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gentle lady smiling so shyly at Rebecca was simply too beautiful, too feminine, and too damn thin to belong to the Winchester clan.
    And yet there was a hint of a resemblance, a nagging reminder of the impossible four-year-old he'd held in his arms, something indefinable that told him she really was his Lady Sara.
    Gone was the wild mop of honey-colored curls. Her hair was shoulder-length, still given to curl, but as dark as chestnuts. Her complexion looked pure to him from the distance separating them, and he wondered if she still had the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
    She'd grown to only average height, judging by the fact that she was eye level with Colin's younger sister. There certainly wasn't anything average about her figure, however. She was rounded in all the right places.
    "Look at all the young bucks moving in," Colin announced. "They're like sharks circling their prey. Your wife seems to be their target, Nathan," he added. "Hell, you'd think they would have the decency to leave a married woman alone. Still, I suppose I can't really fault them. My God, Nathan, she's magnificent."
    Nathan was fully occupied watching the eager men chase after his bride. He had an almost overwhelming urge to beat the foppish grins off their faces. How dare they try to touch what belonged to him?
    He shook his head over his illogical reaction to his bride.
    "Here comes your charming father-in-law," Colin said. "God, I didn't realize how bowlegged he is. Look how he shadows her," he continued. "He isn't about to let his prize out of his sight."
    Nathan took a deep breath. "Let's ride, Colin. I've seen enough."
    Not a hint of emotion was in his voice. Colin turned to look at him. "Well?"
    "Well, what?"
    "Damn it, Nathan, tell me what you think."
    "About what?"
    "Lady Sara," Colin persisted. "What do you think of her?"
    "The truth, Colin?"
    His friend gave a quick nod.
    Nathan's smile was slow, easy. "She'll fit through the window."
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    Chapter Two
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    Time was running out.
    Sara was going to have to leave England. Everyone would probably think she'd run away again. They'd begin to call her coward, she supposed, and although that slander would sting, she was still determined to go through with her plans. Sara simply didn't have any other choice. She'd already sent two letters to the marquess of St. James requesting his assistance, but the man to whom she was legally wed hadn't bothered to respond. She didn't dare try to contact him again. There simply wasn't enough time left. Aunt Nora's future was at stake, and Sara was the only one who could—or, more specifically, who would—save her.
    If the members of the ton believed she was running away from the marriage contract, so be it.
    Nothing ever turned out the way Sara imagined it would. When her mother had asked her to go to Nora's island the previous spring to make certain she was all right Sara had immediately agreed. Her mother hadn't received a letter from her sister in over four months, and fear about her health was beginning to make Sara's mother ill. In truth,
    Sara was just as concerned about her mother's health as she was about her aunt's. Something had to be amiss. It simply wasn't like her aunt to forget to write. No, the monthly packet of letters had always been as dependable as the inevitable rain on the annual Winchester picnics.
    Sara and her mother agreed that neither one of them would confide the real reason behind her sudden departure. They settled on the lie that Sara was simply going to visit her older sister Lillian, who lived in the colonies of America with her husband and infant son.
    Sara had considered telling her father the truth, then discarded the notion. Even though he was certainly the most reasonable of the brothers, he was still a Winchester through and through. He didn't like Nora any better than his brothers did, though for his wife's sake he wasn't as vocal in his opinions.
    The Winchester men had turned