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    Alicia stood alone beneath the overhead lantern, barely a few feet from Bashshar. The stallion lowered his head, not making a sound. Dalton wanted to rush to her, protect her in case Bashshar reared. Instead, Dalton hesitated, afraid to make a sudden movement that might startle the horse.
    She was dressed in a pristine nightgown, with white lace circling her neck. Her unbound auburnhair shimmered like liquid fire beneath the lamplight. The white wool shawl draped around her shoulders did nothing to prevent his imagination from visualizing what she’d look like naked.
    My God, she looked like an enchantress!
    He was reminded of the scene painted across the ceiling of the hunting lodge. Potnia, the auburn-haired mistress of wild animals, cavorted in naked splendor among the clouds, surrounded by lions, griffins and deer.
    Alicia turned to look at him, her fingers stroking Bashshar’s neck. The stallion raised his powerful black head suddenly, as though showing his master the strange interloper in their midst.
    Dalton couldn’t believe his eyes. In one brief visit, Alicia had soothed the animal more than the other handlers had done in the past month.
    How vulnerable and alluring she appeared in the soft lantern light. Gone was the stubborn glint in her large brown eyes. Now, those soft, velvety orbs were filled with compassion for Bashshar.
    Perhaps it was appreciation that filled his heart. She had put aside her anger to come to the estate to aid a wounded animal. Just watching her with Bashshar gave him hope that this strange young woman might accomplish what the horse experts had said couldn’t be done.
    Were you in love with Justin Sykes? he wanted to ask. Then for a split second, Dalton didn’t care. He wanted her. Desire charged through his veins like molten lava. He wanted to be the man who would tame her haughty spirit.
    “You’re staring at me.” She bit her bottom lip as she studied him with an innocence that nearly undid him. What the hell was the matter with him? He forced the incredible idea from his mind.
    Maybe his strange feelings were the result of learning the details about her fall from grace. When was the last time he’d heard of another human being, with nothing to gain, performing a sacrifice for him?
    Sacrifice, hell! Even though Alicia had refused Cinnamon Rose, more than likely she knew that her father would insist upon the mare as payment.
    Suddenly Bashshar whinnied, tossing his head, his ears back. Dalton leaped forward, grabbing the stallion’s bridle, holding the horse firmly. “Perhaps it’s best if you return to your cottage.”
    “Bashshar has a right to express himself when he wants,” she whispered, not wanting to excite the horse.
    Express himself? Dalton turned to stare at her. “Bashshar isn’t your common, tea-party-variety horse, Lady Alicia. He’s injured and he’s not responsible for what he’s doing. Besides, he obeys only me.”
    Alicia pulled the shawl tightly around herself and lifted her chin in that stubborn way Dalton was beginning to recognize. “Then give Bashshar the orders, not me. For I don’t obey you, your grace.”
    Dalton couldn’t help but laugh. “Then consider it a suggestion rather than an order. Return to your cottage, my lady. I had a good reason for wanting you to wait until morning to see the horses. Manyguests wander into the stables, eager for a midnight ride. What would they think if they found an angelic beauty wandering half-clad among the stalls.”
    She patted at the folds in her nightgown. “And what are you doing here, so late at night?” Her tone made him feel as though he were the trespasser. “Are you planning a midnight ride?”
    “No. I always look in on Bashshar before retiring. Regardless of what you might think of me, I care about Bashshar.”
    “Tell me how Bashshar was injured. You’ve frightened your stable boy so badly that the lad is afraid to speak of the incident.”
    “You’ve been questioning my