Suddenly there was a loud pop! The strong odor of something burning reached her nostrils. At almost the same instant, her left arm began to sting. She instinctively raised her fingers to the hurt.

They came away sticky and red. Bemused, Cassie stared at them. Blood, she realized dazedly, and suddenly it was very hard to think. A dull buzzing in her ears grew louder and louder. What on earth.... Belatedly her mind recognized the sound for what it was.

"Dear God," she heard herself say. "I've been shot."

She pitched forward into a dead faint.

Chapter 11.

Gabriel reached her just as her knees began to buckle. A vile oath on his lips, he scooped her into his arms and ducked into the gazebo. Mindful of the need to keep his head low so he would not be seen, he ripped apart the torn sleeve of her riding dress. Snatching his handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it to the wound. Gently he wiped away the oozing trail of blood and gunpowder.

The frantic fear left his heart. The shot had only grazed her, thank heaven. It was not even deep; even now the wound had begun to clot. No doubt it was shock, not injury, that prompted her collapse. He hesitated, torn by the urge to search for the scourge who had fired the shot but reluctant to leave her alone.

At length Cassie stirred. Remembrance of the shot flooded back with a vengeance. Her eyes flew open, but darkness swirled all around. She lurched upward with a stricken cry. "Sweet Lord! Do not tell me I am dea -"

A firm hand restrained her. "No, Yank," proclaimed a dry voice, "you are not. You are alive and unhurt, though clearly you fancy yourself in heaven once again." There was a brief pause. "You were lucky, Yank. The shot merely grazed your arm. The bleeding lasted scarcely a minute."

It was Gabriel. They were inside the gazebo, she realized vaguely. His back was propped against the wall. She was lying in his lap, cradled in his arms. Though it was not as dark as she had first thought, daylight was fading fast. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw the tattered edges of her sleeve.

A low choked sob caught in her throat. She gave no further thought to the danger they night still be in. It was suddenly all too much -- the shot ... the blood on her hands. "My beautiful riding dress ..." She began to cry. "I've never had anything so grand ... I loved it so ... oh, God, and now it's ruined!" She turned her face into his shoulder and wept.

A strong hand smoothed her hair. "Cassie, hush now. Hush. I'll buy you another -- I'll buy you a hundred if it pleases you."

Her breath caught on a half-sob. She sought dumbly to focus on the dark features that swam just above her own. She could not help it, for this man was a stranger. He had called her Cassie, with something that night have been tenderness softening his remonstrance. And his eyes ... surely the glow of twilight was deceiving, for that could not possibly be caring she saw there .. .

She would have sat up but his arms closed around her more tightly. "Be still," he warned, the words but a breath. "The horses bolted when they heard the shot. In all likelihood it came from a poacher, but I'll take no chances. We'll remain here until it's dark and then return to Farleigh."

Cassie nodded, suppressing a shudder of fear.

She laid her cheek on his chest and huddled even closer, taking comfort in his strength, in the steady drumbeat of his heart beneath her ear.

It was well above an hour before they returned to Farleigh. Edmund was in the entrance hall with Davis when Gabriel flung the door wide.

"Confound it, Gabriel, what goes on here! Angus just informed me your horses --" Edmund stopped short on seeing the condition they were in. They were both filthy. Dust and dirt smudged Cassie's cheeks, a trail of tears clearly evident.

Edmund's jaw sagged. "Dear God, what happened?"

Gabriel's mouth turned grim. "We were at the gazebo when someone fired a pistol at us."

Edmund looked at her sharply. "Are you all right, Cassandra?"

Cassie. Cassandra. Cassie stifled the impulse to laugh wildly. Perhaps she'd gained some headway with these arrogant Sinclair men after all. She nodded, still too shaken to speak. She stood mutely while Davis was told to summon Gloria. Gabriel saw her safely delivered into the hands of the maid then turned to his father.

"A word with you in private, if you please, Father." He strode into the drawing room. Edmund followed, closing the wide oak portals behind them.

Gabriel poured himself a generous portion of port before turning. "I cannot help but wonder, Father ... The events of the day seem to raise the notion that you night wish to see me a widower."

It took an instant before the full import of his words sank in. When they did, Edmund's shoulders straightened. Fury ignited in his eyes. "I've thought you capable of many things, Gabriel. But to think that you would accuse me of trying to kill the girl . . ." Edmund only barely concealed his rage.

"I do not accuse you," Gabriel said calmly. The duke's shock had been genuine. And for all that his father's emotions ran cold, he was not inclined to violence.

"Perhaps no harm was meant for her at all," the duke said stiffly.

Gabriel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps you've been plucking fruit in someone else's orchard."

His meaning was not lost on Gabriel, who smiled thinly. "I've always chosen women with care, Father. None are burdened by a husband, and none with male relatives who might be disposed to deprive me of my life for the sake of a mere dalliance."

"Likelier than not, then, it was a poacher. It might be wise to advise Cassandra to refrain from riding in the woods until we know for certain."

"Oh, you need not go to such trouble on her account. She will be returning to London with me."

Edmund's glance was no less than suspicious. "Whatever for?"

"The dowager duchess of Greensboro is having a fete tomorrow evening."

"I'm well aware of that. I'd thought to attend myself. But you cannot mean to take her!" Despite Lady Evelyn's attempts at grooming these past weeks, Edmund remained skeptical.

Gabriel merely raised his brows. "One does not refuse the dowager duchess. To my understanding it's to be a relatively small affair to begin the Little Season. And I do believe we've had this discussion before, Father. Is it your reputation which concerns you, or mine?"

Edmund resisted the urge to throw up his hands. "Do what you will," he muttered. "You will please yourself and no one else." He spun around and strode from the room.

Gabriel watched his retreat, his expression etched in stone. "That I will, Father," he said aloud. A faint bitterness laced his voice. "After all, I learned long ago there was little point in trying to please you."

Deliberately he turned his thoughts elsewhere, studying the amber liquid in his glass before taking a long, deep swallow. Perhaps his father was right. Yet one question led to another. Who had fired the shot? Was it intentional? Or an accident? And if not, who had been its intended victim? Cassie ... or himself?

The line of his mouth grew thin. He could think of no one who would wish him dead. Yet why would Cassie be a target? Her circle of acquaintances was limited, both here and in Charleston. Likelier than not, the shooting was accidental. No, he could not leave her here in harm's way ...

Upstairs in her room, Cassie sat at the dressing table while Gloria brushed her hair. Her expression was one of troubled thought but that quickly changed when Gabriel walked in.

"How is your wound?"

Cassie flushed, embarrassed beyond measure to think she had fallen apart in his arms. She lowered her gaze and stared at the gilt-framed mirror and matching brush. "'It's fine," she murmured. "A bit red, but that is all."

"Excellent. I will be able to return to London tomorrow as planned. Please have Gloria pack your things first thing in the morning."

Her head came up. She twisted around and stopped him when he would have left. "Wait!" she said breathlessly. "Does this mean ... I am going with you?"

"It does indeed, Yank. Why, all of London is agog about the new countess of Wakefield. I am going to have to produce a wife else no one will believe I have one ... And after all, you are my wife ... where would you be but at my side?"

Did he mock her? Cassie did not know. At that moment, she did not care. She stared at the doorway long after he'd left, frightened, wary ... and excited all at once.

It seemed she was going to see London after all.

Gabriel's townhouse was far from modest, at least in Cassie's eyes. Though it was not nearly so grand or vast as Farleigh Hall, it was still far beyond her realm of experience.

The domed ceiling of the entrance hall was a soft gold, carved with delicate scrollwork and cherubs. Just beyond, the staircase ascended dramatically between two tall, stately columns. The library was a smaller version of the one at Farleigh, paneled in rich mahogany. In the drawing room, the walls were hung with crimson silk; the carpet was deeply hued in golds, browns, and blues. Several chairs and a divan were drawn close to the warmth of the fire. All in all, Cassie found it most inviting.

She was also delighted to find her room every bit as lovely as the one she had occupied at Farleigh. Decorated in palest blue and yellow, she took one look at the canopied bed and immediately fell in love with it.

"If the furnishings do not suit you," her husband said formally, "you may make whatever changes you wish."

Even his dour mood could not dampen her spirits. Cassie fingered the frilled yellow skirt that trimmed the dressing table, then turned and graced him with a lovely smile. "It's lovely just as it is," she said softly. "I wouldn't dream of changing a thing." Just then she spied a door next to the dresser. Impulsively she opened it. "Where does this lead?"

But she had already discovered the answer. She caught a glimpse of sparse, masculine furnishings and an enormous four-poster.

Color stained her cheeks. "Your bedchamber, I take it?"

He nodded, his expression coolly remote, revealing no hint of his thoughts. But to Cassie, the atmosphere was suddenly stifling. No further comment was drawn from either of them.

And little wonder. They were both well aware the connecting door would see no use.

"By the way, Yank, we have an engagement early this evening."

"An engagement?"

"Yes. We've been invited to attend a fete given by the dowager duchess of Greensboro." He strode toward the door, then stopped and turned toward her. "I shall return shortly to oversee your choice of attire."

Cassie drew herself up proudly. "I'm quite capable of choosing my own gown," she said stiffly.

"Oh, no doubt you are, Yank. Nonetheless, I will be happy to lend my assistance."

Though she knew he considered the matter closed, Cassie opened her mouth, determined to argue. One glance from those icy gray eyes robbed her of the inclination. Still, it was not in her nature to accept such a commanding attitude with meek obedience. When he arrived in her room, she still wore her dressing gown, having recently bathed. Summoning all her bravado, she moved to the wardrobe and withdrew the gauzy white gown she had planned to wear. Turning, she drew it back across one shoulder and silently awaited his reaction.

A slow smile crept across his lips. "I think not," he drawled. "With you at my side in that gown, I would feel like a veritable wolf. Besides, you would look like an innocent -- a virgin, young and untouched."

That's because I am! she longed to screech. Oh, but it would have given her great pleasure to disprove his arrogant high-handedness! But she was not certain how he would react, and so she held her silence. Her lips tightly compressed, she thrust the gown back into the wardrobe and withdrew another.

He disdained the choice as too girlish, still another as too simple, still another too formal. Cassie's anger began to stir. Blindly she reached into the wardrobe, yanking out the first one her fingers chanced to touch.

Gabriel paused, as if to consider the pale peach silk. "'It's a pretty enough color," he murmured, "but I would have you sparkle like the jewel you are. Something bright, I think."

He mocked her, and in that moment, she despised him for it. "I think black would prove far more appropriate!" she retorted hotly.

Devilish brows arose. "Black -- to match your mood, sweet?"

"Black, to match your heart!"

By then Cassie's chin was tipped mutinously. He merely laughed. "You must learn to trust in me, Yank. I have much more experience in these matters." He strode forward and pulled out a gown of ruby-red silk gauze. "This one," he pronounced.

Cassie snatched it from his grasp. "You were not so concerned with my choice of gown when I met your father," she snapped. "I fail to see why you trouble yourself so now."

She had struck a nerve. Though his voice was mild, she could see it in the clench of his jaw. "Ah, but the eyes of the ton will be upon you now, Yank." He said nothing further, but left her alone.

At last she was ready. Gloria pushed her gently before the mirror, then stood back and clapped her hands together. "Oh, ma'am," she breathed, eyes shining, "you are truly a vision."

For a long time Cassie could only stare. Gloria had dressed her hair high and away from her face, setting off the vulnerable slope of her neck and shoulders. The gown's neckline formed a deep vee, both front and back. In Cassie's mind, it was scandalously low, but Gloria assured her it was the fashion. Beneath her breasts, the skirt fell in soft folds down to her slippers. Although she had been determined to dislike the gown, Gabriel had chosen well, for the overall effect was one of classic elegance.

She felt dainty and feminine ... and beautiful. Tears started in her eyes, for this was a wholly new feeling for Cassie. But what would Gabriel think? Ali at once she was nervous and anxious.

It came as a shock to realize she wanted to please him. Why it was so, she did not know -- nor did she care. But she wanted to please him so very much ...

He waited in the entrance hall, pacing impatiently. Cassie descended the stairs as quickly as she dared, clinging tight to the ornately carved handrail. When she reached the last step, he finally glanced up.

Their eyes locked. Her heart thumping wildly, she stood still as a statue. His gaze raked her from head to toe and back again. Cassie endured his critical regard as best she could, but his inspection was so long and so thorough she feared she had done something terribly wrong.

At last he offered her his, arm. "You will do," he announced.

Outside he handed her into a richly cushioned carriage pulled by two prancing steeds, but Cassie scarcely noticed as he took his place beside her. She turned her face away, feeling crushed inside. Never in her life had she thought to possess a dress such as this -- to look as grand as this. And she had thought -- hoped! -- that Gabriel might think so, too. But neither approval nor condemnation had resided in his gaze. He was as cool, as remote, as ever.

In truth, it was hardly the case. His first sight of her, gliding down the stairs, stole the very breath from his lungs. It was all he could do not to haul her into his arms, rip off her dress, lovely though it was, to discover the sweetly curved treasures that lay beneath.

He could not give in to it. He could not give in to her.

He damned her, in that instant, for the way her eves shone huge and eager and hopeful, just as he damned himself for being the cold hearted bastard that he was. And so he summoned an iron control, for he had learned to master his true emotions long ago.

His father had taught him that much, at least.

The Greensboro mansion was ablaze with lights, both inside and out. Cassie watched as the long line of carriages waiting to drop off guests slowly inched forward and realized theirs was next. Now that the time drew near, she was frightened half to death. What was it Gabriel had said? The eyes of the ton will be upon you.

All too soon they stopped before the front doors. A heavy knot of apprehension weighted her stomach. Placing her ice-cold hand in Gabriel's, she alighted from the carriage and allowed him to lead inside.

Soon they paused at the entrance to a large ball-room. The scent of eau de cologne mingled with that of fresh flowers. Laughter and voices floated everywhere.

Panic swept over her at the crush of people. She began to quake, both inside and out. For the first time she realized what she was about to do -- play the part of lady when she was anything but a lady. God, but it was almost laughable! Painfully conscious of her incompetence in such a role, she longed to be anywhere but where she was. And then, as she looked out across the sea of strangers, she spotted a familiar face. But it was scarcely a friendly face -- no, not in the least ...

It was Gabriel's father.

Just then the majordomo announced, "The earl and countess of Wakefield."

She was totally unaware that she pressed close to Gabriel's side, yet such was not the case with Gabriel. All at once he was angry with himself and with her. It had been in his mind to cut her cold, to reject her with callous disregard and leave her alone, knowing it would embarrass his father who watched them. Yet one look at Cassie's white face and terrified eyes and he knew he could not.

He tucked her hand gingerly into his elbow. "Smile, Yank," he said under his breath.

Cassie 's face looked as if it would crack. "I - I can not "

"Of course you can." Even as he spoke, he stepped forward. Later she decided it was the sheer force of his will that kept her upright.

A dozen introductions quickly followed. Cassie began to feel dizzy as one face blurred into another. She thought half-hysterically that Evelyn would have been proud; through some miracle, she managed to make the appropriate responses.

A handsome young man clapped Gabriel on the back. "I can well understand your reason for keeping this jewel from envious eyes, which reminds me ... How is it we've never before seen this beauty? I wonder that I should not avail myself of a quizzing glass, for by Jove, I could swear I've never set eyes upon her before. I'd have remembered a face such as this!"