"Are you all right?" Josh asked with concern, instantly recognizing the irony of the question. He himself was far from all right. Something had happened to him, something more than just the satisfying physical release he had craved so urgently. For the first time in his life he felt vulnerable, as if his soul had been scraped bare and lay open to attack.

It must be guilt, he told himself, guilt over the way he had seduced her and stolen her innocence when she was under his protection. Yes, the guilt was certainly a part of it, but that did not completely explain the debilitating weakness that seemed ready to suck, leechlike, on his heart.

In self-defense, he swiftly adjusted his own clothes and pushed himself up to a sitting position. She had not replied to his question, but he could see from the way her slight body trembled that she was as unstrung as he. Of course, he realized, she would be even more unstrung since she had been a virgin. Obviously, she had not even guessed he shared her anguish over what had happened. And she would not guess it, he decided, forcing aside his guilt and the other feelings he did not understand. He might have seduced her, but he had no intention of abandoning her. He would make things right.

The need to conceal his churning emotions made his voice gruffer than it might otherwise have been. "Now will you marry me?"

"What do you mean, you lost her?" Richard Winthrop demanded of the man behind the desk.

Asa Gordon shuffled through the papers on his desk with one beefy hand and, finding the one he wanted, glanced up at Winthrop. "According to the report, our operative found a traveling photographer answering Storm's description," he explained tonelessly. "The man had a daughter named Felicity. Our operative was very discreet. He had his picture made and engaged the girl in conversation. Unfortunately, our operative must have alerted the old man in some way, because when he went back to pick up his photograph, they were gone. From what he could gather, they left sometime in the night and no one knows exactly where they went. The operative has, as yet, been unable to pick up their trail."

Richard Winthrop's handsome face grew dull red as he absorbed this information, and he straightened the vest of his tailor-made suit in an impatient gesture. "I would have thought you'd put a competent man on this case, Gordon," he sneered.

Asa Gordon had been a Pinkerton detective for the better part of fifteen years, and he had extensive practice at concealing his true emotions. He used every bit of his training now to hide his contempt for Richard Winthrop. "Smythe is one of our best men," he said calmly, looking down his nose at the smaller man seated across the desk from him.

"My uncle will be very displeased to hear this report," Winthrop informed him. "As you may know, Uncle Henry is a personal friend of Allan Pinkerton. I could have your job for this!"

Gordon raised his eyebrows in mock amazement. "If you want my job, you're welcome to it, Winthrop, but somehow I can't see you as a detective," he said, ignoring Winthrop's outraged gasp. "You may inform your uncle that I will be going to Texas myself to follow up on this case. Storm and the girl have been found and lost too many times now for my peace of mind."

"If you're expecting a bonus for service above and beyond the call of duty, you'll be disappointed, Gordon," Winthrop said, rising regally to his full five feet five inches and enjoying the rare opportunity of actually looking down at Gordon, who still sat behind the desk. "Uncle Henry has already spent a fortune on this search. I won't authorize anything extra."

Asa Gordon grinned expansively. "Pinkerton men aren't allowed to accept bonuses, Mr. Winthrop," he replied with exaggerated civility.

"Well, I never…" Winthrop blustered, but he quickly recovered his dignity. "I will inform my uncle, but as I said, he will not be pleased."

Winthrop turned on one well-shod heel and moved with practiced grace toward the door, snatching his derby hat from the hat rack on his way out.

"Oh, and Winthrop?" Gordon called after him. When Winthrop turned warily back, Gordon added, "Give Henry my best, will you?"

Asa winced at the way the glass in his office door rattled when Winthrop slammed it behind him, but he was still smiling. Irritating Richard Winthrop was only part of what was making him so cheerful. The other part was the thought of traveling to Texas.

Gordon had spent some time there during the war, working undercover as a Union spy under Allan Pinkerton's direction. Although his stay had been brief, he could still remember the vast unsettled regions and knew a longing to once more see the sky uninterrupted from horizon to horizon.

He hauled himself up out of his desk chair and glanced with jaded eye out the window at the carriages manuevering in the street below. How long since he had slept under the stars or ridden a horse simply for the joy of it? Too long, he decided, absently rubbing the slight paunch he had developed during the last year. At first he had been pleased to be appointed superintendent of the Philadelphia office. The promotion meant a raise in salary and an end to the shadowy, unsettled life of a detective. Unfortunately, it also meant an end to the excitement. Instead of capturing criminals and gathering evidence and solving crimes, he had to deal with men like Richard Winthrop.

Gordon ran a hand through his curly brown hair and sighed. He would explain to Mr. Pinkerton that he was taking this case as a personal favor to an old friend and leaving the office in the very capable hands of his assistant for a while. Then, if he found Texas to be a disappointment, he could come back with no problem. But Asa Gordon had a feeling Texas would not be a disappointment.

He would find Felicity Storm and her father, and with any luck at all, he would find something for himself as well. He would soon be forty years old. He did not plan to get much older without finding that something else.

"Now will you marry me?" Josh repeated when he received no answer.

Neither of them even realized that until this moment he had not previously asked her.

Felicity blinked furiously against the tears that threatened to choke her. She should be grateful that he still wanted to. Her father had warned her often enough that men didn't marry women who let them have their way without it. She didn't feel very grateful, though. "I'll have to, won't I?" she replied, steeling herself to meet his gaze and turning abruptly to face him. "I'm going to have a baby now, aren't I?"

She was certain of it. Her father had told her that, too, about how women who let men have their way got babies. What he hadn't told her was how good it would feel. No wonder some women were led astray so easily, she thought wildly.

Josh stared at her in dumb amazement. "A baby?" he repeated as if he had never heard the word before. This was a complication he had not even considered. He ran a hand over his face as if to wipe away the last vestige of the sensual spell that lingered over them. A baby, of all the things to think of. "You are probably not going to have a baby," he explained with elaborate patience.

"Probably!" Felicity echoed in dismay. She was shaking now, much as she had shaken with chills after the flood, except that now she was not cold.

"And if you are, it won't matter… if we're married," Josh concluded, knowing he had discovered the final link in the chain. She must marry him. He could not let her go, not now that he knew marriage to Felicity Storm would be everything he could ever want. Seeing the terror in her eyes, he reached for her, wanting only to comfort, but she dodged his hands and scrambled off the bed.