Nathan rounded the corner and saw it. The coach was a little off to the side of the road, probably because the driver knew there was no way to outrun the bandits. From a distance all he could see was the coach itself; they'd taken the horses and there was no driver to be seen. Then he saw the door open and out she stepped.

Miss Elizabeth Thatcher, Canadian Princess. But definitely a little worse for wear.

Nathan was at first very grateful that his charge was in one piece. Nothing seemed to be broken, except perhaps her hat, which teetered at an odd angle on her very disheveled head. Her pink cotton and lace dress looked appropriately filthy for a garment that had spent the night in road dust on the floor of a stagecoach.

As he got closer, he could see that Miss Thatcher was quite beautiful, despite the dirty face and the scowl she wore. She was waving her arms as if he might just trot past her, and Nathan held back a smile.

"Looks like you have a problem," he said, trying to look serious.

She tilted her head at him. "It looks like I have a problem?" she said incredulously. "They took my money, my jewelry, ruined my clothes, and left me alone on this deserted road!"

Elizabeth had of course seen her share of Mounties, but they were generally much more polite than this one. Here she was, practically dead, and he was still sitting on his horse. And she thought he might be trying not to smile. "What's your name, Constable?" she said, calling up her haughtiest tone and narrowing her eyes at him. It didn't help that the sun was behind him and he was very tall. Craning up at him made her neck hurt after the night on the coach floor.

The man had the audacity to give her a full smile now. "Nathan Grant, Miss." He moved down off of his horse in a motion so fluid she hardly knew it happened, and suddenly, there he was, blocking out the sun entirely. He removed his heavy riding gloves and put out a hand with long, graceful fingers.

Regaining some of her composure, Elizabeth tried to straighten her hat and smooth down the lines of her dress. She remembered too late that she had loosened her corset and she could feel it bunching up on the sides of her bodice, making any smoothing impossible.

Putting out her hand, she said, as regally as possible, "Miss Elizabeth Thatcher."

Nathan took her hand and shook it. "I know who you are," he said softly, with a smile that went up further on the right than on the left. Elizabeth found that for some inexplicable reason, that imperfection made her stomach flutter. And it wasn't hunger. She could feel his hand, strong and warm, in hers, and for a moment she forgot where she was.

Then, his actual words reached her and she let go of his hand and frowned. "Did you say you know who I am?" she said quickly.

"Yes," Nathan said easily. "You're Elizabeth Thatcher, recently of Hamilton, daughter of William Thatcher, shipping tycoon, and you're traveling to Coal Valley to be their new schoolteacher."

Elizabeth wasn't sure how she felt about this Mountie knowing all that. But she especially didn't like the way he was saying it. She felt that some part of him under that red serge uniform was laughing at her. And Elizabeth really didn't like being laughed at.

Elizabeth pulled herself up to her full height and said, "And how might it be that you know so much about me, Constable... Grant, was it?"

Nathan smiled again, relishing this just a bit. If he had to have this assignment, the least he could do was enjoy it.

"Well, Miss Thatcher, I am a recent resident of Coal Valley myself. It turns out that the town had no need of a Mountie until your father, William Thatcher, called in a favor and had me posted here." Elizabeth still didn't seem to be getting the point, so Nathan made it more clear. "To watch over you. To keep you safe."

Elizabeth's heart began to pound and she felt her breath coming faster. Every illusion she'd had as her father had wished her well on her journey evaporated. All his talk of independence and fortitude and his trust in her good sense went out the window. All the while he was saying goodbye and telling her how proud he was of her, he was planning this.

"I don't need a babysitter," Elizabeth said forcefully through her teeth.

Nathan nodded. "It seems your father would beg to differ on that point," he said. He was beginning to enjoy this a little less. There was something about the pride, the stubbornness, and the courage of the woman standing before him that was starting to impress Nathan. Which made it more difficult to see her feeling uncomfortable.

Raising her chin, Elizabeth said, "My father doesn't know what I'm made of." She turned and walked past Nathan in the direction he'd come. Nathan watched her for a moment and then called out to her.

"Are you planning on walking to Coal Valley? Because it's about three miles," he said.

"I'm young and strong," she called over her shoulder. "I have legs. I can walk."

Nathan smiled and shook his head. Nope, not your typical princess. He scooped up Newton's reins and pulled them over his head, leading him out. Nathan's long legs took him quickly to where Elizabeth was picking out a path in her high-heeled boots. There were rocks and potholes beneath her feet and she needed to keep close watch.

They walked in silence for a minute, and finally Nathan said, "I have a horse." He was trying not to smile, but it wasn't easy.

"Yes, I can see that," Elizabeth said, keeping her eyes on the path. "I suggest you get on it and ride away."

Nathan snorted softly, unable to control the laugh that came up suddenly. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and looked at him. Now that the sun wasn't behind him, she could see him clearly. He is handsome, I do have to give him that. In that rugged, tan, dark, curly-haired, blue-eyed way. If you like that sort of thing.

She must have looked a little too long, because her heel rolled off of a rock in the dirt and she stumbled sideways. But it was as if she hadn't fallen at all, because his arm was out and holding her up before she knew it.

Nathan smiled at her and this time she was ready for the crooked smile, though it affected her no less. "You're going to need to get some better shoes," he said, letting go as she righted herself.

Elizabeth's feet were hurting so much right now that she didn't even have a decently sharp retort. She stopped suddenly and sighed. Yes, she wanted to assert her independence. No, she didn't need a babysitter. But maybe she could prove all those things tomorrow. After a meal and a hot bath.

Elizabeth looked over at Newton. "We can both ride her?" Elizabeth said plaintively.

Nathan laughed softly. "Well, he won't let you ride him anywhere until you apologize for thinking he's a she."

"What's his name?" Elizabeth asked wearily.

"Newton," Nathan said, smiling.

Elizabeth finally smiled back, just briefly. There was something charming about this Mountie and she was finally succumbing slightly to it. "After the physicist or the cookie?" she asked, looking sideways at him.

Nathan chuckled. "I believe the cookie was named after the physicist, so it may be a moot point."

Elizabeth laughed. And that sound took hold of Nathan's heart in a way that surprised him right out of his boots. He couldn't be more out of breath if Newton had reached back and kicked him.

They stood by the side of the road for a moment, both mid-laugh, and then they both remembered their situation.

Don't even think about it, was the thought that ran simultaneously through both of their heads.

Elizabeth looked up at the saddle. "How do I get up there?" she asked, shading her eyes.

Nathan frowned. "Have you ever ridden a horse?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"Of course I have," she said, raising her chin. Then she said more softly, "Sidesaddle."

"I'm sorry?" Nathan said, not sure he'd heard her.

"Sidesaddle," Elizabeth said firmly, looking him directly in the eye.

Nathan smiled, "With a parasol, I'll bet. And it matched your dress?"

Elizabeth squinted her eyes at him again. "You seem to have a very narrow view of me, Constable Grant."

"I was stationed in Quebec City for a time," Nathan said, his jaw squared. "We encountered some... wealthy young ladies... in our work."

Nodding, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I see," she said. "And you're comparing me to those wealthy young ladies who have regiments of Mounties escort them to and from church. For their safety." She said the last word as if it were dirty.

When Nathan didn't answer, Elizabeth stretched her neck so she was as tall as possible. "Well, I'm not one of them, and shame on you for making snap judgements." She walked over to Newton and put her hand gently on his cheek. "I'm sorry I thought you were a girl," Elizabeth said softly. Behind her, Nathan smiled despite himself.

Elizabeth was only able to put her foot in the stirrup because Nathan's legs were so long. He watched, ready to catch her, as she stubbornly grabbed hold of the horn and tried repeatedly to pull herself up into the saddle, making little oofing sounds.

"Would you like some help?" Nathan asked quietly.

Elizabeth stood there, out of breath, with one foot in the stirrup and one on the ground. She was hungry and exhausted and hot.

"Yes, please," she said, resigned.

Nathan took hold of her waist and realized immediately that her corset had come all the way around to her sides. It only increased his admiration for her. Silly things. I've never understood why women feel a need to torture themselves with their clothing. Colleen hated them with a passion.

In the split second Elizabeth was in his hands, he felt her strength and her substance, unusual in a woman so slender and small. She had a solidity that he found so appealing that for the first time in his memory of school dances and the few fleeting times he'd held a woman, he didn't want to let her go.

Nathan handed his hat up to Elizabeth and he put his own foot into the stirrup. Gripping the cantle at the back of the saddle, he pulled himself up onto Newton's rump, and reached around her for the reins. He could feel her warm between his arms for just a moment, and she didn't flinch. In fact, perhaps he imagined it, but it seemed she almost leaned back into him on purpose.

Elizabeth turned slightly and handed him his campaign hat. For a moment he saw her eyes, just inches from his own. She looked away quickly, but if the eyes were the window to the soul, Nathan had seen right into Elizabeth's.

He knew she was afraid, and that all of this was new. And suddenly, he felt ashamed for making fun of her, even if only in his mind. She did seem different from the girls he'd seen in Quebec City, and instead of a wealthy eastern princess, Nathan began to see the brave woman who had traveled alone across the country, been robbed and then spent the night in a dark stagecoach in a strange place.

"I'm sorry," Nathan said softly as he replaced his hat on his head and pushed his heels gently into Newton's flanks.

"For what?" Elizabeth asked. She was still reeling a little from how very blue this Mountie's eyes were. Like the mountain lake she'd seen once on a holiday.

As they started moving, the breeze that blew through her hair right in front of Nathan's face had undertones of lavender on it, and for a moment, Nathan lost his train of thought. She spent a night on the floor of a stagecoach and she still smells like lavender.

"For... the snap judgement," Nathan finally managed to say.

He felt more than heard her laugh. His hands still held the reins and it was impossible not to touch her. She sighed deeply. "I know what people think of me. I'm sure it will be the same in Coal Valley. People think that rich people have everything laid at their feet, but the thing I want the most is the hardest to get. Respect, a belief that I'm a hard worker and that I care about things. I'm always having to prove myself," she said, her voice going softer.

Now Nathan knew it wasn't his imagination. Elizabeth was not only leaning back, she was leaning on him. Before he could say anything else, he heard a soft snore.

Nathan Grant, Constable of Coal Valley, had rescued the damsel in distress, and what did she do? She fell asleep.

Nathan didn't need to keep his arms at a distance anymore. In fact, he felt if he didn't hold her, she might just topple off Newton. So he put his arms around her and let her head fall gently onto his shoulder. Her face, her beautiful face streaked with road dust, was right next to his.

All he could think was, three miles wasn't nearly enough.