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all things any man in his position should do. Bedding her was not.
    She turned a corner, heading into a decidedly unfavorable part of town. He debated catching up to her and dragging her back home. Even if anyone was foolish enough to buy the pretense that she was a young lad, she was still in great danger. There were things some of the men in this part of town would do with a beautiful young boy that Amanda had probably never imagined.
    He fought his instincts and let her continue to play her game. The only way he would get her home otherwise was by rendering her unconscious or carrying her off kicking and screaming. The screams would draw too much attention, and he didn’t think he could bring himself to knock her out, even for her own good.
    When she reached the Black Eagle, the tavern that had been mentioned in the letter she’d shown him, she paused. Instead of going inside, she tucked herself into the alley running along the side of the building.

    So she didn’t intend to go head to head with this mystery man after all. She was probably hoping to identify him and sneak away. Rhys had to admire her plan, but even if she got away tonight, the man would continue to seek her out. He probably wouldn’t give her a warning the next time he caught her.
    An old cart stood in the yard of the rickety house next to the Black Eagle. Rhys crept behind it. After making sure he could see both Amanda’s hiding place and the tavern’s front entrance, he signaled for his assistants to join him. One at a time, they came to crouch beside him. Neither said a word. He’d worked with them several times during his days of spying for Farrington. He trusted them to know exactly what to do if Amanda was attacked.
    He adjusted his mask. He hated wearing it. It was damned uncomfortable, and it made him feel like the star of a cheaply produced melodrama. But it helped him blend with the night. What was the point of dressing in black if he let the pale skin of his face give him away?
    Rhys watched as Amanda leaned slowly around the corner to get a better look at the front of the tavern. Then a flash of movement behind her caught his eye. A hand closed over her mouth, and she fell backwards against her assailant.
    Rhys and his men ran toward her. His heart pounded. Why hadn’t he stopped her before now?

    Amanda tried to bite the hand covering her mouth, but the man’s smelly leather glove protected his skin from her teeth.
    “Thought you’d trick us, did you missy?”
    She kicked, but caught only air.
    “You’d best have brought the money early, or we’re going to make you real sorry.” We’re ? Were there more of them?
    Before she could think any further, three men charged toward her. She assumed they were the accomplices her captor had alluded to. But all hell broke loose as they began to assault the man holding her and three others who appeared from the shadows.

    The tallest of the three men, the one who seemed to be their leader, managed to free her. He pulled her to safety against the side of the tavern before rejoining the fray.
    She pressed herself against the building’s rough wooden wall and panted for breath.
    Grunts and groans filled the air as the men fought. One of them went down and did not rise again. Was he dead or just unconscious? The fallen man was on the far side of the mass of fighters, and she couldn’t be sure if he was an enemy or a friend.
    The only man she could identify was the tall one who’d scooped her up and taken her to safety. He moved gracefully, as if all his moves were choreographed.
    The man he was fighting went down, and the tall man squatted beside him, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling him into a sitting position. Amanda thought she heard him speaking but she couldn’t make out the words. Then he swore loudly and shoved the man back onto the ground.
    Amanda heard jeers behind her. She turned to see a small crowd of men gathered by the tavern’s door, watching the brawl. Fortunately