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recover The Knight and the Sorcerer. I seriously doubt that you will be able to do so."
    "I appreciate your confidence in my knightly prowess."
    "That highwayman will be miles away by now with my manuscript." She paused. "Good heavens, I just realized something."
    "What's that?"
    "Remember the curse at the end of the book?"
    "What about it?" Gabriel asked.
    "Well, if I recall correctly, it began with the statement that whoever took the book would be set upon by thieves and murderers. We were definitely set upon by a thief, my lord."
    "Who fortunately did not turn into a murderer, thanks to my clever handling of the situation."
    "You mean thanks to your ineptitude," she grumbled.
    "Whatever you say, madam. In the meantime, you and I must seal our pact." Gabriel drew the stallion to a halt and held out his hand.
    The Veiled Lady hesitated and then reluctantly put out her own gloved hand. "Are you really going to think about accepting my quest?"
    "Rest assured, I am going to think about little else until I see you again."
    "Thank you, my lord," she said stiffly. "If you are indeed serious, you cannot know how much this means to me."
    "Perhaps you should demonstrate the extent of your gratitude." Gabriel's fingers closed around hers.
    Instead of clasping her hand in a ritual handshake, however, he used his grip to pull her close. Before she realized his intent, he lifted the veil of her hat, exposing her startled features to the pale glow of the moon.
    The lady gasped and then froze in stunned shock.
    Gabriel raked the upturned face of his sweet tormentor with the fierce curiosity that had been burning within him for weeks. The need to know her identity had become as powerful a force as any physical desire. It had been growing steadily since he had opened the first letter from her.
    One glance at the elegant handwriting and he 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