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you are more cautious.”
    “Caution is a wise thing,” Mr. Lynsted answered with his usual brisk tone of decision. “Keeps one safe from angry stage managers and an overeager public.”
    “ Touché ,” she said. “Although it doesn’t seem fair I must live my life expecting the worst because I am female.”
    “The world is not fair, Miss MacEachin,” he said with a grim smile. “But then, you already knew that.”
    “Yes, I did,” she admitted soberly. He was exactly right. “Now I am searching for my own fairness.”
    She hadn’t meant to sound so sad…and yet, the loneliness had escaped her.
    In the dark, she could feel his sharp, questioning glance. She’d have to guard her tongue. Mr. Lynsted had a barrister’s quick mind. He’d read something into everything she said if she wasn’t careful.
    And probably use it against her.
    “Here we are,” she said. “My building is only two doors down. I’ll meet you on this corner in the morning. You can hand over my valise.”
    “You don’t trust me to see you safely to your door?” he said with a hint of disapproval.
    She kept her voice light as she replied, “You warned me to be cautious.” She reached for the handle of her valise to take if from him, when two shadowy figures unfolded from the bushes and came at her.

Chapter Four
    R ichard didn’t think; he reacted. He’d dreamed of someday clearing a line of men with “his morleys” but had yet to test his mettle—and now, here he was.
    He stepped in front of Miss MacEachin, lifting an arm to block the nearest man’s attack. Clenching his fist, he punched the man in his soft, paunchy gut.
    With a grunt of pain, the man doubled over.
    Richard’s lawyer’s heart almost burst with pride—until the other attacker delivered a blow to his kidney.
    Fortunately, Richard was a big man and the hit a puny one. His attacker’s fist bounced off with little damage, but gave Richard the opportunity to pick the fellow up by his shirtneck and the hip of his breeches. He was a runt of a man with a foul mouth. Richard didn’t think twice about tossing him back into the bushes from whence he came.
    The first man regained his strength. He took a swing at Richard, who easily warded off the blow with his arm. However, before Richard could strike back, Miss MacEachin decided to enter the fray.
    Most women would have screamed and gone running off or at least had the sense to duck out of the way.
    Not the Scottish songbird.
    She jumped in front of Richard, brandishing her sharp little knife at their assailant as if she would carve out his heart. What she did do was ruin Richard’s clean shot at their attacker’s jaw.
    And, of course, the bloke used his longer arms to grab her at the elbow and swing her around as a shield against Richard.
    What the man didn’t anticipate was that she’d use the knife. She buried it in his thigh.
    “God’s balls in heaven ,” the man roared and then screamed as Miss MacEachin pulled the knife out. “ Here, take her . I’m not being paid that much to grab ’er.” He shoved her toward Richard with enough force she fell into his arms, her breasts against his chest.
    Richard was stunned by the contact of her soft roundness against his hard strength. Breasts . He’d never had them so close before—and that second of stupefied hesitation was enough to allow the man to go running off down the street into the night. His companion had recovered from his interview with the bushes and limped off in the opposite direction.
    Miss MacEachin shoved Richard away. “ They are escaping .” She started after the one she’d stabbed but quit after a few steps. “He’s gone. Damn .”
    In Richard’s world, women didn’t swear. And he knew he was to blame for not capturing their attackers. In fact, it was a true blow to his pride that while he had acquitted himself well with his fists, Miss MacEachin and her little knife had sent the scoundrels running for their lives.
    She made an