"Explore?" he repeated. "Trek? Swim?"

Heat scorched her cheeks and embarrassed confusion washed through her as she realized that with her unguarded words, she'd inadvertently told this stranger things she'd only ever shared with Hubert.

Humiliation prickled her skin. Was he laughing at her? She squinted at him, trying to see his eyes, fearing the certain derision she'd read there. But to her surprise, his steady gaze revealed no amusement. Only a deep intensity that oddly unsettled her and rippled flutters through her.

Anxious to break the uncomfortable silence, she remarked, "I assume no one knows your true identity."

He hesitated for a moment, then said," 'Twould cost me my life if anyone knew."

"Yes, I suppose it would." A rush of sympathy washed through her. " 'Tis a lonely life you've chosen, sir, in pursuit of your noble cause."

He nodded slowly, as if considering her words. "Yes, it is. But it's a small price to pay."

"Oh, but it's not. I… I'm often lonely myself. I know the emptiness that can accompany it."

"Surely ye have friends."

"A few." A humorless sound escaped her. "Actually, a very few. But I have my family. My younger brother and I are particularly close. Still, sometimes, it would be nice…"

"Yes?"

She shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "To have someone else besides a young boy who understands you." She studied her wrinkled gown for several seconds, then raised her gaze to his. "I hope some day you'll find someone or something to ease your guilt and loneliness, sir."

He studied her for several seconds, then, slowly reaching out, he ran a single gloved fingertip gently down her cheek. "As do I, lass."

Sammie's breath caught at the brief touch that whispered over her skin like a soft breeze. Unable to move, she simply stared at him, confused by the unprecedented warmth pulsing through her. Before she could examine the feeling more closely, he rose to his feet in one fluid motion and held his hand down to her. "Come. The rain has stopped. 'Tis time I brought ye home."

Home? Sammie stared at his outstretched hand and mentally shook herself from her dreamlike stupor. Yes, of course. Home. Where she belonged. Where her family-

Good heavens, her family! They must be frantic with worry. Surely Cyril had reported her disappearance by now. Her stomach churned with guilt when she realized that she'd been so caught up with her masked abductor, she'd forgotten how concerned Mama, Papa, and Hubert must be.

"Yes," she said, placing her hand in his and allowing him to assist her to her feet. "I must go home." She wanted to go home. So why did this hollow feeling of regret wash through her?

Without another word, they left the cabin. He gave her a hand up, then swung into the saddle behind her, cradling her between his hard thighs. One muscular arm held her close against his chest. Warmth from his body seeped into her, but in spite of that heat, a legion of chills skittered down her spine.

"Don't worry, lass. I won't let ye fall."

Before Sammie could assure him she wasn't worried, they were off, speeding through the forest. This time, instead of fear, nothing but exhilaration raced through her. Closing her eyes, she savored every sensation: the wind whipping over her face, the scent of moist earth, the rustle of leaves. She imagined she was a beautiful princess, held by her handsome prince as they dashed across the kingdom on their way to some exotic locale. Silly, foolish imaginings. But she knew these moments with this masked hero were precious, and she would never live them again.

All too soon he pulled on the reins and halted the horse. She opened her eyes and squinted. She could make out pinpricks of light in the distance, reminding her of the fireflies she'd caught earlier.

"Briggeham Manor lies just beyond these trees," he whispered. "I fear an alarm has been raised by your absence."

"How do you know?"

"Listen."

She strained her ears and heard the low murmur of voices. "Who is that?"

"Judging by the number of lanterns held aloft and the crowd gathered on the lawn, I'd say half the town is present."

"Oh, dear. Just leave me here and I'll walk to the house. I wouldn't want you to risk capture."

He paused for a moment, and she sensed him scanning the area. "It doesn't appear as if anyone is brandishing a weapon," he said against her ear. "I shall therefore bring ye to your family. I do not want ye to walk into a hole or fall in the darkness. I will, however, say good-bye here, as I will regrettably need to execute a hasty exit."

"Thank you, sir."

"No need for thanks. 'Twas my duty to bring ye home, lass."

"Not for that, although I do appreciate it." Staring up at him, a lump of emotion clogged her throat. Forcing a smile, she said, "I thank you for this incredible evening that I shall never forget. This has been a grand adventure." She lowered her gaze. "I've always wanted one, you see."

Placing his gloved fingers under her chin, he raised her face. "Well, then, Miss Briggeham, I am glad I was able to provide ye with your grand adventure.". "I wish you Godspeed with your endeavors, sir. It's a noble and heroic thing you do."

She sensed that he smiled beneath his mask. "Thank ye, lass. And I hope ye get to explore all those places ye dream of some day. I hope all your dreams come true."

With that, he urged his mount into a gallop. They emerged from the fringe of trees and raced across the grass. Sammie squinted against the rush of air, her heart pounding as they drew closer to the crowd.

He pulled on the reins and the horse halted not ten feet from the crowd. A chorus of audible gasps, followed by a hum of whispers reached Sammie's ears. He lowered her to the ground then turned to the group gaping at them.

"I return Miss Briggeham with my apologies." He jerked the reins and his magnificent stallion reared up on its hind legs, pawing the air. Sammie, along with everyone else, stared, mouths agape at the awesome spectacle of the masked rider silhouetted against the glow of a dozen lanterns. She looked toward her father and watched his monocle fall to the ground.

The instant its hooves touched the ground, the horse galloped away, the Thief's long black cape flapping behind. Within ten seconds the darkness swallowed them.

"Samantha!" Her father's voice, rough with worry, broke the stupefied silence.

"Papa!" She ran to him and he wrapped her in his arms, so tight she could barely draw a breath.

"Sammie, my dear sweet girl." She felt him swallow and blow out a long breath. "Thank God." Loosening his grip, he held her at arm's length and ran his anxious gaze over her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Lowering his voice, he asked, "Did he hurt you?"

"No. In fact, he was very kind."

He gave her a searching look, then, apparently satisfied she was unharmed, he nodded. Glancing toward the woods, he remarked, "I suppose there's no point in going after him. It's too dark and he has too much of a head start. Besides, all that matters is that you're home. And safe." He reached into his waistcoat pocket. "Here are your spectacles, my dear. Cyril found them in the woods."

Grateful, Sammie slipped them on her nose. The crowd pushed in, expressing their happiness over her safe return, while casting wide-eyed glances toward the forest. Cyril mopped his tears with a huge hanky and squeezed her until she thought her eyes would pop.

"I 'ope I never get another scare like that again, Miz Sammie," he said, giving his nose a hearty blow. "Took ten years off me life, it did. And me 'eart ain't what it used to be."

Hubert engulfed her in a mighty hug, his bony arms crushing her to his narrow chest, the metal frame of his spectacles biting into her cheek. "I say, Sammie, you gave us all quite the fright."

She kissed his cheek and tousled his unruly hair. "I'm sorry, darling. I-"

The front doors of Briggeham Manor flew open. "My baby! Where's my baby?" Cordelia Briggeham rushed down the steps and pushed her way through the crowd. She launched herself at Sammie with such force, she nearly propelled them both to the ground. Only Papa's restraining hand kept them upright.

Enveloping Sammie in a bone-jarring, floral-scented hug, Mama moaned, "Oh, my poor, poor child." Thrusting Sammie back a step, she peered into her face. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Mama. I'm fine."

"Thank heavens." She emitted a single chirp and raised her hand to her brow.

Papa stepped forward and whispered in a furious undertone, "Do not even consider swooning here, Mrs. Briggeham, as I swear I'll leave you where you fall. I've had quite enough of your hysterics for one evening."

Mama couldn't have looked more shocked if Papa had claimed to be King George himself. Taking advantage of her temporary speechlessness, Papa raised his voice and said to the crowd, "As you can all see, Samantha is fine. Thank you all for coming, but now if you'll excuse us, we wish to get our daughter into a warm bed."

Calling out good wishes, the neighbors departed for their homes, and the servants returned to their quarters. As they climbed the stone steps leading to the front door, a man on horseback rode up.

"Mr. Briggeham?" he called out.

Papa halted. "Yes?"

"My name is Adam Straton. I'm the magistrate. I understand your daughter was kidnapped by the Bride Thief."

"Indeed she was, sir. But I am happy to report that she has been returned to us, unharmed." He indicated Sammie with a nod of his head.

The magistrate studied Sammie with keen interest. "That is happy news, sir. I've never known the brigand to return one of his victims. You are fortunate."

Sammie bristled at the man's words, but before she could open her mouth to protest, he continued, "I'd like very much to speak to you about your abduction, Miss Briggeham… if you're feeling up to it."