"Yes, but once the spontaneous, uncontrolled action was… finished, and you've had time to consider all the ramifications of such ungentlemanly conduct, haven't you concluded…"

She was going to ask him to admit he had a little regret for acting like a barbarian, but he never gave her time to finish her question.

"Wishes do come true," he drawled out. "That is my conclusion."

She let out a loud sigh. He decided to change the subject. "You couldn't remember my name, could you?"

There was a vast amount of amusement in his voice. She couldn't see his face now, for it was quite dark inside the carriage, but she strongly suspected he was smiling.

One day she, too, might find some humor in this situation. She didn't now, however, and furthermore she was appalled by the entire evening. Her own forgetfulness was at the top of her list of horrors to live down. Watching William get knocked to the ground came in second. She was feeling frightened again, and all because she was all alone with this man. Good God, she was married to a complete stranger.

"I'm not usually so forgetful," she said. "It's true, I couldn't remember your name, but that was only because I was flustered."

"What made you tell them…"

She didn't let him finish his question. "You are my husband, like it or not."

"I'm your legal guardian," he amended, for he liked the sound of that much better.

She shrugged. "You married me in order to become my guardian. That was part of the agreement, remember?"

He let out a sigh. "I remember."

He sounded irritated to her. She could only conclude he wasn't very happy about his circumstances. She tried not to take offense. She knew he didn't want to be married, her grandmother had told her so. It was, therefore, ridiculous for her to have hurt feelings. Why, she barely knew the man. Besides, she was still too busy battling her fear of the giant. She didn't have time for other worries.

How had she ever thought he was a gentleman? Lord, she'd instructed him to learn how to stand up for himself. Taylor could feel herself blushing. She was suddenly quite thankful it was so dark inside the vehicle.

Confront the fear, she thought. A free woman could do that, couldn't she?

She cleared her throat. "When you first spoke to William Merritt, the look in your eyes held my attention. You made me…"

"I made you what?" he asked, wondering over her sudden timidity.

"Worry," she blurted out. She couldn't bring herself to admit she'd been afraid. "I know he besmirched my character and that is why you struck him, but I got the feeling you disliked him before he said those unpleasant things about me. Is that true? Did you dislike him before…"

"I hate the son of a bitch."

He couldn't be more blunt than that, she supposed. She found herself smiling and couldn't imagine why. Her worry was making her daft, she supposed. "Is that the reason you married me? Were you thinking to get even with your brother for his past sins?"

"No," he answered. "I needed the money. Your grandmother made me an offer I couldn't walk away from. Getting even was an added incentive. Taylor, we probably should discuss how this arrangement is going to work. There hasn't been time until now."

"There isn't anything to discuss. I'll keep my end of the bargain. You needn't worry about that. I know you didn't want to get married. And that, you see, is one of the many reasons why my grandmother found you so appealing."

He didn't see. "You chose me because I didn't want to get married?"

"Yes." She didn't elaborate.

"That doesn't make sense, Taylor."

"It makes sense to me," she argued. "I wanted to be free, and being married to you would insure that goal. I certainly didn't want to get married. But there was Uncle Malcolm just waiting to take over, and Madam and I both knew that when she died, he would force me to marry someone he chose. I now have legal protection against my uncle," she added with a nod. "Because I carry your name. What is it, by the way?"

"Ross," he answered. "Lucas Ross."

She still didn't remember ever having heard the name before. She wasn't about to admit that truth, however. He was bound to think she was a complete imbecile. "Yes, of course. Lucas Ross. I remember now," she blatantly lied. "It's a very… American name, isn't it?"

He didn't have the faintest idea what she meant by that comment. The entire situation was ludicrous to him. He was both exasperated and amused by his bride. God, he was actually married to the woman, and now that he thought about it, he didn't know a damned thing about her. Except that she was an incredibly good-looking woman. And that, he told himself, shouldn't matter to him at all.

"In this day and age, no woman can be forced to marry against her will," he remarked.

She let out a rather unladylike snort. "Perhaps in America that is true, but not in England," she replied. "And certainly not when estates and factories and trusts are at issue. There are other circumstances you don't know about and really never have any need to know, sir. Suffice it to say that Madam chose you because she knew you would complete your end of the bargain and then go away. Once we get to Boston, I shall be quite all right. You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"

He could hear the concern in her voice. "No," he answered. "I haven't changed my mind."

"Good." She drew the word out. Lucas didn't know what to make of her. Hell, he didn't think she was old enough to even be called a woman. She was so young, so innocent looking. It was his duty to make certain she arrived in Boston safe and sound, hand her over to her legal advisors there, and then leave her.

The plan sounded just fine to him. "Are there people besides your legal advisors who will take over your care?"

"Take over my care? I'm capable of taking care of myself, Mr. Ross."

She sounded incensed. Lucas smiled. He had obviously pricked her temper with his poorly phrased question. He hadn't heard any fear in her outraged reaction, however, and filed that bit of information away for future use. When Taylor was angry, she forgot to be afraid.

And she was afraid all right, afraid of him. From the moment she had spotted him walking toward her in the ballroom, she'd become as frightened as a trapped rabbit. Yet hadn't he spotted relief as well? That didn't make any sense. How could she be frightened and relieved at the same time.

"I meant to ask you if you had relatives living in Boston," he said.

"Yes, I do," she answered. She deliberately failed to add the fact that the relatives in question were only two years old. He didn't need to know that particular.

"Good."

He sounded relieved. She tried not to become irritated. "Do women in America need to be taken care of like children?"

"Some do," he supposed.

"I don't," she announced. "I'm very self-sufficient. However, aside from relatives and financial advisors waiting for me, there are also a number of other bankers eager to help make my adjustment to Boston society easier. I'm certain someone has already found me suitable lodging. Where is your home, sir?"

"Don't call me sir. My name's Lucas."

"My name's Taylor." Oh, God, he already knew that. "I mean to say you have my permission to call me Taylor. You have a ranch somewhere in the wilderness, don't you?"

She was sounding worried again. Lucas wanted to put her at ease but couldn't figure out how he was ever going to accomplish that goal. She was as skittish as a young colt. The journey to America was going to take an eternity, he decided, if Taylor continued to act so timid around him.

"Didn't your grandmother fill you in on the particulars?"

"No," she answered. "There wasn't time. I understand she spent a good deal of time with you. You visited with her on many occasions before she decided to ask you to marry me. Isn't that right?"