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exiled Conn’s sister, Skye, and her husband, Adam.
    The St. Michaels were not of the bluest blood, nor were they considered of first-class eligibility in the marriage market. Aiden’s great-grandfather had been a wealthy London merchant who had done a great personal favor for Henry VII, and had been rewarded with a title and estate for his troubles. Three generations later Aiden St. Michael was all that was left of her family, and the one condition that her dying father, Lord Bliss, had begged of the queen was that the bridegroom she eventually chose for his daughter would take over his name. The queen had agreed, for it was not an unusual request, and as far as Conn O’Malley was concerned, it was a reasonable one. There were, after all, shiploads of O’Malleys. Conn would not be missed at all, and he would have a title in the bargain.
    Aiden St. Michael was not a great beauty. She was taller than the average woman, and somewhat bigger boned. Her skin was fair, and she had copper-colored hair and gray eyes. She was educated far beyond most girls of her day, even more than her bridegroom. But Aiden was bright and amusing, and she loved Conn O’Malley with her whole heart. Their early years together had been difficult, but now they lived the kind of life Conn had always dreamed of living. They were wealthy and the parents of a fine family.
    Life had gotten too comfortable for them, he thought somewhat wryly. So comfortable that when they had agreed to look after his niece, he had believed that it wouldn’t disturb their peaceful existence. Conn grinned to himself. He really should have known better. Velvet was, after all, Skye’s daughter, and hadn’t his big sister been the hell-raiser of all time?
    He shifted himself in the chair. The message addressed to Lord de Marisco had arrived only yesterday. Dame Cecily had brought it to him herself, for, having recognized the seal of BrocCairn, she suspected that it was an important communiqué. The old woman well remembered Velvet’s betrothal ten years before and how worried Skye had been about it. Skye, remembering her own childhood betrothal, which had culminated in a disastrous first marriage for her, hadn’t wanted to risk the chance that her daughter would suffer as she had. Still, Adam had wanted it so very much, and he had promised his wife that should Velvet and young Gordon not suit once she was grown, the match would be called off. Velvet was, he reminded his wife, his only child, his beloved daughter. Skye had at last agreed, for she loved her husband and knew he would never hurt Velvet.
    Conn had debated about opening the missive addressed to his brother-in-law. Adam was probably still some months from returning, and the communiqué might be important. Conn felt that Adam would certainly understand. Breaking the seal Conn opened the parchment. Quickly scanning the message, he was shocked to learn that both the old earl, his wife, and his second son were all deceased. He was equally disconcerted to learn that Alexander Gordon, now twenty-eight, wished to marry Velvet as quickly as possible so that he might sire a male heir, there being no others in his family to carry on the Gordon of BrocCairn name. The letter was almost brusque in its tone.
    Astounded by this turn of events, Conn nonetheless understood the gentleman’s position. Still, he didn’t feel he had the right to force Velvet into marriage with a virtual stranger. He was not her parent, and at that thought he heaved a mighty sigh of relief. He knew his sister’s feelings on the subject, and he also knew that Adam would not want his only child married off willy-nilly despite the official betrothal agreement. It was not Conn’s responsibility, and yet it was.
    The earl would be arriving from Dun Broc within the next few weeks, but Adam and Skye were most inaccessible. The earl was within his rights to press for an immediate wedding, the betrothal having been officially celebrated. It was all very