She whirled and began furiously splashing water into her face.

“Hurry, Marianna,” Alex said. “Gregor says I can ride with him today. Did you see his horse? He said that he bought it in Kazan and that all horses are that large there. Do you suppose that’s true?”

“No, I think Gregor was teasing you.” She wiped her face and tidied her hair. “You must be careful not to believe everything these people tell you.”

“Good advice.” She lifted her head to see Jordan standing a few feet away. He continued blandly, “Gregor is given to embroidering stories. He says it makes life more interesting.”

“But you always tell the truth,” she said with irony.

“Whenever possible. I don’t agree with Gregor. I think lies only complicate matters. I prefer simplicity.” He turned to Alex. “Gregor is waiting for you.”

Alex flew up the hill.

“You’ll ride with me,” Jordan said to her. “We have no extra horses. We were traveling fast and brought no pack animals.”

“It wouldn’t matter. Neither Alex nor I know how to ride anyway.”

His brows lifted. “No? We’ll have to attend to that as soon as we reach England.”

“I didn’t say we were going with you.”

“But you are. You have courage, but courage isn’t enough when the odds are so great. You’re intelligent enough to know this is the best way out for you.”

“I’ll make sure it is.” She added bluntly, “I intend to take everything you’ll give me and give nothing in return.”

“That attitude isn’t new in my experience. I’ve lived with it all my life.” His tone was laden with weary cynicism. “But I’ve not been cheated in a good many years. It’s become a challenge to find ways of taking what I want too.”

“You won’t find a way this time.”

“Are you going to abandon your work to keep from developing the skill you need? I think not. I understand you a little bit better after last night. You love what you do. You have to work. It’s a passion.” He smiled. “I understand passion.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll create a Window to Heaven even after I’m capable of doing it.”

“True, but that’s where the challenge occurs.” He started up the hill. “I believe that, for reasons of your own, you want to do that window as much as I want you to do it. When we reach Cambaron, I’ll supply you with all the tools of your craft, and we’ll see if you can resist the temptation.”

“Cambaron? Your home?”

He nodded. “Go and get something to eat while I saddle my horse.”

Cambaron. Her hands clenched at her sides as she watched him walk away. She knew nothing about him or this place to which he was taking them, while she had revealed entirely too much to him last night. It made her feel frightened and uncertain.

She had to find a way to shift the scales.

He looked over his shoulder. “Coming?”

By the time she reached the group at the top of the hill, Alex was already mounted, sitting before Gregor on the giant bay horse, cradled in his arms.

“Good morning,” Gregor said. He held out a small leather-wrapped packet to her. “Bread and cheese. I saved it for you. You must rise early to snatch food from these fellows.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat it anyway. You ate practically nothing last night.” Jordan swung onto his horse. “We’ll wait.”

She already felt more helpless than she could bear, and she would not let him command her in a matter this small. “I’m not hungry,” she repeated with precision.

To her disappointment he didn’t argue. “As you like.” He walked his horse forward. “But don’t complain if you grow famished before evening.”

“I won’t complain.”

“No, you’ll suffer in silence.” He leaned down and lifted her onto his horse and settled her across the saddle in front of him. “As all proper martyrs should.”

His arms encircled her; the heat of his body on her back came as a shock. “For God’s sake, stop stiffening,” he said in her ear. “You’ll be a bag of bruises by the time we reach Domajo.”

“I told you I wasn’t accustomed to riding.” She was also not accustomed to being this close to a lean, masculine form. It was not like last night, when she had been conscious only of the comfort he offered. Today she was aware of every muscle, every texture and scent, of him. It… disturbed her. “I’m not comfortable.”

“Neither am I,” he murmured.

“Perhaps… I should change places with Alex.” She continued quickly, “Gregor’s horse is larger.”

“So is Gregor. You’ll have to be content with me.” He laughed grimly. “And I guarantee we’ll be more than accustomed to each other by the time we reach Domajo.” He pulled her back against him. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“You can pretend you’re in a fine carriage. I’m sure you’d think that better than being held by my humble self.”

She closed her eyes but immediately realized it was not better; it was much worse. She again had the uneasy feeling she was flowing into him.

Her lids flicked open. “I prefer reality to pretense.”

“Pity,” he murmured. “When pretense offers so many attractive faces. I suppose you’ll just have to live with mine instead.”

A breeze, wet, salty, striking her face.

Voices, loud, strident, but not threatening.

“Take her, Gregor. She’s probably too stiff to stand.”

She slowly opened her lids. Green eyes looking into her own, those beautifully shaped lips. She wished he would smile…

The hands that lifted her from the horse were enormous. Gregor’s hands, Gregor smiling down at her when Jordan would not. She shouldn’t have worried about Alex waking to that scarred face, she realized sleepily. You noticed only the warmth of his smile. “We’re there?” she whispered.

He nodded. “It was a hard trip. You stood it well.”

Gray-white sails shimmering in the darkness…

Gregor was striding toward a ship.

“Alex?”

“He stood it even better. The scamp is running all over the dock.”

“He’ll fall in the water!” She was immediately awake and struggling in Gregor’s arms. “Let me down.”

“When we get to your cabin. Jordan is right, you need time to ease the stiffness.” He strode up the gangplank. “Don’t worry about the boy. Niko is watching him.”

She felt like a helpless child herself, being carried like this. “I’m perfectly able to walk.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Alex climbing on a huge box with Niko standing beside him.

“Niko has children of his own. He won’t let anything happen to him.”

As if to prove Gregor’s words, Niko laughed, plucked Alex from the box, and set him safely onto the dock. “I still want you to let me down, Gregor.”

Gregor studied her face and then set her down, but steadied her with a hand around her waist. “It makes you uneasy to feel helpless. Why did you not tell me? Most women like to feel cosseted.”

“I’m not accustomed to it.” She felt better on her feet but was glad of Gregor’s support. Her legs were numb, and her back felt as if she had been on the rack. “Where is Mr. Draken?”

“Jordan?” He nodded at a small building down the dock. “He had business with Janus. He will be here soon. He wants to sail on the midnight tide.”

“Janus?”

“Janus Wiczkows, Jordan’s cousin.” He turned as he saw a man approaching and hailed him. “Captain Braithwaite, what a pleasure to see your smiling face. Did you think we weren’t coming?”

The small man who stopped before them was not smiling; his long, deeply furrowed face seemed incapable of the act. He gave Gregor a dour look. “It took you long enough. I’ve been sitting in this port so long, I have barnacles on my own bott-”

“Permit me to introduce you to your passenger,” Gregor interrupted quickly. “Captain John Braithwaite, may I present Miss Marianna Sanders.”

The captain’s sour gaze raked over her, taking in the ragged garments with disapproval. “I told His Grace I would take none of his harlots on board my ship.”

Gregor’s smile faded. “It is Jordan’s ship, and I think he would be most upset if he heard you insult his… his…” He hesitated and then finished with a beaming smile. “His ward.”

“His ward?” Braithwaite echoed suspiciously.

Gregor nodded. “She is the daughter of Justin Sanders, Jordan’s close friend, who was killed in this terrible land a few weeks ago. Poor child. What trials and tribulations she has endured to escape death and dishonor. When we heard of Justin’s death, we searched ceaselessly until we found her and her small brother.”

Marianna stared at him in astonishment.

Gregor’s eyes were misting. “Do you know where we found them? In a church, praying for rescue. I cannot tell you how… touched and full of pain Jordan was when he found this poor girl.”

Touched. Pain. She remembered Jordan doubled over when she had struck him between the legs with the candelabra. Gregor slanted her a look from beneath his lashes, but his mournful expression didn’t change. “What could he do?” he continued. “The only thing any Christian soul would do. Take her back to England where she can be educated and given the chance to marry a man who will make her forget these tragic woes.”

“I believe not a tenth of this balderdash,” the captain said bluntly. “I’ve heard your tales before, Gregor.” He turned to Marianna. “What is your name, girl?”

“Marianna Sanders.” She met his gaze. “And my father is dead, and I am not a harlot.”

He studied her and then nodded slowly. “I believe you.” He turned and walked toward the gangplank. “In future let the girl tell the tale. She knows the value of brevity.”

Gregor looked after him, outraged. “It was a very good story. One of my best. Just enough truth to make it sound true.” He took her arm and propelled her along the deck. “And on the spur of the moment too.”

“Did you have to lie to him?”