are dangerous.'
Quinn raced toward the woods, his face a thundercloud as he dug his heels into his stallion's already lathered flanks. He'd been a fool to leave orders as if he thought she would obey them. How could a stable boy keep a leash on her when he hadn't been able to do it himself? At least the boy had had the sense to send for him. Quinn would not let himself think about what would happen if he were too late.
He had barely entered the trees before he saw them coming toward him, Wasidan in the lead, riding a biscuit- colored mare, and Noelle following on her chestnut. The relief that coursed through him was quickly replaced by an anger that he struggled to set aside as his old friend spotted him and raised an arm in greeting.
'Kalanu, my friend. It is good to see you.'
'And you, Wasidan. It has been too long.'
They clasped hands as their horses drew alongside each other. It was then that Quinn noticed the red stain on Wasidan's tunic.
'You've been hurt.'
'It's only a scratch. Your woman is as fierce as the wolf.'
Quinn's eyes, hard and cold, flickered over her. With a tug on the reins, she swung past the two men and headed toward the stable. She had handed her horse over to the groom and was walking back to the house when he caught up with her, his fingers digging into her arm.
'I'm not done with you yet,' he growled through tight lips. 'I'll see you inside after I've spoken with Wasidan.'
She stepped from the tub and patted herself dry before she wrapped her wet hair with the towel Grace handed her. Quinn had still not returned to the house, even though she had waited downstairs for over an hour before she came to her senses and marched furiously to her room. What was she doing cooling her heels like a kitchen maid? He could just wait for her!
Even the hot tub water could not soothe away her anger. This time he had gone too far. His arrogance had actually put her life in danger! He should have told her it was swampland behind the house instead of issuing those mindless orders to the groom.
She slipped a mauve silk robe over her still damp body and pulled the sash tight around her waist. 'The blue muslin will do for tonight, Grace.'
Suddenly the front door slammed with a vengeance. Only Quinn could enter a house so violently. Noelle instructed Grace to tell him she would be downstairs presently, but the girl's hand had barely touched the knob before the door was thrown open.
'Go downstairs,' he ordered the startled maid.
'She stays right here. You can go down and wait until I'm dressed.'
He jerked his head toward the door. 'Get out of here, Grace.' Nervously the girl did as she was ordered.
'What in the hell did you think you were doing?'
His jaw was taut and his lips barely moved as he challenged her. Dimly he realized that his anger was out of proportion to her deed, but he couldn't forgive her for the fear she had sent racing like poison through his veins when he had discovered she was in danger.
'Can't you follow simple instructions? Do you always have to defy me?'
Noelle's eyes flashed golden currents of belligerence even as one part of her registered how achingly handsome he was-head thrown back, legs spread wide apart, hands resting in fists on his hips.
'How dare you come in here accusing me! I don't follow orders that have no explanation.'
'I don't need to give you any explanations.'
'By not telling me that was swampland, you put my life in jeopardy.'
'You put your own life in jeopardy and the life of my friend with your damned knife!'
'Your friend,' she scoffed. 'That savage attacked me!' This was not only unfair, but untrue, and Noelle knew it. Still, she did not take back what she had said, because she saw the words had fallen on him like the lash of a whip. A terrible excitement built within her at the dangerous narrowing of his eyes. Propelled by loneliness, by a bedroom door whose latch was never tested, by an unspeakable yearning for something more than distant politeness from this man, she deliberately pressed him.
'You sicken me with your talk of how persecuted the Indians have been. If this is a sample of what happens when they live near the white man, I think the government is right to move them all away.' Lifting her chin, she walked toward him with measured steps, calculating her words as she went. 'They're filthy savages, Quinn, no matter how you try to disguise it. They're a threat to every white woman who strays farther than her front porch.'
'So, the little guttersnipe who cheated and lied her way out of the slums is now judging other people!'
'People!' she jeered, her moist lips trembling with the danger and excitement of what she was doing. 'They're animals!'
'Are we, now?'
Her breath caught in her throat. 'What are you saying?'
'If I'd realized it was so important to you, I'd have told you long ago that I'm Cherokee, but, frankly, it didn't occur to me.'
'I don't believe you!' It was a lie. She did believe! Amanda's portrait had already told her the truth, had already warned her of the madness of inciting him.
'You don't want to believe me because you're afraid.'
'I'm not afraid!'
'You should be,' he sneered, his mouth thinning into an ugly line of contempt. 'You've heard what Indians do to white women.'
Jerking the towel from her head, he entangled his bruising hands in her mass of damp hair. 'Does it frighten you now, Highness, having a savage so close to your beautiful hair? Can you taste the fear in the back of your mouth like cold metal against your tongue?'
He twisted his fingers around the long piece of silken hair growing from her crown and yanked on it until her eyes teared with pain. 'This is where the Cherokee takes a scalp. Only this place. Sometimes the victim even lives to tell about it.'
'Get your hands off me,' Noelle cried out.
'It's too late for that.'
Dropping her hair, he pushed her back against the wall and split the fragile silk of her robe. The fabric fell to her waist, where the knotted sash kept it from going farther. His eyes raked her nakedness, then he slid his hands roughly down her neck, past her shoulders to her breasts.
'Look at my hands on you. See how white your flesh is against mine. Even your nipples aren't as dark as my skin.'
She shuddered as she looked down at his massive dark hands and watched the calloused palms knead her tender tips.
'It's not just the sun that has stained my skin. It's the blood of the Cherokee.'
She swung out at him with her fists and began spitting out inflamed, exciting oaths until his mouth clamped down hard on hers, and he parted her lips with a tongue that was unwilling to please but eager to punish. Like a vixen, Noelle bit down. When he jerked back from her, his eyes black with fury, she ran, knowing that no matter how swiftly she fled, he would catch her.
He tore off the sash of her robe when he spun her around, and the fabric snared her ankles, sending her naked body sprawling to the floor. Before she could bring herself up, he deliberately stepped down on her hair, moving his leather boot close to her scalp. Pinned down with her cheek pressed into the carpet, she listened helplessly as he removed his clothing above her. He had told her she should be frightened of him, and now, too late, she was.
He moved his foot. His arm grasped her around the waist and hurled her to the bed. She thrashed helplessly under him while he foraged her mouth in a crushing assault filled with the passion of rage and tasting of the blood she had drawn when she bit him. His legs pried hers open, and then he reared back and poised himself to enter her. As she felt him ready to ram his anger deep within her, tears clouded her vision. How ugly this had become, this wild assault she had led him to.
Closing her eyes, she turned her head to the side and braced herself for the searing pain of an entry for which she was not yet ready. He was suddenly still, and the room echoed with the sound of their ragged breathing.
