He ought to pound the door until it rattled on its hinges. He ought to startle her awake and make her tell him where the runaway pair were, for he was certain she knew more than she'd revealed. The fact that she'd undertaken this insane journey proved that.

He raised his fist to the door, then with a shuddering sigh, spread his fingers and instead pressed his palm flat against the wooden barrier. He was behaving like a madman. Too much wine, too little sleep, and more frustration than he was accustomed to. These Benchleys were even more outrageous than the gossips made them out to be. Brother and sister alike, they were impulsive, shortsighted, and selfish.

He slid his hand back and forth, the width of the wood panel, and his thoughts grew even more churlish. It was his damnably poor luck that Jinx was so unexpectedly attractive. Not that she was the sort that usually drew him. He preferred cool, elegant blondes, with an occasional vibrant brunette thrown in for variation. Redheads, particularly eccentric ones, had never been to his taste.

Unfortunately, he found this particular redhead precisely to his taste. She was smart and loyal and not easily intimidated, a combination not often found in a woman, especially in a young, beautiful one. Added to that, she triggered the most primitive reaction in him. He'd had the entire day to ponder that fact, and now.just the thought of her made him hot. Standing outside her room, knowing she lay unclothed in her bed, sent a river of fire coursing to his loins.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered, yanking his hand back from the door. He was behaving like a fool, and all on account of her. If her brother possessed even half the allure of his sister, it was no wonder innocent Alice had run off with the man.

But his goal was to follow Jinx Benchley, not seduce her-or be seduced by her.

Knotting his hands, he thrust his fists into his pockets and turned away. He needed more wine, and damn the consequences!

The morning was dreadful. Jinx got an early start. She'd not slept well. Though she had never displayed the same predisposition for visions or predictions that her mother had, all night she'd been bothered by a series of confusing dreams. Colin and a faceless bride. A baby in her own arms. Lord Hartley laughing in a joyful manner. He'd looked so much younger laughing. But what had he been laughing about? And whose baby had she held, Colin and Alice's, or her own?

So she'd risen gladly from her restless bed and before the sun had appeared above the Chiltern Hills she'd been on her way, with Rob trailing unhappily behind her. There had been one bit of good news, however. The stableman on duty remembered Colin and Alice. A tall auburn-haired young gentleman and a china-doll beautiful young lady.

She'd picked the right road. That was something, at least.

But then the rains had come, turning the road to slop, and it had become hard to remain optimistic. She was wet and hungry when they made Bicester, but she did not linger any longer than necessary to eat, and to refresh the horses. Just beyond the village the drizzle eased. But within an hour another mishap: Rob's mare came up lame.

"The ostler said Banbury was a four-hour ride in good conditions. It makes more sense for you to return to Bicester," Jinx told Rob.

"And what of you, miss? Surely you cannot plan to go on with this chuckle-headed scheme. Not alone."

"I most certainly can. Here." She dug into her hastily

packed portmanteau, tied behind her saddle. "Here's coin enough to take care of both you and Dolly. If you just follow the same path south, you should find your way home once her leg is better."

" 'Tis not meself I'm worried about!" the man cried. "You cannot mean to ride on alone, and all the way to the Scots land."

The truth was, Jinx did not want to go on alone. The farther north they rode, the less sure of herself she became. But she refused to reveal as much to Rob. The fact was, she had no choice. If she could not prevent Colin from acting on his foolish scheme, at least she could stand beside him when he faced the dangerous Harrison Stirling.

She peeled a still-damp lock of hair from her neck and thrust it behind her shoulder. "It's pointless to argue with me, Rob, for you know I will do precisely as I please. Soon enough I will find Colin, and then I will be perfectly safe."

Harrison watched the tableau being played out in the curve of the road below him, and though he could not hear them, he could imagine full well the drift of the conversation. The stableman's horse was limping, and the poor fellow thought a practical argument would sway his mistress into turning back. Hah! After only two conversations with the woman, Harrison knew better. Miss Benchley meant to press on alone, leaving the worried servant to tend the lame horse. Foolish girl! Had she any idea the myriad disasters that might befall a woman traveling alone?

Except that she would not be alone, for he was right behind her. He grinned and glanced over at his unhappy valet. "Take heart, Rogers. From this point on I'll not require your company. Provide Miss Benchley's servant with whatever assistance he requires. Meanwhile, I will go on alone and tend to Miss Benchley's needs myself."

It was nowhere near sunset. Jinx tilted her head up, gauging the bruised-looking sky. It was only the low-hanging clouds that gave the impression of impending night. They were heavy with rain, threatening at any moment to douse her once more.

How much farther to Banbury?

This part of Oxfordshire was not nearly so well populated as the southern portion. She'd passed near a tiny village some miles past, and had spied a pleasant farmhouse down one hill. If worse came to worst, she could seek shelter in some respectable-looking rural household.

Then again, what respectable household would welcome a woman traveling alone?

For the hundredth time she regretted her hasty decision to send Rob back to Bicester. If the weather would only cooperate, her journey would not be so difficult. But the rain had made the roads treacherous as well as dampened her enthusiasm for her task.

She tugged her scarf over her head. At least she was not totally soaked. Yet.

The road turned and she urged Daffodil up the incline. The game little mare was as tired as she, but she responded with renewed effort. They had nearly surmounted the hill when the animal lost its footing in a patch of slick gravel. Daffodil nearly went down, and if she had, it might have been disastrous. But the horse managed to stay upright. It was Jinx who could not keep her balance.

She grabbed wildly for the saddle horn, but it was useless. With a shriek of frustration and a whoosh of skirts, she landed hard in the middle of the sodden road. Added to that ignominy, the clouds chose at that very moment to spill their unhappy bounty.

It was as if the storm mocked her, she fumed, lying flat on her back, trying to catch her breath. First the clouds tittered, then they chuckled. Finally they guffawed, buckets and buckets of drowning laughter raining down upon her.

Jinx turned her face aside and covered her eyes with one drenched arm. Nothing was broken. She'd scraped one palm and her bottom would surely be bruised. But other than that she was unharmed. Yet she continued to lie there, pelted by the storm, wallowing in a trough of self-pity. How had she come to such a pathetic pass as this?

A streak of brilliant light and a violent crack of thunder startled her out of her misery. Daffodil snorted and shied, and before Jinx could grab for the reins, the mare was off, tail raised like a flag as she skittered over the crest of the hill and vanished from sight.

"No. No!" Jinx scrambled for footing, trying to give chase. But her soaked skirts were too heavy, even without petticoats. She slipped and stumbled again, cursing the horse, the weather, and most of all, her idiotic, love-struck brother.