Nelita closed her eyes.
She knew now that she was caught and there could be no escape.
She either had to marry Sir James or die.
She hesitated.
It was hard to die when the sun was shining and she felt as if her whole body cried out that she must live.
But everything, even death, was better than being married to a man she loathed, a man who would humiliate her as he was doing at this moment.
As if he knew just what she was thinking, Sir James pushed the broken casement of the window further open than it was already.
Pointing his pistol at Nelita’s left hand, he said,
“Do you want me to start counting? You have your choice and one minute to make up your mind!”
There was a note of extreme triumph in his voice.
The expression in his eyes, which told Nelita all too clearly what her an
