When she turned the horse out toward the curious horseshoe-shaped rock formation at the entrance to the cove, he drew breath sharply. Surely she wasn't going to swim the animal out to sea. He half rose from his rock about to yell at her and then saw that she'd reached a sandbar about twenty feet from the shore and was cantering along it in a fine mist of spray from Dulcie's hooves.

Hotheaded gypsy! He sat back on his rock, lifting his face to the sun, closing his eyes, waiting for her to return.

Theo rode until some of her frustration had dissipated, become a part of the sea air and the salt spray. Dulcie moved beneath her with obvious enjoyment, kicking up her heels as the little waves slurped over the hard-packed ridged sand. Waves crashed with monotonous rhythm against the rocks protecting the entrance to the cove, but within their shelter the water was smooth as glass, and the sun was hot on her head and the back of her neck.

She glanced toward the beach. Sylvester Gilbraith was still there, and there was something about his posture that told her he wasn't going anywhere in a hurry. She couldn't stay in the middle of the cove indefinitely.

Turning Dulcie, she rode back to shore. Her habit was soaked to her knees, her boots sodden, her shirt sticking sweatily to her back. Her hairpins had loosened, and the two thick braids now looped on her shoulders.

She rode up the beach to where the Earl of Stoneridge in his shirtsleeves leaned back on his rock, hands linked behind his head.

"You are detestable," she stated. "I loathe you."

"Do you?" He opened his eyes and squinted indolently up at her through narrowed lids.

"Perhaps you'd be good enough to pass me my jacket," she said with icy restraint.

He shook his head. "Come and get it, gypsy."

"Damn you!" she threw at him, swung Dulcie round, and cantered off along the beach.

"This damning is becoming repetitious," Sylvester murmured, mounting his horse and setting off after her. The black ate up the distance between them, even when Theo leaned low over Dulcie's neck, urging her to increase her pace. The dapple stretched her neck in a gallant effort, but she hadn't the chest of her pursuer, and Theo drew back on the reins, allowing her to find her own pace.

The black drew up alongside. Theo cast a sidelong glance at the earl. To her infuriated astonishment she saw that he was laughing. And then she saw the gleam in his eye, the purposeful set of his mouth, and with a desperate kick at her flanks, urged Dulcie to renewed effort.

Sylvester caught his own reins between his teeth, leaned over, and lifted Theo bodily off the mare. Interestingly, it was much easier to do with someone riding astride than sidesaddle, he thought with a flicker of amusement, snatching the mare's reins and hauling her to a halt as he adjusted the rigid figure of his captive on the saddle in front of him.

"Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best,"

he quoted, eyes alight with laughter at her stunned expression. "And don't damn me again, cousin, or I'll be obliged to take reprisals."

Shifting his hold, he drew her tight against his chest, the black coming to a panting halt beneath them as the riderless mare snorted and kicked up sand.

Theo was still so astonished that for the moment she was dumbstruck. His fingers were on her face, tracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw, the shape of her mouth.

"You have such an appealing countenance, gypsy. But I can't appreciate it when you're forever hissing and spitting at me and wanting to throw me all over the beach." Smiling, he cupped her chin and slowly lowered his head.

She tried to resist, to fight off this insidiously sweet assault, but it was a lost cause. Her body was no longer under the sway of her mind. She lay against him, feeling his supporting hand flattened and warm, pressing her damp shirt to her back, his breath on her face, the honeyed mingling of tongues. Her blood flew through her veins, her pulse beating fast in her throat, and the sun was hot and red against her closed eyelids.

His hand slid round her body, feeling for the swell of her breasts beneath the thin shirt. She was wearing nothing beneath the cambric, and her nipples pressed small and hard into his palm. His fingers slid between the buttons, tracing the satin curve, and she shuddered against him with a soft moan, one arm lifting to come round his neck, pulling him closer to her, her mouth opening hungrily beneath his, her tongue now urgently pursuing its own exploration.

He raised his head, leaving her mouth slowly, reluctantly, and looked down into her face, lying against his chest. His hand was still against her right breast, and the sweat-dampened material of her shirt clung translucently to the other, outlining the swelling curve as clearly as if it were uncovered.

Her eyes opened and passion swirled in the midnight depths… passion and confusion.

"You really should wear a chemise," he observed, still smiling. "You invite the most scandalous attentions, gypsy." He cupped her breast beneath the shirt, flicking at the nipple with his forefinger in example.

Theo drew a deep breath and struggled to sit up. His hold tightened while the caress continued, and she yielded with a tiny sigh of defeat.

"Now, isn't this pleasanter than threatening me with combat?" he murmured, his voice lightly teasing.

"It was a challenge, not a threat," Theo said, finally roused from her sensual trance by his tone and the frustrating reflection that the damnable Gilbraith had simply taken his so-called courtesies anyway.

It had happened again, and she'd had no more strength to resist it than a baby. She thrust his hand aside and pushed herself up against his chest, blinking in the dazzling sunlight. She felt most peculiar. The black shifted restlessly at the sudden change of weight on his back, and she would have slipped to the ground if Sylvester hadn't grabbed her waist.

He chuckled but said seriously, "I might be willing to accept a friendly challenge, but I'll not settle real problems in that way. Best you remember that, little cousin… particularly as we're going to be under the same roof for a time."

"I wouldn't count on that," Theo said, as much for something to say as anything else. With a neat wriggle she slid out of his hold and onto the sand.

"Oh, and why shouldn't I?" One eyebrow lifted in quizzical inquiry as he looked down at her.

Why shouldn't he? Not a reason in the world! Her mother seemed to have fallen for his charm without so much as a whimper.

Why couldn't she learn to keep her mouth shut? Or keep her unruly body under control? She was tingling from top to toe, every inch of her skin sensitized. As if aware of this, the detestable Gilbraith was gazing at her chest with fixed attention, and she could feel her nipples lifting under his eyes.

"A word of advice: Wear a chemise in future," he said coolly. "Or don't take your jacket off… unless you're prepared to follow through on the invitation you're issuing."

"You behaved like a cur the first time we met," she said, trembling now with renewed outrage. "Maybe there was the smidgeon of an excuse then… you didn't know who I was. But I tell you Stoneridge, you are an unmitigated cad and a coxcomb!"

She sprang onto Dulcie's back and rode off along the beach to the broad path at the far end that led up to the cliff.

Sylvester grimaced ruefully. One step forward, two steps back. There was something about the wretched girl that brought out the worst in him. She was so damned combative, she made him want to shake her into submission half the time, but despite the occasional brattishness, there was something about her spirit that sparked an answer in his own, and he'd lay any odds that she'd prove to be a wonderfully tempestuous partner in lust – with the right education.