Dalwynd came into view just after noon of the next day. The large thatch-roofed stone hunting lodge was located beside a small lake that was covered by ice and surrounded by pine trees.

Jordan slipped from his horse as soon as they reached the stable yard and then lifted Marianna from her mare. He released her at once and strode toward the door. “Mind the ice on the step.”

His manner was careless, almost impersonal, as it had been since they had left Cambaron at dawn that morning. She slowly followed him into the lodge, entering a huge square room with several doors opening off it. A gleaming oak staircase with elaborately carved banisters and side pickets led to the upper story and a long hall that overlooked the lower parlor.

“I think you’ll be comfortable.” Jordan took off his hat and gloves and tossed them on an inlaid marquetry table just inside the door. “It’s a bit chilly in here. I’ll start a fire.”

He was treating her with the politeness he would have shown an honored guest, she realized with annoyance.

He crossed the room and knelt before the huge stone fireplace. “We’ll have no servants while we’re here. You’ll have to rely on my humble self to care for your needs. I live very simply while I’m at Dalwynd, but that should be no problem for you. You’ve always complained Cambaron was too big.”

She glanced around her at the “simple” parlor. A long table that would have seated twenty occupied the center of the room. Silver pitchers and crystal decanters gleamed on the intricately engraved sideboard resting against the far wall. Over the fireplace a tapestry in shades of greens and ivory depicted a spear-wielding Diana hunting a boar.

Jordan’s gaze followed Marianna’s to the tapestry. “My father purchased that atrocious object. He was always attracted to women who had an element of ferocity. I thought it strange because he was completely unable to match them in spirit and eventually grew to detest them.” He struck flint, and the kindling flared. “You should know I’ve arranged to have two men quartered at the stable to care for the horses and lay fires and such.” He paused. “With instructions that you not be permitted to leave the premises.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just throw me into the dungeon at Cambaron,” Marianna said bitterly.

“I’d never be so insensitive. You appeared to have a certain apprehension about it when we first discussed it. Besides, dungeons are no longer fashionable. Hunting boxes are all the thing these days.” He rose and moved toward her. “It will be warm soon. Take off your cloak.”

She didn’t move.

“Take off your cloak,” he repeated softly as his fingers undid the button at her throat. She shivered as his thumb brushed the sensitive cord of her neck. “It’s not a barrier that can’t be overcome.” He slid the cloak off her shoulders and threw it on the wing chair by the fire. His gaze moved over the riding habit that was as loose and childlike as the rest of the clothes in her wardrobe. “And neither is that detestable garment. It’s merely annoying.”

“I intend to be as annoying as possible until you give Alex back to me.” She added in exasperation, “This is all nonsense. I don’t know what you hope to gain by bringing me here.”

“I hope to persuade you to be sensible.”

“What you deem sensible. You haven’t been able to accomplish that in the last three years.”

“Because Gregor took pity on the dove, and I found his pity a dreadfully contagious disease.” He stepped forward and untied the ribbon that bound one of her braids. “But I’m over it now. Patience and the milk of human kindness are obviously of no avail. I can’t do any worse than I- Stand still. I’ve always hated these braids.” He untied the other braid. “That’s better.” His fingers combed through her hair. “Much better. I don’t want to see it braided again while we’re here.”

The act was blatantly intimate, and her loosened hair felt heavy and sensuous as it lay against her back. He was not touching her with anything but his hands in her hair, but she could feel the heat of his body and smell the familiar scent of leather and clean linen that always clung to him. With every breath she drew she had the odd sensation he was entering her, pervading her. She hurriedly took a step back and asked, “Where am I to sleep?”

He smiled. “Wherever you wish to sleep.” A burgundy-rich sensuality colored his voice.

“Then I wish to sleep in Dorothy’s house in Dorchester.”

He shook his head. “Not possible.” He indicated the staircase. “There are four bedchambers. Choose which one you like. I usually occupy the one at the end of the hall.”

She stared at him uncertainly.

“Did you think I was going to force you? I’m sorry to rob you of your first battle, but I have no taste for rape. I’m only furnishing a setting where we’ll be close, very close. I’ll let Fate and Nature do the rest.” He nodded to a door leading off the parlor. “Your workroom. I’ve furnished it with tools and glass and paint.”

“So that I can make you a Window to Heaven?” She smiled scornfully. “What are you going to do? Stand over me with a whip?”

“Whips aren’t the thing either. I wanted you to have something to amuse you. I knew you were accustomed to working, and I thought it would please you.”

She crossed the parlor and threw open the door to reveal a low-ceilinged room with exposed oak beams. She assumed the dark green velvet drapes covered a window. The room was not at all like her workroom in the tower.

But a long table occupied the center of the room and on that table were glass and tools and paints.

Relief soared through her, alleviating a little of the tension that had plagued her since they had left Cambaron.

Salvation. She could work.

“And you, in turn, will amuse me.” He gestured to the large, thronelike high-backed chair in the far corner. “I know you were reluctant three years ago to let me watch you at your craft, but circumstances have changed.”

“Nothing has changed.” She strode over to the window and jerked back the curtains to let light pour into the room, then went to the table and examined the tools. “I’ll ignore you now, as I would have then.”

“You wouldn’t have ignored me,” he said softly. “If I hadn’t been a soft fool, you would have been in my bed before a week had passed. Perhaps that very night.”

She whirled on him. “No!”

“Yes.”

“You would have forced me?”

“No force would have been necessary.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m not Lady Carlisle or that- I’m not like them.”

“No, you’re not like them. You’re far more alive, and that’s where both temptation and pleasure lie. From the beginning you’ve known what’s between us as well as I have.” He looked into her eyes. “You want me as much as I want you.”

His tone was without a hint of doubt, and his certainty sent a jab of sharp uneasiness through her. “It’s not true,” she whispered.

“It is true.” His tone roughened. “Every time I was with another woman, I wanted it to be you. Sometimes I pretended it was you. Wasn’t it the same with you? Didn’t you ever wonder what it would be like to-”

“No!”

“I think you did. Perhaps you didn’t admit it to yourself, but weren’t there moments when you woke in the middle of the night, and you would catch yourself-”

“I told you, no.” She moistened her lips. “And I suppose you think if you seduce me, I’ll be as weak as those other women and give you the Jedalar.”

“It would simplify matters enormously. Perhaps I even told myself seduction might be a tool of persuasion. Gregor would say I have a tendency to lie to myself to justify taking what I want.” He smiled crookedly. “But you would have come to my bed whether or not there was a chance of convincing you to give me the Jedalar. I couldn’t have waited any longer. It was like kindling a fire and deliberately keeping it too low to warm you. I’ve grown damned cold in the last three years.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

It was a lie. She didn’t want him in the way those other women did. It was true he had always exerted a fascination for her, but that didn’t mean she was-

She would not think about it.

She crossed to the window and stared out at the stable yard. Jordan was undoing the saddlebags on the packhorse, and as she watched, he turned and spoke to one of the men standing in the deep shadow of the stable. The man hurried forward to help, but Jordan waved him away. His dark hair shone in the cold winter sunlight, and his face was lit by the faint smile that was so familiar. She knew his body as well as his face, the lean, loose-limbed grace, the deceptively lazy way he moved.

But she did not know it the way Catherine Carlisle did.

She did not want to know it in that way, she thought desperately. Yet why had there been those times when she had awakened in the middle of the night with those shockingly sensual visions? How terrible that he had guessed that sinful weakness. It made her feel as if she had no place to hide.

Well, she must be stronger than she’d been in the past and distance herself from him. If she did not show him weakness, then he would see that bringing her here would gain him nothing.

You’ve been in that bedchamber all afternoon,” Jordan called through the bedroom door. “Come out and have your supper.”

“I’m not hungry. I’m going to go to bed.”

“You will eat,” he said pleasantly. “If you prefer, I’d be delighted to bring in your meal and serve it to you in bed.”

She opened the door.

She had seldom seen him garbed so informally. He was without a coat or cravat, dressed only in Hessian boots, a loose white shirt, and black buckskin breeches that clung to his hips, thighs, and calves.

“What a disappointment. I thought I was to receive an unexpected gift.” He gestured for her to proceed him. “Instead, I suppose we’ll have supper before the fire while we talk.”