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strength. It was as if he was trying not to hurt her, being deliberately gentle with her. Would he be sorry when the other man ordered him to break her neck? Even if he was, Isabella knew instinctively that he would obey without question. The golden-eyed man’s authority had been apparent the instant he appeared. The giant and the rest of the men would do as he said.
    “Christ, what the hell is a bloody female doing in these woods at night? The nearest village is five miles away! Hell and the devil, what are we to do with her?” The golden-eyed man addressed these half-savage mutters to himself as much as Paddy, but Paddy answered.
    “We could let ’er go.…”
    “Aye, and have her screaming her head off again, or mayhap sneaking around to warn Parren and his men of our presence? Look at how she’s dressed! ’Tis certain she’s no honest maid. Likely she’s a doxy belonging to one of them.”
    He turned those eyes on Isabella. She met them, her own huge over Paddy’s silencing hand. The golden-eyed man scowled at her.
    “Scream, and Paddy there will break your neck like a twig. He’s going to take his hand away from your mouth, and you are going to answer some questions. If your answers are truthful, why, we may just let you go.”
    He had no more intention of letting her go than he did of jumping over the moon, Isabella could tell from his tone. But she could not let him know that she knew that. She nodded her acceptance of his terms.
    At a signal from the golden-eyed man, Paddy slowly lifted his hand from her mouth. Isabella drew in a long, shuddering breath. Paddy’s hold on her was as secure as ever, but at least she could breathe again.
    “How many are in the house?” The question was fired at her like a bullet. Isabella swallowed to moisten her dry throat, and also to give herself time to think. She would answer the questions as well as she could, as long as they didn’t deal with herself. Clearly they had no idea who she was. If they even knew that Lady Isabella St. Just had been kidnapped, they obviously did not associate her with the lady. Molly’s awful dress had thrown them off. Until she knew more of what was going on, she was better off keeping her identity to herself. To this group of brigands as well as the other, she could very well be nothing more than a rich prize.
    “Well?” His frown was fiercer. Isabella looked up at him with what she hoped was a guileless expression.
    “Five. I think.”
    “Who are they?”
    “I—I don’t know their names. Three or four men, and a woman. I think she’s called Molly.”
    “What were you doing running from the house in the middle of the night?”
    “I—I was frightened. I—I wanted to go home.” That was no less than the truth. Taking advantage of a sudden flicker in his eyes, she rushed on. “If you let me go, I will go home, and never bother you again, nor tell anyone I saw you. You have my word.”
    “Why were you frightened?” His eyes ran over her again, and his frown deepened. He completely ignored the last, breathlessly hopeful part of her speech. “Were you raped?”
    “No!” It was an indignant denial, uttered without thought even as her face turned scarlet with embarrassment. A gentleman never, ever, broached such a topic to a lady. But of course, it was quite obvious that he was no gentleman—and he didn’t know that she was a lady. Not, she thought, that he would have bridled his speech if he did.
    “You’re naked under that dress. Why?”
    “I am not …! How dare you …? Oh!” This last was a squeak, uttered as he, ignoring her flustered denial, reached out and laid a hand on her breast. The contact was fleeting, but her nipple, already hardened by the cold that had long since penetrated the thin cloth, responded to the sudden cupping warmth like a soldier snapping to attention. Isabella jerked away, her movements severely limited by Paddy’s silent hold. But the instinctive recoil was unnecessary. He was already