“I know a man named Reeve McKenna who wears a brass talisman around his neck!” she called back over one shoulder as Duncan propelled her along.

Even in the darkness Maggie saw the man’s body go rigid. “Wait a minute,” he said in a low voice.

Duncan pretended not to hear. The carriage door was hanging open and he virtually flung Maggie through it. Before he could follow, however, the stranger came forward and spun Duncan around with one easy motion of his hand.

“I said wait,” he repeated.

“I’m in love with Reeve McKenna,” Maggie spouted from inside the carriage. “This man hates him for some reason, and he’s bound and determined to keep us apart.”

Duncan cursed roundly.

“Are you married to this man or not?” the man demanded of Maggie, his stubbly jawline tight in the dim light flowing from noisy saloons and the moon itself.

“I swear I’m not. It’s—it’s Reeve I want to marry.” That was true enough. Maggie did want to marry Reeve McKenna, even if it was impossible.

“If you’re lying to me, miss,” the rescuer warned, “there’ll be no need of this bloke turning you over his knee, for I’ll do it myself.”

Just then Duncan reached the end of his patience. He took a wild swing at the man, and then the driver, who had been content to look on until now, leapt down from the box to enter the fray. It was two against one, but the fellow wearing the medallion like Reeve’s held his own easily. He sent Duncan slamming backward against the carriage and brought the driver low with one fierce thrust of his knee.

Maggie hurled herself out of the carriage and into those sturdy arms. He immediately dragged her off toward one of the saloons, pulling her up the outside stairs after him and flinging her into a room there. The damage to Duncan and his driver must have been serious, for neither of them gave chase.

But Maggie was past thought of Duncan now, wondering what new scrape she’d gotten into by throwing herself to the mercy of an utter stranger. She might have imagined the gentleness with which he’d held her, after all, as well as the chivalry he’d shown in defending her. Her heart was beating double time when he lit a lamp, and a small, seedy room dominated by a messy brass bed leapt into view.

She turned to face her unlikely champion with a nervous smile, her heart wedged into her throat, making it quite impossible for her to speak.

Her host pulled off his hat and Maggie saw that his hair was a very light brown. He made no move to come toward her.

“Tell me how you know Reeve,” he demanded.