Page 21 of Wild Hearts

They had a delicious lunch of poached salmon. She enjoyed the blackberries and cream so much, Paris ordered her a second dish. The innkeeper kept referring to her as Mistress Shannon, which made her giggle for some reason. Paris urged her to try the homemade ale, assured her that Shannon wouldn't hesitate and, to her delight, she found it quenched her thirst well.

Afterward, they strolled through the orchard behind the inn and out into a hayfield that had just been reaped and stacked. She picked a handful of poppies and cornflowers. The air, was filled with pollen, and she began to sneeze.

"One for a wish, two for a kiss," claimed Paris, coming closer. Two more little sneezes followed, and she laughed. "Three for a letter, four for better."

She held up the wild flowers for him to admire, and he took her hands and gazed down into the amethyst eyes. "Five for a secret never to be told," he murmured softly, lifting her clear of the ground in an embrace that took her breath away. His mouth covered hers as he kissed her gently, slowly, thoroughly. She could feel her heart beating wildly. She was breathless at his touch. Her lashes swept down quickly as she recalled the last two lines, "Six for silver and seven for gold," and the moment was destroyed for her. She pulled away from him sharply. She must be mad to let him kiss her, when he had kidnapped her for gold.

When she pulled away from him, Paris was also brought to his senses. He frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. If anyone watched him now, they would know she was not his sister. Who was following him, and was the castle being watched? The day had been a rare chance for him to relax and let his heavy responsibilities slip from his shoulders, yet the presence of the unknown rider, though not worrying him unduly, nevertheless provoked questions.

They reached the castle by dusk. Tabby was in a state of confusion, which had been produced by Paris's undivided attention all day. She realized she was vulnerable to this strong, handsome man. Was she so starved for affection that she was willing to close her eyes to all his faults? If she didn't get away soon, she knew she was in danger of losing her heart to him. Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps she had already fallen in love.

At the stables, he didn't help her dismount but watched her closely as she managed the task. "You rode well today. You can be proud of your accomplishment," he praised.

She lifted her face toward him in the dimness of the stables. "You will let me return to Edinburgh tomorrow, Paris, won't you?"

"No," he said shortly.

Her hand went to her throat in dismay, her eyes showing their hurt as if he had slapped her. "But you gave me your word you would reconsider," she cried.

"I have reconsidered, and upon that reconsideration, I have decided that you shall stay," he said harshly, his brows lowering in anger for the first time that day.

She was angry, too. She wanted to slap his face hard, but she did not dare, for she knew if he returned the slap, his strength would fell her. She picked up the velvet hem of the habit and ran swiftly from the stables.

"Thank God you are back," said Venetia. "She's been at it for hours."

"Who?" asked Tabby.

"Anne," said Venetia. "Paris is the only one who can calm her down."

"Who is Anne?" asked Tabby blankly.

"Paris's wife," stated Venetia.

"His what?" asked Tabby in shock. She felt a buzzing in her ears and thought she must have heard wrong. Icy fingers were clutching her heart until she thought it would stop from sheer misery. How could he have told her she was beautiful? How could he have kissed her like that? How could he have deliberately tried to make her fall in love with him when he had a wife in the castle? At this moment, her anger and her hatred for the man almost blinded her.

"Haven't we told you about Anne?" asked Damascus dreamily. "Oh, Paris was so in love when it all began. One glimpse of her and he walked about in a trance for weeks. It was such a whirlwind romance. He swept her off her feet. She was so small and beautiful, with hair the color of moonlight. They were so very much in love, then tragedy struck! She had a child and was never able to walk again. But he is so devoted to her. He always brings her a big box of chocolates from Edinburgh. Whenever he comes in, the first thing he always does is rush up to the White Tower," sighed Damascus.

"She makes this up as she goes along," assured Alexandria. "Damascus lives in a fantasy world where everything must be perfect."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" demanded Tabby.

"Who?" asked Shannon coming into the room.

"Anne," answered Alexandria.

"That bitch! God, how that man has been made to suffer. They hate each other with a vengeance, you know. They go at it like cat and dog! Haven't you heard them? One night he beat her so badly, she hasn't walked since. She was lucky he only crippled her— he should have killed her. But mark my words, one day he will have had enough, and we will find her body smashed on the cobblestones of the keep."

"She makes this up as she goes along," repeated Alexandria reassuringly. "Shannon lives for melodrama."

Tabby looked from one to the other and said, "My God, you are all raving lunatics." By the time she reached her chamber, the salt tears were blinding. She slammed the door and fell on the bed to sob her eyes out.

After she had exhausted herself, she noticed what a crumpled mess she was making out of Shannon's green velvet. "Damn,'" she swore, and carefully removed the habit and hung it up. Then, in a frenzy of abandoned self-pity, she threw herself down and resumed sobbing.

She fell asleep long before Paris sought his bed; he therefore heard nothing of her distress. Sleep eluded him, though he willed it to still his thoughts, but every time he closed his eyes, Tabby was there with him.

She was everything he desired in a woman. Although exquisitely beautiful, she was not vain or spoiled, and she had a sweet innocence that had already found its way to his heart. Once he had made her his mistress, he would delight in spoiling her, giving her the things she had never enjoyed. He could go up to her now It would be so simple, none would know: He should have taken her today in the cornfield, in the sunshine. How lovely it would have been. What had stopped him? He hesitated only because he did not want to frighten her She was still asking to go back to Edinburgh. Didn't she know he could never let her go? His thoughts shifted to the man in Edinburgh. No doubt Abrahams would keep the abduction as quiet as he could, for fear of being Iaughed at. Better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. Abrahams would be making some discrete inquiries, though. It was probably killing him not to know the identity of who had carried out the abduction.

Who had followed him today? Was there a connection? There was no one Abrahams could question who would lead him to Paris. All at once he sat bolt-upright in bed. That old bitch who ran the orphanage! What was her name? Mrs. Graham. Would she remember his visit two years back? If Abrahams got to her before he did, she just might. He slipped from his bed and began to dress. This could not wait until morning.

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