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offering him a hand back into his daughters' lives.
Rose took Greta in her arms, swaying her back and forth
to sleep.
Collin closed his eyes. For the first time in two years, he
was at peace. He owed it all to a woman who had a troubled
past, and that scared the hell out of him. Could he take what
Serenity and Rose so graciously offered, or was this
happiness merely like the castles in the sand he had built in
his youth? Those could be easily be washed away with the
rising tide.
* * * *
In the still of the night, Rose lay cushioned between Greta
and Emily in the small bed by the window. She could barely
make out Serenity sleeping in the other bed with Cherise and
Alisha.
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Rose stroked Greta's back when the little one rolled onto
her tummy. She should have been satisfied when she saw
Serenity in Collin's arms. But it was a hollow victory. Collin
and Serenity were attracted to each other. There was no
doubt in her mind of that. But could they ever have more?
Serenity deserved to be loved. Collin was capable of it, but
could he give it?
Rose touched the locket Oliver had given her, wishing she
could talk to him. Did he still love her or had he merely been
toying with her? There were rumors that Lord Stratten was
quite a playboy. He had never given her any reasons to doubt
him until he left. It had been almost a year ago. At first, the
long, romantic letters came regularly, then dwindled. It had
been four months since the last vague one.
What did she know about being an earl's wife anyway? She
was a poor country lass who had fled Scotland with her late
husband when they were both young. Now, she was an old
widow, for heaven's sake. Maybe Oliver had come to his
senses. If so, why hadn't he just been honest with her?
But then again, did she know the man as well as she
thought she did?
She kept replaying the conversation between herself and
that stuffy butler. Could the man she loved really have
washed his hands of his family responsibilities?
Rose cuddled a whimpering Greta close. She had charted
this course. Now she must see it through to the end. Once
Collin and Serenity were happily married, then she would
worry about her wayward earl.
* * * *
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Sweet Serenity
by Catherine Stang
Simon held his breath as he watched Lord Tarrington
survey the blonde whore he had procured for him at Lilly's
Lovenest. He had been pleased with this find. With her hair
down, the gel looked quite a bit like Serenity. He just hoped
Lord Tarrington would approve or his plan was doomed to fail.
Knowing how angry Lord Tarrington was that he had been
unable to locate Serenity, Simon felt a twinge of guilt for
bringing Desiree to him. He had paid her well, twice her usual
price. Besides, he must distract Lord Tarrington from his
immediate pursuit of Serenity, if she was going to be able to
leave town with the MacClarrons. While his boss was taking
out his frustrations on the soiled dove, Serenity could escape.
He had found Serenity a surprisingly worthy adversary
from the moment she fled Tarrington. Seeing her with the
MacClarron children over the course of their trip out here,
Simon knew deep in his gut that he could only make one
choice. Tonight, seeing them as a family, clinched it. Sending
a whore to the lion's den seemed a small price to pay for
Serenity's freedom.
"Will that be all, sir?" Simon asked, backing out of the
small hotel room.
"Yes," Lord Tarrington replied firmly. He did not spare the
girl a look as he slammed the door on Simon.
Simon winced at the sound of the belt snapping, but kept
walking. He was in too deep to turn back now.
* * * *
New York City
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Sweet Serenity
by Catherine Stang
The next morning, Myles's driver steered his carriage
through the iron gates and down the long driveway that led to
a massive, gothic style brick house. Beside him, Fiona shifted
on the black leather seat. She was wearing a gray,
serviceable dress. Its simple line emphasized her nicely
curved body. The paper she clasped tightly in her hands made
a crinkling sound as a breeze whistled beneath the cover.
"This is it?" Utter disbelief edged Myles's tone. "My uncle's
mistress lives here?" He gaped at the finely manicured lawn
and rose gardens.
"Aye," Fiona replied. "This is the address Mrs. MacClarron
gave me that awful night."
"Mrs. MacClarron," Myles sputtered as his mind whirled
with the implications. "Widow of the famous shipbuilder,
Duncan MacClarron?"
She nodded. "A refined lady, she is."
Myles couldn't control his amazement. This was no lady to
be trifling with. What was his uncle thinking? Maybe he wasn't
thinking at all.
"Do you want me to wait, sir?" his driver asked, while the
horses snorted impatiently.
"Yes." Myles lifted Fiona down from the carriage. She was
light as a bird. "I don't know how long this will take."
He mounted the huge stone steps with Fiona behind him.
The porch, with its massive stone columns, was oppressive. A
heavy, richly decorated wooden door loomed uninvitingly
before them. Its brass gargoyle knocker glared back at him,
daring Myles to knock.
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Good God, my lack of sleep is making my imagination run
wild. Before he could retreat, he lifted the knocker with a
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