Love's Revenge (Entangled Scandalous) by Joan Avery

am grateful to you for that. You will always be welcome in Denver.” Worth extended his hand. “You have my word that they will be safe and protected.”
    Uncle George accepted the younger man’s handshake. “I will hold you to that, sir, as a gentleman. If any harm befalls my niece or the child, I will hold you personally responsible.”
    “I understand.”
    Uncle George’s words did little to diminish the queasiness that had arisen in Kate’s stomach. Today, Stephen Worth looked nothing like a gentleman.
    Stephen Worth crouched down in front of Andy. “Well, Andy, are you ready for a great adventure? Would you like to get on the train?”
    “Train, Papa?”
    Papa? Andy’s hand slipped from hers. She watched in pain as the laughing child was scooped up by his father and carried off toward the rear of the train. She was frozen in place as father and son disappeared back into the cloud of steam. She fought the urge to cry or scream—she wasn’t sure which.
    Finally, she forced herself to move. She laid a hand on the rough wool of her uncle’s jacket. Uncle George was bent forward in sorrow. For a moment, she was tempted to renege on her promise. But it would gain them nothing. Only the knowledge of where Stephen Worth had been the last two years offered any hope, and only in Denver could she find that out.
    “Please don’t worry, Uncle George, I will take care. We will be back before long.”
    “Of course you will, my dear, of course.”
    Her heart was breaking. She embraced her uncle’s lean figure. “I will find a way. You’ll see,” she whispered in her uncle’s ear. It brought a tired smile to his face.
    He pressed a tender goodbye kiss to her cheek.
    …
    Two steps into the breathtakingly beautiful Pullman car, Kate was stopped by the most beautiful European furniture she had ever seen. The pieces were richly upholstered in antique brocades. An Oriental rug carpeted the floor; its vibrant reds and blues warmed the car’s handsomely carved mahogany paneling. The ceiling was of intricately hammered tin. Gaslights were ready for evening, their Waterford globes dangling prisms that tinkled with the gentle sway of the train. The heavy silk drapes at the windows were corded back gracefully.
    In the brightness outside, the station platform slid slowly further and further away. She was leaving everything she had ever known. All her ties were being cut. She fought the urge to bolt. The elegant train car only added to her unease. Nothing was as she expected.
    She had been prepared to be angry—prepared to argue that the accommodations were inadequate. She had feared, or secretly hoped, they would end up in third-class.
    But this elegant car—these private accommodations—would cost one hundred and fifty dollars a day per person. Even she had never felt extravagant enough to travel by private car.
    On the rear platform, Fiona and Andy were laughing as the city of St. Louis fled past them, faster and faster. She was within a few feet of joining them when Stephen Worth appeared in the doorway.
    “Do you approve?”
    He must have been on the rear platform as well. Now, he stood quite literally between her and her son. Between her and everything she knew—everything she loved.
    He expected an answer, leaving her no time and no place to withdraw and recover her equilibrium.
    “Of course, it’s lovely.”
    “And a surprise?”
    Why did she feel as if he could read her mind?
    “It seems extravagant, that’s all.”
    “And, no doubt, extravagance is not a desirable quality in your puritan mind.” He was smiling. It was as if he was teasing her.
    “I was thinking that perhaps it was beyond your means.”
    “Ah, I understand. You wonder if my remittance checks cover such excesses.”
    She could feel the heat in her cheeks. He took a step closer. Too close now. She couldn’t look at him any longer. She pretended to study the brocade upholstery of the chair back beside her. She ran her hand over its roughness