"As I do not yet know how much trouble this particular quest will cause me, I cannot set the price in advance. I must wait until the task is completed," Gabriel said.

After weeks of growing fascination with this outrageous female, he was feeling well satisfied with himself at last. He had finally gained the upper hand. A useful advantage, he thought. He would certainly need it, judging by what he had learned of her thus far.

"You will not name your price in advance? That's ridiculous. What if I cannot afford your fee?" she said.

"Never fear. You will be able to afford my price. The question is whether or not you will be honorable enough to pay it. Can I trust you to be true to your word, madam, or will you continue to play your little games?"

She was incensed. "How dare you question my honor, Wylde?"

"You certainly have not hesitated to question mine. You went so far as to call me a coward a few minutes ago."

"That's different," she sputtered.

"Is it? Men have been known to kill each other for less insult. But I am prepared to let bygones be bygones."

"How very decent of you," she got out in a choked voice.

"Do we have a bargain, my Veiled Lady?"

"Yes," she said instantly. "But first you must 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 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.

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 the instant the feminine fear in her dissolved beneath a wave of desire. The Veiled Lady made an achingly sweet, soft sound against his mouth. Gabriel swallowed up the tremulous cry as if he were a starving man being offered food. He immediately craved more.

A deep satisfaction flared in him as he felt the undeniable stirring within her. She trembled. Her free hand was on his shoulder now, clutching at the heavy wool of his greatcoat. He felt her lean forward as if she wanted to be closer to him.

The hint of passion in his Veiled Lady sent a shudder of heightened desire through Gabriel. His own body was throbbing with an urgent need to possess her. He had definitely been too long without a woman. His arm tightened around her.

"My lord?" She sounded dazed.

"There is a chill in the night air," Gabriel muttered hoarsely against her throat. "But I vow that when I lay you down on the ground over there in the woods, you will soon be warm enough. I shall use my coat to make a bed for us, my Veiled Lady."