“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“I'm unaccustomed to being cooped up all day-I really must insist that you permit me to enjoy a short walk.""Not on your life," Fletcher growled.From the sound, Breckenridge realized the group had moved closer to the tap."You don't need to think you're going to give us the slip so easily," Fletcher said again."My dear good man"-Heather with her nose in the air; Breckenridge could tell by her tone-"just where in this landscape of empty fields do you imagine I'm going to slip to?"Cobbins opined that she might try to steal a horse and ride off."Oh,yes-in a round gown and evening slippers," Heather jeered. "But I wasn't suggesting you let me ramble on my own-Martha can come with me."That was Martha's cue to enter the fray, but Heather stuck to her guns, refusing to back down through the ensuing, increasingly heated verbal stoush.Until Fletcher intervened, aggravated frustration resonating in his voice. "Look you-we're under strict orders to keep you safe, not to let you wander off to fall prey to the first shiftless rake who rides past and takes a fancy to you."Silence reigned for half a minute, then Heather audibly sniffed. "I'll have you know that shiftless rakes know better than to take a fancy to me." Not true, Breckenridge thought, but that wasn't the startling information contained in Fletcher's outburst. "Come on, Heather-follow up."As if she'd heard his muttered exhortation, she blithely swept on. "But if rather than standing there arguing, you instead treated me like a sensible adult and told me what your so strict orders with respect to me were, I might see my way to complying-or at least to helping you comply with them."Breckenridge blinked as he sorted through that pronouncement; he could almost feel for Fletcher when he hissed out a sigh."All right," Fletcher's frustration had reached breaking point. "If you must know, we're to keep you safe from all harm. We're not to let a bloody pigeon pluck so much as a hair from your head. We're to deliver you up in prime condition, exactly as you were when he grabbed you."From the change in Fletcher's tone, Breckenridge could visualize him moving closer to tower over Heather to intimidate her into backing down; he could have told him it wouldn't work."So now you see," Fletcher went on, voice low and forceful, "that it's entirely out of the question for you to go out for any ramble.""Hmm." Heather's tone was tellingly mild.Fletcher was about to get floored by an uppercut. For once not being on the receiving end, Breckenridge grinned and waited for it to land."If, as you say, your orders are to-do correct me if I'm wrong-keep me in my customary excellent health until you hand me over to your employer, then, my dear Fletcher, that will absolutely necessitate me going for a walk. Being cooped up all day in a carriage has never agreed with me-if you don't wish me to weaken or develop some unhealthy affliction, I will require fresh air and gentle exercise to recoup." She paused, then went on, her tone one of utmost reasonableness, "A short excursion along the river at the rear of the inn, and back, should restore my constitution."Breckenridge was certain he could hear Fletcher breathing in and out through clenched teeth.A fraught moment passed on, then, "Oh, very well! Martha-go with her. Twenty minutes, do you hear? Not a minute more.""Thank you, Fletcher. Come, Martha-we don't want to waste the light."Breckenridge heard Heather, with the rather slower Martha, leave the inn by the main door. He sipped his ale, waited. Eventually, Fletcher and Cobbins climbed the stairs, Cobbins grumbling, Fletcher ominously silent.The instant they passed out of hearing, Breckenridge stood, stretched, then walked out of the tap and into the foyer. Seconds later, he slipped out of the front door.”

“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.”

“Deciding that at the moment it behooved her to, as Wiry had put it, behave, Heather inclined her head, first to the woman alongside her, "Martha," then to the barrel-chested man, shorter than Wiry but of heavier build, who'd remained quietly seated in the far corner of the coach. "Cobbins."She turned her gaze on Wiry. "And you are?"He smiled. "You may call me Fletcher, Miss Wallace."Heather thought of a few other epithets she might call him, but she merely inclined her head. Settling on the seat, she leaned her head back against the squabs and ventured nothing more. She sensed that Fletcher expected her to protest, perhaps beg for mercy, or try to subvert him and the others from their goal, but she saw no point in lowering herself to that.No point at all.The more she thought of all Fletcher had let fall, the more she felt certain of that. This had to be the strangest abduction she'd ever heard of...well, she hadn't heard the details of any abduction attempts, but it seemed distinctly odd that they were treating her so considerately, so...sensibly. So terribly calmly and confidently.”