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and his sister, Johanna, and her husband, David, who shared the fine home, had two small sons of their own.
    Falcon loved his niece and nephews, but he didn't want

    to live in a house filled with rambunctious children. "I'd rather sleep in the stable," he replied sullenly.
    Alanna shook her head. It had been months since they had seen Falcon, and she didn't want to chase him away, but she truly believed the family honor was at stake. "Sleep wherever you like as long as it isn't in this house."
    Falcon sent his aunt a questioning glance, but Arielle looked away rather than take his side. He knew better than to waste his breath arguing with them. It was almost time for the noon meal, and he rested his shoulder against the house.
    "I want to talk to Father before I agree to anything."
    Rather than own slaves, the Barclays employed free men, and Hunter supervised their work in the fields. "He should come up to the house soon," Alanna assured him.
    "I'll wait for him here." Falcon wanted to see his brother and sister too, but they would have to wait. Certain he had also learned a valuable lesson, he spent the time while he waited for his father rehearsing how best to describe what he had done. No, he corrected himself, almost done. He closed his eyes, and the memory of Belle's delicious kiss instantly seeped through him. A low moan escaped his lips. When his father called his name, he jumped in surprise.
    "Have you taken to sleeping on your feet?" Hunter asked as he came up the steps.
    "No, but there are times I wish I could." Falcon straightened up, stepped into his father's embrace, and hugged him with unaccustomed fervor before backing away. Hunter's ebony hair had begun to gray at the temples, but if anything, the lighter shade served to enhance his handsome appearance. His buckskins showed off a build as trim as his son's, and his dark eyes sparkled with a bright inner light.
    Falcon knew what he wished to say, but had difficulty getting started. His only hope was that his father recalled his own youthful romantic adventures fondly enough to be sympathetic. He again described his midnight encounter

    with Belle in innocuous terms, but as his father's stare grew increasingly cold, he knew he wasn't fooled any more than his mother and aunt had been. After recounting how swiftly Belle had rejected his proposal, he lowered his voice to a whisper.
    "We didn't make love," he swore, "although I sure wish now that we had."
    Hunter cocked his head and studied his younger son's defiant expression with an intense gaze. Even with the vague description Falcon had provided, Hunter understood he and Belle had shared a dangerously passionate tryst. Painful memories of the one time he had made love to Christian's mother made it difficult for him to be objective. "Belle deserves more than a few kisses at midnight," he scolded.
    "I agree, but now Mother doesn't even trust me to sleep in the same house with her."
    Hunter folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "I don't trust you, either."
    Hurt by his father's scorn, Falcon made another stab at winning his support. "I've stopped drinking."
    "Good. Have you begun thinking?"
    Falcon supposed he deserved that, but it was still difficult to accept. "I only have a few days," he explained. "I don't want to be treated like a criminal."
    "Then stop behaving like one," Hunter replied. "It may not be such bad luck that Belle turned you down. This will give you the time to court her in a more courteous fashion. If you can manage it."
    Falcon was beginning to feel as though he had fallen into an abandoned well. Each time he tried to better his situation, he only succeeded in getting himself more deeply mired in the watery muck at the bottom. "Look—" he began again.
    With the speed that still made Hunter a formidable foe, he slammed his son back against the side of the house. Falcon's head bounced off the bricks. "No, you look,"

    Hunter ordered in a threatening snarl. "You and Belle will make the