have her abducted. This must be his way of making certain she understood what the consequences would be if she tried to blackmail him. Of course! That was it! He was trying to insure himself against Highness's larcenous ways.
Noelle felt somewhat calmer, but by the time another hour had passed and they still had not stopped, she was almost frantic. An image of the slippers turned over on their sides in her wardrobe flashed in her mind just as the carriage drew to a jarring halt.
She waited for the sound of Quinn's firm, booted stride, but heard only the shuffling steps of the coachman as he came round to open the door. For an instant she hesitated, but the thought of spending another moment alone with her torturous speculations was more than she could bear.
Ignoring his outstretched hand, she jumped down and looked around her. They were at the side of a deserted road, the flickering carriage lamps too dim to penetrate the dense forest that surrounded them. Pyramidal forms of fir and pine were dwarfed by the leafless skeletons of beech, alder, and oak; their trunks, obsidian columns, primitive sentinels that seemed to warn against any human invasion.
Noelle glanced nervously toward the coachman, who was tending the horses. Shoulders hunched, he hummed tunelessly as if the sound might ward off lurking spirits. Once again her eyes scanned the night forest. Suddenly she saw a distant sulphurous glow as a lantern was lit. There was someone in the forest, well back from the road among the trees.
Noelle turned to the coachman. 'Where's Mr. Copeland?'
'Me orders was to bring yer 'ere.' With that scant bit of information, he climbed back up on his box, settled himself comfortably, and then tipped his hat down over his eyes.
For the first time Noelle noticed what might once have been a path. Narrow and overgrown, it led roughly in the direction of the light. She seemed to have no other choice but to follow it. Hesitatingly she stepped into the forest, the knife strapped to her leg her only comfort.
A branch yanked at her shawl, and she quickly pulled it more tightly beneath her chin before her own hair could tumble out. The footing on the path was treacherous. She stumbled, skinning the heel of her hand as she tried to catch herself. An owl flew in front of her, and she let out a small gasp. Noelle was a creature of the city, and the night forest was as foreign to her as a distant planet.
Still, she kept pushing herself toward the light. The light meant her papers, her freedom.
After what seemed an eternity, she stepped into a small clearing. The lantern she had been following was swaying from the branch of a stunted beech. As it moved it cast grotesque shadows over the barren area. Tied to a tree was Pathkiller, Quinn's ebony stallion. His owner was nowhere in evidence.
Suppressing her fear, Noelle moved out into the middle of the clearing.
'Welcome, Highness.' His voice was low and menacing in the eerie stillness of the night.
Noelle whirled around as he stepped off the same path she had just traveled, almost as if he had first lit the lantern and then circled back to follow her.
He walked toward her, dressed all in black, a cheroot clenched between his white teeth. The swaying lantern cast jagged scars across his hard, reckless features, and a tremor of primitive fear clutched at Noelle. This was not the man who had rescued her in the alley or the dinner companion who had charmed her over Simon's table. This was a stranger-ruthless, unpredictable, and deadly. As he spoke his lips barely moved.
'Sorry I can't offer you a drink, but I'm fresh out of gin.'
Summoning her courage, Noelle spat out at him. 'Why did you 'ave me brought way out 'ere in the middle of nowhere?'
'Because I wanted to. And I always do what I want.'
His hand shot out like a striking serpent and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the lantern's glow. Noelle struggled against him, turning her head away from the condemning light.
'You're a little hellcat, aren't you?' He chuckled unmercifully at her efforts to free herself from him as he dragged her underneath the lantern. Clasping her chin in his rough hand, he turned it inexorably toward the light. When the full glow fell on her face, he held it still, tightening his hand around her small chin as if he planned to crush the bone. Then, without warning, he let her go.
With the unique courage of a survivor, Noelle lashed out at him. 'What the bloody 'ell do ya think yer doin'?'
'Just getting a better look at you. Highness. So I can remember you.' The glowing ember at the end of the cheroot cast a bloody shadow over his relentless mouth.
'All right. Yer've 'ad yer fun. Now 'and over me papers.'
With excruciating slowness, he withdrew a piece of folded paper from an inside pocket. 'Is this what you want?'
'Yes,' she snapped. Her hand hastily reached out for the document.
'Not so fast,' his taut lips admonished as he pulled the paper back, out of her reach. And then, incredibly, he took the cheroot from his mouth and brushed one corner of the precious document with its glowing tip. Tiny tongues of flame lapped its edge.
'No!' It was an animal cry, primitive and heart-rending**'
He dropped the burning paper and then ground it into ash with the heel of his boot.
'No!' Noelle threw herself at him, pounding his massive chest with her small fists. 'Why?' she screamed.
He pushed her away from him as easily as he might a small child. 'Let's just say I've reconsidered.'
'You've what?' she gasped in outrage, the macabre glow of the lantern carving skeletal hollows in her face.
'I've decided we're going to stay married, Highness. For a while anyway.'
'But yer don't want ter be married ter me,' she cried desperately. 'Yer too good fer the likes of me. I'm nothin' but a gin-soaked pickpocket.'
'Oh, I wouldn't call you that.' Slowly his hand reached for her face.
Dear God, no, she begged silently, motionless with fear.
Deliberately his finger traced her eyebrows, the familiar tilt of her nose, the side of her cheek. Terror was etched in her golden eyes as she stood frozen under his touch.
'No, I wouldn't call you that at all.' His voice rose dangerously. 'I'd call you a sly… conniving… greedy… little bitch!'
With one savage jerk, he pulled her shawl from her head. Like spilled honey, her hair cascaded over her shoulders. Quinn grabbed her by the arms and shook her roughly. Her cloak came undone and fell to the ground. Once again she stood before him in the emerald dress.
The unleashed fury of his voice sliced into the night. 'Just how long did you think you and Simon could make a fool of me?'
'I wasn't trying to make a fool of you,' she sobbed desperately, looking into eyes as intense as a prowling beast.
'Then just what were you trying to do-Noelle?'
At the sound of her real name on his sneering lips, panic stole her reason, and she began a deadly struggle.
Within seconds he had pinned her arms behind her back. 'You're my wife, and I'm claiming what is mine. I own you!'
'No!' she screamed as she broke free of his grasp and ran, her hair streaming out behind her.
Hurling himself through the air like a springing panther, he grabbed at her knees, pulling her feet out from under her. They both fell to the ground. He rolled her over on her back and held her down, using one knee to separate her legs. Then, with an expert hand, he reached under the skirt of her emerald gown and began his exploration. She felt his hand climb up her calf and flailed her legs wildly. She fought like a wild animal, tearing at his shoulders and neck with her nails, biting at anything that came near her mouth.
Then she felt his weight ease itself from her body. He rose slowly, a bloody scratch marring his rugged cheek. Noelle lay still on the hard ground, her bare thighs exposed where the skirt of her gown had been pushed up. Huge and forbidding, his legs outspread, he stood over her. One of his hands rested on his hip, the other held the Object of his search, Noelle's knife.
'You didn't really think I'd forget, did you?' he jeered contemptuously.
Noelle rose painfully and stood before him. Even the cheap dress and garishly applied cosmetics could not hide
