Quinn had never known such utter shock, followed by burning, murderous rage.

“What do ye think you’re on about, you bastard?” he bellowed as Ysmaine crumpled to the floor, arms crossed over her stomach. He kicked and slammed his fists against the door, never so helpless in the face of another’s pain. There was nothing he could do to reach her.

The Marquis spoke not a word to him. He merely sneered down at Ysmaine, who gasped for breath between moans of pain. “If that did not take care of the problem, I will bring in a doctor who will see to it that the deed is done. Either way, you will not bear the child of this man. You will bear my heirs after we are wed.”

He looked up at Quinn then, their eyes locking. “If you refuse to our marriage, I will kill this man. With great pleasure. Thieves have no business breathing the same air as the rest of us, especially when they happen to be thieving Highlanders.”

“You’re the thief,” Quinn spat. “Forcing a lass to marry ye, taking what was never yours to take. She doesn’t want ye.”

“What she does or does not want means nothing to me.” The Marquis strode away, leaving Ysmaine on the floor.

“Ysmaine,” Quinn whispered, straining to see her through the small window. “Ysmaine, speak to me, lass. Tell me he didna harm ye.”

It was a long time before she spoke. “I wish… I could…”

“Oh, lass.” He slammed both fists into the door, wishing he could break it down. “Why did ye say such a thing? Ye know it isn’t true.”

“I was desperate. It was the only thing I could think to say. That he might… be too disgusted with me…”

“Aye, he was disgusted, all right,” Quinn muttered. “But ye had no idea what he would stoop to doing.”

He wanted to kill the bastard for his cruelty. He had never enjoyed killing before, but thought he might in this instance.

At the very least, he would have liked to try and see how it made him feel.

She grunted with exertion but managed to pull herself to a standing position, though leaning against the door was the best she could do. “I am sorry to have brought you to this.” She sounded on the verge of tears.

“Och, lass, ye need never blame yourself. I was the one who took ye, remember? I might have left ye alone. Tis not your doing, not a bit of it. It’s glad I am that I had the chance to know ye.”

“Truly? Even with all of this around us?”

“Even so.” He meant it with all of him. She was the one, true, pure thing he’d ever known. A woman he would have been proud to call his own, were he given the chance.

What was he doing?

Had he gone daft?

He was Quinn Murray, and he was going to find a way to get himself and his woman away from the estate and out of France.

She needed him. He’d seen all he needed to see from the Marquis to know the abuse Ysmaine would suffer every day of her marriage to that wretched excuse for a man.

He would do free her, or he would die trying.

“Ysmaine, there must be a way to free me from this cell,” he whispered, straining that his mouth might be as close to her ear as possible. “Ye must find a way to get the keys.”

“How would I do that?”

“You must find a way, lass. I know how smart ye are. Ye always manage to think of something.”

“Yes, and look where it got us so far,” she snorted.

She was losing hope. He had to get through to her, and quickly. “Ysmaine, free me from this cell, and I will get us out of this horrid place. Ye have my word, lass, and I never go back on my word.”

This stirred her. She turned to look at him. “Do you mean it? What about the debt? You know I’ll never be able to claim my inheritance after this. You will have nothing.”

“Nothing, lass?” he whispered. “I do not agree with ye.” He would have everything, if she would have him for her own. And they would find a way, together.

A look of deep calm and resolve came over her then. She stood up as straight as she could—he remembered all too well the cramping of his muscles after the blow from the guard—and nodded. “I will do whatever I can.”

Two guards approached, taking Ysmaine by the arms. “Do not hurt the lass, or frighten her too badly,” he warned. “She’s been known to swoon, and when she does, there is no waking her. I had to nearly drown her in a cold stream to revive her.”

Would that she understood the message he tried to send. Perhaps if she pretended to swoon, she might catch one of the men off-guard and take advantage of it.

She looked back over her shoulder as they all but dragged her away and nodded in agreement. She understood. He knew she would, the clever thing.

All she had to do was go through with it, then.