Chapter One

The Brat’s Rebellion

“Your ass is mine, brat!” Trevor McClain roared.

“Only if you can catch me!” Holly roared back.

She grabbed her satchel in her hands and raced up the stairway. At the top, she threw a vase of flowers towards the man on her heels, the flying rocket narrowly missing the side of his face. With all due speed, she continued her flight, the wild-eyed, flushed face, raven haired beauty reaching the end of the hallway, slamming her bedroom door and locking it behind her.

“You unlock this door, or I’ll knock it down!” Trevor shouted.

“You will not punish me!” Holly shouted back.

“Oh, but I will!” Trevor vowed. And true to his word, he began with a heavy fist, pounding on the shaking wood until both Holly and Trevor knew that the ancient thing would give way.

“Okay, okay, stop!” she shouted at him.

He only heard her after the third cry, and then he stopped. He’d wait just a second for the door to swing open, and when it didn’t, he completed the task, breaking the door lock, the wood swinging open on its rickety hinges.

Trevor was just in time to see the fleeing young woman’s pert round bottom disappear out the window. One look down at her, the impossible brat skidded down the oak tree quickly, not caring that she was tearing her clothes all the way.

Trevor contained his surplus anger. He shook his head and sighed. Not even his temper could propel him down the stairs and out the door fast enough to catch her. But there was some solace for him: the blasted brat would come sniveling back, and when she did, he’d have her ass, just as he’d swore to her before.

Holly Pritchart was a nuisance, a hellion, a schemer, and a shrew. Wild, tempestuous and full of fire, she was Trevor’s nightmare, deposited on his doorstep by a ne’er-do-well father (and sometime distant cousin)—just passing through town one day. For the past year, she’d been Trevor’s responsibility, and a constant thorn in his side.

Taking the belt that hung from his hand and replacing it in his trousers, Trevor returned downstairs, reminded quickly of the mess the brat had made of his mother’s prettiest china vase. Now irreparably damaged, there was nothing to do but scrape the remains into a dustpan and throw the broken thing away. He could get angrier for her impetuous move, but what was the point? She certainly wasn’t where he could get his hands on her now, and for his revenge and her just desserts, he’d simply have to wait for her to return—if she came back at all.

Trevor returned to his study, and sighing heavily, he sat down in his high-backed chair. He remembered back a year ago…

Holly looked like a ragamuffin when he opened the door that strange day to see a grimy man with the girl at his side. At least he thought she was a mere girl by the way she was dressed and the odd innocence on her face. Yet, she was hardly innocent at all. She was worldly wise, having fended for herself at her father’s side, pilfering food here and there, and living between the cracks of life, perfectly happy to be scrounging out her meager existence. The girl probably would have been happy to remain with her father, but he wasn’t happy to have her, which was likely the reason that she was often so testy with Trevor. It’s not many kids who can get over that kind of abandon. Trevor had felt abandoned himself in a different sort of way, but it was still abandonment. When his parents died in a fire ten years before, he was just