyes."

"You don't have to cause pain Shay, but you can still force an answer from her. Or have you never learned that there are times when even the strongest willed person can't refuse? I'm sure after seeing her dress, you can think of at least one way to make her talk."

"You're a very perverted man, White Wings. I rather like the way you think."

The two men laughed, then turned as though just now realizing they weren't alone. Kristen stared silently at the two. She wasn't positive and had no way of proving it, but she could swear they had been speaking of her. White Wings had glanced at her as he spoke with Shay, but even that couldn't be proven if she couldn't understand the words.

Shay's eyes met the opening of his shirt draped across her slender body, revealing the large swell of round breasts. His eyes flowed across her, examining her with interest. She looked strange in his clothes, but she wore them with an air of sophistication.

"You shouldn't be dressed like that," he told her, his tone filled with a huskiness that made her frown.

"Oi wudn’t ‘av ‘ad ter , if Oi ‘ad somethin' ter wear, but Oi ‘enny, so Oi made do wi’ wat dare was."

"I sent one of my men to Hattie's to get you some clothes. You could have stayed upstairs until they arrived."

"An’ not knowin’ wat wus ‘appenin' wi’ me brah’der? Yer pure considerate, Mr. Sinclair." White Wings busted out laughing, patting the man next to him on the back.

"You have your work cut out for you friend," he said in his own native tongue. "She's filled with spirit."

"If she calls me Mr. Sinclair one more time, I'll bite her tongue for her," he growled to the man, in a language Kristen understood.

Kristen turned to the Indian and narrowed her stare.

"Yer understan’ English, don't yer?" she demanded.

White Wings cleared the laughter from his throat and nodded.

"I'm half white and my wife is a white woman. I was raised among the white man, in fact, I was even educated as a white man."

"White Wings' mother is Mira, my housekeeper. He and I spent most of our childhood together."

"So, why de pretense whaen Oi arrived? Oi nu yer were spakin’ av me an’ again jist nigh."

"I speak my native language when it suits me. I taught Shay how to speak Blackfoot, so I speak it when I visit to make certain he hasn't forgotten how. As for speaking of you, you're right, but I've been married long enough to know, you don't repeat what you say about women in front of them."

"Oi don't much care for yer way av thinkin', Sir."

"The name is White Wings, not sir, and I don't care how you feel, either way. You're not mine to care for."

White Wings turned back to Shay and patted him on the back again.

"Have fun, my friend. Make me proud," he said in his native tongue again, then glanced to Kristen and smiled a very devilish, handsome grin.

Kristen growled and stomped her foot, her Irish temper causing the man to laugh again. How could any man excel in aggravating a woman, just for pleasure?

"’ E did dat jist ter make me mad," she snapped as soon as the man left the room.

Shay chuckled at Kristen's appraisal.

"No, actually he did that to help you feel comfortable around him. He knows you're frightened and he didn't want to upset you. He's a good man, Kristen, and a good friend. I'd appreciate it if you would at least tolerate him and his brothers while they're here."

"’ Oy long ‘ill we ‘av ter be toleratin’ each other?"

"They'll only stay for a few days. They'll be gone by next weekend."

"Well, Oi suppose ‘tis a gran’ tin’ Oi won't ‘av ter tolerate dem beyond dis day since Ah’ll be leavin' soon as me clothes arrive."

"Your clothes have arrived, but you're not getting them yet."

"Wat? Why in ‘eaven's name not?"

Her Irish temper simmered down to a slow boil, but Shay knew it would only take one word – the wrong word – and it would be steaming again.

"Sean asked to visit with the Indians for a while and I didn't see any reason to tell him no. I think it's the horses he really wants to get to know. I gave him permission to sleep out with them tonight."

"’ Ow cud yer do dat, withoyt askin' me first? Oi’m ‘is sister, not yer."

"Thank God. I'd look dreadful in a skirt."

"Dat’s not funny, Travis Sinclair an’ yer pure well know it. Yer had no right ter give permission ter somethin' loike dis an’ not ask me first."

Shay sighed. She was right, he should have asked her, but he couldn't go back up to his bedroom to ask her anything, knowing full well she would still be naked. If he had, they would still be up there, and Sean would never have received an answer. Shay smiled at the woman and edged his way closer to her, as he began speaking again, causing her to back up as he advanced.

"I beg your forgiveness, my Angel," he whispered seductively. "I know your wrath is mighty and my crime is great. I plead with you to make my punishment swift and merciful."

"Don't be daft. Yer actin' loike a bleedin’ lunatic."

"Oh, but I am, Great One," he said backing her into a wall and encaging her against it with his hands. "I have tasted what sweet nectar you produce for your favors and I vow I have grown addicted to the splendor of your rewards. Punish me now so I might know of your tenderness again."

Shay leaned down and kissed the curve of her neck, sending chills of desire traveling along Kristen's spine. If he was insane, she thought, he was making her just as certifiable.

"Oi don't care much for punishment," she whispered, her words husky and deep.

Shay chuckled softly, bringing his hand up to cup her delicate breast beneath the worn material of his work shirt.

"Then give me your reward Angel," he demanded, sucking her earlobe between his teeth. Kristen gasped, arching her back into his touch.

"I love yer," she told him, as her hands found the opening of his shirt and began to pry the buttons loose.

"If you loved me, Angel, you'd tell me why you're running away."

"Oi’m not runnin'," she told him, leaning her head back to allow him access to the opening of her shirt.

"You're running from the madman you call the Baron," he insisted, his tongue trailing across her neck to play in the deep valley between the swell of breasts.

"’ E is a madman. ‘E's dangerous."

"How?"

"’ E wants ter keep me ‘is prisoner. ‘E stole wat belongs ter Sean's an’ beat ‘imself ‘till ‘e wudn’t spake."

"Who is he, Angel?"

Shay knew he was playing with fire, in more ways than one. If Kristen came to her senses before he finished getting his answers, it was likely he would never get this close to her again.

"’ E's me mom’s ‘usban’."

"But your mother's dead."

"’ E married ‘er before she died. ‘E stole everythin', even ‘er ‘ill ter live."

"Is he after you Angel?" he asked.

Following White Wings’ advice, he was intent on getting his answers, intent on seducing them from her, hoping she wouldn't answer too quickly so he would have a chance to prolong his integration. Kristen moaned as Shay moved the shirt aside, playing and pinching the tender flesh of her nipple.

"Naw, ‘e's too daft."

"Did he touch you like I am Angel?"

Shay's stomach lurched thinking of any man touching her like this - any man other than him.

"’ E tried. Ah, God Shay, shut up an’ love me," she pleaded, lacing her fingers in his hair and pulling his mouth to her throbbing nipple, begging for his touch.

He eagerly answered her summons, suckling the hard kernel into his mouth, teasing and nipping at the tender flesh until he felt her knees begin to buckle beneath her. He slid his hands down to her hips, kneeling in front of her for easier access, pinning and securing her to the wall. He still had to get his answers, he still had questions to ask and then he'd give her what she craved.

"What did the Baron steal from Sean?" he asked, biting the buttons of her shirt open.

Kristen shivered her surrender. If he didn't touch her soon, if he didn't fill her with the heat of his body, she would surely explode then and there.

"’ Is title," she whispered in a gasp as she felt the belt holding the pants up loosen.

"What title?"

"Baron av Drake's Crest, Earl av Chesterfield."

Shay's head jerked up and his eyes widened, fusing with the passion-filled violet. If Sean was a Baron that made Kristen...

"You’re royalty!" he said with surprise.

Kristen frowned. What was he talking about? How did he know...then the past few minutes came flooding back to her like a dam bursting. How could she be so stupid! How could she tell him everything just for the sake of his touch? That made her no better than the barroom harlot Caroline Baker accused her of.

"Yer bleedin’ langer!" she snapped, pushing him away and grabbing for the pants before they fell to the floor. "’Oy dare yer...yer ‘ad no roi...Oi hate yer!" she finished in tears, running for the stairs.

Shay caught up to her in three large strides, pulling her around, capturing her wrists before she could strike him, and ignoring the pants that threatened to fall off her slender frame.

"Kristen I'm sorry. It was the only way I could get you to talk to me. You wouldn't answer my questions and I can't help you unless I know what’s going on. I'm sorry Angel, I truly am. Please forgive me."

"Never! Yer used me, Yer tricked me, yer made me feel loike...loike..." she couldn't say it.

Her tears flowed freely from her eyes, causing Shay to feel the pain of her statement without hearing the actual words. He never meant to treat her like that, never wanted her to feel anything but desire...love.

"You're nothing like that, Angel. You're pure and innocent and good."

"Not anymore. Yer took dat from me, remember?"

Kristen worked her wrists free and ran up the stairs, leaving Shay to feel the forceful blow of her words.

He had taken it away from her, all of it. Her virginity, her purity, her virtue. He had robbed her of the only thing the Baron never stole from her. Her innocence.