"Who rides the tiger dare not dismount" goes the Chinese saying — and Dominique felt the proverb could well apply to her strange, impulsive marriage to Vincente Santos. She dared not dismount from the tiger she rode — but what if she was thrown?

          Vincente drew out a case of cheroots and extracted one calmly. His tawny eyes surveyed her almost indifferently, as if assessing her qualifications. "I want you to break your engagement to Harding and marry me!"

          "Marry you!" Dominique couldn’t believe her cars. "You can’t be serious!" His expression was withdrawn but intense. "Oh, but I am," he said calmly.

          Dominique pressed the palms of her hands against her burning cheeks. "This is ridiculous! You don’t want to marry me! You don’t love me!"

          His lack of emotion was uncharacteristic, his indifferent way of stating such assertions was unnerving. What manner of man was he. What were his motives? What extra motivations had inspired such a command?