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"Even though he is not quite human?" She smiled, and her eyes crinkled at the edges. "I

sometimes think he is more human than anyone I know.”

"And how well do you know him, Caitlin? Did you know that he was in prison for years

after murdering his own father?”

"In prison?”

She hadn't known. It was a small but important point in her favor. "I only just discovered

it myself. But it explains a great deal about Holt and his behavior

his dishonorable

treatment of my sister, and his propensity for violence. That is why I have returned,

Caitlin—to make sure he can't harm anyone else.”

She considered his statement in silence. He sensed that his revelation hadn't been a

complete shock to her, any more than Cecily's had been to him.

"Well?" he demanded. "Do you still consider Holt your friend? Would you defend him

now?”

"Even if what you claim is true

and I'm not saying it is

what do you think you can do

about it?”

Niall had played out several scenarios in his mind during the ride from Denver, and

every one of them had ended with Holt in a whimpering, bloody puddle at his feet.

Beyond that

"Do you truly believe," Caitlin said, "that you can simply walk up to him and

what?

Make him turn himself in to the authorities?”

"I do not fear him.”

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"Then you are a fool. A wise man would be afraid. But you have no right to do anything

to him. He has not hurt anyone in all the time I've known him. You cannot ruin his life,

and Athena's, simply because you hate what you cannot understand.”

"If I hated everything I did not understand," he said, "I would hate you.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "You might as well hate me if you intend

harm to my friends.”

He smiled bitterly. "I'm only interested in finding Morgan Holt. The rest of you

You are

leaving, are you not?”

"Within the hour. Harry decided that it would be the right thing to do. It was obvious that

you would want us gone. You need not worry that we'll cause you any more trouble, Mr.

Munroe.”

"It's too late to worry about that, Miss Hughes.”

"You have had your way. Isn't that enough?”

He jumped to his feet. "No. It's far from enough." He crossed to the bed in two strides,

gripped Caitlin's shoulders, and kissed her.

She did not even bother to resist. The temporary stiffness came from shock, but an

instant later she was pliable and willing in his arms. Her mouth opened to his with all the

enthusiastic skill of an experienced whore.

Oh, yes, she wanted him, just as he wanted her. No sentimentality or inconvenient

expectations, not even the benefit of love or even real liking—simply raw, unbridled lust.

And Caitlin was not ashamed. No, not in the least.

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He ended the kiss and pushed her away. She leaned back, neither offended nor

outraged by his liberties. Her freckles were very prominent.

"What was that for?" she said, catching her breath.

"You know." He turned his back on her so that he wouldn't see her lips and the frank

desire in her eyes. "You've known since the day we met.”

"That you want me? That I want you?" She laughed softly. "What a relief it is to say it

aloud and stop pretending. I was never very good at pretending.”

"No." He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the wall. "Ordinarily I am very

good at it. One must be, in my type of work. But I seem to have lost my abilities where

you are concerned.”

"And that troubles you?”

"Why should it trouble me, that I am infatuated with a girl of no parentage, dubious

morals, and interests that directly conflict with my own?”

"And what sweet, loverlike words they are," Caitlin said as if to herself. "No woman

could wish for a more devoted suitor.”

Niall turned on her. "How many have you had, Caitlin? Scores, I should think. Hundreds.

Am I just another conquest, or am I a particular prize?”

"What arrogance. You think the worst of me for having taken other lovers, but I'm sure

you feel no qualms about the women you've had. Oh, no. All your remorse is for wanting

me.”

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He was torn between the desire to strike her and kiss her again until she was incapable

of speech. "I allowed the circus to stay on the ranch for your sake, and yours alone.

You've repaid me by taking Athena's part against her own brother, and against what is

best for her. Holt is a convict, a murderer, and I will not allow him to remain where he

has any chance of contacting my sister again.”

The change of subject steered the conversation back where he wanted it, but he could

not concentrate. Caitlin's eyes continued to laugh at him, though he could have sworn

he saw hurt under the humor. Could a woman like Caitlin be hurt, truly hurt, by a man?

"I see," she said at last. "Well, I cannot help you. I do not know where Morgan is, and I

wouldn't tell you if I did. I may want you, Niall Munroe, but not at any price.”

"Not even the price of wealth beyond your imagining?”

"I will not betray my friends for money—”

"I do not speak of betrayal." He took a step toward her and stopped, unable to think of

what to do with his hands. "I speak of

you and me, Caitlin. Of what we might have

together.”

"Can I believe what I just heard?" She closed her eyes. "Are you offering me—”

"Everything." He perched on the edge of the chair, fighting the absurd urge to go down

on his knees. "Security, fine clothing, carriages, jewelry, all the things you have never

had. A real home to live in, Caitlin, not a tent. No need to endanger your life ever again.”

"You wish me to leave the circus? To abandon all my friends, the life I have always

known, to become your

" Slowly her mouth relaxed, and she met his gaze. "To

become your mistress. That is what you are offering, isn't it?”

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Heat rose in his face. Damn her, the woman could make him feel like a little boy who

had just been caught with his fingers in the pie. How could he let her have such power

over him?

"Yes," he said coldly. "That is exactly what I am offering. But the mistress of Niall

Munroe would lack nothing, I assure you." He looked toward the window, feeling a cold

rush of air against his cheek even though the sash was closed. "I have never taken a

mistress. I have never believed I wanted one, until now. I want you, Caitlin. I admit it.

And I am willing to pay whatever you ask.”

The look on her face was so gentle that he could have wept. "There is only one

problem, my friend. I'm used to freedom. I come and go and behave exactly as I wish,

and no man tells me what I must or must not do. Your society would never allow that,

not even in a great man's mistress. And I don't care to be owned. Not even by you.”

He stared at her blankly until he realized exactly what she had said.

She'd turned him down. Turned him down, whom very few ever refused without

profound regret. She, who had nothing, who lived from day to day with no guarantee of

the next night's dinner, shunned by all decent folk, refused a life of ease and luxury. And

him.

"I have seldom in my life asked anything twice," he said. "I am accustomed to getting

what I want. But I will offer once more. Come to Denver with me. Live in a fine house

that you may call your own, where you may do whatever you please within its walls. I do

not expect you to move in society or become like other women. I do not ask that you

change yourself. I demand only that you and I enjoy each other as we wish, in all the

freedom you desire.”

"But don't you see? I would change myself if I did what you ask. The woman you want

now would cease to exist, and you would grow to despise what you admire in me. As I

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would grow to despise you." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Niall. There is only one reason that

would compel me to accept, and that is if you give up this persecution of Morgan and

Athena." She held out her hand. "Let them live their own lives, Niall, and I will share

yours.”

He backed away from the bed, averting his eyes from her appeal. So she could be

bought, after all

at a price he refused to pay.

Damn her.

"Very well," he said. "You have made your position clear. But understand me, Caitlin—

my offer has no bearing on my intentions toward Morgan or my desire to protect my

sister. I will do whatever is necessary, with or without your help." He bowed stiffly. "If

you will forgive me, I have a murderer to find.”

Caitlin's hand hovered in midair, fingers curled in supplication, even as he shut the door

on impossible dreams.

"It is too risky. We ought to delay departure for at least another day," Ulysses said,

studying the sky as if it were a dangerous and unpredictable beast.

Which, Caitlin thought, was precisely the truth. And she would rather face that

dangerous beast than spend a single night under the same roof as Niall Munroe.

There was no sign of the noonday sun behind the flat gray canopy of clouds. She,

Harry, and Ulysses stood near the bam, where the entire circus caravan was assembled

and ready to make the journey east through the pass—a dozen wagons, fifty horses

and ponies including Caitlin's, and the much-prized calliope. Niall, thank heaven, had

not emerged from the house.

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Caitlin balanced her weight on a pair of makeshift crutches, aware of the stiffness in her

leg but no longer in pain. If her injury couldn't stop her from leaving the place, no human

being was going to do so. Not even a well-meaning friend.

"You are as unlike your namesake as any man could be, Ulysses Wakefield," she

chided. "Where is your sense of adventure? Your trouper's spirit? Or, for that matter,

your pride?”

"I have never been one for suicidal acts," Ulysses said. "Nor do I wish to see the troupe

caught in a snowstorm. My desire to leave does not seem quite as urgent as yours,

Firefly.”

Caitlin had told no one about Niall's offer. Despite Uly's misgivings, Harry was obviously

as eager to leave as she was. It was difficult to say whether he worried more for her or

Morgan—who was still in the vicinity, to judge by the wolf tracks that appeared every

night near the house. He could not quite break his final ties to the troupe. Or to Athena,

though he hadn't gone after her.

How can men be such fools?

"We are ready to go," Harry said, tugging his worn scarf more snugly about his neck.

"Everything is in order, and I do not relish the prospect of remaining here with Munroe

hovering over us like a starving buzzard.”

"I have spoken with many of the others, and they all agree," Caitlin added. "We will have

to get through the pass while the weather is clear. If we don't do it now, we may not get

another chance before winter's end." With an unreadable glance, at Caitlin, Harry

hurried off to consult with the boss hostler. Horses stamped, dogs barked, and troupers

waited impatiently for the order to move.

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The order came at last, and the caravan lurched into motion with much cracking of

whips, groaning of harness, and hails passed down the line of wagons. Billows of vapor

rose from the horses' mouths. The hazy light could not dim the bright colors of wagons

and props, or the resplendent patchwork of apparel worn by the troupers. But there was

no fanfare, and the circus folks were subdued as they trampled a path through the snow

past the outbuildings and into the park. The ranch hands paused in their work to see

them off, a few tipping their hats, and Mr. Durant came out onto the veranda,

undoubtedly glad to see the last of his unwanted guests.

Caitlin sat beside Harry in the office wagon, her injured leg propped out straight before

her, and refused to look back. Niall had no reason to pursue them. He, like Durant,

would be happy to see them gone. His only remaining interest in the troupers lay in

what they knew of Morgan, and no one had answers that satisfied him.

Inching along the half-covered dirt road all too slowly, the caravan passed through the

gate that marked the boundary of the inner pastures. Before them stretched a blanket of