"No," she wailed loud enough to crack glass. "He tried to rape me, but I fought him. Do you see his face?"

Ethan gave her a look of pure fury, staring at her while telling the man, "Ask at the inn, ask anyone there. She invited me." But she had been circumspect. Would any of the patrons have seen them together in that hallway for the brief moments when she'd approached him?

The woman shook her head fiercely. "My maid was with me at the inn and when we came home. Ask Flora! Ask her!" Touching the back of her hand against her forehead, she sank to the edge of the bed. "Oh, God," she whispered, "I was so afraid."

Ethan gaped in amazement.Christ, she's good —

With a bellow, the old man charged for Ethan. Habit took over. Ethan threw a fist, breaking his nose—blood spurted.

"I'll see you in Newgate for this!" the husband roared, cupping his face.

It was important for Ethan to remember something. What was it? "Goddamn it, I did nothing to this woman…and she instigated it all."

"Get him!" the old man thickly commanded his men.

At that instant, the answer Ethan sought came to him, and he lunged for his jacket.

A blow crashed against the back of his skull. His face pounded the floor. Fists rained down again and again, kicks to the gut…. He fought the blackness for as long as he could; he had to explain, had to defend himself.

He dimly heard the bitch crying to her husband, worrying about the scandal if this were to go to trial…their reputations, their standing…other husbands with his power would take care of this themselves.

Ethan knew that in this isolated part of the country the lords were their own entities, laws unto themselves if they chose, always with henchmen willing to do black deeds. And they hated strangers, much less foreigners.