In books as well as movies, scenes are written that never end up in the finished product. One of my favorite things is to watch the deleted scenes (and bloopers) on movie DVDs. Here, I thought I'd offer up one such deleted scene from Texas Wedding for their Baby's Sake.

Early June 1836
Charleston, N.C.

Up to this point, things had been simple for Caroline Benét. A well-dressed young woman could always get assistance if the person helping thought they might obtain a coin or two for the trouble. All she'd had to do was wave frantically at the driver and pretend distress for him to stop the coach.

The driver had been easy to manipulate—a young man who looked more at her smile and the bit of lace she showed at her ankle than worry about the irregular nature of her situation. The rider in the coach was another matter entirely. A reluctant sigh escaped as she pulled the dueling pistol from her brocade reticule.

The conveyance bounced, making her hand wobble with the weight of the heavy iron firearm. Perhaps she should have removed her gloves to gain a more sufficient grip on the unwieldy thing. However, it was too late now.

On the leather seat facing her, Franklin Penderton 's gray brows drew together in a fierce frown.

"Please, Sir, don't make me use this," she said, managing to keep her voice firm in spite of the bouncing.

His frown deepened—not out of fear—more from consternation. "Now, put that away, Miss Benét. There is no need for violence. I'll listen to whatever you have to say."

She wasn't convinced. Franklin Penderton was formidable enough. Although he was older than her by at least thirty years, he was also quite large—a good six foot compared to her five- foot three-inch height. If he lunged for the gun, it wouldn't be much of a tussle before he gained control of it.

She fixed both hands on the smooth, wood-grained handle and aimed squarely at his knee. The thought of ruining his new gray trousers disturbed her, but not nearly as much as injuring his leg. She needed his assistance. "Then tell your driver to continue. Now."

Cautiously, his gaze never leaving her face, Mr. Penderton leaned toward the coach window and called up to the man. The coach lurched forward, making the weapon bounce alarmingly as he settled himself across from her again.

They were on their way. She relaxed—but only a little—and removed her shawl. The humidity today was stifling, even for June.

Her companion loosened his jacket and pulled the watch from his waistcoat to make a show of checking the time. "You don't understand," he said smoothly as he wound the watch-spring and then slipped it back in his pocket. He was too smooth, too confident. His lack of fear was beginning to annoy her. "I'm not out for a pleasant drive on Charleston's streets."

"Nor I."

"Obviously." He studied her a moment more. "Then you are kidnapping me? That is what you are doing, you know."

"To be more precise—I'm actually kidnapping myself. I'm on my way to Texas. With you."

"That's ridiculous," he said coldly. "Completely impossible."

The choice of his words infuriated her. "I have heard that phrase uttered entirely too frequently of late."

"You'll find some things are so, whether you believe them or not. Miss Benét, what you are doing is totally inappropriate. You cannot journey to Texas with me. Your parents would have my hide—in thin, nasty strips—and your reputation would be in tatters."

For a moment her resolve wavered. She cared about her reputation. Her family was well thought of in the city. A good name had always meant something to her, but she'd thought all that through weeks ago. Her circumstances demanded action. What she must do went beyond normal constraints of decorum. Worrying about her reputation was a selfish obstacle at this point. It only hurt hearing the words from Penderton, a man who'd been her nemesis over the past two years. Now he could tell Brandon "I told you so."

"Thank you for your concern," she said, her ingrained manners coming to the fore. "It is duly noted. However, my situation requires that I put aside such consideration for myself."

He huffed. "And what of my reputation?"

"I can assure you that your name will not even be discussed in connection with mine in the Charleston social circles. My parents believe I am journeying to another part of the country—to Virginia to visit a relative. They won't be the least suspicious."

"Where is your trunk? Your clothes for the journey?"

"I left word to leave it at St. John's on the edge of the city. We'll pass by there on the way."

"I'm aware of the church's location, Miss."

"Excellent." She smiled and settled back on the burgundy seat. "Then there won't be a problem."

His hand inched toward his knee.

She was on her guard at once, alert and gripping the gun firmly again. "I know what you're doing. Do not challenge me. I'll use this."

"And then where will you be? This trip would have to be postponed."

He was right. She needed him whole. She couldn't find her way halfway across the continent on her own and should she injure him, there was no time to wait for him to recover. What had to be done must be accomplished post haste. She had a duty to perform, however unpleasant it might be, and she must see it through.

Her resolve wavered. And in that instant in a startling flash of motion, he grabbed for the gun and wrenched it from her hands.

"Oh, blast!"

"Such language!" He tsked, examining the firearm and disarming it. A single bullet plopped into his palm and he shoved it in his coat pocket. "Where did you get this thing? It doesn't look like something your father would own."

"It's my brother's. Tom's."

"Judging by the nicks in the handle, it looks as if it's seen hard use."

She glared at him. Secreting the gun from her brother's room had been difficult. The firearm had saved his life twice during the Texian rebellion. Since he'd returned home, it seldom left his person.

Mr. Penderton tucked the gun into his waistband. "I take it he has no idea you absconded with it."

Now what would happen? She took small comfort that he hadn't stopped the private coach immediately. "Please take note, Sir. I do plan to return that to him."

"Of course. I wouldn't have thought otherwise."

She could tell by his look that he certainly did think otherwise. He obviously did not trust her. His condescension—and this from a man's man, a servant of sorts, was intolerable. However, he now had control of the firing weapon. That changed the landscape a bit.

She eyed him warily. Would it do any good to offer him money? His loyalty to the Dumont family was well-known. He'd been with them for years. She doubted that her predicament would garner a chivalrous reaction from him.

"Miss Benét. You and I have not got on well in the past and I don't imagine that will change. You certainly are not going to Texas to enjoy my company. This is an act of desperation. Tell me what is going on."

Well, at least the coach continued on. He'd turned down the main thoroughfare heading east, away from the harbor. "Isn't it obvious? I'm running away."

"To Brandon." His lips pursed, but his voice gentled some on continuing. "He hasn't asked for you."

A stone lodged in her stomach. "I know. But he made certain promises."

"Dear," he said softly, as though he were talking to a wayward child. "Those promises have been nullified by the circumstances. War changes things. You don't know what you'll find in Texas...if you make it there. The journey is not without risk."

"True enough." Danger didn't matter. Now that she'd set her mind, she'd see this through. There would be no turning back. "But you cannot dissuade me. No one can."

"I'll stop the coach this minute and put you out. That's what I can do. Or..." he cocked his head, his look considering. "I can return you to your family."

Her heart clutched. To go back to her family would ruin everything. "I have gone to extreme measures to make sure no one is aware of my absence. Please, Mr. Penderton. I will not be a bother. I do have good reason for my actions."

"You have yet to tell me of your reasons and why I should put up with you on a journey that will take four weeks. Tell me immediately or I will drop you at the rectory."

She should have accosted him further out of town, she realized. It was her first mistake—as well as that of losing the gun to him. How many more would occur on this ill-advised journey? Grim determination sparked inside as she closed her hands into tight fists in her lap. "Then I will confiscate a horse and catch up with you."

His eyes widened.

She certainly did sound at her wits end. She calmed her voice, slowing the cadence to emphasize her sincerity. "This is something I must do, Sir. Believe me. If there were another alternative, I would be most happy to try it. I don't relish this long journey. My home and my family are here."

She wavered under his unrelenting regard. She wanted to trust him, yet was afraid. He'd never liked her, but that had a lot to do with both of them wanting the best for Brandon—and going at it differently. Putting that aside, most likely he was a decent fellow. What's more, Brandon trusted him. To Brandon, Mr. Penderton had always been a mentor and confidante.

"If I tell you, you must promise to take me with you."

"I can't make that promise. Not until I know your reasons."

"Lay my cards on the table, so to speak."

He gave a slow nod.

She sighed, playing with the fold in her calico skirt nervously while she considered if there were any other options. Once she told him, she'd be vulnerable. She didn't relish providing the stronger position to him at all. It would be all too easy for him to turn the coach around and take her home. But it seemed she really didn't have a choice in the matter. "Very well."

He waited quietly as she drummed up her nerve and forced herself to meet his stern gaze.