To the memory of Eric Myers. You were the rar- est of creatures—a natural athlete and a gorgeous geek who loved volleyball and Star Wars equally. Nobody imitated Christ more gracefully than you, dear friend. See you on the other side. To Eric Medeiros—I’d always wanted a brother and then God gave me you, which means you should be careful what you ask for. Thanks for reading my books and letting me write at your house! And for my darling Michael—my husband, my hero, and my heart. You make every day a grand adventure. Contents Chapter 1 I need a man,” Pamela Darby proclaimed with the same… 1 Chapter 2 In his twenty-nine years of life, Connor Kincaid had been… 18 Chapter 3 The coachman squeaked in shock as the pistol appeared in… 30 Chapter 4 Neither,” Connor replied, shaking the length of rope from his… 47 Chapter 5 As Connor sprang to his feet, Pamela took a step… 63 Chapter 6 Now that the dam was broken, the words came pouring… 68 Chapter 7 The future Duke of Warrick leaned back in his chair,… 76 Chapter 8 Get the women to the vault!” Connor snapped, shoving both… 94 Chapter 9 I’m sorry, miss, but the duke refuses to receive you”… 106 Chapter 10 The duke jerked upright in his chair, feverish spots of… 121 Chapter 11 That miserable scoundrel! That wretched blackguard! That—that—” Pamela struggled to… 127 Chapter 12 Pamela winced in alarm as Connor rose to his full… 145 Chapter 13 Pamela opened her mouth but Connor’s hand was there, warm… 152 Chapter 14 When Connor awoke the next morning, it hardly improved the… 161 Chapter 15 Dread quickened in Pamela’s heart as Crispin came sauntering across… 172 Chapter 16 Pamela’s voice came out of the darkness, strained and breathless. 191 Chapter 17 What’s wrong with what you’re wearing right now?” Connor asked… 209 Chapter 18 Pamela felt as if she were floating down the grand… 223 Chapter 19 Pamela’s heart sank like a stone in her breast. Connor… 238 Chapter 20 Connor groaned, accepting her unspoken invitation to ravish her mouth… 247 Chapter 21 Although Crispin would have thought it impossible, the young maidservant… 264 Chapter 22 Pamela rested the back of her head against Connor’s shoulder,… 270 Chapter 23 Pamela’s breath quickened as the mirror revealed a man standing… 283 Chapter 24 The Duke of Warrick’s ball quickly became the most coveted… 288 Chapter 25 It appears that someone is trying to upstage you,” Connor… 299 Chapter 26 The duke sat behind the immense desk in his study… 313 Chapter 27 If Connor were dressed all in black and gripping a… 326 Chapter 28 When Crispin opened his eyes to find Sophie hovering over… 340 Chapter 29 Catriona Wescott gazed down at the letter in her hand… 352 Chapter 30 For an agonizing moment Connor thought his heart was going… 359 Epilogue As Pamela carried a piping hot tray of shortbread onto… 370 Acknowledgments 375 About the Author Other Books by Teresa Medeiros Cover Copyright About the Publisher Chapter 1 The Scottish Highlands 1814 I need a man,” Pamela Darby proclaimed with the same matter-of-fact conviction she would have used to announce “I need a scrap of lace to mend my hem” or “I need a fresh turnip for tonight’s stew.” From the coach seat opposite her, her half-sister Sophie glanced up from studying her worn copy of La Belle Assemblée. The periodical was two seasons out of date, but that didn’t stop Sophie from sigh- ing over its colorful fashion plates or poring over its recommendations for the rouge most likely to grace a young lady’s cheek with a flattering hue. “What I need—what we need,” Pamela amended, “is not just any man, but some strapping Scots lad 2 Teresa Medeiros with more brawn than brains.” She deepened her voice, faking a burr that would have done Bonnie Prince Charlie proud. “A lad easily led by two canny lasses with more wits than he.” “And I’m guessing those lasses would be us?” Sophie ventured, cocking a knowing eyebrow. She winced and wiggled on the battered cushions as the coach shuddered and began to grind its way down another rocky trail that insulted their intel- ligence by calling itself a road. “Just how do you propose we find this handsome dullard? Should we ask the coachman to stop at the next village and post a broadsheet?” Trusting that her sister would play along with her silly scheme, if only to pass the long hours on the road, Pamela bit her bottom lip. “Hmmm ... that’s not a bad idea. I hadn’t considered a broadsheet. How about one that reads, ‘WANTED: Thick- Witted, Thick-Necked Scotsman to Masquerade as Duke’s Long Lost Heir.’ Perhaps we could nail one up in the market square of each village we pass through.” “Just like that one we saw in the last village, warning us that there’s a dangerous highwayman with a price on his head terrorizing these very roads—robbing travelers and ravishing innocent women?” Sophie’s mocking words brought Pamela’s flight of fancy crashing down on the jagged rocks of real- ity. She remembered that broadsheet only too well. A crude sketch had accompanied it, depicting a masked man with a rugged jaw, a pistol in his hand