Megan's mate

missed and caught me in the shoulder, and the Dutchman knocked him cold with a bottle of ouzo.

Desperately impressed, Kevin slid closer.

Have you got a scar?

Sure do.

Amanda slapped Nathaniel's hand before he could tug up his shirt.

Cut it out, or

every man in the room will be stripping to show off war wounds. Sloan's really proud of the one he got from barbed wire.

It's a beaut,

Sloan agreed.

But Meg's is even better.

Shut up, Sloan.

Hey, a man's gotta brag on his only sister.

Enjoying himself, Sloan draped an arm

around her shoulders.

She was twelve hardheaded little brat. We had a mustang stallion nearly as bad-tempered as she was. She snuck him out one day, determined that she could break him. Well, she got about a half a mile before he shook her off.

He did not shake me off,

Megan said primly.

The bridle snapped.

That's her story.

Sloan gave her a quick squeeze.

Fact is, that horse tossed her

right into a barbed-wire fence. She landed on her rump. I don't believe you sat down for six weeks.

It was two,

she said, but her lips twitched.

Got herself a hell of a scar.

Sloan gave her butt a brotherly pat.

Wouldn't mind taking a look at it,

Nathaniel said under his breath, and earned an arched-eyebrow look from Suzanna.

I think I'll put Christian down before dinner.

Good idea.

C.C. took Ethan from Trent just as the baby began to fuss.

Somebody's hungry.

I know I am.

Lilah rose.

Megan watched mothers and babies head upstairs to nurse, and was surprised by a quick tug of envy. Funny, she mused, she hadn't even thought of having more babies until she came here and found herself surrounded by them.

So sorry I'm late.

Coco glided into the room, patting her hair.

We had a few

problems in the kitchen.

Nathaniel recognized the look of frustration on her face and fought back a grin.

Dutch giving you trouble, darling?

Well...

She didn't like to complain.

We simply have different views on how things should be done. Oh, bless you, Trent,

she said when he offered her a glass.

Oh,

dear, where is my head? I forgot the canapes.

I'll get them.

Max unfolded himself from the sofa and headed toward the family kitchen.

Thank you, dear. Now...

She took Megan's hand, squeezed.

We've hardly had a

moment to talk. What do you think of The Retreat?

It's wonderful, everything Sloan said it would be. Amanda tells me all ten suites are booked.

It's been a wonderful first season.

She beamed at Trent.

Hardly more than a year

ago, I was in despair, so afraid my girls would lose their home. Though the cards told me differently. Did I ever tell you that I foresaw Trent in the tarot? I really must do a spread for you, dear, and see what your future holds.

Well...

Perhaps I can just look at your palm.

Megan let go with a sigh of relief when Max came back with a tray and distracted Coco.

Not interested in the future?

Nathaniel murmured.

Megan glanced over, surprised that he had moved beside her without her being aware of it.

I'm more interested in the present, one step at a time.

A cynic.

He took her hand and, though it went rigid in his, turned it palm up.

I

met an old woman on the west coast of Ireland. Molly Duggin was her name. She said I had the sight.

His smoky eyes stayed level with hers for a long moment before they shifted to her open palm. Megan felt something skitter down her spine.

A stubborn hand. Self-sufficient, for all its elegance.

He traced a finger over it. Now there was more than a skitter. There was a jolt.

I don't believe in palmistry.

You don't have to. Shy,

he said quietly.

I wondered about that. The passions are there, but repressed.

His thumb glided gently over her palm's mound of Venus.

Or

channeled. You'd prefer to say channeled. Goal-oriented, practical. You'd rather make decisions with your head, no matter what your heart tells you.

His eyes lifted

to hers again.

How close am I?

Much too close, she thought, but drew her hand coolly from his.

An interesting

parlor game, Mr. Fury.

His eyes laughed at her as he tucked his thumbs in his pockets.

Isn't it?

By noon the next day, Megan had run out of busy-work. She hadn't the heart to refuse Kevin's plea to be allowed to spend the day with the Bradfords, though his departure had left her very much to her own devices.

She simply wasn't used to free time.

One trip to the hotel lobby had aborted her i.e. of convincing Amanda to let her study the books and files. Amanda, she was told by a cheerful desk clerk, was in the west tower, handling a small problem.

Coco wasn't an option, either. Megan had halted just outside the door of the kitchen when she heard the crash of pots and raised voices inside.

Since Lilah had gone back to work as a naturalist in the park, and C.C. was at her automotive shop in town, Megan was left on herown.

In a house as enormous as The Towers, she felt like the last living soul on the island.