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to cross her—out of respect and sometimes out of fear. She had established a rapport with both aristocrats and ruffians. Indeed, it was claimed that the lady was never out of her element. She possessed the uncanny knack of relating to people from all walks of life, to prince or to pauper, and Rozalyn DuBois never had to fear going about St. Louis after dark. For some strange reason even the ruffians held her in high esteem. Rozalyn had become their legendary princess.
      Dominic had assumed that this wench's reputation had been built on the foundation of her father's prestige, but now he was beginning to think Rozalyn had earned her own reputation. As a matter of fact, Dominic wasn't sure he would put anything past this lively young beauty. Although she had the face and body of an angel, there was a daring sparkle in her wide blue eyes, a mischievous gleam that warned there was more to the lady than shallow beauty.
      The stories about Mademoiselle DuBois were almost too incredible to believe, but Dominic wondered if he had been a mite too skeptical. A sly smile rippled across his lips as he reassessed the vivacious beauty who had thundered down the street and demanded that he climb into the saddle to assist her with an urgent mission. No, it would not be wise to underestimate this lovely chit, he advised himself.
      He was beginning to believe the rumor that Rozalyn had challenged one of her overzealous suitors to a duel when he'd attempted to take outrageous privileges with her. No doubt, the lady was as adept at handling firearms as she was in managing the flighty stallion she rode. Rozalyn had been furious with the man, so the story went. She had insisted that they row out to the local field of honor—Bloody Island, a small mound of land in the Mississippi River. Although the young man protested the absurdity of dueling against a woman, Rozalyn forced him to pace into position. She insisted that, since she was the one who had been offended, it was her right to defend her honor. She was not about to have a man fight her duel for her. The gentleman refused to fire against a woman, but Rozalyn had no qualms about facing a man. She was infuriated with this bold rake; who had dared inflict bungling embraces on her after she had made it clear that his touch repulsed her. She was determined to have her revenge. So, to assure him that, lady though she was, she could blow him to smithereens if she had a mind to do so, she blasted the pistol from the man's hand at twenty paces. Needless to say the young man became a believer.
    He promptly voiced his apologies and swore never to go near Rozalyn again, especially without a protective suit of armor.
      Dominic had suspected that this temperamental hoyden, who was the subject of several other wild tales, was so ugly that men only approached her because of her vast wealth. But this lass who cavorted with ruffians, raced her stallion against worthy opponents and won, and who indulged in many other wild antics, was a far cry from a wealthy witch. It still baffled Dominic that the feisty hellion, whose name was frequently spoken in the grogshops, and this dazzling nymph were one and the same. Aubrey DuBois may have been a scoundrel, but his daughter was—
      "I suppose you have heard that I have a notorious reputation. Perhaps you are apprehensive about associating with me," Rozalyn speculated as she saw conflicting emotions cross his bronzed features.
      A low rumble rattled around in his massive chest. "I cannot lie to you, cherie . I have not been in the city long, but I have heard about your unusual behavior. Such talk does leave a man to wonder what is in store for him."
      When Dominic made no further remark but only stared at her, Rozalyn asked impatiently. "Well, are you coming or not? I have no intention of blowing holes in your expensive jacket if our scheme fails against my grandmother ... if that is what you are thinking."
      "Then, by all means, let us commence with