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provide a spectacle for your lords and ladies at present."
    "She'll have to come with us." For a moment it seemed as if Tade hadn't heard the words, and Maryssa herself doubted they'd been spoken. Then both turned their eyes on Devin. The gentle face was grave, the crude frock coat covering his narrow shoulders doing nothing to hide their determined set.
    "Come with us?" Tade's hand tangled in Maryssa's tumbled hair, jerking her close to Devin. "Look at her, Dev. She's English. Some rich Sassenach bastard's woman.”
    "She's lost, soaked to the skin, and scared out of her wits thanks to you. We can't just leave her."
    “We damn well can't take her with us! If you won't think of yourself, at least think of the others. What if she talks?”
    "She won't."
    "Wonderful. I have a Sassenach wench's word and my idiot brother's faith. It'll make a perfect epitaph on our bloody tombstones." The hand clenched in Maryssa's hair released her as abruptly as it had grabbed her. Tade shot her and Devin one last killing glare before he stalked off into the shadows. A horse nickered in greeting somewhere in the darkness, the sound followed followed by the creak of leather and the slap of thighs slamming too hard against the saddle. With a rush of relief Maryssa closed her eyes, waiting for the sound of hoofbeats. Tade Kilcannon would ride out, and then she could reason with Devin. But the sound of the horse retreating didn't come.
    Instead, a huge bay stallion burst through the underbrush, Tade, upon its back as daunting to Maryssa as the spirited beast.
    She stared up at them—both wild, dangerous, free—beings from another world—Hades, lord of the dead, astride his stallion. Tade yanked on a length of leather in his hand. A drab gray mare balked in the bay's wake, shaking her sparse mane as though disgusted by the blatant display of equine male arrogance.
    "Here, brother," he grated, throwing the mare's reins toward Devin. "I assume this pathetic excuse for a nag belongs to you. If you're so anxious to get yourself killed, far be it from me to deprive you of the gallows." Maryssa felt Tade's eyes rake her and it seemed even her heart stopped beating.
    The bay danced sideways. With a curse Tade yanked the stallion in a tight circle. Maryssa stumbled, trying to avoid flashing hooves, praying that both Kilcannons would ride away and leave her, but the sleek coat of the horse's barrel crashed into her. Hard and sinewed, Tade's arm locked around her ribs as she started to fall. Then suddenly the earth seemed to crumble away beneath her as he dragged her up to sprawl across the saddle.
    "Nay!" She kicked and struggled, as the stallion surged beneath her, but Tade Kilcannon held her effortlessly in the viselike grip of his arms. With a deft movement he settled her astride the beast's back in front of him, her damp petticoats hiked high on her legs, her rump cradled between his strong thighs.
    Maryssa clawed at the horse's mane, at Tade's arms, clinging with raw terror to the very things she feared.
    "Hold still!" The light stubble roughening his jaw scraped against her cheek as he jerked her back against him, at the same instant driving his heels into the stallion's sides. The beast plunged forward and tore through the underbrush.
    Maryssa closed her eyes against the wild country flying beneath the horse's hooves, against the image of Tade's dark, stormy face. But the image that rose to taunt her again was more terrifying still. Hades astride his stallion. Maryssa shivered. Was Tade Kilcannon dragging her to hell?
    With every lunge of the powerful horse, miles seemed to pass beneath them, each smooth stride of the cantering animal's legs chafing the insides of Maryssa's thighs against the saddle leather. Her whole body felt raw and aching. And her spirit . . .
    Tade shifted, and she sagged closer to his body, the muscles of his chest steel-taut against the back of her wet bodice. Not a word had he spoken since pulling her onto his mount, yet