"The safest way will be for you to travel disguised asMalford's ..." He hesitated, his lips compressing briefly before he opened them to say the words."As his wife."

"His wife?"

"Not in reality, of course. No documentation will be required. The army is very lenient in accepting the word of a soldier that a woman is...attached to him."

"He would claim we were married?"

"You need have no fear thatMalford would in any way take advantage of the situation. It would merely be a ploy to get you safely on board."

She wondered why he didn't suggest that she travel as his wife. Of course, as an officer and a gentleman, a phrase she seemed to be hearing with a deal of frequency lately, it might be difficult for him to later disavow knowledge of such a dependent.Especially if he were forced to make that claim in front of his fellow officers. For a common soldier, like LordWetherly's batman, there would be no questions asked about what had become of his "wife" once they disembarked inEngland .

"As soon as we arrive, I'll convey you to my brother. Even if you don't trust me to keep you safe, I assure you that you may put your faith in Dare's abilities and, more important, in his connections. The Condedel Castillo will find it difficult to question protection sanctioned by the Prince Regent."

It seemed that he had considered every aspect of his plan. She couldn't find fault with anything he had said. He had a powerful family, with powerful friends, who would undoubtedly be able to offer her the sanctuary he had promised. So the only question was...

"Why are you doing this? Are you hopingJulian will follow me toEngland so you may kill him there?"

There was a small silence before he asked, "Do you believe he will?"

She couldn't read any emotion, neither hope nor anticipation, in the question, so she answered it with the truth.

"He has what he wanted all along. And he's managed to achieve it without having to marry me. I think if you still want to killJulian , you'll have to come back to the Continent and hunt him down."

"And kill him like the cur he is," Sebastian finished softly.

She let the silence build for a moment before she broke it. "Butit's foxes you hunt inEngland , isn't it,"

she asked, holding his eyes. "Believe me, Captain Sinclair, you'll find that to be a far more fitting analogy forJulian Delgado."

When the soft knock sounded again on the door of the room where she was hidden, it was after dusk.

For a moment she didn't respond, expecting it to open immediately as it had this morning.

Malford, she decided, when it didn't.Or perhaps the kind, fat man who brought her meals. In any case, not Sebastian, and despite the feelings she had cautioned herself against all day, there was a swell of disappointment.

She crossed the room, and then, just as she reached the door, her steps slowed. What ifthis were not one of the three trusted people who knew about her presence? What ifthis were another of the servants, the scullery boy or a maid come to clean the room? Or, the thought far more frightening than the others, what ifJulian were standing on the other side?

And then she ridiculed her own fear. Her guardian would hardly wait to be given permission to enter.

He would break down the door and drag her out by her hair.

As she hesitated, the knock sounded again, slightly louder this time. And she recognized the voice that spoke her name immediately after it.

She opened the door and looked up into Sebastian Sinclair's eyes. Illuminated by the candle he held, they seemed almost luminous in the dimness of the stone passageway.As blue as the sapphires in her mother'sparure .

For a moment she couldn't seem to think of anything else. Not to step back and let him in. Not even to draw the next breath.

His eyes looked down into hers with an intensity she could feel. And although they were both standing in the open doorway, he seemed oblivious to the danger that someone might see her.

Then he moved, breaking the spell that held them motionless. She stepped back, allowing him room to enter. She closed the door behind him, being careful to make as little noise as possible.

"I've brought you some clothing," he said.

He held the bundle he was carrying in his left hand out to her like a gift. When she had taken it, he crossed the room and set the candle down on the table beside the bed.

As she watched him, she was again conscious of the fit of his uniform, tailored to cover those broad shoulders without a wrinkle. The smooth line of his pantaloons, which disappeared into the top of high boots, emphasized the same play of muscle she had been aware of that night at the reception.The night that had begun this.

Except, of course, it hadn't.Her relationship with this man had begun months before, when she had stolen his sword and put the point of it against his throat. For an instant, the memory as intense as his eyes had been in the hallway, she pictured those wet drawers clinging like a second skin to his lean frame.

"This is not your spare uniform, I take it?"

He turned, his eyes slightly widened. Then the stern line of his lips relaxed. Again the image of the laughing gallant who had showed neither fear nor anger over her attempt to rob him was in her head. His eyes had simply held on hers that day, just as they had a moment ago at the door.Just as they were now.

"I think you will be less conspicuous in those," he said.

She lowered her gaze to the bundle, beginning to unfold the garments that made it up.

"I don't believe I ever asked what you intended to do with my uniform after you'd stolen it."

She glanced up and found that his lips had arranged themselves into a smile. Not quite as open as the one she had seen that day by the river. Of course, in the time since she had encountered him again, he had had little enough to smile about.

"I was going to disguise myself as an English soldier."

"A soldier in a very badly fitting uniform," he suggested.

"Not everyone is blessed with your tailor, Captain Sinclair."

"I shall take that as a compliment."

"Somehow I was sure that you would."

Hiding her own smile, she again lowered her eyes to examine the items he'd brought. They were much the same as the garments she had stolen from Anna that day.Perhaps not so fine. Or so clean, she acknowledged with a tiny wrinkle of her nose.

"I owe you an apology," he said.

Her eyes came up to find he was watching her, the amusement gone. His features were as set as when she had told him the story of her father. As stern as when he had talked about his friend's death.

"An apology, Captain Sinclair?Whatever for?"

Actually, therewere any number of things in his treatment of her that a gentleman might wish to apologize for.Stealing a kiss in a dark garden.Holding her wrists. Causing her to fall and strike her head.

Abducting her.

"I believe...I believe I was mistaken about the disappearance of the girl I met by the river that day."

"Mistaken?"

"I think she still exists. Her spirit may have been subdued, but given what has happened to her, that might be expected. I didn't understand all the reasons for why she did the things she did. I humbly beg her pardon for accusing her of being a coward."

Perhaps her emotions were still too exposed, too near the surface. Whatever the reason, her eyes unexpectedly began to fill with tears. She controlled them through sheer will, refusing to allow them to fall.

"I believe you once made a claim to being both charming and entertaining, Captain Sinclair. The prime duties of a staff officer, I think you said."

"English arrogance."

"Indeed? And I was about to compliment you on having told nothing less than the truth that night."

"I'm sorry then that I suggested it was arrogance. I don't suppose you would be willing to acquit me of--"

"Of being charming," she interrupted quickly, smiling at him. "But of course. If that's what you wish."

"What I wish--"

For some reason, he broke the sentence abruptly. She waited through the pause, wondering because the phrase had such intriguing possibilities. What I wish...

"Captain Sinclair?" she prompted finally.

"I wish you would call me Sebastian," he said, the alignment of his mouth changing again, almost a tilt.

"It seems we are on far too intimate terms for the formality of titles."

Intimate. The word had so manyconnotations, she wasn't sure which he meant. They had shared a kiss.

He had carried her while she was wearing only her nightgown.Watched over her as she slept. All of which might be considered intimate.Far too intimate by some.

"If you wish," she said.

He hadn't asked permission to address her by name. Although her father had seen to it that she was educated in its literature and language, she was not perfectly certain of the niceties of social protocol inEngland . Perhaps it would be improper for him to call herPilar .

And then, as she thought that, she realized the absurdity of worrying about proper forms of address from a man with whom she was conversing while wearing only her rail. A man who had once kissed her while holding her so tightly that her breasts had been crushed against his chest. A man who had seen to her physical needs throughout a long night during which she had been helpless.Completely in his power.

"My name isPilar ," she said.

"DonaPilar," he repeated softly.

It was her title, just as his brother would be called Lord Dare, but...

"Pilar," she corrected, her voice as low as his. "Our acquaintance, although brief, is, as you say, of a certain intimacy."

His lips lifted again, but this time the movement was quickly controlled.

"Are you laughing at me, Sebastian?"

"Forgive me. It seems a long time since I've found anything even remotely amusing."

"And you find me amusing?"

Again there was a brief hesitation before he responded. "I find youboth charming and entertaining, my lady," he said. "You would indeed have made a very fine staff officer.If you had only had my tailor, of course."

He was flirting with her, she realized with a touch of shock. Just as he had during the first few minutes they had spent together in the garden that night, before she had known who he was or why he was there.

That had been a deliberate deception.But this? This was probably as natural to him as breathing.

Charming and entertaining. And as she had then, she was again responding.This time without any sense of impending doom.

Perhaps that was because she knew her fiance was no longer in the country. Perhaps it was because she was safely hidden in the house of the English envoy. Or perhaps it was because she was with a man who had sworn to protect her. And who, for some inexplicable reason, she believed might really be able to.

"Ready?" Sebastian asked.

She nodded, although her face seemed unnaturally pale in the candlelight.

The envoy's party was to leaveMadrid at dawn. Therefore, they had to getPilar out of the house tonight so she could be hidden among the women and children who would be accompanying the English soldiers as they departed.

Some of the garrison force, which had been left behind when the main British army had crossed the frontier last winter,were to serve as an escort for the duke. Together they would make their way toBordeaux to join the rest of the troops awaiting the transports.

If it hadn't been for those units and the camp followers who had attached themselves to them, Sebastian wasn't sure how he would have smuggled the ward of theCondedel Castillo out of the Spanish capital. As it was,Pilar must blend in among those other women, just as she would have to on board ship.

This was the part of the plan that worried him the most, although he couldn't see any way around it.

Having her out of his sight for any length of time, even if she were in disguise and hidden among the camp followers, seemed dangerous.

"Malfordwill stay as close to you as he can. So willI , of course. There may be some occasion, however--"

"I know," she interrupted.

They had been over this a dozen times. He had tried to think of anything that might go wrong, until he was anticipating problems that would, in all likelihood, never happen. He nodded toMalford , who lifted the bar and then opened the kitchen door. The alley behind the house was dark and seemed deserted.

Moving as silently as ghosts, the three of them slipped out of the house, leaving the door ajar behind them.

Sebastian would have to return before dawn. His absence during the morning's departure would be too conspicuous.

He could only hope no one would notice that Harry's batman was missing. Or notice when he rejoined them later tomorrow, as soon as the duke's party met with the units that would accompany them intoFrance .

Sebastian led the way down the narrow, twisting passage, keeping to the shadows of the building.

Their footsteps seemed to echo too loudly. When they reached the end of the alley, he realized that his hand had been resting on the hilt of his sword throughout the journey.

Considering the stillness around them, he began to believe he wouldn't be called upon to use it. He had no premonition of danger. No cold finger touched the back of his neck. He felt none of those intangible warnings that had served him so well in the past.

From this point, they had only a few streets to traverse before they reached the stables.Malford would ride Harry's horse, and Sebastian would ride double, carrying the girl.

Earlier this afternoon the batman had gone out to visit the encampment, which lay only a mile or so outside the city. Aided by the money Sebastian had provided, he had had no trouble in arranging a seat forPilar in one of the numerous carts and wagons carrying the baggage.

Everything had gone according to plan. And there was no reason to believe that it wouldn't the rest of the way.