of Noelle's armoire stood open, its empty maw telling her everything. Quinn had sent word ahead to the servants, telling them to pack all her things. He planned to take her with him!
She finally located him in her small blue and peach sitting room at the back of the house. He had never been in this room, and now it added to her outrage to see him trespassing among her things, holding one of her books in his hand.
'I thought you might want to take some of these with you.'
'I'm not going anyplace, Quinn.'
He continued as if she hadn't spoken. 'Your taste in books surprises me. Bacon, Locke, Samuel Pepys. Not a single one of Mrs. Radcliffe's romances. But then, you've managed to surprise me from the beginning, haven't you, Highness?'
Noelle refused to be distracted. Defiantly she crossed her arms and glared at him. 'I'm making my own choices now, Quinn. It's over. You've had your revenge for everything you think I've done to you. You've abducted me-'
'Abducted you?' He set down the book he was holding and lifted a dark, mocking eyebrow. 'You're being melodramatic. A man doesn't abduct his wife. She goes wherever he tells her.'
He was baiting her with his arrogance, deliberately trying to make her angry. But she wouldn't permit him to have that advantage over her.
'I'm to remain here. We've settled it.'
'Things are different now,' he shrugged. 'I've sent a note to Constance telling her we've had a last-minute change of plans and are sailing early.'
'Nothing is different. You can have my shares in the company. Do whatever you want with them. I release you from your agreement.'
'I gave Constance my word, not you.'
'Your word!' she sneered contemptuously. 'Your word means nothing. You keep it only when it suits you.'
His voice remained infuriatingly cool even as his eyes narrowed determinedly. 'You're going to come with me to Cape Crosse.'
'Cape Crosse is your home, not mine. I'm English. I don't belong in America. I belong here.'
'You hate this life as much as I do. I've been watching you, Highness. You enjoy the company of the coachman and the kitchen maid more than anyone you meet in society. You don't belong here with this swarm of parasites. You belong with people who make their own way. America is a new country, sometimes a dangerous one. There's room for independent spirits.'
Then he was next to her, catching up her shoulders in his hands, his voice barely a whisper, his closeness sapping her strength. 'Come with me, Highness. Come with me of your own free will.'
She recoiled from the strange, hypnotic appeal of his vision. 'No! It's my life. Mine! I make my own choices!'
'You're my wife.' His lips barely moved as he hissed each word. 'The choices are mine.'
'Never!' She pulled away from him and ran toward the door, but he caught the back of her dress and spun her around so violently that her chin slammed into the hard muscle of his shoulder.
'There are two ways we can do this, Highness. You can walk to the carriage like the lady you pretend to be, or you can leave it up to me.' His fingers tightened ruthlessly on her arms as he gave her one warning shake. 'Which will it be?'
In answer, she drew back her foot and kicked at him with all her might.
'Have it your way,' he muttered through clenched teeth. Pitching her roughly over his shoulder, he carried her into the hallway, past the gaping servants, and out the front door.
Noelle did not make it easy for him. She pounded him with her fists and then sunk her teeth into the tendons of his back. He let out a muffled curse and cracked his hand down hard on her buttocks. As the carriage pulled away from the house on Northridge Square, she still felt the sting of it.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Afterward, Noelle could never quite remember the details of that nightmarish week when she lay helplessly ill in their cabin aboard the packet
On the day after Christmas, when she still showed no signs of improvement, he announced he was taking her topside. She summoned enough energy to frame a protest but was too weak to resist when he wrapped her warmly in a blanket and carried her up to a chair on the deck. The frigid air soon set her teeth chattering, but for the first time, her stomach was quiet. From that point on, she made a steady improvement, spending as much time walking in the salt air as she could, even when the wind buffeted her so strongly, she could barely push one foot in front of the other.
One night as she sat on the edge of her berth, brushing her hair, the door of the cabin swung open to admit Quinn. It was unusual for him to desert the ship's gaming tables so early, but when she looked up to see his eyes boldly raking her body as if she were naked instead of wearing a modest nightdress, she understood that he had finally decided to claim her.
He crossed the cabin with an easy confidence that filled her with dread even as it excited her. Before she knew what was happening, he pulled her up into his arms and crushed his mouth to hers. Perhaps it was the suddenness of it, but for whatever reason, her body responded, and she felt her limbs turn to liquid.
Just as he opened the top of her nightdress to his caress and the last vestige of her will was slipping from her, the memory of his cruel taunt their final day in London returned to shame her:
It was true! All he had to do was touch her, and she was ready to give herself to him!
'No!' she cried, pushing herself back from him. 'I don't want your kisses. If you're going to take me, just get it done with. I won't try to fight you anymore. But I'll not have you caress my body just so you can mock me afterward if it responds!'
Quinn had the grace to look slightly abashed. 'I was angry with you. I didn't mean what I said. You know that.'
It was the closest thing to an apology she had ever heard from him, but the hurt was too deep. 'I don't know anything of the kind!'
He took her by the shoulders then, his eyes colliding with hers. 'Your body is beautiful and healthy. You should never be ashamed of it or let anyone, even me, make you ashamed of it.' Abruptly he turned away and spoke so softly, she barely heard the words. 'That night was probably the only good thing that has ever happened between us.'
'You're wrong, Quinn,' she immediately retorted, disturbed by the intensity of his tone. 'Nothing good has ever happened between us, and it never will.'
When he turned back to her, his face was coldly impassive. 'You're right, of course. Now get into bed. It'll be as you want it.'
He took her then, swiftly and silently, night after night. He used her body impersonally while she lay motionless beneath him. No caress or tenderness, no joy for her or, she soon realized, for him. Perhaps that was why she made no effort to stop him. No matter how dearly acquired, she finally had a small measure of revenge.
Each night after he left her berth for his, the disturbing question that had been lying dormant in her mind since he had carried her from Northridge Square and thrust her into the carriage surfaced to demand an answer. Why had she not escaped from him when she had the chance? Could it be that she hadn't wanted to leave? It was a ridiculous notion, she told herself, and tried to put it out of her mind.
During the day Quinn's behavior was courteous. He began to seek her out, at first chatting politely as he
