At last, he'd revealed his weighty secret, and she'd brought up the strong arguments he'd anticipated from her. But what had he expected—that he could be talked from something that had pervaded every corner of his life? Hell, even if somehow he could come to disbelieve the curse, he'd had it hanging over him so long, shaping him, that he was suspicious of happiness, was uncomfortable with it.

He knew he shouldn't have told her, if he wasn't capable of even trying. "So what do we do about this marriage? We need to decide something."

"We can decide this very easily. You let go of this curse absurdity. If you swear never to mention it again, I'll vow to wipe this memory from my mind. Then we'll live happily ever after. Or, if you insist on this tripe, then we will end in one of two ways—divorce or separation."

"If I could let this go and stay married to you, I'd give my right arm for it."

At that, she hesitated in the middle of a shot, and hit just wide of the center.

"But you can't," she said softly.

He gave a weary exhalation. "No."

Making her manner brisk once more, she said, "Then we've made our decision."

"Jane…" When she wouldn't look at him again, he turned from her, but didn't know where to go, what to do.

Work.Work would take his mind off her, off scenes of the night before. Yet the only thing left to do on the property, after weeks of ceaseless labor, was to clear the trees from the drive. He crossed to the stables, entering the darkened building. His mood must be palpable—the horses seemed startled by him, though they never had been before.

Yes, getting lost in exertion would dull his desperate want of her. Who was he deluding?Nothing would dull it. It'd bloody gottenworse, now that he'd been foolish enough to think he could slake himself inside her—

Blinding pain exploded through his head. The side of his face slammed against the hard-packed ground; warmth seeped down the back of his neck.

Grey.

Another blow connected with Hugh's temple. Two hits, placed just as Grey had been taught to do—if he wanted to keep a victim alive but immobilized. The booted kicks to Hugh's gut were solely for Grey's enjoyment.

Grey clucked his tongue. "Damn, Hugh, you could've made this a little more challenging."

Jane had watched Hugh amble down the hill toward the stables, looking as if he carried the weight of the world, and felt a pang, then grew more angered than before. He never allowed her to juststep back, to lick her wounds a bit. And if she'd ever needed to…

She felt as if she'd been slapped and was still reeling.

He didn't want to stay with her, even after they'd made love and she'd easily concluded that it was the most wondrous thing that had ever happened to her. It was bad enough that she'd given her virginity to someone who regretted taking it, when she'd waited so long, waited so impatiently. But rubbing salt in the wound was the fact that Hugh regretted taking it because of a soddingcurse .

This was so fantastical as not to be believed.

Give his right arm, he'd said. Though all signs pointed to his caring for her much more deeply and for much longer than she'd imagined, she actually prayed that wasn't true. If he'd felthalf of what she had for all these years and denied them a marriage because of this…

She thought she might begin to hate him.

If Hugh had been honest and forthcoming about his superstitions all those years ago, she would have gotten over him. She would have understood there was no chance for them, and she would have married someone else. But he hadn't been forthcoming, and she was done letting her feelings for Hugh "Tears and Years" MacCarrick eat away at her life.

It was time for Jane to be practical. She could never compete with a five-hundred-year-old curse. She was never going to have a life with Hugh, so what would she do after Grey was caught? Though she'd told Hugh they could divorce, the idea of it made her cringe. Perhaps she could still get an annulment.

Based on Hugh's insanity.

Or they could stay married but separated. She tilted her head. Yes, that was the better option. She would demand her dowry from Hugh—and her father had better be prompt to pay it, after he'd forced her into thisfarce of a marriage.

With that money and as a married woman, she could be independent. She could travel, sponsor the arts, finally found the Society for the Expression of Vice! She could write dirty books for Holywell Street, take lovers like there was no tomorrow and have ten children by them. Yes. This could work—

A thought made her heart sink and her blood boil. Hugh might believe in a curse as contraception, but Jane did not.

She could be pregnant from last night.

How could he do this to her? He expected her to accept this madness, and vowed to leave her, when she could very well be carrying his child!

Before she had any real idea what she was doing, she was marching down to the stables. This was probably a Bad Idea. She'd impulsively tossed that book, but throwing it away hadn't made her feel any better—well, notthat much better. It had gone differently in her mind and such.

But what did it matter how she behaved now? What else could be hurt by releasing the tirade bubbling inside her?

Nothing.

Because things couldn't possibly be worse than they already were.

Hugh cracked open his eyes, wincing with pain, and found himself staring into the barrel of a pistol.

He struggled to rise but almost lost consciousness. Though he knew he couldn't dissuade Grey from this course, he had to try—because he understood exactly why he'd been kept alive, and his gut roiled with dread.

"Doona do this," he bit out, laboring for breath against the stabbing pain in his ribs. "Kill me, make it slow, but she has no place in all this."

"Why waste your breath?" Grey asked. "I just don'tthink that way. In case you never noticed, I don't think like you at all. I'll kill her as easily as an insect."

"You were no' always like this."

"Precisely why I'm here, Scot. To redress wrongs."

"How did you find us?" Hugh grated, trying to stall.

"It was the oddest thing. I was stalking this young lass, not far from here, planning to remove her fingers, when she met up with a band of six riders. Big bastards on massive mounts. They set off onto a path into the woods, but left a trail so deep that a blind man could follow them, a trail straight here…."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh spied a flicker of white. Raising his gaze, he saw Jane poised at the stable entrance, face stoic as an angel's. An avenging angel's—she had an arrow nocked in her bow, pointed at Grey's back. The string was pulled so tight with her leather-tipped fingers, Hugh thought the bow would snap.

Hugh dropped his eyes, but Grey must have followed the direction of his gaze. He twisted around to fire at her, but she let her arrow sing without hesitation. She'd obviously aimed for his heart, but she'd caught him too quickly. Grey hadn't finished whirling around when her arrow struck. It only pierced his gun arm—through the forearm, pinning it to his chest. Hugh couldn't see Grey's face and reaction, but saw Jane's.

Her eyes were stark and wide, her lips parting in shock.

A monster. The man she'd known as Grey was gone and in his place was something she could scarcely comprehend. His face was drawn tight over his prominent cheekbones. A wide coal-black hat shaded his wasted face and darkened teeth.

Before she could nock another arrow, he lunged for her. Swinging his free arm out, he backhanded her, sending her spinning into the wall. She heard Hugh's roar of fury just before her head hit and snapped forward. She slumped, sinking inch by inch to the ground, as she fought to keep her eyes open.