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had not needed the cryptic signature of the Veiled Lady to
    recognize that he was dealing with a female. And a very reckless, impulsive one at that. Which was why
    he had bided his time, allowing her to make all the initial moves.
    Gabriel took pride in the iron control he had become skilled at exerting over his own passions during the
    past eight years. He had learned his lessons the hard way, but he had learned them well. He was no
    longer the naive, idealistic man he had been in his youth.
    It had taken all of his control to restrain himself during the past two months, however. It seemed to him
    that the Veiled Lady had been deliberately attempting to drive him mad. She had very nearly succeeded.
    He had become obsessed with discovering her identity.
    He had pored over the handful of tantalizing letters he had received from her as intently as he had ever
    studied any of his precious medieval manuscripts. The only certainty he had been able to glean from them
    was the knowledge that the Veiled Lady was as well versed in chivalric lore as he was.
    Her uncanny ability to predict his taste in books had almost persuaded Gabriel that he must have met her
    at some time in the past.
    But tonight as he looked at her in the glow of the moon, he realized that she was a stranger. She was a
    woman of mystery, as enthralling as the rare, exotic dark pearls that were found in the secret lagoons of
    the South Seas.
    Her skin was the color of rich cream in the silvery light. She stared up at him, her soft, full lips parted in
    startled surprise. He had a glimpse of a bold, aristocratic little nose, fine cheekbones, and huge,
    astonished eyes. He wished that he could see the color of those eyes.
    She was a striking woman, not merely a pretty one. The strong lines of her nose and chin saved her from
    the kind of weak, passive beauty that Gabriel associated with weak, passive females. He liked the feel of
    her, he realized. She was small and sleek and shimmering with feminine energy.
    At Nash's cottage he had been able to see the color of her hair. Drawn back in a neat chignon beneath
    her veiled hat, the glossy dark stuff appeared a deep brown that was almost black. The candlelight had
    revealed intense dark red highlights in it. Gabriel had experienced an almost overpowering need to see
    those tresses loose around her shoulders.
    He could not quite believe he finally had his hands on his Veiled Lady. As he gazed down at her, all the
    strong emotions she had aroused in him crystallized into a white-hot desire. He wanted her.
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    Even as anger began to replace the astonished shock on her face, Gabriel bent his head and took her
    mouth.
    In the beginning he did not ask for a response. The kiss was hard and commanding in retribution for all
    the trouble she had caused him. "Then her lips trembled and he felt the shiver of fear that went through
    her entire body.
    Gabriel hesitated for an instant, nonplussed by her panicky reaction to his kiss. She was not a child. The
    chit appeared to be in her early twenties and she had been deliberately challenging him. Furthermore, she
    had apparently been one of Neil Baxter's paramours. Baxter had been a master at seduction. Even
    Honora Ralston, Gabriel's fiancée in the South Seas, had succumbed to Baxter's lures and lies.
    But whatever else she was, it was immediately obvious the mysterious Veiled Lady was not the
    accomplished flirt he had assumed from the start. She had goaded him into kissing her, yet she seemed
    completely disconcerted by the response she had drawn.
    Gabriel's curiosity, already straining at the leash, broke free of the last vestiges of his self-control. He
    suddenly needed to know if he could make her respond to him.
    He softened the kiss, sliding the edge of his tongue along her lower lip, urging her to open her mouth. He
    wanted to taste her more than he had wanted anything in a very long time.
    He knew