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  Her father had ensured her trousseau included numerous morning dresses, afternoon dresses, evening gowns, and riding habits, as well as every possible accessory a young miss could desire, from kid slippers to clocked stockings to buttery soft gloves. Yet Marisa knew the lavish wardrobe was not a show of affection on his part. It was designed to advertise to the world how impressive his own personal wealth was.

  And she was happy to leave every bit of it behind.

  "I cannot understand why you want to go riding in this weather."

  Marisa glanced at Daphne in the mirror, not entirely surprised when the pretty maid did not lower her eyes. Though a mobcap concealed the majority of Daphne's hair, the contours of her plump figure were more difficult to obscure, and Marisa suspected it was a deliberate choice. An unmistakable aura of disapproval emanated from the young woman, from her creased forehead to the tight set of her lips.

  Apparently even the servants found her behavior disappointing.

  "I love riding in this weather," Marisa replied, tugging on her kid gloves. "In truth, I love riding in any weather."

  She had hoped for a bright sunny morning in which to make her escape from Westbrook Hall. It seemed more fitting somehow, more victorious. But it was much more practical to leave during a gloomy misty day when no one else was out of doors. No one would ever suspect she was galloping all the way to London to fetch her aunt.

  "Lord Westbrook will be worried about you," Daphne insisted.

  "I cannot think why he should be," Marisa said, tamping down her impatience. It seemed the maid was as intent on preventing her departure as Marisa was to commence it. She ambled to the dressing table, searching for items to take which would not arouse suspicion as to her actual plans that morning.

  She reached for her reticule, which held little more than some pin money, a lone handkerchief, and all her hopes for success. She also picked up her watercolors, not only because they served as an excellent ruse, but because she could not bear to leave them behind.

  "Lord Westbrook will be displeased when he learns of your plans."

  Marisa started, until she realized Daphne referred to her morning ride.

  "I am confident I can dissuade my betrothed from any feelings of annoyance," she said, knowing she would be well on her way to London instead. "Truly, there is no need for concern. I am an excellent horsewoman."

  She flushed, realizing she had uttered the same words to the highwayman the previous evening. Though she had lain awake for several hours, reliving their kisses, she had finally concluded it was best he had refused her request to take her with him.

  She need not rely on anyone but herself, as was always the case. Aunt Althea's future could not be entrusted to just anyone, especially a handsome highwayman who made Marisa's stomach flutter so inexplicably, even hours after his departure.

  Daphne snorted, not even trying to mask her disapproval. "The last Lady Westbrook was an excellent horsewoman, too."

  Marisa spun to look at the maid. "What do you mean?"

  Daphne refused to look up from the linen she was folding and putting away in the mahogany clothes press. "Even excellent horsewomen can still have accidents."

  Marisa could not halt the chill racing up her spine. "I assumed she had contracted a disease. I had not heard she died from a riding accident."

  She ached to learn more, but even her willful curiosity would not permit her to be drawn deeper into Daphne's enigmatic conversation. Instead, she glanced into the mirror, adjusting the tilt of her hat, hoping it would withstand the trek to London.

  "Maybe it wasn't an accident."

  Marisa's heart pounded. Were Daphne's words a warning?

  Yet that made little sense. Lord Westbrook made Marisa uneasy, but her disquiet was more a result of how Edmund had been forced on her as a husband, after one formal meeting in London. He could not be blamed for her father's heartless method in coercing her cooperation.

  Marisa shook off the unsettling memory, as well as the unease brought on by Daphne's odd discussion. She had only to think of Aunt Althea, the sweet simple soul that had been a perfect childhood companion. Indeed, for several years, Marisa had believed her aunt to be the same age as herself. It was only as she grew older that she realized how Aunt Althea was less quick to respond as other adults, hurt and confused by Mister Dunsmore's palpable disdain.

  Marisa's spine stiffened with resolve. "I can assure you, Daphne. No accident will befall me."

  "Of course it won't, ma'am," Daphne answered, though it seemed her lips turned up into a secretive smile. "Will you be needing anything else?"

  She needed a valise stuffed with Lord Westbrook's valuables. But she knew that was out of the question, for it would draw too much unwanted attention. It appeared she might have to resort to highway robbery to finance her sojourn to London.

  "Thank you, Daphne. That will be all."

  To Marisa's relief, the maid bobbed a curtsey, and returned to her own room. If only she had another posset, to ensure Daphne would nap for the next several hours, arising long after Marisa had disappeared into the surrounding countryside.

  She glanced for the last time at the room that had been her temporary prison. Compared to what awaited Aunt Althea, this cell was a comfortable one. A fire blazed constantly, keeping the chill at bay. That morning she had even danced, barefoot as a heathen, on the lush Wilton carpet.

  But, no matter how comfortably appointed, it was still a prison. Any fond memories it held were from last evening, when a dashing highwayman had kissed her.

  If only it were possible to see him once more.

  She brushed away the preposterous notion. It was time to make good her escape while Edmund believed her lying abed, prostrate from last night's perilous encounter with a highwayman.

  At least, the encounter of which Edmund was aware.

  Marisa strode to the door, her heart skittering with excitement. Soon she would see Aunt Althea, and be enveloped once more in her reassuring embrace. Once they had settled elsewhere, neither of them would ever again have cause to worry about Mister Dunsmore's unspeakable cruelty.

  ***

  Gabriel maneuvered Eclipse through the dense woods ringing Westbrook Hall, aided in his quest by the fact that his quarry was preoccupied during her early morning ride. He carefully, and of longstanding habit, checked the surrounding countryside. Thankfully there were no patrols, or sentries, to mar the solitude of the moment.

  He and the angelic miss were quite alone.

  What an unexpected pleasure it was. He had ridden away from the abbey to escape Jamie's unrelenting disapproval, as well as the uncomfortable questions raised by his mentor. He had not anticipated another encounter so soon with the spirited young woman.

  He urged Eclipse forward, planning to warn Mistress Angel she should not be travelling about the estate without her groom. Surely Lord Westbrook was unaware of that propensity. Gabriel's grin widened at the further evidence of her fearlessness.

  When she halted in the midst of a field of pure-white snowdrops, Gabriel also stopped. For several minutes, he merely watched, comparing her radiant innocence with the purity of the blooms surrounding her. The flowers fell far short, he decided, though the thought of her virtue reminded him of his purpose.

  Gabriel retrieved the leather strip, quickly tying the mask in place. He cupped his hand around his mouth. "Stand and deliver!"

  Her hand fluttered to her lips. At the same time, she twisted in her saddle to see what villain dared to accost her in this secluded spot of the huge estate. Her eyes lighted with recognition, and she sagged in obvious relief.

  "As you can see," she answered, "I am seated sidesaddle. I cannot stand."

  Gabriel nudged Eclipse forward, sidling the black animal next to hers. "Then you must pray for deliverance."

  He tilted her chin up for a kiss. He had intended a quick brush of his mouth against hers, before she could utter a protest at his audacity. But she surprised him by leaning toward him, and her lack of
resistance proved his undoing.

  He deepened the kiss, grasping her by the shoulders to steady himself against the burst of passion coursing through him. That proved not enough, either. With a soft growl, he tugged her off her horse and onto his lap.

  She blinked several times.

  "You are a different sort of highwayman," she marveled, arranging the skirts of her riding habit.

  "Alas, 'tis why I cannot seem to make a go of the profession."

  Her eyes twinkled. "You have chosen another then?"

  "I have a certain propensity for stealing kisses."

  To prove his point, he held her face in both of his hands and kissed her lush lips. The cushiony flesh moved beneath his mouth, following his lead with brave innocence. He opened his mouth further, and she moaned, emulating his every reckless move.

  At last, Gabriel gave way to good sense and released her lips. She could easily tempt a saint, and Lord knew he was nowhere close to saintly.

  He ran his thumb over her pouting lips. Here was a woman who matched his recklessness stride for stride. He nearly succumbed to her subtle invitation yet he knew it was past time to leave. He had tarried longer than he should, for he had merely meant to take advantage of the opportunity to commence the seduction. Anything further was pure indulgence.

  "Come, Mistress Angel," Gabriel said.

  He gripped her by the arms and removed her from his lap, grateful, yet also bereft, by her body's departure. Once her half-booted feet were upon solid ground, Gabriel dismounted. He scanned the terrain for interlopers that might have arrived during his moment of passionate weakness. Though they were at the edge of the estate's boundaries, quite a distance from the house, he could not afford to lose his lifelong caution at this point, not when all he wanted was nearly his at last.

  Frowning at his inexcusable lapse, he picked up the reins of their mounts. Before he departed, he needed to know a bit more about Edmund, and the upcoming nuptials.

  He took her hand, and, leading the horses, motioned for her to walk with him further into the forest, away from the Hall—and anyone who might see them.

  She turned her head briefly toward his former home. "I can accompany you for a short while," she said, facing him again. "As I was headed in this direction anyway."

  Gabriel didn't know whether to be unsettled or gratified by her genuine lack of alarm. Was it just where he was concerned? It would not do for her to trust all and sundry. She had little reason to trust him.

  "You seem as little frightened by my arrival this morning as you did last night," Gabriel commented.

  She tilted her head. "Should I be frightened?"

  Gabriel swallowed his mirth. "Should you have been frightened if it had been another brigand accosting you this morning?"

  "Of course I should have been alarmed. But you do not arouse fright, sad to say." She offered a mock-apologetic smile. "Perhaps another reason you should consider a different profession."

  He squeezed her hand. "Do you ride alone often? I should think your future husband would not countenance it."

  "Of course he would not countenance it. Which is why he is unaware of it," she answered.

  Gabriel flicked a glance at her as they continued their stroll down the barely marked path. She was hand-in-hand with a highwayman, entrusting her virtue—her life!—to an avowed criminal. Sweet Christ! Was there a more innocent woman on the face of this earth?

  Gabriel took a deep breath, reminding himself to think of her innocence as the pawn it was. "Mistress Angel."

  Her face brightened at his use of the pet name. She did not seem to respond to Edmund in this fashion, and he could not recall a surfeit of enthusiasm in her voice when Edmund had burst into her bedchamber. In truth, she had wanted to use his pistol to dispatch the man.

  "You have known your affianced a long time?"

  She shook her head. "Scarcely at all."

  Gabriel awaited the rest of her answer, but nothing was forthcoming. "It is not a love match then."

  "A love match is the furthest from the truth." She wrinkled her nose. "My father made the match with Lord Westbrook, and told me of it afterwards. He nearly had an apoplexy when I said I would not have Lord Westbrook as my husband. Why," she added, her voice indignant, "he is of such an advanced age he could be my father."

  Gabriel stifled his amusement, but just barely. "Indeed. But still you are to wed him, it appears."

  "That is how it appears, yes."

  "And what is the date of this unhappy event?"

  Her eyes danced with unmistakable merriment. "It is still some weeks away. In truth, there has been no formal announcement as yet. It will be done at the upcoming betrothal ball."

  "So no one knows of this wedding," Gabriel said, plotting even as he spoke. He had several weeks to wreak havoc with Edmund's plans for the future, weeks that would be spent in a most pleasurable pursuit.

  "No one save my brother, my father, and myself," she said. "And Edmund of course."

  "Of course. Come then, Mistress Angel, you should return before your future husband becomes aware of your frolic. He may believe you have attempted to escape him."

  At her guilty start, Gabriel couldn't help but ask, "Where do you plan to go?"

  "I have someplace in mind," she said.

  Though admiring her tenacity, Gabriel could not let her escape before his own plans reached fruition. He held the reins behind him. "I do not wish you to be spirited off elsewhere."

  "There is little you can do to prevent it," she said with irritation. "I am very determined."

  She reached for the reins, putting her delectable body close against his, as he had intended.

  Gabriel wrapped his arms around her and placed one last kiss on her lips. "You might be surprised at what I can do, angel."

  "That may be so, but I must leave now." She stepped back a pace, and he dropped his arms, with great reluctance. "Before my absence is discovered."

  Gabriel's stomach clenched at her words. He could not permit her to leave, not now, not when she played such a vital role in his plans.

  "It is a dangerous world for a female all alone," he said.

  "More than for a female embroiled in the schemes of heartless males?" Her annoyance brought a becoming blush to her cheeks, while her hands on her hips brought delicious thoughts to Gabriel's mind.

  Stung by the knowledge that he, too, was one of the heartless males in question, Gabriel leaned forward to kiss away the anger in her pursed lips. "I can see your point."

  He kissed her once more, with a tenderness that surprised him, but this time he was unable to enjoy the acquiescence of her response.

  "I must go."

  Her voice was filled with resolve, although Gabriel could swear her eyes expressed another emotion entirely.

  "I want to hear more of this marriage."

  Knowing it was foolhardy, Gabriel circled her waist and pulled her snug against him. He told himself it was part of his plan, to ensure she could not depart, but it almost seemed his body had its own schemes, reacting with an unreasonable yearning. If his life had not changed course so drastically, thanks to Edmund's evil schemes, he would be courting a woman such as this one, rather than plotting her downfall.

  She put her hands to his chest as if she meant to push him away. In the next instant she curled a hand around his neck, drawing him to her lips with the ease of one assured of her reception. The kiss was a brief one, almost bittersweet, as though she were bidding him farewell. Gabriel was not ready to let her vanish, however.

  "Is Lord Westbrook aware of your distaste for this marriage?"

  "It is unlikely, as he is considered quite the catch in London." A frown appeared, marring her smooth skin. "Although, as I am the only female who did not welcome his attentions, he should have at least noticed my reluctance to becoming Lady Westbrook."

  Gabriel returned a sympathetic cluck of the tongue. "What do you find so unappealing about your future husband?"

  She sighed, again giving a
great deal of thought to her answer. The emotions flitting across her face intrigued him, for it seemed Edmund displeased her in numerous ways.

  "He is not what I envisioned for a husband."

  "Indeed."

  Gabriel would have pursued the topic, but the miss was ready to depart, and he was at a loss how to prevent it. She reached for the reins of her horse, still clasped in his hand, and this time he did not refuse her. She took the straps and began to search for a tree stump so that she might remount her horse.

  "Here," Gabriel said. "Allow me to help you."

  She placed her foot in his cupped hands. He racked his brain for anything he could do to stop her, short of bodily restraint. If she were to leave, he could not ruin Edmund's future plans. Nothing was more important than that.

  Nothing.

  He could take her to the abbey, and commence his seduction there. Yet Jamie had made it abundantly clear he would not permit Gabriel to despoil the young miss in his vicinity.

  And Edmund would scorch the countryside to retrieve his bride, ensuring Gabriel, and the rest of the outlaw band, would dangle from the hangman's noose if he caught them.

  Gabriel wanted revenge to end with Edmund's demise, not his own.

  "I could accompany you," Gabriel offered, treasuring the way her countenance brightened.

  She opened her mouth to respond.

  They both turned at the unexpected sound of thundering hooves. The rider was still some distance away, though it was undeniably Edmund riding neck-or-nothing toward the dauntless miss, his bottle green riding coat flying behind him.

  Gabriel's heart pounded fiercely at his first glimpse of the man who had sought to kill him fifteen years ago. At last, he could confront his uncle, after all the years of waiting. He relished the thought of Edmund's shock at learning he had not succeeded at killing his nephew.

  At the young woman's gasp, Gabriel feared he had spoken aloud. Instead, he saw her struggling to remount her horse. She grasped the reins, yet the animal had no interest in cooperating. It danced in circles, thwarting her attempts to regain the saddle.