Evening approached with rolling, gray clouds and a sinking chill. Ginelle moved to the window and watched as rain began to pelt the window. She shivered inwardly as she wrapped her arms around her body and stepped away. The rain forebodes a deep inkling of apprehension. She had never liked the rain, it only increased her anxiety.

Turning away from the window she quickly assessed her room for a distraction. She spotted a book lying on the table she had finished the previous day. Mayhap a new book would keep her occupied for some time.

She left the room, closing the door gently behind her, and started towards the study where the books were kept. There were two separate studies. The one she was headed towards which was at the end of the hall and the other, Dorian's study. He spent a majority of his time there. She wondered for a moment why he spent so much time in his study. What kept him so occupied? What was he always thinking? Was he always managing business or did he think on his troubled past, the loss of Eloise?

She took her time sorting through the many books lining the shelves along the walls. After debating between several, she decided on two. Pulling them from the shelf, she tucked them under her arm and started back towards her room.

As she headed towards the end of the hall to her chamber, she stopped half-way. Gripping her skirts in one hand with her books tucked under the other, she stared down at the crease of light emitting through the parted door.

Her heart began to pulse with unease. She had shut the door when she left, of that she was certain. Had Ingrid come back?

Hesitantly, she moved towards the door and pushed it open. Ginelle inhaled sharply at the overturned mattress and coverlets dispersed beneath it. Her eyes widened as she studied the room in utter disarray. Objects lay scattered through out the room, along the floor in a disordered fashion.

Stunned, she could only stare in bewilderment at her destroyed room. A sudden noise to her right jerked her attention around, expecting to find Ingrid, instead she found a looming frame garbed in black.

Her mouth fell open in outrage as she took several angry steps towards him. "What do you think-"

Dorian turned and the fire in his eyes brought her up short. She blanched at the evident signs of anger and for a moment, she thought him capable of violence. The muscle in his jaw clenched painfully and she could just see the pulse beneath his skin, throbbing from the fury within. She had never seen him so enraged. She didn't recognize this menacing stature of a man with eyes like blue fire. She had witnessed Dorian's anger, but this was in no comparison.

She swallowed back a sudden lump lodged in her throat as she stepped back, a flood of fear and confusion swallowing her whole as he started towards her. It was then she noticed his fist clenched between them, clutched between his fingers was a long golden chain.

Frozen and startled by his black expression, she could only stare dumbfounded at his hand. "Where did you get this?" his voice had dropped dangerously low and fear settled heavily in her stomach.

Ginelle opened her mouth to say something but words failed to come out. Her apprehension choked her of any response and she could only stare wide-eyed as he closed the space between them to tower over her. She could only hear the frantic beat of her heart, pounding in her ears as images came flooding back. For a startling moment, she thought she saw the face of Pierino standing over her.

"Answer me!" he demanded.

She winced and would have stepped back but his fingers snaked around her upper arm and an alarming fear scuttled through her as his grip tightened, jerking her forward. The books from under her arm flopped to the floor and she nearly tripped over them as he dragged her towards the bureau.

She hadn't noticed that it was open or that her gowns had been tossed aside. She could only focus on the unforgiving fingers wrapped painfully around her arm. Ginelle gasped as the blood rushed from her face as she stared, horrified, down at the pile of jewels lying at the bottom of her bureau.

She paled as a nauseated feeling came over her. Her eyes widened and before she could utter a word, Dorian pulled her away. "How did you get these?" he dangled the necklace in front of her, his face shifting viciously with his anger.

Ginelle opened her mouth to respond but again her fear left her breathless. "These were my mother's." his ice, blue eyes regarded her accusingly.

She stood helplessly beneath his cold, intense stare as a tremor seized her. "I didn't-" she fumbled with words but his harsh accusations left her hollow. Why did his distrust of her hurt so badly?

"You had me fooled." He said bitterly, his voice flat and hard. "You had us all fooled."

Her stomach churned with dread and she felt the sting of tears as he released her and turned his back to her, his body shaking with uncontrollable rage.

"So you thought you could steal us blind? What was your plan? What did you think you were going to do with my mother's jewelry?" he whirled and stalked towards her, she retreated, frightened.

"Tell me!" he demanded as he gripped the golden necklace with maddening force. His blue eyes suddenly brightened with comprehension. "Ah, I see." He retorted as if she had spoke aloud. "I should have known you would have done something, anything to escape the marriage forced upon you." He sneered, taking another angry step towards her. "Is that what you were planning?"

"No!" she cried, "You accuse me unjustly!"

"Enough!" he roared, silencing her. "I don't want to hear your lies." His eyes suddenly wavered to the locket around her neck and narrowed suspiciously. "Did you steal that as well?"

Ginelle felt a wet streak on her face but refused to wipe the tears away. Her heart felt as though it had shattered. His cruel accusations hurt her beyond meaning, and she couldn't fathom why. Isn't this what she expected of him? There was nothing she could say that would convince him otherwise. He thought the worst of her and always has. She was nothing but a lowly peasant to him, whether she was garbed in fancy gowns or not, she would always be nothing more than worthless.

Her prolonged silence seemed to convince him further of his accusations. "If marriage is what you were escaping, than my lady, you've accomplished that." Still clutching the necklace between his fingers, he said in a low, harsh tone. "I want you gone this very evening."

He stalked from the room and slammed the door with deafening force. Ginelle stood staring helplessly at the door. The tears came uncontrollably as she stared at the disrupted chamber.

She was a fool to think she could live here. Her heart lay heavy in her chest as she turned to survey the room. Eloise had been kind to take her in, but no matter how well educated or finely dressed she was there was no changing who she really is.

She searched the remnants of the room for her cloak and found it where she left it. She slipped it on and cast a look out the window where the rain continued to fall mercifully. She would remember Eloise and there time shared together. She would hold onto that memory.

Dorian stared down at the golden necklace that once belonged to his mother, the Lady Charlotte, devoted wife of Lord Clayton Ashford. His fingers curled painfully around the chain, his eyes closing at the memory of his mother. The memory was far too painful to dwell upon; instead he focused on his anger.

She had lied to him, betrayed his trust. Yet, despite the fury at finding his mother's precious heirlooms in her room, he couldn't shake his disbelief or his gut instinct that he was wrong.

His anger had only intensified of her fear of him. She flinched beneath his anger as though he had struck her, and that unnerved him the most. Aye, he had been enraged and he should not have handled her as roughly as he did, but he had not lifted a hand to her, so why than this fear of him? Was it because she was guilty, or did she really think he would hurt her?

He felt the muscle at his jaw throbbing as he continued to stare at the necklace. One of the servants had informed him of the open chest containing all of his mother's valuables. The chest had been empty.

Dorian stood abruptly from his chair and moved to the window. The rain continued to fall heavily from thick, dark clouds. He imagined her, alone and crying. Her tears had affected him deeply. Even with anger, he found her irresistibly beautiful. Had he been fooled, blinded by her beauty? Was it all farce?

She had objected to the idea of marriage. Had she planned to barter his mother's jewelry to leave Ashford, to escape his plans for her?

He wondered for a moment where she had gotten the locket around her neck. He never saw her lovely neck bare without it. Where did she get it? Did it belong to her or had she stolen it?

There was an abrupt knock on the door and he turned just as it opened. Lucile entered, her hands gripping the latch as she observed him with wide, disheartened eyes. "Milord, what have you done?"

He narrowed his eyes at the older woman, clearly in no mood for her objections.

The housekeeper closed the door firmly behind her before turning back to him. She lifted her face to better meet his hard stare. Dorian noticed the intense anxiety in the older woman's face and her struggle to keep it at bay. "What have you done?" she demanded, her voice on edge.

Dorian had never witnessed Lucile frantic. Even when Eloise had passed the older woman had managed to contain her composure. "The servants say you have banished Ginelle?" her voice rose with panic.

His face was grim as he said, "I am in no mood to discuss this now." He turned away from her as if to dismiss her but the older woman moved around the desk to gain his attention.

"Milord, you will listen to me." Lucile said firmly, "With the good Lord as my witness, if you do not bring her back, as much as it pains me to do so, I will relieve myself of my position and leave Ashford this very moment."

Dorian arched a brow as he turned to fully study the housekeeper. "You would give up your position for her?" he asked curiously.

She nodded. "I would, milord."

"Why?" he asked.

"I know in my heart that Ginelle would never steal from us. She is not capable of such wrongdoings."

"You seem certain."

"I am quite certain, milord."

Dorian wanted to believe the older woman for his instincts were telling him the housekeeper was right but the evidence was there. How did Ginelle come by his mother's valuables? Why hadn't she claimed her innocence?

Another knock sounded curtly at the door and it opened before Dorian bid them entry. Mirabelle stepped timidly into the room, an edge of nervousness about her as she immediately dropped her head, her fingers entwining in her apron.

"What is it, Belle?" Lucile demanded.

The maid peeked up from under her lashes to spare a glance at Dorian. "I must speak with Master Dorian, tis urgent."

"What is it?" Dorian growled.

Belle straightened her spine as she slowly met that cold, blue gaze. "Mistress Ginelle is guilty of naught, milord." Her voice was hushed, fearful.

Dorian felt a strange flutter in his stomach. Had he been wrong? "How do you know this?" he demanded.

Belle spared a glance at Lucile and the older woman nodded, encouraging her to continue. "I saw-" she paused, biting down on her lip with anxiousness. "-I saw Ingrid-"

His eyes narrowed harshly with recognition. The red-haired servant that had informed him of his mother's empty chest claimed she had suspicions of Ginelle.

Belle swallowed, "I saw Ingrid take Lady Charlotte's things. S-she took them from the chest and planted them in Mistress Ginelle's room."

"You are certain, Belle?" Lucile prodded.

She nodded, "I followed her-" she jerked aside as Dorian swept past. The door fell back hard against the wall as he turned down the hall, his mind plagued with images of Ginelle alone and frightened.

**********

Ginelle felt a wave of trepidation seize her as she paused beneath the rain to study the narrow paths leading her further into the forest.

She felt a rising panic and quickly sought to calm her fears. She couldn't allow her anxiety to overwhelm her, not now. Her eyes burned with unshed tears and mixed with the rain her vision became clouded.

Gripping the leather reins tightly until her knuckles turned white, she focused on steering her horse onto another path.

The rain soaked her clothing to the bone. Despite the warm evening, she shivered in her cloak. She had lost track of time and somehow managed to get lost. The unfamiliar path only heightened her apprehension.

She had packed nothing knowing none of it belonged to her, even the horse but she would not risk traveling on foot.

Her heart felt like stone in her chest. He had blatantly accused her of a crime she did not commit. Why did it hurt so much?

Someone had deliberately plotted the jewelry in her bureau to be rid of her. She should of left Ashford long ago. She had been a fool to stay, to allow herself to get close to Eloise and Lucile.

Her only other option was a convent.

Why hadn't she thought of it before? She would be safe in a convent. She did not want to marry and she wanted to be free of Pierino. In a convent she would never be subjected to marriage or come in contact with men like Pierino and Dorian again.

She felt a flutter of relief as the rain slowly began to let up. The sun drifted low in the sky, making a lazily descent with the approaching night. Ginelle tugged on the reins to pull her mare to a slow trot.

She had a sudden foolish urge to peer over her shoulder but she would not think of Ashford as her home. It had never been her home. She brushed tears from her face for she would miss Lucile and Belle, even Cook. She would not think of Dorian. He had wanted her gone from the very beginning.

How could she have ever thought him capable of compassion? He had cast her out so cruelly without the slightest remorse, had accused her so quickly without giving her a chance to declare her innocence.

Ginelle cared not for she was free, free to do as she pleased. She should have gone to a convent long ago to avoid the pain she continuously endured when allowing others into her heart.

It was then she heard the thunderous approach of hooves. Every muscle in her body stiffened with warning. Her fingers tightened around the reins as she pulled the mare to a halt. Her eyes strained against the forest as her heart erupted against her chest.

She suddenly remembered Eloise's warning that the uncharted forest could conceal brigands and dangerous outlaws.

Her fingers tightened around the reins and she nudged her mare with her heels. Instantly her horse took off at a frightening pace. She felt dangling limbs stab at her cloak as she caught speed, ducking to dodge a hanging branch. In her sudden flight, her hair flowed freely down her back and she struggled to keep the wayward strands from her face.

Her heart accelerated against her chest as she heard the stranger's vast approach and than an immense shadow fell in at her side.

Ginelle felt a scream in her throat as long, lean fingers reached out and seized her reins. She caught a glimpse of the massive black beast riding alongside her horse just as she came to a jerky halt. The sudden momentum wrenched her sideways and she felt herself falling.

A band of muscle wrapped tightly around her waist and Ginelle gasped as she was easily plucked from the air and placed right onto a large, masculine thigh.

Her eyes widened as they collided with a glacial stare.

"Are you hurt?" Dorian's gruff tone brought her alert as that intense, blue gaze moved over her face looking for injuries, and she was instinctively aware of his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her in his lap.

She realized then that her hands lay firm and flat against the hard wall of his chest and she jerked them away as if he burned to the touch.

"Put me down." She squirmed in his lap in efforts to get down but his arm only tightened, pulling her closer against the heat of his body.

"I said are you hurt?" his voice was deeper, tinged with a huskiness that startled her. The rain had soaked his clothing. His black tunic clung to the muscles of his chest, emphasizing the breadth of broad shoulders. The open v at his chest revealed smooth bronze skin with ripples of rain dotting the muscle beneath it.

She peeled her eyes away from his chest and gasped for the heat in his eyes made her heart flutter. His jet-black hair lay wild and untamed, framing the sharp angles of his face. His vivid, blue eyes moved boldly over her face to rest firmly on her mouth.

She stilled as he reached up and pushed wet strands of hair from her face. The tender gesture ignited a searing heat in her belly. His fingers lingered along the arch of her cheek and she held her breath as he fanned her skin with his knuckles. His hand turned and she felt his fingers brush her lips and her mouth fell open on its own accord.

She felt his breath, heavy on her forehead as if he struggled with an internal confliction. His fingers traced her lower lip, trailing lower to the arch of her jaw to dip under her cloak.

Ginelle gasped as she felt his fingers peel her cloak off her shoulders. She felt a strange heat at the tips of his fingers as he caressed the hollow at her throat.

Instincts warned her to stop him but she sat paralyzed, unable to resist the strange temptations urging his touch. No man had ever touched her so tenderly and this wasn't just any man, this was Dorian.

His fingers spanned her throat, forcing her head back. She inhaled sharply as his dark head lowered and he pressed his lips against the pulse at her throat as the arm at her back tightened, forcing her back into an arch, and pressing her breasts firmly against his chest.

She clenched her eyes shut as he trailed kisses along the smooth expanse of her throat, his mouth leaving a trail of heat over her flesh as it tingled with sensation beneath his lips.

Stop this now. Her instincts warned. He's dangerous. She suddenly recalled his fury and how quickly he had accused her of thievery. He had cast her out into the rain without a chance to claim her innocence and now she was letting him kiss her?

Her thoughts demanded he release her, but her body protested as it eagerly sought his touch. Her breath quickened at the gentleness of his lips, moving tenderly along her flesh. She felt the evening air, moist from rain, against her skin, followed by the gentle brush of his fingers.

She molded perfectly against him, aware of every sinewy muscle. His hair tickled the side of her face and she shivered, a feeling of exhilaration sweeping through her as he rose higher to claim the spot below her earlobe, his mouth a mere caress, doing strange, invigorating things to her.

She felt the strength in his touch, in the arm binding her to him. Shouldn't she be angry with him? Shouldn't she be frightened?

She couldn't seem to focus clearly past the manipulations of his lips. He lifted his head and their eyes connected, and Ginelle was struck with the raw desire burning in the depths of his icy stare. How could eyes so vivid, so arctic blue, burn with such a deep fire?

His raven tresses framed the sharp angels of his face, accentuating his straight jaw and full lips. The chiseled features indicated a rough, dominating exterior, but there was a softness that could be detected. She could see faint lines of laughter around his eyes and mouth and wondered for a moment when last he had laughed?

He was by far the most handsome man she had ever encountered, and the most dangerous. He stirred things in her that she had never felt, never imagined feeling. They were both frightening and stimulating.

His eyes burned so blue they almost appeared silver beneath the approaching twilight. They moved over her face as if studying every arch and curve, mesmerized by her features. His gaze fell on her lips and her heart leapt.

Dorian knew he should resist her, resist the fierce demands of his body, urging him to taste her, to take her. He had never yearned for a woman as he did for her. She was like forbidden fruit, one taste and he was doomed.

She felt lovely against him, her little body cradled in his lap as her hair tumbled over his forearm. Her skin was flawless, smooth and perfect like fine porcelain. A rosy blush tainted her cheeks and her eyes were large and round, a soft, gentle brown that kindled his body in flames.

Her gown molded to the curves of her luscious frame as her breasts fell and rose with her labored breaths.

His eyes rested firmly on her lips, parted with her breathing and he was seized with a fierce longing.

He reached up and gripped her chin delicately between his fingers and she inhaled sharply, her lovely breasts rose against the seams of her dress and a hot stab of arousal gripped him mercifully.

He leaned forward, unable to resist her sweetness, yearning to claim her lips with his own. Her eyes grew wide and he felt her tremble against him. He knew the moment he had kissed her at the river that one taste would not quench his insatiable hunger.

His mouth captured hers, and she gasped, opening to him and allowing his tongue to sweet passionately inside. She arched against him and he felt a thrilling sensation as she accepted his kiss with an inquisitive shyness.

He kissed her tenderly, aware that she was credulous to what transpired between a man and a woman. He imagined taking her maidenhead, teaching her the depths of passion and the wonders of lovemaking.

He deepened the kiss and felt his groin harden with anticipation as a soft moan escaped her throat. He savored the way her lips moved beneath his own, cautious but curious as he claimed her mouth with an intensity that surprised as well as excited him. His manhood throbbed with an insufferable urge and every fiber in his being demanded he take her, take her here on the forest floor.

His free hand spanned her little waist, marveling at her petite body and how perfect she would fit against him. His fingers skimmed over her ribs to rest below the swells of her breasts.

He reached up and seized the material at her shoulder. He caught her gasp with his lips as he jerked the material down, exposing one, milky breast.

She stiffened against him, suddenly aware of her nakedness as the cool, evening air caressed her flesh. He cupped her breast into his palm; his body jerked with fiery desire as he rubbed his finger over her nipple and traced the curve of her breast with his thumb.

Unable to resist the fire burning low in his belly, he released her mouth and bent her back over his arm and captured her nipple in between his teeth, tugging lightly. She gasped aloud, her sharp intake of breath doing strange and hot things to him.

He traced her nipple with his tongue as his hand slid around her ribcage, gliding smoothly along the expanse of her back. She jerked against him as he tugged and sucked, pulling gently until she released a pained cry of desire.

He felt a grin tug at the corners of his lips as he reached over and jerked the material further down, exposing her other breast. Exposed entirely, Ginelle straightened as if to cover herself, but he seized her wrists in one hand and pinned them behind her back.

His mouth captured her neglected breast and began the same ministrations, tugging and pulling until she squirmed in his lap, igniting an inferno until he feared he would bust at the seams.

"I want you, ma petite." He whispered the plea against her breast and Ginelle arched into his mouth, her body burning with a fever that nearly consumed her.

Dorian reached down and pulled at the skirts pillowing over his lap. He jerked them up and exposed her long, slender legs.

When she felt the cold air against her legs followed by the intimate trail of his fingers, it was as if a cold bucket of water had been splashed over her. She stiffened against him and jerked against his hands.

Immediately, she felt his big body tense and their eyes connected. She saw the raw hunger burning there, the fire to claim her and though shamelessly, she had wanted his touch, his desire frightened her.

For a moment, she thought he would continue; she could see the struggle on the inside. The fire in his eyes slowly diminished and an implacable resolve settled across his dark, handsome face.

The moment he released her, her body became chilled, as if needing his warmth. She quickly righted her dress and pushed her skirts down over her legs.

She attempted to get down off his lap on her own but the height of the stallion proved difficult, instead his arm circled her waist and easily lowered her to the ground.

Ginelle spun around to glare murderously at him, suddenly ashamed at how wanton she had acted. How could she have let him touch her so intimately after what he had done?

"Don't ever touch me again!" she hissed.

Her eyes widened as he swung one powerful leg over the saddle and easily jumped down. She backed away as he approached her, towering at a massive six-foot-two. His blue eyes moved leisurely over her frame and she felt a deep blush paint her cheeks at his boldness.

It wasn't until she felt a tree at her back that she realized she was cornered. He loomed above her and leaned forward, pressing an arm against the bark above her head as he peered down at her. "I was merely checking for injuries." He stated nonchalantly.

Ginelle gasped at the abrupt indifference in his manner. He had been so gentle, so tender when he had kissed her and now this coldness? She wanted to slap his dark, handsome face but refrained.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Never touch me again."

The muscle at his jaw tightened as he pondered her retort. He leaned closer until his breath fanned her forehead. "You think your Nathaniel will bring you to such heights?"

She slapped him, hard. Her hand burned from the impact but not as hot as the anger in his eyes. Ginelle recoiled, fearful that he would strike her, but he merely grit his teeth and wrapped his fingers around her arm and pulled her from the tree towards his horse.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, tugging at his arm.

"We are going home." He growled, as he reached for her waist to lift her up onto the horse.

"No!" she turned in his arms and pushed against his chest, "I'm not going back to Ashford with you."

"Do you have somewhere else to be?" he grounded between clenched teeth.

Ginelle lifted her chin to meet his hard stare. "I'm not returning to Ashford. I'll join a convent. I should have done it long ago."

Dorian felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth as he imagined this lovely, desirable creature in a convent. He couldn't, wouldn't allow it. "I think not, milady. Your home is at Ashford."

A somber look crossed her lovely face, "Ashford was never my home." He frowned as she said this and than jerked away from his touch. "Why would you harbor a thief?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing with anger. "Is that not why you banished me?"

"Your name has been cleared of any wrongdoing."

She shook her head at him, "That does not change what you really think. The next time something is stolen, will you be so quick to blame me?"

He stepped towards her and she resisted the urge to step back. His intense, blue eyes bore into her face, a mask of emotions that she could not fathom. "Milady." He said in a deep, hushed tone. "You have stolen something, but that remains a mystery."

Her brows knitted together in puzzlement but before she could comprehend his statement, he lifted her off the ground and planted her firmly in the saddle. He mounted behind her and whipped the horse back towards the direction of Ashford.

**********