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her, agonizing cries of pain,
the thump of bodies hitting the dock and then the scraping
footsteps of men running and dragging away.
    “Bloody bandits!” a voice not far from her
bellowed to the departing youths and then followed the shout with a
caustic curse.
    Silvia gasped as another voice, very like
the other, though calm and mellow, rang out. “And what have we
here, Roman? Some elfin creature with legs and no head?” He spoke
with a teasing rail but there was an underlying kindness in the
tone.
    “Aye. And shapely ones at that,” the other
responded. His voice was soothing and without the anger, rich and
deep and sweet to her ears. Even in her agitated state she
envisioned a face to match the voice, one strong and handsome and
certainly with kindness in the eyes.
    A gentle movement lifted the cloak from her
head and she parted the hair fallen over her eyes. Her combs had
been lost in the struggle and her dark hair fell in a snarl of
tangles above a face smeared with dirt and grime from the dock.
Beside her knelt a man dressed in dove gray trousers and waistcoat
beneath a heavy cloak of a charcoal color. A diamond pin set in
gold sparkled in the white silk jabot at his throat.
    Silvia’s lower lip trembled as she looked
into the face that regarded her curiously. His eyes were like blue
flames and the kindness was only a flicker subject to come and go
at will. His flaxen hair was long and tied at the back of his neck
with a black ribbon. The face was fetchingly handsome, the nose
straight with nostrils still wide from anger, the cheekbones high
and the chin squared and strong. He had a sensuous twist to his
mouth and there she could detect a small vestige of arrogance.
    “Are you hurt?” he asked softly, a frown
creasing his brow. His fingers gently caressed a bruise on her
chin. In a moment she could have melted into the fire in his eyes,
forgotten why he was there, how they had come to be so close she
could feel his breath brushing her cheek. A half smile crossed his
lips, then changed to a brooding scowl. “Madame, you should choose
your customers with more care,” he said curtly, taking her arms and
helping her to her feet. “That one could do with better
manners.”
    Silvia’s jaw dropped. She jerked her arms
free. “I beg your pardon, sir!” she sputtered with churning anger.
Shaking out her cloak with a haughty flourish, she swung it about
her shoulders. “The swains set on me to rob and kill.” Her eyes
blazed with fury. She might have stung his handsome face with a
slap, but her strength was spent. “Grateful as I am for your
intervention, I’ll thank you not to tarnish my good name.” With an
angry stamp of her foot, she continued indignantly, “Good sir, a
lady might land on her back and not make a living that way.”
    “Forgive my brother, Madame. ‘Tis the
company he keeps. Doesn’t know a ‘lady’ when he sees one.”
    There was a bandinage of laughter in the
face Silvia saw when she whirled to confront the man behind her,
but the jesting look was directed at his companion. The man was
about the same height and build as the other and for a moment she
thought she was seeing double. But he was dressed in brown, in
garments as rich as those worn by the other. His cream shirt was
trimmed with lacy ruffles at the sleeves and at his neck. His cloak
was a dark shade of brown and fastened with a leather tie. The
greatest difference in the two was in the eyes; his were a milder
blue, that of a summer sky, softer and less serious, less
mocking.
    He smiled and made a slight bow. “My brother
has not learned his manners.” His eyes were consoling and she
blushed faintly as Morgan Toller took her smudged hand and raised
it to his lips.
    “I apologize, miss. One doesn’t expect to
find a ‘lady’on the docks.” Her first rescuer’s derisive tone
seared her nerves as he made a gallantly mocking bow. Kneeling
again, he retrieved his hat from the pavement and collected her bag
from where it