What Price Love? by Stephanie Laurens

Rus, or Caxton keeping watch? Despite his sophisticated elegance, she wouldn’t put it past him to skulk among the bushes at midnight, ready and very willing to tangle with an intruder; his civilizing veneer wasn’t thick.
    She reached with every sense, straining to hear any telltale sound, any crackle, any snap, squinting through the darkness to try to distinguish any movement, any shifting shape.
    And detected a figure quietly, stealthily, making its—his—way in her direction.
    Wits racing, she held her position. If it was Rus, would he realize the open window was a trap?
    Even if he did, was he desperate enough, reckless enough, to chance it regardless?
    Silence, complete and absolute, fell. Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears. She could no longer hear nor see any sign of the man. Theminutes stretched. Her eyes started watering; she blinked.
    A figure rose from the bushes fifteen yards away. The man strode quickly out into the cleared space directly behind the building.
    Pris cursed. The moon was playing hide-and-seek in the clouds; there wasn’t enough light to see the man’s face, and his clothes were too loose for her to be sure…
    Slowing, the man glanced around, slipping both hands into his pockets.
    And Pris knew.
    Starting up, she opened her mouth to hail her twin—
    Another man—one with golden hair—burst from hiding and charged toward Rus.
    Pris gasped, but Rus had heard the man’s footsteps, was already pivoting to meet him.
    Rus lashed out with a boot and caught Caxton’s friend in the ribs. He staggered, but then gamely flung himself on Rus.
    Pris knew Rus, judged he’d win the fight, so she held still in the shadows, waiting for him to break away.
    A curse and a sudden movement to her right had her swinging that way. Her heart leapt to her throat.
    Another man had been hiding in the wood farther along. Caxton . Pris watched him rush to help his friend subdue Rus.
    Without thought, she whirled, leapt, and crashed around in the shadows. A quick glance showed her the distraction had worked; Caxton had stopped midway between the wood and the pair wrestling before the open window. He stared into the wood.
    She had a split second in which to decide whether to yell something—anything, Rus would recognize her voice—to let her twin know she was there, in Newmarket, not Ireland. But Rus was fully engaged with Caxton’s friend. Hearing her voice would distract him; knowing she was close, pursued by Caxton…Rus might do something stupid and get caught.
    Caxton was still staring, unsure what he’d seen. Lips firmly shut, Pris darted back and forth, then saw his clenched hands relax. He started after her.
    She turned and fled.
    She knew where she was going. She told herself that was advantage enough. She was quick and nimble; she would be faster than he was darting through the trees. Once she reached her horse, she’d be safe.
    He gained on her steadily.
    Her heart was in her mouth, her breath sawing in and out, her lungs burning by the time she saw the faint light ahead where the trees ended and the sward began. Where her horse was tethered.
    Caxton’s heavy footfalls hit the ground, it seemed mere yards behind her; she could feel the reverberations through her soles.
    Desperate, she burst from the shadow of the trees and raced, gasping, flat out toward the mare—
    A huge weight struck her in the middle of her back.
    She went down.
    Dillon knew the instant he locked his arms about the figure who it was. He’d played rugger in his school days; he’d launched the flying tackle without real thought.
    But as his weight bore her down she struggled furiously and managed to half turn in his instinctively loosening hold.
    He cursed and tightened his grip, but then they hit the ground, him on top with her on her back stretched full length beneath him.
    The impact jarred them; they both lost their breaths. For one instant, all was