"Please," she sobbed, oblivious to her nakedness. "I'll do anything you say. Don't rape me. Please." Over and over, wildly, sometimes incoherently, she begged him to spare her.

Finally his proud wife had been brought low, but the taste of it was sour in his mouth.

He stalked the moor for hours. My God, she was poison! At one moment, all fire-pulling knives from under her skirts and spewing profanities with breathtaking ease. Then, like quicksilver, she became an ice maiden-beautiful and distant, impeccably correct. And finally, the terrified creature who had begged him for mercy.

With a black scowl, he decided to return her to London as soon as possible. He would deposit her on Simon's doorstep and then leave for New York as he had planned. He had clearly misjudged her sexual experience, and there was no sense in wasting his time with her when the world was full of easier prey; women eager to spread their thighs for him-boringly, predictably.

But he wasn't ready to send her back. She'd gotten into his blood, and he had to sample her before he could be free of her. For a moment he considered returning to the cottage and finishing what he had started. The hell with her pleas! He had always been patently selfish in his relationships with women, and he saw no reason to make an exception of her. Then he rejected the idea, not so much because it was distasteful, but more because it damaged his pride. Since when did he have to rape a woman to satisfy the ache in his loins! He wanted to feel her trembling under him, not with fear but with passion.

It was then that he decided to employ the charm he possessed in abundance but seldom made the effort to use. A seduction would be amusing. He'd bring her, willing and eager, to his bed. Then the spell would be broken, and he could dispose of her as easily as he had all the others!

Quinn threw back his head and laughed, his white teeth flashing in the sun.

The brush of cold air on her bare thighs brought Noelle back to the present, and she realized she was alone. Once again she had been spared, but the knowledge brought her no satisfaction. Slowly, she pulled herself up, lethargically fastening the few remaining buttons on her shirt as she remembered how she had humiliated herself… begged him… made him take pity on her.

Dear God, why couldn't she have borne his assault silently, with some measure of dignity! What a coward she had become, unable to bear what countless other women had been enduring since time began.

She looked down at her breeches turned wrong side out on the floor and wished with all her heart that he had not spared her. This way, his revenge was complete. By witnessing her with her spirit broken, without the courage to endure his intimacy, he had finally conquered her.

She pulled on her breeches, wincing as the fabric cupped her tender buttocks, and went outside. Climbing the steep hillside behind the cottage, she was too miserable to enjoy the freedom of moving with legs unencumbered by petticoats and full skirts. When she reached the top, she stopped to catch her breath and looked down. The cottage seemed even more isolated today than it had yesterday, although lit by the rare autumn sunshine, the barren moors had an awesome beauty. In the distance, she could see Quinn's figure stalking the black earth as if he were its master, no doubt reliving the way she had humiliated herself, reveling in her cowardice.

Then she knew without question what she must do if she were ever to be able to live with herself again, and with that knowledge an icy crust encapsulated her heart.

Despite her resolve, it was not until some time after she had seen Quinn return to the cottage that she could bring herself to enter. He was seated at the table, enjoying one of the trout that had figured so prominently in her downfall, and he politely invited Noelle to join him.

Warily she eyed the hard wooden seat of the chair and quietly refused.

"Not hungry?" he asked innocently as he saw her small hand steal unobtrusively to her abused backside.

She shook her head. "Perhaps later."

Reaching for the loaf of bread on the table, he tore off two chunks and placed a large piece of fish between the slices. He rose from the table unexpectedly and came to her, steering her toward the door. "Come on."

She nibbled on the sandwich while they walked along a path that ran off from one side of the cottage. He chatted easily, as if nothing had ever happened between them, telling her how he had found the cottage and of the old woman who maintained it for him. Despite herself, she listened, amazed that this charming man who was conversing so entertainingly was the same one who had tried to ravish her.

Just as she finished the last bite of her meal, she saw a lake ahead, so small that its far edge was easily visible. It lay even with the plane of the moor, its surface gray and smooth, reflecting the darkening sky and a lone twisted tree growing near its shore.

"Ravensdale Tarn," Quinn told her. "Those are gulls' nests in the rushes on the edge."

"It's beautiful. So still. I didn't know there were lakes on the moors."

"There aren't many. This is one of the most dangerous because it's so deep, and you can't see it until you're right on top of it. At night or when it's misty, the lake is completely invisible. A lot of sheep have been drowned in this water. Even a few men."

Noelle looked at him sharply. Was this his way of warning her not to try to run away from him? But his expression told her nothing, and she eased herself down onto the spongy turf.

Drawing her knees under her chin, she spoke quietly. "I have something I want to tell you." Each word crept painfully out of her solemnly set mouth. "I have decided I'm ready to become your wife." There, she had said it. There was no backing off now.

But he seemed not to have heard her. He only stared out across the fiat expanse of water, his forearm resting against the twisted tree trunk, and watched as a gull circled the edge of the lake before gracefully landing near its nest.

Finally he turned to her dispassionately. "What's that supposed to mean-'become my wife'?"

Damn him! He wasn't going to make this easy for her!

"It means that, for the present, I am prepared to…to fulfill all of my obligations."

"Are you, now?" he mocked, returning his attention to the lake.

"Yes," she declared, with a toss of her honey mane. "I'm no coward, Quinn Copeland, despite what happened today. And I intend to prove it to you."

His voice was steeped in sarcasm. "And am I supposed to be grateful for this act of bravery on your part?"

Whatever else he was ready to say was cut short by the sound of a man's voice calling faintly in the distance.

"Come on, Highness. I have a surprise for you."

An old man was unloading Quinn's heavy saddle and another smaller one from the back of a wooden cart that stood near the cottage. Tied behind the cart were two horses-Pathkiller, Quinn's magnificent stallion, and a small chestnut mare. Noelle stopped where she was and took in the beautiful animal. As if aware she was under inspection, the mare turned her head toward Noelle and returned the appraisal with warm, liquid eyes. Then, satisfied with what she saw, she pricked up her ears in friendly salute.

As a child, Noelle had sometimes collected a few pennies by standing on the curb and holding horses for the gentry, but other than that, her contact with animals had been unpleasantly limited to rats or the vicious stray dogs that roamed in packs through the alleys of London. Now she fell hopelessly in love with the beautiful animal that stood in front of her.

The horse whinnied softly, as if impatient for her to come near, and Noelle closed the distance between them. Tentatively she reached up and slid a hand down the mare's warm, silky nose, enchanted with the intelligence she perceived in the animal's expression. As if in response, the mare gave Noelle's shoulder a gentle nudge.

She was so captivated by the horse that she didn't notice Quinn coming up behind her.

"It looks like you've made a friend."

Noelle stroked the dark chestnut mane. "What's her name?"

"That's up to you. She's yours."

Thunderstruck, she stared at him.

He turned to untie the horses. "Don't worry. I'm not expecting gratitude. I won't have a wife who can't ride."

She was torn between the desire to fling the unsolicited gift in his face and the knowledge that she couldn't bring herself to part with this beautiful horse. Then the cart clattered its way down the lane.

With the reins of both animals in his hand, Quinn watched the warring emotions so clearly raging on Noelle's face.

"I'll have to shoot her if you don't take her. Nobody else would be stupid enough to buy that bag of bones."

"Shoot her!" Noelle choked. "Are you blind? She's the most beautiful-" The devils dancing mischievously in his eyes stopped her before she went further. She planted her hands on her slim hips and gave him a withering glare.

"Not only is your sense of humor misplaced, it is decidedly macabre."

"Whatever you say, Highness." He grinned. "Now, let's get these horses bedded down."

They led the animals to the tiny stone stable behind the cottage, where Quinn put them into separate stalls, each of which held a bale of straw. He showed her how to rub down the chestnut and then went to tend Pathkiller.

Noelle listened uneasily as the ferocious stallion kicked an iron hoof against the thin wooden partition that divided the stalls. The stallion was a magnificent animal, but she couldn't imagine going into a stall alone with him.

"Give her some oats before you leave," Quinn called over to her. "Tomorrow you're going to have your first riding lesson."