“His first stop was the local branch of Child's Bank; once he replenished his supply of cash, he followed the bank manager's directions to the town's premier bootmaker, and was lucky enough to find an excellent pair of riding boots that fit him. His next stop was the best gentleman's outfitters, where he created a small furore by demanding they assemble for him outfits suitable for a groom and for a north country laborer.The head tailor goggled at him and the assistants simply stared; holding onto his temper, he brusquely explained that the outfits were for a country house party where fancy dress was required.Then they fell to with appropriate zeal.It still took longer than he would have liked. The tailor fussed with the fitting until Breckenridge declared, "Damn it, man! There's no prize for being the most perfectly dressed groom in the north!"The tailor jumped. Pins cascaded from between his lips and scattered on the ground. His assistants rushed in to gather them up.The tailor swallowed. "No, of course not, sir. If Sir will remain still, I will endeavor to remove the pins...although really, such shoulders...well, I would have thought...""Never mind about showing off my damned shoulders-just make sure I have room to move.”

“And every mile we go further from London makes the notion of ransom even more unlikely. So we're still no closer to learning what's behind this-neither the who for the why of it." She waited until he swung around again and caught his eye. "I believe we need to consider the wider implications."His lips twitched-she was almost certain of it-but he didn't stop pacing. "Meanwhile you want to continue on with this"-he gestured-"quest of yours."She tipped up her head. "Of course. I'm here, already kidnapped, but they've provided me with a maid and are under strict orders to see to my health and safety, orders they're clearly committed to obeying. On top of that"-she waved at him-"you're here. If you continue to follow our party, when it comes to the point where escaping becomes necessary, I'll be able to do so and hide behind you. God knows, you're large enough."He quirked a black brow.”

“You may set your mind at rest, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby." He glanced down, the planes of his face granite-hard. "I'm not marrying you because of any social stricture. That, if you consider it, is a nonsensical idea. Cynsters, as you well know, do not give a damn about social strictures. Society, as far as we're concerned, can think what it pleases—it does not rule us.""But… if that's the case—and given your reputation I can readily believe it is—why insist on marrying me?""Because I want to."The words were delivered as the most patently obvious answer to a simple question. Honoria held on to her temper. "Because you want to?"He nodded."That's it? Just because you want to?"The look he sent her was calculated to quell. "For a Cynster, that's a perfectly adequate reason. In fact, for a Cynster, there is no better reason."He looked ahead again; Honoria glanced at his profile. "This is ridiculous. You only set eyes on me yesterday, and now you want to marry me?"Again he nodded."Why?"The glance he shot her was too brief for her to read. "It so happens I need a wife, and you're the perfect candidate." With that, he altered their direction and lengthened his stride even more."I am not a racehorse."His lips thinned, but he slowed--just enough so she didn't have to run. They'd gained the graveled walk that circled the house. It took her a moment to replay his words, another to see their weakness. "That's still ridiculous. You must have half the female population of the ton waiting to catch your handkerchief every time you blow your nose."He didn't even glance her way. "At least half.""So why me?"Devil considered telling her--in graphic detail. Instead, he gritted his teeth and growled: "Because you're unique.""Unique?"Unique in that she was arguing.”

“They'd followed him up and had seen him open the door of a room not far from the head of the stairs. He hadn't so much as glanced their way but had gone in and shut the door. She'd walked on with Martha, past that door, down the corridor and around a corner to their chamber.Drawing in a tight-faintly excited-breath, she set out, quietly creeping back to the corner, her evening slippers allowing her to tiptoe along with barely a sound.Nearing the corner, she paused and glanced back along the corridor. Still empty. Reassured, she started to turn, intending to peek around the corner-A hard body swung around the corner and plowed into her. She stumbled back. Hard hands grabbed her, holding her upright.Her heart leapt to her throat. She looked up,saw only darkness.She opened her mouth-A palm slapped over her lips. A steely arm locked around her-locked her against a large, adamantine male body; she couldn't even squirm.Her senses scrambled. Strength, male heat, muscled hardness engulfed her.Then a virulent curse singed her ears.And she realized who'd captured her.Panic and sheer fright had tensed her every muscle; relief washed both away and she felt limp. The temptation to sag in his arms, to sink gratefully against him, was so nearly overwhelming that it shocked her into tensing again.He lowered his head so he could look into her face. Through clenched teeth, he hissed, "What the hell are you doing?"His tone very effectively dragged her wits to the fore. He hadn't removed his hand from her lips. She nipped it.With a muted oath, he pulled the hand away.She moistened her lips and angrily whispered back, "Coming to see you, of course. What are you doing here?""Coming to fetch you-of course.""You ridiculous man." Her hands had come to rest on his chest. She snatched them back, waved them. "I'm hardly likely to come to grief over the space of a few yards!"Even to her ears they sounded like squabbling children.He didn't reply.Through the dark, he looked at her.She couldn't see his eyes, but his gaze was so intent, so intense that she could feel...her heart started thudding, beating heavier, deeper.Her senses expanded, alert in a wholly unfamiliar way.he looked at her...looked at her.Primitive instinct riffled the delicate hairs at her nape.Abruptly he raised his head, straightened, stepped back. "Come on."Grabbing her elbow, he bundled her unceremoniously around the corner and on up the corridor before him. Her temper-always close to the surface when he was near-started to simmer. If they hadn't needed to be quiet, she would have told him what she thought of such cavalier treatment.Breckenridge halted her outside the door to his bedchamber; he would have preferred any other meeting place, but there was no safer place, and regardless of all and everything else, he needed to keep her safe. Reaching around her, he raised the latch and set the door swinging. "In here."He'd left the lamp burning low. As he followed her in, then reached back and shut the door, he took in what she was wearing. He bit back another curse.She glanced around, but there was nowhere to sit but on the bed. Quickly he strode past her, stripped off the coverlet, then autocratically pointed at the sheet. "Sit there."With a narrow-eyed glare, she did, with the haughty grace of a reigning monarch. Immediately she'd sat, he flicked out the coverlet and swathed her in it.She cast him a faintly puzzled glance but obligingly held the enveloping drape close about her.He said nothing; if she wanted to think he was concerned about her catching a chill, so be it. At least the coverlet was long enough to screen her distracting angles and calves.Which really was ridiculous. Considering how many naked women he'd seen in his life, why the sight of her stockinged ankles and calves should so affect him was beyond his ability to explain.”

“She searched his face. "Why did you do this -- go to all this trouble, indulge in what I'm sure will prove a shockingly hideous expense?He returned he gaze steadily "You like music."It was that simple -- he let her read the truth in his eyes. Then she shivered. He reached for the shawl she'd left over her chair and held it up. She hesitated, then turned so he could drape it over her shoulders. Releasing the fine silk, he closed his hands about her shoulders; leaning closer, he murmured, "As with other pleasures, my reward is your delight.”

“You also," he said, lowering his voice, "haven't yetthanked me for saving you from sitting in the flower bed."She didn't even look up. "It was entirely your fault that I nearly did. If you hadn't sneaked up on me, I wouldn't have been in any danger of landing in the weeds." She glanced briefly at him, a touch of color in her cheeks. "A gentleman would have coughed or something."Vane trapped her gaze, and smiled—a slow, Cynster smile. "Ah," he murmured, his voice very low. He shifted fractionally closer. "But, you see, I'm not a gentleman. I'm a Cynster." As if letting her into some secret, he gently informed her: "We're conquerors—not gentlemen.”

“Holding her breath, she stepped out, heading for the better-illuminated section of the room.Hard hands closed about her upper arms.She started-very nearly squeaked-then once again wilted with relief as Breckenridge drew her back, closer to his large, warm body; he'd been standing in the dense shadows by the wall."Shssh."The order-despite the sibilant sound, she was quite sure it was an order-shivered across her ear.Irritated, she glanced up and back. "If you'd stop scaring me witless, I wouldn't make a sound."For a moment, their eyes met through the dimness. Their faces were close. Then he released her and eased back. "Would you rather I'd tapped you on the shoulder?"She humphed.”