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eyes flashing dangerously.
     
     Jack winced at her expression. “I didn’t mean to be coarse. It’s just that, though some believe your family can make it rain—”
     
     “And lightning. And hail. Don’t pretend you don’t believe in the curse. I know you do.”
     
     He shrugged, careful not to meet her gaze. “It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is how to calm tempers so we can return to a normal life. When you discovered your brothers were planning ill, you should have told someone.”
     
     “Oh? And who would have been able to turn their plans to good? Your father, perhaps? The man who said he’d kill any MacLean who came within sight of the property gate?”
     
     Jack frowned. “He said that?”
     
     “Your stepfather is not a temperate man. Besides, if I had exposed my brothers’ plan, they would have merely thought up another and made certain I didn’t know of it.”
     
     He rubbed his neck. “You tried to talk them out of it?”
     
     “Of course!”
     
     “You pointed out the consequences and—”
     
     “Kincaid, I thought of all of this. There is no other way but this one.”
     
     He regarded her for a while, his gaze never moving.
     
     Her shoulders slumped a bit. Perhaps hewould find a way out of this, a way she hadn’t yet found. Perhaps he would see some path she’d missed, some—
     
     “Damn it to hell.” He turned and walked to the end of the bed, leaning against the bedpost. “What a muddle.” He raked a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers brushed his bruise again. “Your brothers are as hotheaded as my own, if not worse.”
     
     She stiffened. “My brothers have reason for their anger.”
     
     “Not enough to justify planning a murder.”
     
     “Jack, I do not condone their plan, but you do not know what we’ve been through.”
     
     “Fiona, don’t—”
     
     “No! Don’tyou !” Her hands fisted at her sides, rage giving her the energy she’d lost. Outside, a shadow passed over the sun and a sudden wind blasted across the window, rattling the shutters. “Callum is gone, rotting under six feet of dirt. We are angry, we areall angry!” She pointed a finger and stabbed it into his chest. “Do you know how much I hate all of this? I hate having to see you again in such circumstances. I hate having to lie to my family and Father MacCanney. And I hate that I am forced to marry the worst possible man on earth!”
     
     The words rang in the room, clear and stark.
     
     Jack stared at her, his blue gaze so dark it appeared black. “You already regret marrying me.”
     
     “Just as much as you regret being married to me.”
     
     “We are agreed in one thing, then: we are not suited.”
     
     “We never were,” she returned hotly.
     
     “Then you will also agree that bringing an unwanted child into the world will not solve anything.”
     
     “Our child would not be unwanted! I will take good care of him, and gladly.”
     
     His gaze narrowed. “It is not as easy as that. Having a child is a serious proposition.” His lips twisted. “Even I am aware of that.”
     
     “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” she said stiffly.
     
     “But a man you have deemed unworthy of marriage could not possibly be a good father.”
     
     Her cheeks heated. “Jack, don’t—”
     
     “No, we will speak the truth. How is this child going to feel, knowing he was conceived only to stop a stupid feud?”
     
     “He doesn’t need to know that.”
     
     “Those things have a way of making themselves known.”
     
     He was right. She clenched and unclenched her hands. Finally, unable to think of a retort, she said in a sour voice, “I cannot believe you even care about such a thing.”
     
     His expression grew grimmer. “Your opinion of me could not be lower, could it? To you, I am just Black Jack Kincaid, the man with no heart.”
     
     “No, no,” she said, regretting her words. “I didn’t