Men yelled. "Higher! It's breaking! Go!"

A deafening crash. She tensed, bracing for the impact of the carriage. A gust of wind blew from the wood collapsing.

Strong hands wrapped around her arms and she was pulled up against a hard chest. Opening her eyes, she blinked. Then it dawned that the wind had come from behind. The carriage laid just an arm's length back, collapsed in on itself with all carriage wheels pointing at the sky. The men must've lifted and shoved it back.

"Jesus, I thought you were going to be crushed. Are you hurt?" Mark patted her down.

She looked down, her dress a sponge for all the blood that had been in the carriage. "I don't think any of it's mine. He needs surgery. Now."

He let go and pulled her into the back of the cart where the men already had the man and woman loaded. "Is he dead?" he called to another man kneeling beside the rider.

"Yes, sir! Go! We'll load him and find the sheriff to identify him!"

The cart started forward, and Mark glanced over at the woman as he began to work on the man. "Tanya, check her for mortal injuries."

She turned to the sobbing woman as Mark barked orders at the other men. "They'll get him fixed up, but he'll need you in good health to help him recover. Let me look to see if you're hurt anywhere besides your arm."

"Report, Tanya," Mark snapped moments later.

She finished feeling the woman's stomach for signs of pain. "Bump on the head and a broken arm." Then she used the rest of the petticoats to make a sling for the woman before turning back to Mark.

"Put your finger right here." He grabbed her hand and stuck her finger inside a squirting vessel. "Goddamn miracle if we don't kill him from infection," he whispered under his breath. Then he tied it off with sutures. "We're goddamn bouncing too much for surgery," he snapped. "Stop the cart!" His surliness portrayed his stress over the gravity of the man's injuries. Even Mark seemed afraid that the man couldn't be saved. "Start a transfusion. I don't care where you start it from, but I'm not stopping to hold still. Get another man going too."

She started a transfusion from one man being Mark moved too much himself yet. The moment he stilled and began intricate stitching of vessels, she started a transfusion from a large vein in his upper arm.

"Resect his intestines where you tied them off with a petticoat. Pull them out of the abdominal cavity so feces don't contaminate his gut," he said under his breath.

Her eyes widened and she stared at him in horror. "I have no idea what I'm doing, and we are not sanitary by any means," she hissed under her breath.

"I'm goddamn stitching arteries as fast as I can. He is in shock, and we need him closed as fast as possible," he whispered and gave her a dark look from beneath his brow. "Cut and I will put him back together. It won't matter if we're sanitary if he dies first."

Picking up the scissors, she gave him one last look.

He didn't look up from his intricate work. Even in this cold, sweat collected on his brow. He began with step-by-step directions, never once able to glance away from his intricate suturing. He simply trusted that she performed surgery exactly as he instructed. Mark reached in and took over seconds after she finished. "Start a third man for a transfusion."

She looked up. It seemed like a thousand minutes had passed, but a glance at a man's pocketwatch said less than fifteen. Another transfusion started.

When she reached to stop Mark's donation, he pulled his arm away. "Leave it. I can do a half pint extra without complications. Start the cart!"

Even when unloading the man, Mark refused to stop his own transfusion. When he wasn't looking as they lifted the man, she jerked it out of Mark's arm. "Ow! Dammit, woman!" He reached for it.

"No! You do him no good if you bleed yourself dry!" She disconnected it from the man and followed everyone upstairs at the inn.

"Mrs. Johnson!" Louisa gasped and stared at her in horror in the hall.

"It's his blood. Is Charles doing alright?"

"Yes, ma'm, but are you hurt?"

"No, please keep an eye on Charles while I help my husband. I'll be down in a bit." She closed the door, kicking everyone out but the wife and another blood donor.


The hours felt like years later when she sagged against Mark's shoulder in the buggy after successful treatment of the accident victims and checking in on the two surgical patients from days prior. "I feel like a thousand years old," she groaned. "It must be midnight."

"It has to be two in the morning," he whined.

She looked at Charles asleep inside her cape. "Do you think we can get people to carry us up to bed?" She yawned.

"It'd pay a week's wages for it." He stopped the buggy at the inn and just sat. "I'm too damn tired to untie the horse. Let's just sleep right here."

"If we huddle, we'll probably stay warm enough." A very weak laugh escaped - or more like grunts. "I'm too tired to even lift my head off of you."

Someone walked out of the pub. "Hey, hey! There are the town heroes!"

"Who is that?" she whispered.

"I have no idea. He's probably drunk," he said under his breath as the man came over. Quite a bit of commotion came from inside.

"Come celebrate with us! You saved the Mayor of New York!" The man started to unhitch the horse.

Goodness, he must be three sheets to the wind. She glanced at Mark, who glanced at her.

Mark climbed down and offered her a hand. "Thank you for taking care of the horse. We're so exhausted, we could sleep for ages." He took her inside.

Cheers and applause erupted from the dozens of people crammed in the dining hall and lobby of the inn. Mark froze in his tracks the instant she did. Strangers patted Mark's back as much as hers.

"Here's to the brilliant surgeon and his wife who saved my parents!" The man who had come charging into town from the carriage accident raised his drink in the middle of the room. Cheers erupted. Then the man walked over and handed Mark a fat coin purse. "I'll get the rest from my mother when she's feeling better tomorrow. I'm sure a surgeon of your skill costs much more, but I'm afraid we didn't bring too much money on our trip."

She stared at the purse that fit in both of Mark's hands. It was enough to pay for lodging and food for two more months, if not more.

"I'm sorry, am I missing something?" Mark looked at the man in confusion.

The man laughed and clapped him on the back. "Tired you are, old boy. Busy day. Would you care to join us in the festivities for a bit? Father woke up while you were gone and is raring to get out of bed already!"

Another man stepped forward and introduced himself as the surgeon from a nearby town. "I heard you did an intestine resection. Never had a patient survive it myself. What was your method?" He looked at Mark like a true surgeon hungry for medical knowledge.

Oh dear. Chop and stitch probably weren't the best words.

Mark cleared his throat, recovering quickly. "Simple resection of the ascending colon, with careful cauterization of the anterior cecal artery..."

She bowed her head to hide the smile as Mark made the whole thing sound like a highly scientific medical procedure, and the surgeon hung on his every word. Even though Mark gave her more than due credit for her small role, it didn't seem to interest the surgeon.

Once the surgeon departed, Mark's shoulders slumped and he let out a huge sigh. "My god, I thought the inquisition would never end. Petticoat tourniquet and pocket knife chop isn't exactly the reputation I want to earn."

With a laugh, she patted his arm. "We used what we had - that's what makes it exciting."

"Yes, if he doesn't die of the ten thousand infections we probably gave him." He led her up the stairs.

"You sterilized his gut as best you could when we got here, and you have him on herbal remedies that Grandfather said work well for infections. If he's as energetic as I overheard some say, he'll bounce back and be causing trouble within a few days."

"You were excellent today, Tanya. A fine candidate for medical school." He gave a sideways glance, as if testing the water.

"You saw his reaction - people wouldn't take well to a female surgeon. Plus, vomiting during surgery probably isn't good."

He scowled. "Do you know how many times I vomited my first two years?" he snapped. "I had to have a stomach transplant because I left mine in some field in Spain." The man said it so serious.

She stared at him for a moment. An overtired laugh bubbled up. "I believed you for a second!"

That won a tired snort of laughter from him.


She giggled and pushed Mark's hands away a couple days later. "Stop! I'm trying to get ready to go with you."

"I don't have to do patient rounds at a certain time. It's Saturday. The babe is asleep." He grinned like an idiot and pulled her down in bed.

"Because it's seven in the morning - "

"See? Patients aren't even awake yet." He trailed kisses down her neck. "We can be wild and loud and no one will be awake to hear us."

A laugh burst out. "And wake everyone up?! No!" Pushing up on his chest, she burst into giggles when he pulled her down and locked his arms around her.

"You made me help you bathe last night without a single kiss."

Her jaw fell open. "I remember plenty of kisses!" She raised up on his chest enough to meet his eyes.

The wheels in his head visibly turned, seeking a reason to pout. "You didn't let me bathe with you," he argued.

"Because you, sir, don't stop at just a bath." She cocked an eyebrow.

He frowned. "You judge me as not being a gentleman? I had the door locked!"

She threw back her head and laughed. "You are terrible, Mark. Fine. If I let you ravish me, will you behave the rest of the day?"

"A gentleman keeps his word. So, no." The man pulled her down to nibble her neck.

Pushing herself up, she rolled onto her back beside him. "Take me," she said in melodramatics and threw her arm over her face. "Ravish me. Make me scream with passion."

His belly laugh made her smile, and he pulled her arm down as he climbed on top. "I shall do my best to give my lady love what she wishes."

With a giggle, she held out her arms for him.

The man was so very passionate and more tender than before, cuddled after making love, held her close on the buggy rides to visit patients and seemed to be quite high on love. So the next day when he didn't even offer a kiss in the morning or hold her hand during Mass, it was quite confusing.

"Mark, have I done something to offend you?" She learned forward in the buggy to catch his eye after Mass.

He simply grunted his disagreement and picked up the reins. His eyes focused straight ahead on the road.

"Did I not please you yesterday?"

A dark scowl flicked to her. "Should you ask that question once more ever, I shall not care who hears since apparently I'm not loud enough for you to not have doubts."

A tiny smile tugged. He would follow through on that threat. "Yes, Mark." At least he spoke. "That's not a good threat, though. Perhaps I wish to see you in the frenzy of passion. If anyone asks, I shall say you had indigestion."

His eyebrows shot to the sky, and he glared. "You will do no such thing. If you do, I shall ensure it's you who has 'indigestion' for several hours the next two evenings."

Her cheeks burned, but she still smiled. "Yes, Mark. I should not wish to become ill every night for a week."

The man released a growl of frustration, not sounding that different than what a bear must sound like.

"With how cranky you are today, one would think I just told you that we're going to have another mouth to feed. Actually, that begs the question: how soon after Charles's birth do we have to worry about another babe?"

He snapped up his collar and burrowed deeper into his cloak, as if he didn't wish to participate in the conversation.

"I should like to have your babe in my belly, but I think Charles should be a year old first." She scooted closer with a wistful smile. "Sometimes I miss being with child and having you stroke my belly to fall asleep. I don't think I'd mind being one of those wives who is always pregnant."

He growled from within his cocoon.

"How many babes do you want? And does it always take once to get with child? I once heard a woman who couldn't for years and years and then did. Is that why we aren't being careful? Must you have me so many times before I can get pregnant again? You're a very good lover, and I wouldn't mind at all. Would you be able to tell before my belly swells if I'm with child? I should think being a female doctor, you probably have a way to tell. That would be different, wouldn't it? You tell me I'm pregnant rather than me telling you - "

"Enough with the chatter, woman!"

"Yes, Mark. But, just so you know, I don't know what we need to do to not have a babe, so you can't bite my head off if I tell you in a few months that I'm pregnant - "

"Woman! We are not trying for a babe, in a couple weeks we must start using protection, it can take more than once to get pregnant and I will examine you if you're late to tell if you're with child!"

"Ohh, you were listening," she cooed with a grin and slipped her arm through his. "I like it when you're surly. It seems like it's been awhile since you've been my cuddle bear." She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. "How does pregnancy protection work?"

A frustrated groan escaped him.

He pulled up in front of the former surgeon's clinic down the street. "Get out," he barked. The man climbed down, took Charles from her in one arm and offered a hand with the other.

She smiled wistfully and folded her hands in her lap, holding his eyes. "I suddenly remembered the first carriage ride we took was going to your home. You exited the carriage and didn't turn to offer your hand. It vexed me not because you didn't, but because I didn't have the opportunity to turn you down."

"And I didn't offer because I thought you were being a brat not wanting to come out. I didn't realize your back pained you from the babe," he snapped. "Come."

"I never thought I'd love you. But I love you enough to leave everything and follow you to the ends of the earth." The woman took his hand, her eyes holding the most tender look.

The wench had the damnedest way of stealing his heart at unexpected moments. His nerves were wound so tight, but her beautiful smile made this moment so much less nerve racking. No matter how terribly he blundered the marriage proposal, she would not find fault in it.

He'd been a pathetic, wet-behind-the-years youth when proposing to Anna. It'd been full of jewels and champagne and roses and courses of food at a fancy restaurant when his pockets had been full of Father's money. Here he stood with destitute pockets and a goddamn deed for this rundown clinic to offer for a woman who deserved the world.

"Do we have to go on another call and need your bag?" Charles fussed for her, so she took him back and then accepted his arm.

His stomach clenched tighter and tighter with each of the steps to the porch - the three damn steps that felt like fifty. And his damn knee forced her to wait for him to come up the second and third steps like some damn invalid. It took forever to get up the staircase at the inn, but that hadn't seemed to matter. Now though, the humiliation burned hot. An honorable man would set her free, or at least save up until he had a life to offer her. But going one more day without her legally his was like being told to take a breath of water - it just wasn't possible.

He opened the front door. Thankfully, she was busy with Charles and didn't notice his hand shake. No one made him quiver with nerves so intense that he could retch at any moment. No one made a marquess - even a former one - this frightened of not being worthy. No one made him so petrified and excited and giddy and nervous. Except Tanya. She had the power to make him do anything, and she didn't even know it.

"Oh my," she gasped inside the clinic. "I've never been in here. Mark, it's so perfect. There's a desk in the corner and an exam table." She let go of his arm and walked around the small curtain dividers on the other side of the room. "There are two beds! It's a miniature infirmary! Oh, look! There's a room back here with medicines and tools!" She disappeared behind the curtains.

His heart beat faster. Entire estates had been purchased for Anna as homes, with stables and fruitful flower gardens. This outdated, simple clinic and cabin that could've fit in the foyer back in England wasn't enough, not for Tanya. But Tanya would see not enough as enough, and turn it into their Heaven. He strode in behind her without a word and opened another door at the back of the storage room.

She turned in curiosity and stepped through. "It's a home." Surprise and satisfaction tinted her voice. "How clever - the surgeon's home!" She clapped her hands in front of her lips in glee. "Oh, it's so lovely!" The woman swept through the large room that served to entertain guests and into the small kitchen at the back of the house. Then she whirled through again up the simple cabin staircase to the bedrooms above.

He waited below and held his breath.

"There are four bedchambers!"

More like four rooms barely big enough to fit beds and dressers, nothing like the room sizes back in England. But still three rooms to fill with children.

Tanya appeared at the top of the stairs and frowned. "Wait, why are you showing me this?"

His heart sank. She didn't like it - she realized why he was showing her, and she didn't want to live here. No woman would want this small house for raising a family, to be tied to an infirmary and stuck with a man who made a surgeon's salary. As a world-renown specialist, he'd raked in gobs of money. As a small-town surgeon, they'd be as poor as church mice for years.

When she came down the steps, she stopped before him and searched his eyes. "Did you buy this?"

The deed wasn't yet signed. He shook his head.

"Oh." She frowned. "I don't understand why we're here."

"I needed to grab some tools," he grunted and turned on his heel.

But she caught his hand. "Mark? Tell me what's going on. You're so distant today. I don't understand why you were so affectionate yesterday but so cold today if I did nothing wrong."

He turned to face her, and the hurt in her eyes twisted his heart. "Do you regret our life here in America? Having nothing and a man who can't ever be a renowned enough surgeon to not be poor? Having to come with me on calls and stick your hands in blood, and perhaps sometimes wake up from nightmares of injuries you'll see? There wouldn't be much more money than what we have now. There are other men already in line for you, Tanya. You do not have to stay with me."

Deep frown lines wrinkled her brow. "What nonsense is this? I love our life here. Yes, it's simple, but it's exciting and stable. You forget what I come from, Mark."

"But it doesn't mean that you should have to settle for only a step above."

She cupped his cheek. "Materials are just that - materials. I have a love that is written about in poetry and fairytales. We have a healthy babe and food and shelter, and I hope we have many more children. But even if we don't, don't you see? We are far richer than most people in the world. I love you, and I wouldn't trade any of this."

If he proposed, perhaps she wouldn't feel obligated to accept. He didn't have a ring but a goddamn pathetic deed to offer. Reaching into his breast pocket, he got ready to kneel.

"Are you upset about church? I realized afterwards that it's probably the first time you've been to Mass since Anna passed - "

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't talk about Anna." This moment of all times for her to be thinking about his first wife... Dear god, he was going to heave if he didn't get this over with now. His whole life hung in the balance, and she didn't even seem to realize it. It was terrifying. Because he'd never wanted anything so much.

Just as he knelt, the damn leather knee brace finally broke and he landed on his arse like a moron.

"Oh! Mark, are you alright?" She grabbed his arm and tried to help him up.

Shit, this was all going wrong. God had even resorted to physical violence to knock it through his skull to not propose to her. He should've left damn Thomas in this town with her instead. That thought chilled his heart just as fast, and it suddenly stopped beating. She'd have this life as a surgeon's wife, but Thomas would no doubt be able to offer her a real home and luxuries and -

"Mark?" She cut into the paralyzing thoughts. "I asked if your brace broke."

He stared up at her like some damn deer frozen in fear. And then it all came flooding out. "It broke and I can't goddamn kneel, and this is all screwed up and I swear I'm going to throw up," he snapped, "but if I don't ask, I'm going to regret this for the rest of my life - "

"Whoa, honey, what's wrong?" She knelt and stroked his chest that heaved with nerves.

"I love you and Charles. I'm cranky and poor and stubborn and my leg doesn't work, and you shouldn't want me. The life I have to offer doesn't have luxuries that we knew in England and likely never will. I will work hard to build a name so our family will be respected. I will protect our family in every way I can..."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I know you will. I love you too." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. And didn't seem to understand that this was a marriage proposal.

He took her hand. "I have no money for an engagement ring - "

The woman blinked with wide eyes. And then a soft sob escaped as she seemed to realize what was happening.

"But I will get you one once we have means, even though it may be a couple years. Right now all I have to offer is this home with the money the Mayor gave us, should you wish me to sign the deed." He pulled out the papers. "If you don't like it, I'll find something else to be the home for our babes. Will you marry me, Tanya?"

She threw herself at him, wrapping her arm around his neck, and knocked them back. The woman laid on his chest with Charles and a huge grin as she looked down. "Of course I will. Is this why you've been surly today?" Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You don't have to say 'yes.' I'll provide for you and Charles until you marry, and - " he babbled out of nervousness.

"Mark?" She beamed.

"What?"

"You're an idiot."

He blinked and then scowled. "Dammit, woman, I need a 'yes' or 'no' answer before I have a heart attack yet!" Not the best way to propose to a woman, but every second felt like a thousand years.

She only smiled bigger. "You're mad if you think you won't be stuck with me forever. I love you." Then she crushed his lips with a kiss.

Pulling back, he stared for a moment, much like a damn speechless idiot, as her words sank in. The fear of not having a life with her finally fled. So much weight lifted from somewhere deep inside, that his chest physically hurt - in a beautiful way. He scowled as tears burned. "You could've goddamn just said 'yes,' woman. Or demanded marriage on the boat or as soon as we hit America if you're so damn set on it!"

A soft laugh bubbled up as she gave a loving look. "Yes, Mark. I shall keep my answers concise when you lay your heart at my feet."

"Damn right you will! And should I do so again, say the day we marry, you shall not be a moment late and make me afraid that you ran," he snapped. Dear god, what a wonderful feeling that even after all of this, she still wanted to be his.

"But what if I'm running late trying to look beautiful for you?"

"Show up with your hair in irons and the babe nursing under your nightgown, and I would not give a damn! You will be on time," he huffed. She never would leave him, but he'd have a panic attack all the same.

The wench suppressed a grin. "I will not be late, and I shall do my best to not show up in irons and a nightgown with Charles hanging on me. Your chest is still heaving. Are you still in the throws of a heart attack?"

"Yes, woman! It's good to know that you not only find pleasure in leaving me speechless but causing heart attacks too!"

A beautiful giggle escaped and she smiled behind her hand. "No, I do not. Well, I find pleasure in leaving the great Marquess speechless, but I do not like causing you heart attacks. It is simply nice to know that I can shake you as much as you shake me."

A low growl vibrated up his throat. "I do not try to cause you heart attacks."

"No," she laughed and set a hand over his heart, "but you do cause my heart to skip beats. You somehow manage it when you're being tender as much as when you're being my cuddle bear like right now."

His eyebrow rose in disbelief. "A woman does not find pleasure in a surly husband, much less one as irritable as I am!"

Her twinkling giggle filled the air. "Then there must be something wrong with me because I do. You are being surly right now because you're feeling sentimental. You were afraid I'd turn you down, although I can't conceive why'd you have such a notion. Do you wish to leave me for another life?"

"No! What kind of question is that, woman? I just proposed!"

She grinned. "That is the security you should feel from me too. I would not marry another, and I know precisely who crossed your mind a moment ago. Yes, a life with Thomas would logistically parallel one with you, perhaps, but it lacks several grave points: I do not love him, I do not feel safe with him and..." she cupped his cheek and leaned her forehead against his, "he isn't my surly bear who is my best friend."

Tears welled, just after he'd gotten them under control again! "Goddammit, you take perverse pride in making me weep like a woman, don't you?" He pulled her into his lap for a tight embrace.

She held tight and sighed like she was perfectly content. "No, I take pride in being loved so much that it makes you weep," she whispered. "I love you so much. If you have the license, I'll marry you today."

He lifted his head and looked at her with a frown. "You do not want a dress and - "

"No." She stroked his cheek with her soft fingers. "Perhaps a year ago I would've said I wanted a dress and flowers, but all I want is you".

"Then come with me. We'll go to the priest in another town a few hours away." He grinned so wide that his face hurt. "Tomorrow. We'll leave in the morning and keep driving until we find a church to wed us. You do not wish to save funds for a dress and bouquet - "

"No." Her smile put the sun to shame. "Sweep me away like you can't live another day without me being yours."

When she cupped his cheek, he turned his head and pressed a kiss in her palm. Her cheeks flushed like she found great pleasure in that simple gesture - he'd have to remember to do it more often.

Her eyes softened. "You married me once for honor; now marry me for love."