Drawing her knees under her chin, she spoke quietly. 'I have something I want to tell you.' Each word crept painfully out of her solemnly set mouth. 'I have decided I'm ready to become your wife.' There, she had said it. There was no backing off now.
But he seemed not to have heard her. He only stared out across the fiat expanse of water, his forearm resting against the twisted tree trunk, and watched as a gull circled the edge of the lake before gracefully landing near its nest.
Finally he turned to her dispassionately. 'What's that supposed to mean-'become my wife'?'
Damn him! He wasn't going to make this easy for her!
'It means that, for the present, I am prepared to…to fulfill all of my obligations.'
'Are you, now?' he mocked, returning his attention to the lake.
'Yes,' she declared, with a toss of her honey mane. 'I'm no coward, Quinn Copeland, despite what happened today. And I intend to prove it to you.'
His voice was steeped in sarcasm. 'And am I supposed to be grateful for this act of bravery on your part?'
Whatever else he was ready to say was cut short by the sound of a man's voice calling faintly in the distance.
'Come on, Highness. I have a surprise for you.'
An old man was unloading Quinn's heavy saddle and another smaller one from the back of a wooden cart that stood near the cottage. Tied behind the cart were two horses-Pathkiller, Quinn's magnificent stallion, and a small chestnut mare. Noelle stopped where she was and took in the beautiful animal. As if aware she was under inspection, the mare turned her head toward Noelle and returned the appraisal with warm, liquid eyes. Then, satisfied with what she saw, she pricked up her ears in friendly salute.
As a child, Noelle had sometimes collected a few pennies by standing on the curb and holding horses for the gentry, but other than that, her contact with animals had been unpleasantly limited to rats or the vicious stray dogs that roamed in packs through the alleys of London. Now she fell hopelessly in love with the beautiful animal that stood in front of her.
The horse whinnied softly, as if impatient for her to come near, and Noelle closed the distance between them. Tentatively she reached up and slid a hand down the mare's warm, silky nose, enchanted with the intelligence she perceived in the animal's expression. As if in response, the mare gave Noelle's shoulder a gentle nudge.
She was so captivated by the horse that she didn't notice Quinn coming up behind her.
'It looks like you've made a friend.'
Noelle stroked the dark chestnut mane. 'What's her name?'
'That's up to you. She's yours.'
Thunderstruck, she stared at him.
He turned to untie the horses. 'Don't worry. I'm not expecting gratitude. I won't have a wife who can't ride.'
She was torn between the desire to fling the unsolicited gift in his face and the knowledge that she couldn't bring herself to part with this beautiful horse. Then the cart clattered its way down the lane.
With the reins of both animals in his hand, Quinn watched the warring emotions so clearly raging on Noelle's face.
'I'll have to shoot her if you don't take her. Nobody else would be stupid enough to buy that bag of bones.'
'Shoot her!' Noelle choked. 'Are you blind? She's the most beautiful-' The devils dancing mischievously in his eyes stopped her before she went further. She planted her hands on her slim hips and gave him a withering glare.
'Not only is your sense of humor misplaced, it is decidedly macabre.'
'Whatever you say, Highness.' He grinned. 'Now, let's get these horses bedded down.'
They led the animals to the tiny stone stable behind the cottage, where Quinn put them into separate stalls, each of which held a bale of straw. He showed her how to rub down the chestnut and then went to tend Pathkiller.
Noelle listened uneasily as the ferocious stallion kicked an iron hoof against the thin wooden partition that divided the stalls. The stallion was a magnificent animal, but she couldn't imagine going into a stall alone with him.
'Give her some oats before you leave,' Quinn called over to her. 'Tomorrow you're going to have your first riding lesson.'
So he was going to teach her to ride. A throb of excitement shot through her at the thought of sitting on the back of this beautiful horse.
'I'm going to call you Chestnut Lady,' she whispered as she rested her cheek against the animal's sleek neck, 'and I'll learn to ride you like the wind.'
A scene of quiet domesticity greeted Quinn when he entered the cottage that night after having checked the horses. The lamps were glowing warmly, and a crackling fire cast cozy pumpkin-colored shadows about the room. At the center of the tranquil scene was Noelle, laboriously sewing on the buttons that Quinn had ripped from her shirt that morning. The ends of her hair, still damp from the quick bath she had taken while he was in the stable, curled over the modest bodice of the flannel nightgown she had found in the chest. She looked like little more than a child with her bare feet tucked under the folds of the voluminous nightgown and her forehead knitted in concentration.
Only the slight trembling in her fingers gave away her agitation. So, Quinn thought, she's planning to go through with it. He jerked his coat off and flung it over the back of a chair.
The last button secured, Noelle reluctantly set aside the shirt and, keeping her eyes averted from Quinn, drained the half-empty wineglass sitting next to her. It was her fourth glass, and she was feeling definitely light- headed. Still, she needed whatever courage the bottle could offer if she were to keep her resolve. The wine was young and raw, and as it slid down her throat she shivered. Looking for something else to do, she spotted a plate that had fallen over on the shelf and straightened it, almost knocking another over in the process. Afterward she folded her shirt, returned the needle and thread to the chest where she had found them, and then brushed her hair. When her scalp was tingling from the force of the brush and her hair crackling around her head, she finally stopped and meticulously secured it in a long, loose braid.
The pungency of Quinn's cheroot filtered through the room, and Noelle poured another glass, despite the fact that her head was now floating and her fingertips growing numb. Taking a deep swallow, she closed her eyes in a silent, intense prayer to a God whose existence she had so often questioned in poverty and then forgotten in prosperity. Please, she prayed, give me the strength to go through with this. I have to prove to him and to myself that I'm not a coward. Don't let me be humiliated again.
The room seemed to tilt as she willed her feet to move to the bed. She slid in, encased in her flannel cocoon. Don't let yourself think about it, she admonished. Don't look at him. Just shut your eyes and imagine you're somewhere else. She pulled the quilt up to her chin and clenched its top edge between her fingers to keep the room from moving.
'I'm ready now,' she managed, her tongue cumbersome from the alcohol.
Whatever she had expected, it was not the sardonic bark of amusement coming from across the room.
'Save your sacrifice, Highness. I'm going to sleep in the stable, I prefer women who enjoy lovemaking, not one who has to fortify herself with a bottle of wine before she has the courage to get into bed.'
Noelle tried unsuccessfully to raise herself up on one arm. 'I have pl-plenty of courage. Don't have to fortify myself to find it. Said I would do my duty.' The words would have been more defiant if they had not been slurred.
Quinn walked over to the bed and looked down on her. 'Your 'duty' doesn't interest me. I don't take unwilling women, but I'll be damned if I'll put myself to the test by sleeping next to you at night.'
'Since when have you developed scru-scruples?'
'It doesn't have anything to do with scruples. I just don't have a talent for rape.'
'That's not how I remember it from our wedding night!'
'That was different, and you know it.'
'Why? Because you thought I was a whore?' A large, wine- induced tear slid from the corner of her eye as she remembered her mother. 'Whores are people, too. They have feelings.'
