An Impetuous Abduction. Patricia Rowell Frances

cautiously. She was barely accustomed to wine of any sort. Nor did she care much for the sour stuff. She had drunk about half of her portion when Hades moved his chair around the table nearer to her own.

      From somewhere on his person a sharp blade appeared as if by legerdemain. Phona blinked and leaned away from him a bit. If he noticed, he gave no sign of it. He reached for an apple, set it on the table, and, steadying it with his truncated left arm, began to make careful slices. When he had cut half the apple, he set down the knife, plucked a piece from the pile and, without warning, slipped it between Phona’s lips.

      “Oh!” Startled, she drew back again. He had been helping her eat for many days, but there seemed something different about this. The simple gesture sent a wave of sensation through her.

      Perhaps it was the wine.

      Or perhaps it was the way he was gazing at her, a crooked smile on his lips and a warmth she had never seen in his one twinkling eye.

      She blushed.

      He laughed softly. “Have a bite of apple, my lady.”

      “Uh… Thank you.” Phona swallowed, and he fed her another slice.

      “And another sip of wine.” He handed her the glass.

      She took a tiny sip and set it down. “I am not very fond of wine.”

      “I know, but you need it. And apples are very healthful.” He popped another slice into her mouth.

      His fingers never touched her lips, but somehow Phona had felt their warmth. In fact, she could feel the warmth of his whole body as he sat next to her. Could sense that subtle scent. It created a response down deep inside her.

      Looking amused, he picked up the uncut portion of the apple and took a large bite, white teeth gleaming. The heat blossomed.

      It must be the wine.

      Phona glanced at the man beside her. He took another bite, looking steadily at her as he chewed. Phona all but gasped.

      It could only be the wine!

      Leo had taken a distinctly wicked satisfaction in his modest seduction of Miss Hathersage. Her inexperience with dalliance made flirting with her a pleasure. He liked the flush that crept from her breast to her cheeks. Liked her response to his play with the apple.

      Liked the fact that she had been aware of him as a man.

      It pleased him to think she might respond to him. He had barely restrained himself from kissing her when he lifted her into his arms to return her to the bed, from lying down beside her and teaching her the delights of being a woman.

      But he must not unleash his passion now, must not let those impulses take him too far. He had begun to see the shape of the future that he knew must inevitably follow this situation. It could not be kept secret forever, and the consequences of exposure were certain. Only one honorable course would be open to him.

      But Leo could not yet approach that future. He still had the “felonious business” to complete. A strong chance existed that he would not survive it. And the truth was, even as much as he desired her, he would avoid a future with her if honor allowed it.

      The kissing, the holding, the teaching—

      Sheer fantasy.

      He would never expose his scarred and crippled body to her artless gaze.

      She would have to be more careful of spirits.

      The sensations she had experienced last night while drinking the wine frightened her. She must keep firmly in mind that she was in the company of an outlaw. She could not afford to see him as anything else.

      Just as Phona was making these resolutions anew, Hades walked into the chamber. One glimpse of the strong neck revealed by his open collar and her resolve crumbled. She had never seen a man like him. All of the other gentlemen of her acquaintance wore tall cravats and long coats.

      If he could be described as a gentleman at all.

      Which she doubted.

      This could not continue!

      He was carrying an inkwell in his hand and had a sheaf of paper wedged under his arm. “Good afternoon, Miss Hathersage.” He laid the items on the table. “I thought you might like to write a letter to your parents.”

      Phona blinked. “A letter? I did not think… That is, I did not expect…”

      “You did not believe that I would allow it.” He came and stood by the bed, gazing at her seriously. “But aside from the fact that you are not at liberty to leave, you are not a prisoner here. You are my guest.”

      Phona could not restrain a wry smile. “Now there, my Lord Hades, is a nice distinction. In just what way does a guest who is not allowed to leave differ from a prisoner?”

      For a moment he looked startled. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. “You have me there, Miss Hathersage. Hoist by me own petard!”

      His laugh was infectious. Phona could not helping joining him. She cocked her head and gazed up at him, thinking of the locked door. “I am sure I don’t know what a petard may be, but I am eager have the answer to my question.”

      Still smiling, he said, “Hmm. That is a cant phrase, and you should not know what it is. I was at fault saying it in your hearing. As to the question—I must consider it for a moment.”

      He tipped his head to one side, apparently thinking. At last he said, “I believe the difference must be in my view of the situation as opposed to yours. In any event, you are quite at liberty to write to your parents, although I must ask you not to describe me in any way, nor your present surroundings. My life and yours, as well as Aelfred’s, depend on that.”

      “Great heavens!” The implications of the restriction chilled Phona. “In what are you embroiled?”

      “Dark doings, my dear lady, not fit for your unworldly ears.”

      A shadow seemed to fall over the day. Phona had for some time considered her gravest danger to be her own feelings with respect to her…uh, host.

      She had felt physically safe here. But she should have remembered the original circumstances that had precipitated her capture. The very air had been awash in violence.

      “Very well. I will make no such description. I will simply assure them of my improved health and send my love.”

      He studied her soberly. “Thank you, Miss Hathersage. I appreciate your good sense.”

      Phona sighed. “I am ordinarily quite famous for good sense.”

      “You sound as though you are not happy with that assessment.” He pulled a chair closer and sat.

      “Well, you must admit it sounds very dull. I always face matters sensibly—except parties. I never faint. I never indulge in the vapors. I never weep. Well, not where anyone can hear.”

      “That sounds very pleasant to me.” His forehead creased. “Except that I do not like hearing that you weep alone. What occasions these episodes of sadness?”

      Phona gazed into the fire for a long moment. “It is considering my future.”

      “And is it so bleak then?” His frown deepened.

      “Perhaps not. But let us consider the facts. I am twenty years old. I have already had two spectactularly unsuccessful seasons in London.”

      “Ah. And the Shelf looms?”

      “Indeed it does. And that would not be so bad, perhaps. I enjoy the life I lead on the estate now, and I know Papa will provide well for me. But…I will not even have the opportunity to dwindle into an aunt. I have no brothers or sisters, you see.”

      He raised an inquiring eyebrow. “You see yourself caring for your mother—forever.”

      “I