fireplace. Quinn was naked; only his hips were covered by the corner of a blanket.
Memory washed over her-the storm, the tarn, her desperate struggle reaching for her horse's leg only to have it slip away…
'Is Chestnut safe?'she managed.
Xxx hell of a lot safer than you. That damned nag almost got you killed. That and my stupidity. I should never have let you go off alone.' He shifted his weight and the curious silver disk he wore reflected the flames. 'I tried to follow you, but I lost you in the mist. I knew you were headed roughly in the direction of the tarn. It was just luck that I got there in time.'
'It was my own fault. You warned me, but I didn't pay attention to where I was going. And then the storm frightened Chestnut, and she bolted.'
Quinn saw Noelle shiver. 'Here, drink some more brandy.'
Once again he raised her head. As he held the glass to her lips some of the liquid trickled out the side. She drank, and then he lowered her back to the pillow, enjoying the play of the firelight on her hair. A small amber droplet clung to the corner of her moist mouth. Slowly he lowered his head and captured it in his kiss.
Almost instantly he felt her stiffen under him. He pulled back, placing a quieting finger over her lips before she could voice her protest.
'Your time has run out, Highness,' he said huskily. 'I'm going to make love to you now.'
Little golden pinpoints of fear flecked her eyes, and he could see by the way her fingers convulsed around the edge of the blanket that she had just realized she was naked and completely vulnerable to him.
Her eyes darted to the brandy bottle sitting a few feet away.
'Not this time. Tonight it will be just the two of us in this bed. A man and a woman who want each other.'
'No,' she whispered, 'I-I don't want you.'
With firelight dancing in his eyes, he eased the blanket from her clenched fist and slid it down to her feet. Then he touched her face and began lightly stroking away the fear-etched ridges. His mouth followed his fingers, and, finally, with gentle urgency, he claimed her parted lips.
Noelle breathed in the virile scent of him, tasted the hint of brandy on his tongue, felt the roughness of his beard against her cheek. She wanted to protest her nakedness, his invasion of her mouth, but the sweetness of it stole her words.
Then his mouth traveled from her lips to the curve of her shoulder. His hand crept up her naked side to her breast, thumbing delicious circles around the coral areola and then lightly brushing the tiny bud at the tip.
She moaned at the sensations that his touch generated and heard a muffled exclamation, low and deep in his throat. He lifted his head so that he was staring deeply into her eyes, promising with his own what was to follow. And then his mouth descended to a tender coral bud, tonguing it and then sucking deeply, teasing first one, then the other-relentlessly persistent until her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow.
Again the muffled exclamation, low and triumphant. Was it laughter? Passion?
His mouth possessed her once more. His hand moved down her body, brushing the silken fleece but not stopping this time, going on to touch private places. No need to part legs already open.
His body covered hers, and she accepted its weight, her traitorous arms locking around his shoulders. Her flesh was on fire, waiting, yearning, eager when his rigid manhood probed at the entrance of her secret core.
'Open your eyes,' he commanded, his voice suddenly hard and ugly. 'I want to see you when I take you.'
Afraid he would stop if she disobeyed, she did as he ordered, opened her eyes and locked them with his. She hated him then as she saw his triumph. Hated herself more for having obeyed. He was not making love to her, he was conquering her. This was his revenge. It had all been a calculated seduction.
He laughed harshly. 'I told you I'd claim what was mine.' And then he filled her.
'No,' she sobbed, wanting to fight him. But it was too late. He moved inside her slowly, relentlessly. Watching her. Boring her with his eyes and his manhood. She felt her body climbing, overcoming her will. She reached. Toward what? Ached. Release. Please. Whatever. Sweet, blessed.
The crescendo of her passion captured her and carried her to shattering, humiliating fulfillment. She was barely aware of his shudder as he finally allowed, himself his own hot, liquid release.
Long after he had moved her from their place in front of the fire to the bed and fallen asleep beside her, Noelle lay awake, shamed by her body's unrestrained response to someone she detested. The nagging fears about her own nature that she had tried so hard to dismiss had borne ugly, bitter fruit.
Quinn had forced her to acknowledge his complete domination of her body. He had threatened her at her most primitive level, and she hated him for it. Even more tragically, she hated her own healthy body.
The next morning when she slipped out of bed, she was careful not to touch him, knowing now that the slightest graze of skin upon skin might ignite a fire over which she would have no control. She washed and dressed quickly, dispassionately studying his sleeping form the whole time. He slept as aggressively as he lived, throwing the span of an arm over the place where she had been lying, angling his long frame across the bed to keep his feet from dangling off the end, encompassing the bed, making it his own just as he did everything else.
'Noelle?' A muscular forearm shaded his eyes from the gray light of morning.
She ignored him, viciously yanking on her boots.
'Highness, take off those damned clothes and get back into bed.'
'Must you modify every noun with a profanity?' she sneered. 'I realize you didn't have the benefits of a British education, but that's hardly an excuse for the limitations of your vocabulary.'
Something resembling a snort came from the bedclothes. 'You talk too much. Come over here.'
'So you can maul me again? No, thank you.'
He lifted himself up on one arm, the covers falling uncomfortably low at his waist. 'So it's 'maul' now, is it? I don't remember having had to pry your legs apart.'
She winced at his vulgarity but kept her voice coldly steady. 'No, you didn't. And I'll never forgive myself for that.'
He sighed with exasperation. 'For God's sake, Noelle, you're a healthy woman. You enjoyed a good tumble in bed. There's nothing wrong with that. I made love to you, and you responded.'
'No,' she spat out. 'You weren't making love to me; you were conquering me. Forcing me to acknowledge your superiority. Well, I don't acknowledge it!'
His laugh was soft and bitter. 'Why, you little hypocrite! You regret having enjoyed it, don't you?' He rolled off the bed and grabbed the discarded towel, wrapping it around his hips as he advanced on her. 'You would have liked it better if I had raped you. Then you could have been a victim.'
'I was a victim! You took my choice away.'
'You wanted it. The way I see it, you made your choice.'
'No!' she exclaimed. 'I couldn't help it. It was you! You…'
'I made you want it? Well, then, good,' he drawled.
'There was nothing good about what you did to me.'
Quinn studied her for a moment and then shrugged uninterestedly. 'Have it your way.' He sauntered over to the bureau and pulled out a clean shirt. 'I need to get back to London. I'm leaving today, and I don't want you slowing me down. There'll be a carriage coming for you tomorrow.'
Noelle was incredulous at his pronouncement. 'This is all part of your pattern, isn't it? You take what you want from women and then discard them.' She rushed over to him and grabbed his arm, her fingers biting into the thick tendons. 'Well, there's a difference this time, because I yearn for nothing more than to be one of your discards!'
He flicked off her restraining fingers, and mockery flooded his eyes. 'I wouldn't plan on it quite yet if I were you.'
'Damn you!' Noelle raged. 'What do you want from me?'
'You still don't understand, do you? You're mine, and I don't give up what I own unless it's on my terms.'
Her face was engraved with bitterness. 'These last few days, I thought I had misjudged you. Now I see how stupid I was.' She fled from the cottage before he could see her tears.
Quinn stared at the open door. 'Maybe I was the one who was stupid,' he said softly.
When she returned to the cottage, he was gone. For the rest of that afternoon, Noelle attempted to ride out her anger on Chestnut Lady's sturdy back. With reckless abandon, she thundered across the moors, trying to forget
