He felt his lips twitch with humour. He turned away from her to hide his expression. He should be angry with her h.e.l.l, he was angry but she made it d.a.m.ned difficult to stay that way. "I would not have to ravish you," he said. "If I want you, I will have you." He turned back to face her and met her gaze. Momentarily, it felt as if he was looking at her, Annalise, his fiancee and she was looking at him in return, seeing Griffin beneath the mask.

The masked man sat in a wooden chair and stretched out his long legs in front of him. His tan breeches moulded against his well-formed legs, his Hessian boots shone in the candlelight. He certainly did not dress like a highwayman.

She crossed her feet at the ankles and folded her hands in her lap. Her mama had always told her she was impetuous and headstrong, but she'd never done anything this foolhardy. But here she was, holed up in an abandoned cottage with a masked thief. Her family would wonder what Griffin would say when he discovered his would-be wife had been abducted. Hopefully Penny and Hildy had made it safely to Kent.

If I want you, I will have you. His words rang in her head. If. Leave it to her to be so uninspiring to the opposite s.e.x that even a ruthless highwayman could resist her charms. The fact that a thief didn't want to ravish her should make her feel better about her current situation, instead she felt defeated. No wonder Griffin was indifferent to her.

"Tell me about this fiance of yours," he said.

"He's a gentleman," she began, not quite certain what else to add. She'd spoken so poorly of him earlier in the evening. But there was part of her, the part that was uneasy with her current situation, who wished he were here now. Not that he'd ever been particularly protective, in fact he'd mostly ignored her. But that first evening when they'd met, when he'd not been able to keep his eyes off her, when they'd danced again and again, he'd seemed, perhaps not protective, but most definitely interested. And she supposed he was an athletic sort and he might be able to fight this highwayman for her honour.

"A gentleman," he repeated, clearly amused. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, which drew her eye to his lips. They were perfectly crafted, she couldn't help but notice, sensual, almost pretty. The kinds of lips she'd heard other ladies talk about, the sort that would know how to kiss a woman to make her insides quiver.

She didn't remember ever noticing Griffin's mouth. Of course he didn't speak to her very often. And, of course, he'd never so much as kissed her cheek. Annalise refolded her hands in her lap. "He's kind and gentle."

An eyebrow quirked over the domino mask. "You said he was boorish," he reminded her.

She had said that. And she'd meant it. There was nothing romantic or exciting about her betrothed. He was a typical English gentleman, more interested in land and politics and drink than his intended. Being in the same room with Griffin was a constant reminder of how forgettable she was as a woman.

So much like the family she'd grown up in. Her father was always far more concerned with their coffers, and what the neighbours were doing. Her mother spent every last minute doting on Penny, the prettier daughter. Annalise had been ignored. Which had suited her perfectly since it allowed her plenty of uninterrupted reading time.

That was until Griffin had started to pay attention to her, then it was as if her parents had noticed her for the first time. He'd been the only man to show an interest in her and, initially, when they'd danced at the ball, she'd thought he wanted her Annalise, the woman. But as time progressed and he more or less simply courted her parents, she'd realized he'd been attracted to nothing more than the land she provided.

"I did say that," she said. Truth was, she didn't have much to say about her future husband. She didn't know him. She knew his name and she knew what his hand felt like in hers, the other resting on her lower back. She knew how she'd felt that first moment in his arms, the furious agitation in her stomach and the hope that had bloomed in her heart. And she knew the resulting disappointment when he'd come to call and spent the time discussing horses with her father.

"And you meant it," he said.

"I did." She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. What did it matter what she said here tonight? She did not know this man; he did not know her. And tomorrow everything in her life would be different. "He is awfully boring and polite. And terribly respectable."

He feigned shock, his mouth fell open. "However do you bear it? Respectability is indeed a terrible thing."

"I am quite serious," she said, feeling the frown crease her brows.

"Of that, I have no doubt." He sat quietly for several moments before he folded his hands across his abdomen. "So what shall you do now that you've left this dreadful man at the altar?"

Annalise allowed his words to sink in. No, it would never appear that way to Griffin, nor her family. They would see her as tarnished goods because of her fate at the hands of this highwayman. But she knew the truth. As did this man. She had walked away from Griffin. Jilted him. Indifference or not, he hadn't deserved that, but what of Penny's reputation? Annalise couldn't have allowed her sister to be ruined alongside her.

"I never said he was dreadful," Annalise said quietly.

"But a respectable boor," he corrected.

She sighed. "I shouldn't have said those things."

He was quiet for several moments before he said anything else. "So tell me, is leaving this fiance of yours the only way in which you can acquire excitement? That is what you're after, is it not? Some manner of adventure?"

She hadn't left with this man to seek adventure, she'd done so to protect her sister. But she couldn't tell him that, so she played along. "I am most disappointed as to how my life is turning out. It seems the only way," she said. And it wasn't as if any of that was a lie. She was disappointed.

"What of marrying this boring bloke, as planned, then finding your adventure elsewhere?" His head tilted as if he were truly curious about the matter. Or had that been an invitation . . . to dally with him? Certainly not. He'd said himself, if he wanted her, she would be his. Evidently he did not want her. And she was grateful for that. No woman wished to be ravished, regardless of how dashing the highwayman might be.

"It is practised quite heavily in society, as you must know. Perhaps a virtuous woman such as yourself has not heard of such a thing. But I can a.s.sure you it is most common." Was that resentment she heard lining his voice?

"I would never do such a thing," she said. "Infidelity is unthinkable. I do realize men find it palatable, but I could never partic.i.p.ate." She sat straighter. "And, of course, I have heard of liaisons outside of the marriage bed. Griffin might be boring, but he is a kind man and I would never be so disrespectful of him."

He was quiet for a moment as if he were trying to make something of her admission.

Her eyes travelled the length of his legs and again she was struck by the shine of his Hessians. Simple thieves did not dress in such a refined manner. "It doesn't appear as though infidelity is the only way to seek out adventure." She inclined her head in his direction.

"To what are you referring, madam?" he asked.

"This." She motioned her hand in his direction. "Your mask, your thievery. Kidnapping an innocent lady."

He held up a finger. "At her request," he added. "I did not don the mask for adventure."

"Perhaps not, but you are no ordinary highwayman, are you?" she asked.

"I suppose you've met other thieves then, to compare me to? And I am somehow lacking in an area?" he asked.

She smiled in spite of herself. "No, I have met no others. But you are well born, I can see that much. In the way you handled the ride. The manner in which you speak, sit, hold yourself, your fine clothes." She paused, then met his eyes. "The fact that you have not handled me inappropriately. You are a gentleman."

A slow smile slid into place and he was so utterly handsome, so devastatingly dashing, she sucked in her breath. She would have sworn her heart paused for an entire minute before it beat again. As if the blood pumping through her veins stilled as she inhaled, stopped simply for his smile. "A well-born man," she continued in an attempt to hide her reaction to him, "who becomes bored with society can traipse about the countryside playing at thievery. A wellborn lady has only gossip and shopping to entertain her."

He shrugged. "Perhaps. But looks can certainly be deceiving."

"Indeed. Regardless of who you are, you must acknowledge that women do not have the same opportunities men do when it comes to life choices, especially well-bred ladies. I may marry a man of my family's choosing or I am doomed to spinsterhood, relying on the generosity of my family members."

"Forgive me if I offer you no sympathy." He leaned forwards, bracing his elbows on his knees. He shoved his shirtsleeves up, revealing well-muscled forearms. "Men do not always have choice in their marriage partners either."

"More often than women do," she argued, knowing it was childish to do so.

"Marriage to the right person could be an adventure. Have you considered that?" he asked.

"Of course." And initially she had thought Griffin to be that very person. He'd been so charming, so funny, and then turned so cold. "Marriage for love," she said quietly.

"So you do not love him?" he said. His words came out slowly.

"He does not love me," she said vehemently, perhaps revealing too much of her disappointment. She paused before adding, "It was not a love match, but rather a business transaction between him and my father."

"He has told you he does not love you?"

She frowned. "No, of course not. He would not be that cruel."

"Then how do you know?" he asked.

"Because a woman can tell these things. In the way that he looks at me." Or rather the way he never looked at her. "And the way that he speaks to me." She didn't owe this highwayman an explanation. "A woman knows when a man loves her." She had thought she'd felt it with Griffin, felt the gentle bloom of love in his touch, his words. Then as suddenly as their relationship had begun his polite indifference had replaced his wooing.

"Women do not know everything." He stood and paced the length of the small room. He stood in front of the tiny window, but made no move to push aside the faded curtain. He simply stood there staring at nothing.

"What does a highwayman know of love?" she tossed out.

He chuckled, but it did not seem to be a particularly humour-filled laugh. "Perhaps I know nothing about love." He turned and slowly lowered himself on to the sofa next to her. Far too close. She could feel warmth emanating off his legs.

She swallowed hard and fisted material from her skirt, twisting it. Trying her best to ignore her fear, she raised her chin up a notch. This close to him she could smell his scent, woody and musky, complete masculinity. There was something oddly familiar about it.

"You are quite lovely," he murmured.

"There is no need to taunt me. That is cruel," she said.

"Taunt you?" He leaned forwards, twirled one of her stray curls around his finger. "I thought I was paying you a compliment."

"I am not a beauty, everyone knows that," she said defiantly.

"That is a foolish thing to say." He ran a hand down her cheek. His fingers were warm as they trailed down her face. "I might not know love," he said, bitterness seeped into his tone. "But I do know beauty and you are beautiful."

Again he touched her. Shivers scattered over her flesh, but nothing touched her the way his words did. As much as she didn't want to, she believed him. He thought her beautiful. Perhaps that said more about her than it did him, that a thief would find her appealing. But she didn't care. In this moment she felt beautiful. And it nearly erased all of her nerves about being trapped in this cottage with a potentially dangerous man.

"Your complexion is exquisite, your skin so soft. And your hair I want to pull those pins from it and run my hands through your golden locks."

In that moment she wanted him to. Not to simply threaten it, but to do it, to pull those pins out and pull her to him, kiss her senseless. It was wrong, she knew that, still there was something so compelling about this masked man.

"You have lovely brown eyes," he continued. "But more than all of those, you have a luscious mouth, lips so full and tender, I want very much to kiss them." He was so very close now, she could smell the faint hint of liquor on his breath as well as cold.

Without a thought to the consequences, Annalise closed her eyes and leaned forwards ever so slightly. He chuckled lightly, then his lips brushed against hers. The first touch of his mouth warmed her entire body. He settled closer to her, placed one hand on her back as he pulled her to him. His other hand cupped her cheek.

His lips moved against hers, softly, slowly, seductively. Annalise opened her mouth to him. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue across her teeth, then into her mouth. Desire pooled through her body, blood tingled through her veins.

Oh my.

His fingers kneaded her back. And she still sat, ankles crossed, hands fisting her skirts. She wanted to touch him too, but did not know where to put her hands. This entire situation was wrong, she knew that, but what did it matter now? She was a ruined woman. Fated to life as a single woman, much like her Aunt Triny. Should she not simply enjoy this moment of desire for what it was?

He kissed her for several moments and she enjoyed every brush of his lips, every sweep of his tongue. Good heavens, what was he doing to her?

With both hands he pulled her towards him so her torso lay partially across his body. His warm, firm chest pressed against her and still he kissed her. She had heard other girls mention such embraces, usually found in the arms of blackguards who preyed on the virtue of innocent females. But none of that mattered any longer. She felt a pang of regret as an image of Griffin's face formed in her mind. She'd imagined kissing him in such a fashion, pa.s.sion overcoming them both. But he did not want her, not truly, she reminded herself.

His hand came up and cupped her breast, the touch so intimate, so unfamiliar, yet so utterly devilish, that she made no move to stop him. He kneaded her sensitive flesh and deepened the kiss. Tentatively she kissed him back, running her tongue against his.

"Annalise," he whispered.

Her eyes flew open, and she leaned back. "I never told you my name."

Without another thought, Annalise reached over and tugged on the black mask. The black silk fabric tore away from his face. She came to her feet and her eyes widened in shock. "Griffin!" she exclaimed. He gave her a mocking bow. "Sorry to disappoint you." Several conflicting emotions flitted across her face. She stood stock-still, her hands fisted at her sides, and continued to gape at him. "But how? Why?" Her brow creased in a heavy frown.

"How did I come to be a highwayman?" he asked. He walked away from her then, casually making his way to one of the tiny windows. He stared outside and said nothing for several moments, then he slowly turned to face her. "It was a wager. A foolish wager with an idiot friend." He shook his head. "I was only meant to steal one piece of jewellery and then be on my way. Harmless enough."

"Harmless," she repeated.

He'd seen Annalise's wrath and he fully expected to be on the receiving end any moment, but after several moments of silence he began to wonder. Still she stood, but she no longer faced him, instead she looked in the opposite direction.

"Annalise," he said, gripping her elbow.

She turned to face him, her expression flamed with indignation. "You deceived me, played me for a fool." She shook her head. "I said things I never would have-" She choked on the rest of the sentence.

Was she looking to him for an apology? Yes, he'd deceived her, but she'd walked out on him. Chosen a thief over a fiance who . . . who what? Who was mad with l.u.s.t for her? These were not the romantic words of love that a lady longed to hear. Still, she didn't seem to be longing for such words from him so what did it matter if he had tender feelings for her or not?

"There is nothing harmless about this night," she said quietly. She pulled away from him and faced the sofa.

So she regretted that too, his touch, his kisses. It was a kick in his gut because he knew that had she not ripped his mask off, she would have allowed him to continue, to push their pa.s.sion further. But with Griffin, it was all regret.

He watched Annalise now as she lay on the sofa. Then he made his way to the front door. He wouldn't leave, not now, but he needed some air. And the cold night breeze. Already his blood heated for her, desire surging through his body.

"I need some air," he said as he headed out the front door.

He shouldn't have touched her. He'd known that all along about Annalise, that once he started he wouldn't be able to stop. Wouldn't want to. Despite her good breeding, she was a fiery woman, one with pa.s.sion and pluck. She would never be the perfect wife who sat in the corner and nodded and smiled. No, not his Annalise. She would argue and fuss.

He knew that for a lot of men that would bring nothing but aggravation. And he'd be a fool not to admit that her feisty behaviour would bring its share of frustration. But he wouldn't want her any other way.

With other women he'd always been bored. They all looked the same and they sounded the same. But Annalise had her sumptuous curves, her wide, easy smile, and her eyes shone with intelligence. Her father had even warned Griffin that the girl was too well read for her own good. "Those books put too many opinions in her head," he'd said. Her parents had even tried to convince Griffin that Annalise's younger sister, Penny, was a better choice for him. But prim and proper Penny did nothing for him.

h.e.l.l, he'd known he had to be careful with her. It was why he'd kept his distance. They were explosive together. And he didn't want to give his mother any reason for sabotaging this union so she could marry him off to a girl of her choosing. But he'd kept his distance so much so that he'd convinced his would-be bride that he was indifferent to her.

He had betrayed her, that he could not deny. But she had abandoned him. Begged a stranger to kidnap her so she could escape their marriage. He'd be a liar if he said that didn't anger him. Other men might be perfectly satisfied with marrying a woman who did not want to become their wife. But Griffin was not that man. He wanted Annalise, but only if she wanted him too.

Oh, she'd desired him. In those heated moments when he'd still worn his mask. Did that mean the fire in her burned so hot merely because of the adventure? Was it the danger of the unknown and the idea that a common thief had his hands and mouth on her body? He wanted to believe that somehow she'd known it was him, and that was why she'd been so wanton. But he was no fool and he was not given to silly boyish fantasies.

He knew what he had to do. He'd give her the choice. If she chose to walk away perhaps her reputation would not be too damaged.

"What do you mean, you're leaving?" Annalise asked the following morning. Her voice was shrill, she knew that, but it panicked her to think he'd leave her, not simply alone here in this cottage, but that he would walk away completely. He'd lied to her and betrayed her, she reminded herself. But hadn't she left him first? Begged a strange man a man, to her mind, who was a common thief to take her away from him?

"I have an appointment in Kent," he said calmly.

She opened her mouth to speak, then said nothing. He still intended to marry her? Or was he planning to merely make an appearance to show good faith to her parents? Preserve his own name while he watched hers sullied? "Penny and Hildy will have told everyone what happened to me," she said quietly. "No one will blame you for deserting me."

"I'm not deserting you. I've called a carriage and it will take you wherever you choose to go," he said.

"And what of the wedding?"

He inclined his head, then looked at her. "I'm planning on being in the church as we planned. If you so choose, you can meet me there and we will be married."

"And if I do not?"

He shrugged. "Then I suppose I will be jilted and you will be free to do as you desire. Escape the propriety and boredom and chase that adventure you're so desperate to find."

She flinched, but took a step towards him regardless. "That's it?" she asked, not knowing what she wanted him to say, but knowing she wanted more. Much more. Fight for me, her heart whispered. Want me, Griffin, love me.

"That's it," he said softly. He turned to go, then paused. "If you decide to go to London, you might want to leave fairly soon, the weather is getting colder and it might snow later. You wouldn't want to get stuck on the road." His eyes searched her face. He closed the door behind him, and he was gone.

She stood alone in the cottage. He'd never told her why he wanted to marry her, or if he even did. She knew he was honourable, despite his foolish wager that landed him the highwayman stunt. He would marry her because he said he would. Even though her reputation would now be in tatters. It would affect his name. He knew that. It mattered not that her virtue remained intact or that he was the only man who'd ever touched her. Society wouldn't care about those details. All they would know was that she had been kidnapped by a highwayman two days before her wedding.

She realized now that what she'd wanted him to do was declare his love. Beg her to marry him because he couldn't face another day without her. But men did not speak of such things, at least not to her. Why would she want to hear those things from him of all people? Certainly she did not love him. He was boring and inattentive . . . and pa.s.sionate and utterly charming. She'd seen glimpses of those very characteristics that first night, then they'd all but disappeared.