Prince Charming by Julie Garwood

even be called a woman. She was so young, so innocent looking. It was his duty to make certain she arrived in Boston safe and sound, hand her over to her legal advisors there, and then leave her.
    The plan sounded just fine to him. “Are there people besides your legal advisors who will take over your care?”
    â€œTake over my care? I’m capable of taking care of myself, Mr. Ross.”
    She sounded incensed. Lucas smiled. He had obviously pricked her temper with his poorly phrased question. He hadn’t heard any fear in her outraged reaction, however, and filed that bit of information away for future use. When Taylor was angry, she forgot to be afraid.
    And she was afraid all right, afraid of him. From the moment she had spotted him walking toward her in the ballroom, she’d become as frightened as a trapped rabbit. Yet hadn’t he spotted relief as well? That didn’t make any sense. How could she be frightened and relieved at the same time.
    â€œI meant to ask you if you had relatives living in Boston,” he said.
    â€œYes, I do,” she answered. She deliberately failed to add the fact that the relatives in question were only two years old. He didn’t need to know that particular.
    â€œGood.”
    He sounded relieved. She tried not to become irritated. “Do women in America need to be taken care of like children?”
    â€œSome do,” he supposed.
    â€œI don’t,” she announced. “I’m very self-sufficient. However, aside from relatives and financial advisors waiting for me, there are also a number of other bankers eager to help make my adjustment to Boston society easier. I’m certain someone has already found me suitable lodging. Where is your home, sir?”
    â€œDon’t call me sir. My name’s Lucas.”
    â€œMy name’s Taylor.” Oh, God, he already knew that. “I mean to say you have my permission to call me Taylor. You have a ranch somewhere in the wilderness, don’t you?”
    She was sounding worried again. Lucas wanted to put her at ease but couldn’t figure out how he was ever going to accomplish that goal. She was as skittish as a young colt. The journey to America was going to take an eternity, he decided, if Taylor continued to act so timid around him.
    â€œDidn’t your grandmother fill you in on the particulars?”
    â€œNo,” she answered. “There wasn’t time. I understand she spent a good deal of time with you. You visited with her on many occasions before she decided to ask you to marry me. Isn’t that right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI only arrived back from Scotland this afternoon. You were there, waiting, and Madam said the minister was late for another engagement. She would have fretted if I had plied her with questions.”
    â€œSo you married me without knowing anything at all about me?”
    â€œMadam said you were acceptable,” Taylor replied. “You don’t know much about me either, unless Madam told you about my background, but since we won’t be seeing one another once we reach Boston, it really doesn’t matter, does it?”
    â€œNo,” he answered. “I suppose it doesn’t.” He decided to answer her earlier question then. “I have a ranch in an area called Montana Territory, near the edge of the valley. It’s isolated, sparsely populated now that the gold rush is over, and the only town around is just two streets wide and long. You would hate it.”
    â€œWhy would you think I’d hate it?” she asked.
    â€œThe only society there is the Sunday gathering in front of the general store for the reading of the newspaper from Rosewood. There aren’t any parties or balls. Survival’s a lot more important there than society.”
    â€œAnd that is what appeals to you?” He didn’t answer her. “What is the name of the town?”
    â€œRedemption.”
    It sounded wonderful