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instructions.”
    “I hope you understand that this time, we play by my rules.”
    “We’ll play to win as always. Rules are useless in our line of work.” Rhys cursed himself as he watched Farrington close the library door behind him.
    Why couldn’t he ever say no to that son of a bitch?
    The decanter of brandy which Meadows had brought for Farrington caught Rhys’s eye. Damn the man for never listening to Rhys’s instructions. The brandy sparkled in the beams of sun coming in the window. Rhys’s head still throbbed from the previous night’s overindulgence, but nevertheless the soothing liquid beckoned to him.
    He summoned the will to refuse. He’d been drinking far too much in the last weeks.
    The last months. Ever since a tempting violet-eyed wench had stirred passion in the heart

    he thought was dead forever. He couldn’t resort to drinking now. He had to go visit that very wench and apologize for behaving like an ass.

    *

    For the second time in as many days, Amanda donned breeches and a man’s shirt and escaped the house after everyone had retired. She stuck her knife in a sheath she had fashioned from a scrap of leather and tucked her gun into the pocket she’d sewn on her cloak. She was as prepared as possible to track a man who wanted her dead.
    For a moment, as she let her body drop silently to the ground, fear nearly stopped her. Was Rhys’s price really too high to pay to have someone help her? He was a crack shot and a skilled fighter, though how he’d gotten to be such she had no clue. From all other appearances, save that one day when they fought for their lives, he seemed a useless, overdressed rake whose main concerns were his appearance and his own pleasure.
    He’d attempted to call on her that morning, but she’d refused to see him. She feared her traitorous body wouldn’t be able to resist if she got near him, and an acceptance of his ridiculous proposal would tumble out of her mouth. If he wasn’t going to help her, she was better off not seeing him again.

    When Amanda passed the spot where Rhys hid in the shadows, he followed her.
    He’d been watching her aunt’s house himself that night, scared to death she would do something foolish. Apparently, he was not to be disappointed. He lifted his hand to signal the men who were positioned across the street. He was confident they would follow at a discreet distance.
    He’d seethed with anger since Amanda’s refusal to see him earlier that day. He’d decided she didn’t deserve an apology, nor did he have any reason to pretend to be a gentleman with her. But now, watching her leap from her balcony, wearing the same ridiculous costume she’d visited him in and showing no regard whatsoever for her injuries, all he felt was fear.

    The possibility of her being killed made cold sweat run down his back. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to think about the implications, but he cared deeply for her.
    He cared in a way that had nothing to do with lust. He tried to pretend he simply wanted to protect her. She was his friend’s sister-in-law after all, but a fierce deep emotion stirred inside him when she was near. He was terribly afraid it was love.
    He had no clue who was after her or how many men he might have to contend with when they arrived at Amanda’s destination. He prayed that the would-be murderer had underestimated Amanda. Most men apparently did. And she was quite capable of taking care of herself in a wide range of dangerous situations, but this time, she was in over her head. Thank God he’d had the sense to keep an eye on her.
    If they lived through this night, he would force her to sit down and listen to his apology. Then he would give her a severe scolding and… His mind was suddenly filled with images of him stripping off her revealing clothes and showing her just how much pleasure they could share.
    But that dream could not come to fruition. Protect her, scold her, lock her up until she was safe, these were