Would that she would never know how far out of his depth Quinn truly was.

He had never held a woman for ransom. Yes, he had traveled with women who would rather not have been in his company, but that had been no fault of his. Alana was the most recent, and she’d been quite the handful.

But Brice had managed to tame her, so to speak, and there had been the others, as well. They had worked together, had made decisions together, had relied on each other.

He was alone now. There was no asking for advice as to how he ought to handle this infuriating lass with her countless questions.

There were moments when he questioned the wisdom of this far-fetched plan. Moments in which he’d struggle to control both his mount and hers on a road which wasn’t a road at all. When he would ask himself how he was going to find out where they were going, and how they were going to get there.

And damn it all, he had left pearls behind. He ought to have allowed her to take what mattered so much, should have thought twice about whether she carried something of value. He’d been foolish to take her at her word when she’d sworn there was nothing for him there.

He had been too hasty, too fearful of passersby.

He needed to make better decisions if he hoped to make a success of this.

She was ominously silent. He was not certain if he would rather she stay that way or if he preferred to know what was on her mind. She could be plotting anything at all, smart as she was—or, as she believed she was.

“I need to stop,” she suddenly declared after hours of silence.

It was likely that she did. They had been riding straight through. The horses probably needed rest, as well. “We will stop when we reach water,” he decided. There was certain to be a stream somewhere, the sound of flowing water was never entirely absent, always on the edge of his awareness.

He followed the sound, guiding the horses toward it.

The lass winced and groaned with each bounce she took as the animals picked their way over uneven ground.

“I truly have to stop,” she moaned.

“Hold it,” he snapped, both sorry for her and wishing he’d never set eyes on her. Traveling alone had been far preferable to this. Always having to consider the needs of another who he could not trust to ride untethered.

They reached the bank of the stream—little more than a trickle, but it would do—and he was mercifully quick to help her from the saddle. “I don’t trust ye,” he muttered as he tied her wrists before tying the rope around her arm. “But I’ll give ye a bit of privacy.”

“I’m grateful,” she muttered through clenched teeth before disappearing behind the nearest tree. He kept his face turned away as she attended to her needs, then led her to the stream so she might refresh herself.

“You seem to be unfamiliar with this. Taking women captive,” she clarified after drinking from her cupped hands.

“It’s none of your concern.” He jerked the rope perhaps a bit harder than he needed to while leading her to another tree, where he tied her to a branch.

“Are you in the habit of kidnapping young women, then?” she asked as his hands worked the rope.

“Perhaps I am, lass. Perhaps I make a living of it.” He cinched the rope tight enough that she winced in discomfort.

“Do you?” she sniffed, looking away. “Hmph.”

“Hmph?”

She shrugged. “Think nothing of it.”

“You made a noise. With yer mouth.”

“I did.”

“But I’m to think nothing of it?”

“Correct.”

They locked eyes for a moment; hers were so very blue, bluer than he had ever seen.

So blue, in fact, that he had no choice but to walk away before his baser nature took control of his senses. He went to the horses, then, intent on leading them to the stream one at a time.

And yet, he could not ignore that sound.

“What was it about? Why did ye make it?” he called out over his shoulder.

She let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the tree as if she were resting rather than being unable to leave. “Am I not allowed to make slight noises? Is that against the rules? You must teach me these rules in order that I might not break them again. I wouldn’t wish to offend you, especially since you seem the be the one with the power in this situation.” She tugged her ropes as if to confirm this.

“I know well enough that ye don’t mean half of what ye just said,” he snickered.

“If you wish to think it so, by all means.”

He drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly before daring to speak another word. “I only wish to know why ye sounded so dismissive with that little snort. Nothing more.”

“Since you asked nicely,” she replied, “I will grant you a reply. It’s only that you don’t seem very skilled at kidnapping and ransoming. Not that I wish to offend you,” she was quick to add when Quinn’s mouth opened in protest. “I was merely making an observation.”

“Ye were wishing to draw me into an argument, ye mean.” He switched the horses, leading the second to drink while he held it in place.

“Not at all! That was the furthest thing from my mind!”

“Spare me yer words,” he snarled, spitting on the ground for lack of anything more forceful to offer. “I’ve no time or use for them.”

He all but threw her back up onto the horse before mounting his own and starting out again.

They rode in silence for a stretch, neither of them deigning to look to the other. Only the thought of his brother languishing, friendless and alone, in debtor’s prison kept Quinn from slicing through the rope which connected them and sending the wretched woman on her way.

When she cleared her throat—a small, delicate sound—likely a result of the fine education she insisted on lording over him. “Might I make a suggestion?”

“Ye may not.”

“It’s merely that I think you could be doing better.”

He nearly laughed. “I do not remember asking ye whether ye felt I could.”

It mattered not, for she continued speaking. “The better treated I am, the better condition I’m in when I’m delivered to the Marquis, the more you will be able to demand for my return.”

“Ye don’t understand much about kidnapping, do ye?”

She sighed again, the sigh of a woman speaking to one she felt was far below her in terms of intelligence. “You are the one who doesn’t understand. If I have been mistreated in any way, if it looks as though I’ve been abused or manhandled, you will be in much greater danger of getting nothing at all. You might even be captured and punished.”

“By whom?”

“By the Marquis, naturally. Or his men. Or whoever might be charged with such business.”

Quinn laughed. “Perhaps it’s ye who needs to learn about kidnapping and holding a person for ransom. The worse ye look, the more frightened ye appear to be, the better for me.” He watched her from the corner of his eye. “I might even send a lock of your hair to prove I have ye.”

“My hair?” She sounded both disbelieving and nervous. “You wouldn’t dare do such a thing.”

“Take care. I may change my mind and decide on a finger or toe, instead. I suspect I’ll fetch an even better ransom if I do such a thing.”

He had no intention of removing a finger, a toe, or any part of the lass’s body. It did not hurt to allow her to believe him capable of such action, however.

She chewed her lip. “If I do not complain and tell the Marquis’s men that you were good to me, that you treated me fairly, he will be less likely to send a group of armed guards after you to take me by force. You must see it clearly.”

“Do you know this Marquis well?” he asked.

“No. I’ve never met him. I had no idea of his existence prior to receiving word of my grandfather’s death.”

Honest, she was. Unfailingly so. It never occurred to her that she might feign kinship with the man in question, to assure Quinn of the power and quick temper of the Marquis. She was innocent enough and untested enough to simply answer a question truthfully.

Before thinking.

“Though I’ve heard many things about him,” she was quick to add.

“Oh? Ye have, now?”

“Yes. He’s very, very powerful. Wealthy beyond measure.”

“Ye don’t say. I chose the best possible captive, then, did I not? He ought to be able to pay quite handsomely.”

“He also has many friends who might make life difficult for you.”

“Difficult? Difficult in what manner? Does my life appear simple and easy to ye, lass?” It was time to end the game, as enjoyable as it was to jest with her. She was easy to lead into an argument, too, which made it all the more entertaining.

He looked forward, between the horse’s ears, keeping his eyes focused on the path ahead as he spoke. “I do not do this because I’m well off, lass. I don’t do it because I enjoy taking lasses such as yourself for ransom, or any lasses at all. It’s merely a means to an end.”

“What is the end?”

“What do ye think? To collect a ransom. To make a living.”

“There are no other ways for a man to make a living in this world? I would beg to differ, if this is your belief.”

“I know there are other ways,” he snarled, glaring at the road ahead as if it had done him some wrong. “I’m not a fool, and you’d do well to stop speaking to me as though I were. Ye do not want to know how much blood I’ve had on my hands--and I’m not merely saying so simply to get a rise out of ye. That is a fact.”

“…whose blood?” she whispered.

“I didna take names, lass.”

“But who were they?”

“Why did I have to choose someone who never stops asking questions?” he muttered.

“I merely wish to know who you killed. Was it during the war?”

“Aye.”

She made a sympathetic noise. “I’m certain you’ll be forgiven for that. Men fight in wars, they have been since the world began and will likely do so long after we’re dead.”

“Not only in the war.”

“Oh. I see.”

“No. You see nothing. Which is exactly the problem. Unless ye would like to know—to truly know of things which I wish I could forget—there will be no further questions on the matter.”

For once, she fell silent and stayed that way.