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always were a bit on the bossy side. Probably because of all those brothers of yours.”
     
     She gasped. “Bossy? I amnot bossy.”
     
     “Hmph. Your brothers certainly used to think so.” He turned toward the window. “It’s time you stopped orchestrating the lives of everyone you know.”
     
     “I don’t do any such thing!”
     
     He glinted down at her. “No? Look at you now, getting married to save your brothers from a mess of their own making.”
     
     “This is an emergency.”
     
     “I know, I know. Lives are at stake. I understand. But you are not allowing your brothers to find their own answers; instead you’re attempting to manipulate them toyour outcome.” He sat on the windowsill. “I call that bossy.”
     
     “I call it necessity.”
     
     “Whatever you call it, it’s time someone else was in charge.”
     
     She squirmed, but his arms merely tightened. “Kincaid, put me down this instant! Hamish is not going to like this!”
     
     “Good.” Jack swung one foot across the windowsill, then the other, then he was standing in the shrubbery. He grinned at her. “Hamish is not invited.”
     
     She stilled a moment, as caught by his smile as by his words. “Invited where?”
     
     “On our honeymoon.” Jack walked across the lawn to the carriage, his muscles rippling as Fiona clung to him. “We’re going to London.”
     
     “But I thought we’d live at my house!”
     
     “With your brothers?” Jack scoffed. “The ones who’ve sworn to kill every Kincaid they find? I think not.”
     
     “But—”
     
     “My lady?”
     
     It was Simon, the footman.
     
     “Oh, ah, Simon,” Fiona said, wondering desperately what she should say.
     
     “Simon, good man,” Jack said smoothly. “Good news! Your mistress and I were married this morning.”
     
     “Wh—you—the mistress—” Simon looked from Jack to Fiona, then back.
     
     Jack nuzzled Fiona’s cheek. “Tell him, love.”
     
     Fiona barely managed a smile through the shivers from his cheek against hers. “It is true. We are married.”
     
     Jack quirked a brow at the footman. “So open the carriage door; we’ve no time to waste.”
     
     “B-b-b—”
     
     “And hurry, before I drop your mistress,” Jack continued, walking briskly past the astounded footman. “She may not have much height to her, but she’s an armful.”
     
     “Jack!” Fiona protested.
     
     Simon scurried to the coach and threw open the door.
     
     “Thank you,” Jack said, tucking Fiona inside, then settling close beside her on the leather seat. “To London.”
     
     “London?” Simon squeaked. “But that’s a long way—”
     
     “London,” Jack repeated in a voice that brooked no argument. “We’ll stop along the way to change the horses. I have some boarded on the London Road.”
     
     “Aye, my lord, but—”
     
     “Now.” The word dripped with rebuke.
     
     Simon flushed, then bowed and closed the door.
     
     Almost immediately, the carriage began rocking over the uneven road. Fiona sent a sidelong glance at Jack, noting the hard set to his jaw.
     
     This was it. She’d married Jack Kincaid and won his reluctant agreement to support her plan. Now she’d have to pay the price for that agreement.
     
     London,her bemused mind thought. Her family was left behind. Her friends and the servants she knew and trusted.
     
     In London, there would be no one. No one but her…and Jack.
     
     Good God. What have I done?
     
     Chapter Four
     
     Of course, pride and strength are not always bad. If ye’re ever in a fight, ye want a couple of MacLeans with ye in case things go from bad to worse. If there’s one word they dinna know, ’tis the word “cease.”
     
     OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND
    TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT
     
     The trip to London was long and tortuous. Though the carriage was of good quality—Alexander would have nothing less for his sister—it