Maggie could not afford to offend, not at this juncture, in any case. “I’m sorry,” she said, and though she seldom resorted to artifice, she let tears pool along her eyelashes and bit her lower lip as she tucked her head.

Jamie clearly wasn’t fooled, but he did come and sit down beside Maggie on the bed. She wasn’t sure whether that was bad or good. “I’ll see you get to Reeve, love—no worries. But I don’t want you to tell him that you met up with me, understood? Reeve would be in grave danger if he found out about me now.”

“But—”

The brogue was back, and a tiny muscle in Jamie’s jawline leapt and then went still again. “I’ll deal with Reeve in me own way and me own time, without you interferin’, woman. If you do, never mind that me brother’s bigger’n me, I’ll paddle your sweet little rear end!”

Maggie swallowed. She believed him. “Well, let’s go then,” she said bravely, making to rise off the bed.

But Jamie caught her arm gently in his and tugged her back. “Not tonight,” he said. “Your dapper gentleman friend ’as probably gathered ’imself an army and started lookin’ up and down the street for us. I can ’andle ’im, and ’is driver, but I ain’t up to a scrap with ’alf a dozen dockmen in the bargain.”

The awful gravity of the situation began to dawn on Maggie. “You expect me to spend the night here, in this room, with—with you?”

Jamie was making a great production of pulling off his boots. If they were that tight, he ought to get new ones. “Aye, love, I do. Lay down.”

Maggie tried to rise off the bed in a huff, only to be firmly pulled down again. “Of all the nerve—”

Jamie turned to her with laughter in his eyes. “Speakin’ of nerve,” he said, and Maggie thought it wasn’t a good sign that he was still talking in a brogue, “you ’ave some yourself, love, leapin’ out of a carriage that way, then flingin’ yourself into the arms of a total stranger.”

Maggie knew a hopeless situation when she saw one, and the truth was that she’d much rather take her chances with Jamie McKenna, in this seamy little room, than risk encountering Duncan outside. She squinted at the medallion that Jamie wore around his neck and saw that it was just like Reeve’s.

“What is that?” she asked. Reeve had been secretive about the talisman; maybe Jamie wouldn’t be.

“It’s called a beggar’s badge,” Jamie answered, unbuttoning his shirt.

Maggie gulped and averted her eyes. “A b-beggar’s badge? What on earth is that?”