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into your hands!”
    Daring any to defy him, the lord-of-thieves urged his steed forward. The brigands stumbled back, readily yielding ground before him until the two women stood alone. Synnovea and Ali were hardly exempt from the awe that had been elicited. The suspicion that this ruffian was to be feared more than his followers filled their hearts with burgeoning trepidation.
    The lawless chieftain braced a muscular arm across the elaborate horn of his saddle and subjected Synnovea to a careful scrutiny that ranged slowly downward over the entire length of her. Though she clasped the torn bodice over her bosom, she held herself proudly aloof, seeming far more regal and refined than any woman he had ever known. Her uncommon beauty was equally unmatched.
    “Forgive my delay in coming to your rescue, Countess.” His smile conveyed a leisured confidence. “My men are wont to seek diversions wherever they find them and demand recompense when heretofore they’ve found naught but injustice.”
    “Injustice, do ye say!” Ali squawked, taking exception to his statement. “As if we weren’t within our proper rights ta defend ourselves against yer murdering riffraff!”
    The rogue commander chose to ignore the maid. “What you see around you, my lady, are men whose every possession was stolen by those boyars who wield their power as if directed by demons and who saw fit to reduce them to serfs. Had we been of such a mind, Countess, we might’ve added to your misery by killing your escort. Your footman and the captain were foolish to challenge us. Be grateful they’re still alive and my aim true, for I might have taken exception to their faulty attempts.” He swept a hand about to indicate the soldiers, who were being ordered to dismount. “Anyone who intends to do us ill is in peril of his life.”
    Synnovea realized her chin had sagged as she endured a moment of monumental dread of this man. Though he had spoken with a well-tutored tongue, she was nevertheless riveted by the disquieting realization that here indeed was a fierce barbarian the likes of whom might have ridden with Genghis Khan and his army of Mongols, except that his sky-blue eyes and flaxen hair were products of a different breed. His square jaw was devoid of whiskers, and his hair was clipped so short that it looked more like a scruffy, close-fitting skullcap. Despite the countless tiny scars that crisscrossed his face, he was still handsome in a rugged way. That fact did little to ease her qualms, for she found his demeanor absolutely terrifying.
    Synnovea managed to reclaim some fragment of her composure. “And what exactly do you and your companions intend?”
    “To share a portion of your wealth….” He smiled down at her with unrestrained confidence as his eyes caressed her again. “And perhaps for a time the richness of your company.” He threw back his head and laughed uproariously, raising the hairs on the backs of his captives’ necks. When he sobered, he clapped a brawny arm across his wide chest in a crisp salute. “Permit me to introduce myself, Countess. I am Ladislaus, misbegotten son of a Polish prince and a Cossack wench, and these worthy hearties”—he swept a hand in a wide arc to encompass his roughly garbed compatriots—“are my royal courtiers. They serve me well, do they not?”
    The ruffians guffawed at their leader’s wit, but Ali snorted in derision. “A bastard barbarian, and a thief ta boot!”
    Ladislaus was amused by the audacity of the gnat-sized woman and nudged his stallion forward, deliberately separating maid from mistress. “Aye, old woman! That I am,” he acknowledged, peering down at her. “My father sought to pay his due by hiring tutors to teach me a gentleman’s manners and language, but he felt no inclination to gift me with the use of his name or his title. Thus, I am what I am.”
    Ali’s eyes fairly snapped as she swung her makeshift weapon toward the stallion, but in swift reaction Ladislaus