For a moment, the man just stared into the muzzle of the gun. His mouth dropped open.

'You...how...I don't...'

'It's not that difficult to understand,' I told him. 'First, you in charge. Girl pulls out gun. Girl points gun at you. You in charge no more. End of story. Well, of yours, anyway.'

'I...how...you...'

Dear me. This fellow was really slow. When would he start begging for his life, or would I have to do that for him?

'I wonder, should I kill you?' I mused. 'I must admit, I really feel like it. You're a bastard who works for a bastard. You helped kidnap me and were probably planning to be involved in some finger-cutting later. So...why not?'

'I...no! I, um...well...'

'On the other hand – people might hear a shot. The wrong kind of people.' I pondered the conundrum for a moment, then brightened. 'Ah! I'll know what I'll do.'

'What?' he asked, wide-eyed.

'This.'

Swift as a fiery ifrit, I raised my gun and brought down the butt against his temple, hard.

'Oouf!'

'Nighty-night, soldier boy.'

Satisfied, I gazed down at the crumpled form on the floor. Now here was a good day's work if ever I saw one. But I wasn't finished yet. Not by any means.

I had no illusions. Mr Ambrose had no idea where I was. He could not come to rescue me from this hellhole. However, that didn't particularly bother me. Because that left the much more interesting option of rescuing myself.

Your plans are done, Dalgliesh! Watch out, here I come!

Bending down, I grabbed the fallen fake footman by the scruff of the neck and dragged him away from the window, so no one would catch sight of him from outside. Who knew, there might be other guards out there.

Pressing myself against the wall, I slowly approached the window, until I could peek out between the hide covering and the frame. Nothing. Not a soul in sight. No noise reached my ears, except for the occasional creak of a tree under the growing burden of snow.

Leaving only one man to guard the helpless damsel? Could any man truly be this stupid?

Yes, Lilly. They all could.

I smiled. Pride commeth before a fall, right?

Well, then let's make sure Dalgliesh falls hard!

Hurrying to the door, I took a peek outside. Nothing. No one. The snowy landscape was as deserted as Antarctica during penguin holiday season. I was about to dash outside when I suddenly hesitated.

No.

Think, Lilly, think!

It was biting cold outside. Besides, if I just ran away through the snow, I would leave tracks everywhere. When Lord Dalgliesh came back – and he would come back soon, I had no doubt – he would find my tracks and catch up to me easily. That was something I couldn't let happen.

Squinting, I searched the horizon for something, anything that could be helpful in my escape. A road, smoke from nearby village, a...

Wait a moment.

Was that water I saw sparkling in the distance?

Yes, definitely! There was a stream running through the countryside not too far away from the cabin – one that hadn't frozen over yet! A plan began to form in my mind. Hm...could it work?

Yes.

Turning, I hurried back into the hut and marched over to my fallen captor. For a moment I just stood there, thinking my plan over. Then I nodded, decision made, and stepped forward.

'Don't worry,' I told the slumbering soldier. 'I'm not going to make an assault on your maidenly virtue.'

With that, I grabbed his trousers and pulled them down. His jacket was a little bit more difficult, but eventually I managed to get that off, too. Soon I was clad in warm and practical, if slightly smelly, clothes. And as for soldier boy...well, just for fun, I removed his underclothes, too, and chucked them out of the window.

'Have fun searching,' I told him with a grin and dashed out of the door.

The snow was deep. It filled my shoes, tugged at my feet and made every step a struggle. But months of trekking through deserts and jungles with Mr Rikkard Ambrose had made me hard in a way I hadn't fully appreciated until now. Where a year ago I would have collapsed into the snow after a few hundred yards, I now gritted my teeth and sped up, sprinting forward.

I'm an ifrit! What's a bit of snow to me? Let's fly on wings of fire!

By the time I reached the river, I was panting, my nose felt frozen and my breath puffed out in thick clouds. But I had done it!

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Now for the interesting part.

Let's see who's the smart one, Dalgliesh.

I stepped into the river.

*~*~**~*~*

The sound of hoofbeats woke me from the half-sleep I had fallen into. For a moment I panicked, thinking Oh God, No! They have me!

Then I remembered what I had done. I remembered the plan, and became very, very still.

The hoofbeats came closer and closer until, finally, they were like thunder in my ears. I resisted the urge to cover them.

Don't move, Lilly. Don't make a sound.

The thunder cut off.

The horses had come to a stop. I heard men dismounting and orders being shouted. The men were soldiers, that much was clear. Probably from the presidency armies, Lord Dalgliesh's personal band of merry minions.

'Jameson?'

At the sound of Lord Dalgliesh's sleek voice I couldn't help but drag in a sharp breath.

Calm, Lilly! Calm!

'Get the girl.'

'Yes, My Lord!'

'Carstairs?'

'Aye, Your Lordship?'

'Go and prepare the–'

But what exactly Carstairs was supposed to prepare we never found out. Because at that very moment, Jameson, who had entered the cabin, uttered a startled outcry. A moment later, he came dashing out again.

'Your Lordship! The girl! The girl, she...'

'She what? Speak, man!'

'She's gone!'

A deadly silence descended over the snow-covered fields. As a connoisseur of deadly silences, I could truly appreciate its fine qualities, particularly its soundless threat of murder and noise-free roar of rage.

'What,' His Lordship said very, very, calmly, 'did you just say?'

'The girl! She's gone! And, um, Sergeant Brewer...' The man cleared his throat. 'He's...well, you'd better see for yourself, Your Lordship.'

Hard steps marched past the soldier, into the cottage. I heard a fist slam so hard into a wall the whole building shuddered. Carefully, I peeked over the top of the log pile I was hiding behind – just in time to see Dalgliesh stride out again, red flecks of anger burning in his cheeks. The revolver in my hand suddenly felt very intriguing. Very heavy. Very significant.

For a moment I considered shooting him down where he stood. He was so close. Just one bullet, and Mr Ambrose and I would never have to worry again. One little shot...

...and his soldiers will gut you where you stand.

True. Blast!

Just then, the decision was taken out of my hands. Because in just that moment, Dalgliesh spotted the footsteps leading off, away from the cottage, towards the river. He whirled to face his men.

'After her!' he roared. 'Follow the tracks! She can't have gotten far! Find her, or I'll have your hides!'

Never in my life had I witnessed a detachment of soldiers mounting their horses this fast – not even the Queen's guards. In an instant, they were up on horseback and galloping across the snowy expanse, following my trail. The trail I had left while running towards the stream. The trail I had used to double back, walking backwards in my own footsteps.

I waited until they were a safe distance away, then rose with a smile from behind the log pile along one side of the cabin.

Checkmate, Dalgliesh!

I suppose I could have immediately set out in the opposite direction, but why hurry? Leaning against the wall, I stood there, smirking, waiting for them to disappear into the forest and thoroughly enjoying my victory. Outsmarting the enemy was fun under normal circumstances – but outsmarting the enemy when he was a pretentious, chauvinistic arse was simply sublime. I had to get myself kidnapped more often.

Just when I had arrived at that brilliant conclusion, I heard noise coming out of the woods. Frowning, I started to step out from behind the log pile to investigate – then stopped as I realised that the sounds were hoofbeats.

What? Was Dalgliesh already coming back? Had he seen through my ruse?

But no. The sounds were coming from a different direction. Besides...that sounded like a lot more riders than Lord Dalgliesh had had with him. Who in God's name would be riding through this arctic wasteland with half a company of men?

Making sure my revolver was cocked, I hunkered down behind the woodpile again. Whoever it was, if they'd come to take me, they would have a tough fight on their hands.

From my hiding place I couldn't see a thing of what was going on out there. With bated breath I waited as the thunder of hoofs approached. Horses whinnied. Tackle and weapons rattled. Then, finally, there came a voice:

'No one in sight, Sir. Should we go in?'

'Yes.'

Just one word. One small, insignificant word – but it turned the world on its head. I would have recognised that arctic voice anywhere. It made my wet feet feel toasty in comparison. A smile bloomed on my face, and all the tension to fight went out of me in an instant.

Nice of you to join me, Sir.

Trust Mr Rikkard Ambrose to do the impossible and find an unfindable place in the middle of nowhere. Warmth flooded through me. He had come for me! He had come to save me. Of course, I didn't actually need saving – but that was no reason to ruin his work. After all, he had obviously put so much effort into this rescue of his, I couldn't spoil it all for him by announcing I had already rescued myself, could I?

Closing my eyes with a smile, I leaned back against the woodpile. Yes. I'd stay here for a while. I would be considerate.

Plus, it would be great fun. I had never been able to listen to my own rescue before.

'If she's hurt...' That was Mr Ambrose again, cold as the ice at the heart of a glacier. 'Bring Dalgliesh to me. Alive.'

Bravo! An admirable amount of bloodthirsty vengefulness. Very good stuff so far, Mr Ambrose, Sir. Do continue.

'Yes, Sir!'

I heard the sound of men sliding off their horses and readying their weapons. Then...footsteps. The creak of a door, and finally – silence.

Very silent silence.

For quite a bit.

'Um...Sir?'

'Yes?'

'She's not here.'

'What?'

'She's not here, Sir. The only person who's here is, um...a naked man.'

Silence.

Even more silently silent than before. And cold. Oh, so cold. I grinned from ear to ear, safe in the knowledge that no one could see me behind the log pile. Oh, my rescue was turning out to be fun!

When Mr Ambrose next spoke, his voice was so icy, it nearly froze the water in my boots.

'What did you say?'

'A, err...naked man, Mr Ambrose, Sir.'

A few more moments passed without a sound. Then I heard someone sliding off the back of his horse, and the thud as his feet hit the ground. Somehow – don't ask me how – I knew who it had been. There had just been something so deliciously threatening and final about that thud.

'Out. Of. My. Way.'

'Yessir! Immediately, Sir.'

The brisk sound of marching feet, then again the creak of the door. From inside the cottage, I heard the delicious sound of a boot hitting a villain in the bollocks. Ah, what music to my ears...!

'Where is she? Where?'

'Nnn...what? I don't...'

Thud!

'Arg!'

'Where? Speak!'

I had to resist the urge to clap. As dramatic rescues went, this really was a prime performance. It almost made me wish I were still bound and helpless to see the final scene. Almost.

'Anderson! Renshaw! Get in here, and bring rope! Everyone else, spread out! Search the woods!'

I dared to peek over the pile. Two men were dismounting, hurriedly taking a coil of rope from one of the packhorses. They entered the cabin. The rest of them scattered to shouted commands in all directions. It wasn't long before they had disappeared into the forest. From inside the cottage, meanwhile, came the sounds of a naked man being turned into a casserole.

Time to make my entrance.

Rising from behind the log pile, I sauntered over to the lonely three horses remaining in front of the cabin. One of them I instantly recognised as the magnificent animal from the stable of the marquess that Mr Ambrose had ridden during my riding lessons.

'Hello there, you ugly beast,' I greeted him in a whisper and reached out to pat his head. The stallion promptly lunged and tried to bite my hand off.

'Yes, I missed you, too. But no time for sentimentality today.' Grinning, I grabbed the saddle and swung myself up on the horse. 'I think it's time we left, don't you?'

'Whee hee hee.'

I supposed that was stallionish for 'Of course, you silly hairless ape!' So I wasted no more time. Slipping two fingers between my lips, I took a deep breath and gave an ear-piercing whistle.

Inside the cottage, everything went deadly silent.

A moment later came racing footsteps, and Mr Rikkard Ambrose's face appeared at the window, eyes widened almost half a millimetre.

I gave him my prettiest smile. 'What are you waiting for, Sir? Let's go!'