in the sun. But it was her face which had caught and held his attention. Her striking, fine-boned features had been as alight with unabashed curiosity and excitement as the face of the lad who sat beside her. A gracious but unmistakable pride glowed in her expression, the look of a woman accustomed to command.
Her huge green eyes, however, had held a deep wariness. His own falcon-sharp gaze, schooled by years spent hunting outlaws to note the smallest of details, had not missed that look of caution. It had, in fact, provided him with the final clue to her true identity.
The well-dressed lady on the wall had a very personal interest in the knights who were invading her domain.
Gareth knew that he had taken a calculated risk when he had decided to ride over to the wall to confront her. He had been a little concerned that she would slip back into the convent garden. But she had done no such thing. As he suspected, she possessed far too much feminine arrogance to retreat.
He had noticed the dirt on her gown as he rode toward her, and told himself it was a good omen. The lady of Desire was not above getting her hands dirty.
Gareth shook off the memories. He tossed aside the herb-scented linen drying cloth and reached for a fresh gray tunic.
As he dressed, he glanced at one of the large tapestries that wanned the stone walls of the chamber. Flowers and herbs, the source of Desire's profits, appeared to be a common theme everywhere on the isle, he noted.
Even the beautifully woven hangings depicted garden scenes.
This was a land of scented blooms and lush greenery. Who would have guessed that the Hellhound of Wyckmere would come to such a pretty, sweet-smelling place to claim his own hearth? Gareth thought.
But he was well satisfied with the Isle of Desire. He sensed that it held that which he sought.
He fastened his long leather belt around his hips and then he padded barefooted past one of the narrow windows cut into the stone wall. The warm, perfumed breeze made him think of Clare's hair.
Gareth had been obliged to inhale the scent of her dark tresses as he had carried her before him through the village and along the road to the hall.
The smell of flowers had blended with but had not disguised the sweet, intriguing scent that was hers and hers alone. The fragrance had captivated Gareth. She smelled like no other woman he had ever known.
The subtle, heady perfume combined with the feel of her softly rounded hips pressed against his leg had done something to Gareth's insides. A deep, powerful hunger had stirred to life within him.
His brows drew together and his jaw tightened as he recalled the raw force of that hunger. He would have to make certain it stayed within bounds. He had not survived this long by allowing his emotions to rule him.
Ulrich caught his eye at that moment. "So you knew the lady of Desire on sight?" He shook his bare, gleaming skull with wry admiration. "I congratulate you, Gareth. As usual, you were quick to add the facts together and determine the correct sum."
"It was not very difficult." Gareth sat down on a stool to pull on soft leather boots. "Enough of that discussion. I'm interested to hear whatever you learned about the kidnapping incident."
"There is not much to tell. As you know, I downed a few mugs of ale with the crowd at the local tavern in Seabern last night. The most interesting thing I learned is that all parties concerned, including Sir Nicholas, his entire lousehold, and the lady herself, insist that there was no kidnapping."
Gareth shrugged. "Only to be expected. A lady's reputation is involved."
"Aye. The tale is that she made an unexpected visit to sir Nicholas which lasted four days."
"After which he offered marriage?"
"Aye. The lady refused." Ulrich chuckled. "You must admit that took courage under the circumstances."
"That it did. Most women would have yielded to the nevitable."
Satisfaction flowed through Gareth.
His future bride was not one to collapse in the
Her huge green eyes, however, had held a deep wariness. His own falcon-sharp gaze, schooled by years spent hunting outlaws to note the smallest of details, had not missed that look of caution. It had, in fact, provided him with the final clue to her true identity.
The well-dressed lady on the wall had a very personal interest in the knights who were invading her domain.
Gareth knew that he had taken a calculated risk when he had decided to ride over to the wall to confront her. He had been a little concerned that she would slip back into the convent garden. But she had done no such thing. As he suspected, she possessed far too much feminine arrogance to retreat.
He had noticed the dirt on her gown as he rode toward her, and told himself it was a good omen. The lady of Desire was not above getting her hands dirty.
Gareth shook off the memories. He tossed aside the herb-scented linen drying cloth and reached for a fresh gray tunic.
As he dressed, he glanced at one of the large tapestries that wanned the stone walls of the chamber. Flowers and herbs, the source of Desire's profits, appeared to be a common theme everywhere on the isle, he noted.
Even the beautifully woven hangings depicted garden scenes.
This was a land of scented blooms and lush greenery. Who would have guessed that the Hellhound of Wyckmere would come to such a pretty, sweet-smelling place to claim his own hearth? Gareth thought.
But he was well satisfied with the Isle of Desire. He sensed that it held that which he sought.
He fastened his long leather belt around his hips and then he padded barefooted past one of the narrow windows cut into the stone wall. The warm, perfumed breeze made him think of Clare's hair.
Gareth had been obliged to inhale the scent of her dark tresses as he had carried her before him through the village and along the road to the hall.
The smell of flowers had blended with but had not disguised the sweet, intriguing scent that was hers and hers alone. The fragrance had captivated Gareth. She smelled like no other woman he had ever known.
The subtle, heady perfume combined with the feel of her softly rounded hips pressed against his leg had done something to Gareth's insides. A deep, powerful hunger had stirred to life within him.
His brows drew together and his jaw tightened as he recalled the raw force of that hunger. He would have to make certain it stayed within bounds. He had not survived this long by allowing his emotions to rule him.
Ulrich caught his eye at that moment. "So you knew the lady of Desire on sight?" He shook his bare, gleaming skull with wry admiration. "I congratulate you, Gareth. As usual, you were quick to add the facts together and determine the correct sum."
"It was not very difficult." Gareth sat down on a stool to pull on soft leather boots. "Enough of that discussion. I'm interested to hear whatever you learned about the kidnapping incident."
"There is not much to tell. As you know, I downed a few mugs of ale with the crowd at the local tavern in Seabern last night. The most interesting thing I learned is that all parties concerned, including Sir Nicholas, his entire lousehold, and the lady herself, insist that there was no kidnapping."
Gareth shrugged. "Only to be expected. A lady's reputation is involved."
"Aye. The tale is that she made an unexpected visit to sir Nicholas which lasted four days."
"After which he offered marriage?"
"Aye. The lady refused." Ulrich chuckled. "You must admit that took courage under the circumstances."
"That it did. Most women would have yielded to the nevitable."
Satisfaction flowed through Gareth.
His future bride was not one to collapse in the
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