"But I assure you, you are mistaken."
The white horse plodded on.
"Please, please"—the woman's voice followed Shane, and there was embarrassed fear in it—"please let me pass! You are mistaken."
And then again: "I swear to you ... please ... please!"
The white horse was surprised at a firm pull on his mouth, a crack of the whip, and a turn.... He broke in a lolloping canter.... Shane jumped down....
"Madame, is this man annoying you?"
"Sirvase, Signor—"
But one look at the woman's face was sufficient. Shane turned on the fawning Sicilian with a snarl.
"Get to hell out of here, quick!" The man shuffled off, walked quickly, ran, disappeared....
The great dark eyes had agony in them. Her mouth quivered. Shane knew her knees were shaking as she stood.