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vulnerability.
    Unlike Frederick, his half-brother had a dangerous quality about him. Shrewdness, persistence, and—no doubt—vindictiveness, made him an adversary of no little consequence. To make matters worse, he was probably able to turn on his masculine charm at will. Handsome men usually could, she thought, remembering the smile that had lit his face. Still, it had been a false smile, and if he was handsome, it was a handsomeness too ruthless to appeal to her. No matter what his successes in business had been, he was undoubtedly a ruffian at heart. She’d heard wild tales about Denver and the Colorado Territory. Surely only the roughest of characters could survive in such a crude and lawless place.
    His booted footsteps on the wide gallery brought her out of her worried musings. With a stern mental shake she moved from the parlor toward the hall. She was prepared, she told herself. She was more than a match for him and she would best him at every turn. Her hardest task would be curbing her temper if he continued to bait her.
    “Do come in, Mr. Lockwood. Do come in,” she greeted him softly, gesturing toward the small parlor. She had abandoned her spectacles—Frederick’s spectacles—in favor of a small fan which she now waved with a forced air of lethargy. “I do hope you’ll forgive me my poor manners earlier. I confess you took me completely by surprise. Why, Frederick never indicated you might visit Kimbell.”
    “Indeed?” He strolled into the parlor and looked around the room slowly. Then he turned back to her and gave her a cynical smile. “He knew me well, then, for I have not come back to visit Kimbell.”
    Lacie lowered her eyes at once from his sharp gaze. She should obviously ask him why he had come, but she feared the answer to that question. As the moment stretched out into uncomfortable silence her irritation grew. Finally she closed the fan with a snap and steeled herself. He was playing a cat-and-mouse game with her. But his game would only work if she let it, and she had no intention of playing the mouse for him.
    Assuming her most regal posture she moved gracefully across the room, then turned at the black marble mantel to face him.
    “Mr. Lockwood, I believe it would be best if we were honest with one another,” she began.
    His brow arched at her words and although he said nothing, she knew she had his undivided attention.
    “While you have not revealed your reason for coming, I cannot pretend to be unaware that until Frederick and I were wed, you were his legal heir.”
    There was no response save, perhaps, that his eyes became an even deeper shade of emerald. But he didn’t speak a word and only watched her steadily.
    Still, that alone was enough to unnerve her, for that deep-set gaze seemed to see right through her.
    “Perhaps”—she floundered for a moment—“perhaps you expected to sell Frederick’s school and use the proceeds to finance some other venture. I can understand your disappointment to find yourself usurped. I assure you, however, that it was Frederick’s desire that his school be preserved. I intend to carry out his wish.”
    She took a slow, shaky breath after she had finished her little speech. What would his response be? she wondered nervously. By bringing up this awkward subject had she defused the problem or had she only deepened his suspicions?
    He did not respond at once. Instead, he picked up a small porcelain figurine of a shepherdess and her flock and examined it.
    “Once more that unswerving frankness,” he intoned in a curiously mild voice as he replaced the figurine on the serpentine mahogany commode. “And yet I wonder why you would ascribe such suspicions to me. Have you reason to be on the defensive?”
    “I’m not ‘on the defensive,’ as you put it,” Lacie responded more heatedly than she’d intended. “It simply seems odd to me that you show up now, after Frederick’s death, when you might have come to see him anytime previously if