Duncan’s rage pounded against Maggie’s being like a hot tide threatening to drown her. “Margaret,” he said, “come here.”

Maggie shook her head, and the hair on her rescuer’s chest tickled the end of her nose.

“It doesn’t look as if she wants to do that, now, does it?” the stranger asked, the words rumbling from deep inside his chest. “I’d advise you to go on about your business, mate, before I’m forced to knuckle your head.”

Behind Maggie, Duncan gave a raspy, exasperated sigh and then swore. He hadn’t minded manhandling her, but it was clear enough that he had his reservations about fighting the man with the medallion and the floppy hat.

“Maggie, think of the children,” he said, trying to sound reasonable.

The man holding Maggie stiffened. “Children?” he asked.

Maggie knew what he was thinking, that Duncan was her husband and that they had little ones at home and that he was interfering in something very private. She grabbed hold of the leather vest with both hands and shivered, refusing to let go.

“The boys love you, Maggie,” Duncan went on, pressing his advantage. “You can’t desert them now.”

Slowly, the stranger’s hands came up to cover Maggie’s and gently pry them from his vest. He was about to abandon her, she knew it, and she wailed desperately, “You don’t understand! I’m not his children’s mother, I’m their nanny!”

The reluctant guardian angel stepped back and Maggie could see that his face was hard and handsome, his hair slightly too long, his eyes a clear azure blue. He assessed her dress, with its abundant view of her cleavage and its glittering beads of crystal. “I’ve never seen a nanny who owned a dress like that,” he said.

“Exactly,” agreed Duncan.

The tall man’s blue eyes narrowed in a leathery face. His teeth were even and white as a Massachusetts snow. “What are you meaning to do to her, mate?”

Duncan sighed a husbandly sigh. “For starters,” he said, “I believe I’ll blister her bustle for nearly getting herself killed like that. She tends to be dramatic, our Maggie.”

“I’m not your Maggie!” the object of this idiotic conversation shrieked.

Unbelievably, the stranger chuckled. “I can see she’s a spirited sort,” he agreed, and he stepped away, leaving Maggie vulnerable to Duncan.

“Please!” she cried.

Duncan was too smart to be rough with her, though his fingers bit into the flesh on her elbow where he grasped her. He was smiling and speaking in soothing tones as he ushered her back toward the carriage.

In a last-ditch effort to save herself from God knew what, Maggie looked back at the stranger, her eyes fixed on the medallion he wore around his neck. She hadn’t been able to get a good look at it in the darkness, but if there was the remotest chance …