’Twas not often that Rowan was surprised, even less often that he was surprised by a woman. They were cursedly predictable in his experience—especially to one so perceptive as he.
With one notable exception.
That exception stood on the deck, her pose defiant and her eyes flashing, as if she would dare him to question her claim. She knew little about him if she thought he would simply walk away from this!
For she had not only surprised him, she had deceived him. Ibernia had used him for her own ends, and Rowan did not like the revelation.
Not Ibernia. Bronwyn. Her name was Bronwyn.
Bronwyn.He was appalled at what remarkably good sense it all made. She wanted to go home. He wanted to find an Irish heiress. She named herself, challenged him to press his suit, which incidentally ensured t
