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  Carefully, she slid a leg over the railing and dropped to the wooden deck. For a moment she crouched there, motionless, regaining her strength before making a dash for the planks that led to the narrow pier and terra firma beyond.

  From the far end of the sloop came the murmur of quiet voices. Immediately, Alexandra recognized her captor's rough, commanding tones. Her heart hammering, she uncurled from the deck and plunged unsteadily toward the row of uneven planks that bridged the gap between ship and pier. Her ankle began to throb, but she barely noticed.

  So far, luck was with her. The voices continued in a low murmur. When she was almost at the wooden bridge, she lunged unsteadily, bringing her lame ankle down against the uneven boards with a sharp crack.

  She cursed beneath her breath and forced herself forward over the narrow bridge of planks, resolutely avoiding the sight of the water churning below. And then her feet touched the solid pier.

  Almost free, she told herself. All her energy was focused upon the gate at the end of the pier and the barrels stacked clumsily nearby. As she fled wildly forward, a small shape darted from behind the barrels and Alexandra recognized the crooked smile of the urchin who had guided her through the London streets.

  Jauntily, the boy raised a hand in greeting, and a half-delirious laugh broke from her dry throat. She started to speak, but Pence immediately stilled her with an urgent finger directed toward several horses tethered a few yards up the slope. Nodding grimly, Alexandra followed him across the dock toward the still-sleeping hamlet of Seaford, quiet beneath the curve of the green downs.

  They were halfway to the nearest cottage when she heard an angry voice roar from the boat. Discovered!

  Wildly, Alexandra looked for a place to hide but saw only open ground flowing away from her on all sides. Move, move! her mind screamed.

  She pressed on fiercely, though her stiff ankle made her clumsy. When Pence raised his thin, sturdy arm, she was happy to take it.

  Angry voices snapped in the gray leaden dawn, and she heard the hollow ring of boots on wood. Running feet pounded along the wooden pier, drumming cruelly in her ears. As her heart hammered in her chest, she tried to block out everything but the cottage ahead.

  Behind her came a shouted curse, then a horse's wild neighing. She heard the flat thud of great hooves striking the chalky white earth, pressing closer with every heartbeat.

  Blaze and bedamned! So close now! She could almost see the moist petals of the red roses climbing up the side of the nearest cottage.

  Even when the great bay plunged beside her, she still did not slow her headlong rush.

  "I'll teach you to run from me again, by God!"

  The man's voice cracked across her like a whip, but she pressed on, her face a white mask of pain. Then rough hands seized her waist, jerking her from Pence's grasp and tossing her roughly up and across the unsaddled horse. She fell face-down across the beast's back, gasping as the horse's spine cut into her stomach. Through her pain she caught a sudden glimpse of powerful thighs tightened against the horse's flanks, and she looked up into a face etched with fury, eyes flashing like gray flames.

  "I'll make you sorry for this day's work!" her captor vowed through clenched teeth. "There'll be no escape this time — not until I'm finished with you."

  She could not answer, for she was breathless, exhausted, and dizzy from the blood that churned down to her head. Abruptly, they turned, and she glimpsed the face of an astounded groom and her young friend.

  "Take the guttersnipe below, Jeffers! If he makes so much as one move to escape, thrash him within an inch of his life!" Her captor's voice sounded unnaturally loud to Alexandra, ringing mockingly in her ears, a cruel counterpoint to her hammering pulse.

  Pence only snorted. "Don't frighten me, ye villain! Been whipped by far worse than yer gentry lot, nor ever gave in to him. Won't never give in to ye neither!"

  The faces began to swim before Alexandra's eyes. Dear God, she hoped the boy would be all right. Listening to the forced bravado of that young voice, she felt something snap deep inside her, stripping away the last layers of her proud reserve.

  "Blackguard! Whoreson! May the fires of hell consume you!"

  As if from a great distance, she heard his raucous laugh.

  A gruff voice cut him off. "What about Your Grace's young urchin?"

  The Duke of Hawkesworth laughed recklessly, triumphant at the sight of his treacherous wife sprawled ignominiously before him, her slim buttocks twisting as her dirty bare feet kicked at thin air. "This one goes with me, Jeffers! I mean to teach the wretched creature some manners, by God!"

  With his harsh laughter ringing in her ears, Alexandra closed her eyes and fought black waves of vertigo. She felt the bay stallion turn, then surge to a gallop. A moment later, the drumming in her ears reached a shrill crescendo, and she was swept into darkness.

  * * * * *

  Above the riders the sun rose higher, flashing off the white chalk cliffs that plunged into the gray-green ocean. East they rode, along the top of the cliffs, criss-crossing shepherd and hunting tracks but passing no human habitation. Their only company was a pair of noisy jackdaws who surveyed them from a perch near the crest of the downs, while the restless sea hurled itself against the rocky base of the cliffs below.

  Hawkesworth knew the way well. On this day he took a fierce pleasure in the magnificent landscape that stretched before him. Soon they would pass the towering cliffs of Beachy Head and then curve north toward Hawkeswish.

  Hawke felt a primal power surge through him as he rode above the crashing ocean. It had been too long since he rode bareback with the wind sharp and fine in his face. His eyes flashed silver as he looked down upon his wife, slung before him in the style of the ancient Saxon warriors who had savaged this part of Sussex.

  Had she given up her fight so soon? he wondered. When he looked down some minutes later and saw her eyes still closed, he pulled her upright before him. She fell limply against him, swaying before her eyes jerked open. Immediately, she began to fight his grip.

  Hawke responded by releasing her so abruptly that she nearly fell from the horse before righting herself. After that she stopped struggling and leaned stiffly back against him, hugging Aladdin with her breeched legs and tangling her fingers in the reddish-brown mane to steady herself.

  She was as proud as ever, Hawke thought, and still a fine rider — perhaps even better than he remembered. She sat the horse easily, flowing with every surge, not fighting the powerful rhythm.

  Just as she had been a superb lover on their first night together, Hawke thought, remembering the way she had fitted herself to him and half followed, half urged him to what had turned out to be delirious completion.

  The memory made his large, hard fingers tighten unconsciously around her waist and splay across her flat belly. She tensed, and Hawke felt the muscles bunch and pull sharply away from his touch. He forced her back against his thighs, kneading the taut concave of her abdomen and then lifting his thumb to graze the lower swell of her firm breasts, outlined so pleasingly against the thin cambric shirt she'd stolen from the boat.

  He heard her gasp of surprise and saw her nipples outlined against the white fabric. His eyes narrowed as he thought of her resourcefulness in trying to escape in his old clothes. Totally brazen — and yet somehow the clothes suited her, Hawke thought, watching the wind comb her hair into wild disarray against the loose white garment.

  She was not exactly in a position to fight him now, he realized suddenly. His thumb rose higher and raked her taut nipples through the fine cambric.

  "Let go of me, you arrogant ass," she hissed, breaking her proud silence and prying angrily at his hand.

  "As you wish," he muttered, releasing her so quickly that she lost her balance and swayed sharply. She would have fallen had she not thrown an arm around his broad shoulders.

  Almost immediately, her hands dropped away, and she stiffened her shoulders. A second later, Hawke spanned her waist and pulled her ba
ck against him. When she tried to jerk away, the effect was only to push herself closer to his hand.

  "More, my love? You had but to ask." With a hard laugh Hawke pulled her shirt free from her breeches and slid his hand underneath to claim the silken ivory skin of her belly.

  "You black-hearted, pig-headed—" The proud beauty tossed her shoulders angrily in a vain effort to evade his touch, but she could do no more without falling from the pounding horse. Relentlessly, Hawke captured both breasts in his large hand and raked his nails against the flushed silken crests until he felt her shudder.

  Desire stabbed through him, and Hawke felt his manhood swell. Recklessly he released his hold on Aladdin and brought both hands forward, coaxing her nipples erect between his powerful fingers. She gasped and flailed wildly at his relentless touch.

  For a moment they swayed crazily, almost falling. Hawke's body was on fire, and he felt an overpowering urge to throw her down onto the soft green turf at the top of the cliffs and take her then and there, with the wild salt wind rushing across their naked skin.

  Urgently, he dipped past the knotted belt, seeking her dusky curls.

  "Release me, you filthy swine!" she cried, twisting helplessly before him.

  His only answer was a groan when he found her woman's heat and turned his mouth into the hollow of her neck, sliding his tongue wetly across her velvet skin. When he heard her shuddering breath, he kissed her punishingly, nipping her with his teeth.

  By God, he wanted to leave his mark upon her, to see her carry a red welt on her neck from his teeth! He wanted to plunge deep inside her, to fill her with his seed and know the triumph of her breathless sounds of pleasure.

  A tiny sob escaped from deep in her throat. Hawke pulled his hand away abruptly. "Sorry, my dear, but you'll have to wait for what comes next," he whispered tauntingly.

  "I hate you!" she cried, adding a most unladylike curse beneath her breath.

  "Never fear, when this ride is completed, I promise you a different sort of ride, one where I shall put myself totally at your ... service," he said against her ear.

  "The only service you can provide is to release me, you braying ass!" she hissed.

  Hawke threw back his head and laughed. Her face was hidden, but he smiled at her back, stiff and ramrod straight before him.

  Yes, by God, it would be a pleasure to break his wife to his bit, even if it took a week of starvation and a horsewhip to do it.

  Then the duke smiled cynically. Somehow he did not think the taming would be nearly as difficult as he had thought.

  Chapter Nine

  With dazed eyes Alexandra studied the unbroken line of green hills and the plunging white scar of the cliffs before her, seeing none of them.

  Blaze and bother! she raged at herself. Why do I give him exactly what he wants? Inconspicuously, she reached up to brush angry tears from her cheek. What manner of devil was he?

  Against all reason, she had felt the exquisite power of his hands. For a moment she had even wanted him to continue, Alexandra realized, sick with fury and shame. Even now, her hips burned where they were pressed against his powerful thighs.

  Had he done this aboard the Sylphe? she wondered, feeling her face stain red. A jeering voice told her he had done this and far worse.

  Her chest heaving, she sought to focus on the wild beauty of the downs, watching a pair of noisy sea birds plunge over the edge of the chalk cliffs down to the churning waves below. Thyme and verbena drifted on the salt wind. Gradually her vision focused, and she began to see the powerful, stirring beauty of the place.

  It was a harsh, unforgiving landscape, quite unlike anything she had seen in India. Yet even the stark ridges were dotted with tiny yellow and purple wild flowers. And always before her was the wild mystery of high cliffs plunging in a reckless dash to meet the sea.

  Like man and woman, Alexandra thought, implacably opposed, fighting yet ever bound. Maybe that was what her ayah had been trying to tell her, she realized suddenly.

  But she would neither yield nor be bound to any man, Alexandra vowed. Not until her father's reputation was cleared, and maybe not even then.

  They pressed on, kicking up little puffs of white powder where they crossed bare scars of chalk. Suddenly, they veered almost to the edge, and Alexandra gasped to see the sheer drop of three hundred feet to the angry sea below.

  Just then, with a low rumble, the edge of the cliff gave way. Only her captor's instant reflexes saved them, as he slapped the great bay to jump the widening chasm. An instant later, the white ridge separated in a sickening crack and plummeted to the waves below.

  "You might have killed us both!" Alexandra cried, the taste of fear acrid in her mouth. "Does your recklessness know no bounds?"

  "Exhilarating, was it not, Isobel? Or have you lost your nerve as well as your virtue?"

  "For the last time, my name is Alexandra! If you could pry yourself free of this obsession for even a moment, you'd recognize I'm telling the truth."

  "I cannot begin to tell you how moving it is to hear your concern. Freeing myself from this obsession is exactly my purpose."

  Alexandra had just checked an angry snort when she felt the man's hand clench abruptly where it rode against her waist.

  "Slow, Aladdin," he crooned, an odd tension in his voice. "Steady now."

  Something in his tone made Alexandra turn with unwilling curiosity. She followed his narrowed gaze across the downs, to where the high ridge dropped sharply into a wooded valley. Mellow gray walls rose in the hollow, surrounded by an ancient forest of beech and sycamore. An intricate series of Elizabethan towers and parapets crowned altogether the most imposing structure she had ever seen.

  It was Alexandra's first glimpse of the great country house, that mainstay of English aristocratic life her father had recalled so fondly while in India. Seeing the cool green lawns and weathered stone walls, Alexandra began to understand for the first time the sadness that had occasionally settled upon Lord Maitland as he peered out upon the shimmering white heat of a Madras afternoon.

  Landscape and house evidenced the perfect blend of human ingenuity and natural beauty. Everything was the work of man but had been cunningly designed so that the structure seemed to have grown up by a trick of nature — even the twisting sheath of water, smooth as a silver ribbon against the green slopes.

  White sheep dotted the meadow all the way to the horizon, filling the valley with their soft bleating. So cool, Alexandra thought, so peaceful. Had she ever seen so many shades of green?

  In the afternoon sun a long facade of mullioned windows blazed like a thousand mirrors, and the beauty of the place tugged at her very soul. " 'Earth has not anything to show more fair,' " she breathed, unaware that she had spoken aloud.

  "Hawkeswish," her companion said, more to himself than to her. "I'd forgotten just how lovely it was."

  Alexandra laughed quickly to cover her emotion. "Hawkeswish? What a ridiculous name, to be sure!"

  "You never had any aptitude for language, did you? Wise is the old English word for 'wet place,' as I've told you times past counting."

  "You told Isobel, not me!" Alexandra snapped unevenly. "And I'm sick to death of hearing your wife's name." Her shoulders stiff, she turned toward the badly scorched trunk of an ancient oak. "Why don't you remove that eyesore?" she snapped, searching for some point of criticism to wound him.

  "Eyesore!" the man thundered behind her. "The Sussex oak that has flowered since Elizabeth's time? By God, that shattered tree is more worth saving than you are!"

  Her captor kneed the horse suddenly, and they surged beneath a drifting veil of willow fronds toward a shadowed coppice of beech and sycamore. As they entered the semidarkness beneath the canopied branches, Alexandra saw a flash of movement. Behind her she felt the man stiffen slightly and turn his horse in that direction.

  For a moment she frowned, unable to make out the pale tangle of arms and legs among the low greenery. Gradually, her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness,
and she heard a grunt. The expanse of white skin separated into the bodies of a man and a woman clothed in no more than what nature had given them.

  With horrified fascination Alexandra watched as the man arched and then began to thrust wildly between the woman's open legs while she moaned and twisted restlessly beneath him. Suddenly, with a groan, the man plunged one last time and then collapsed. Abruptly, the woman stiffened and tightened her legs around his waist. Then she, too, lay still.

  In the small grove all was quiet until Aladdin nickered; the gentle sound echoed loudly in the sudden stillness. After a moment the weary lovers recovered enough to raise their heads and stare up at the intruders. Amazed comprehension tightened the young man's face, and he jumped awkwardly upright.

  "Yer Grace!" he mumbled in confusion, bowing jerkily — whether in respect or to cover his nakedness, Alexandra could not say.

  "Do I keep you so idle then, Briggs, that you must occupy yourself with such activities?" the man behind Alexandra asked in a bored voice. "I shall have to remedy that."

  In fearful fascination Alexandra watched the red-faced servant mutter something beneath his breath and scramble into the underbrush in search of his cast-off clothing. His deserted lover showed no such signs of embarrassment; she only sniffed angrily and reached for the shift and gown she had so lately shed.

  Alexandra knew she ought to be horrified by what she had just seen, but somehow she was not. Maybe she was approaching hysteria, for the coupling had seemed more comic than scandalous.

  Beneath them the horse slowed, then stopped to sniff the grass. The copse was silent, the sylvan lovers having scrambled off, and now the only noise came from the rhythmic crunch of Aladdin's teeth. Against her better instincts Alexandra turned back to see how Hawkeswish's proud master was reacting to the little drama.

  "You find it amusing, my dear?" His mouth was set in a thin smile, and a muscle flashed at his jaw. His eyes were hooded, their expression unreadable as they stared at the surprised circle of her mouth. "Perhaps I can offer you a source of further entertainment."