The aquamarine eyes glowed with inner laughter, almost as bright as the charm visible in the V of his open-necked shirt. “Suffice it to say that I dare. Period.”

“Let me out of this carriage, Mr. McKenna! Immediately, please!”

He only chuckled and settled back against the seat, his powerful arms folded across his chest. He wore a white shirt and black trousers and he looked entirely too casual to be about any respectable sort of business. “You’re not being kidnapped, Miss Chamberlin, so kindly compose yourself.”

Maggie just gaped at him, too stunned to speak. If this wasn’t an abduction, what was it? The nerve of this rascal, grabbing an innocent woman off the streets in the broad light of day. Oh, there were plenty of things she’d say to this rounder once she found her voice again!

The impossibly white teeth flashed in another grin. “That’s better, Miss Chamberlin,” the knave said indulgently. “Much better.”

Maggie swallowed, but when she tried to speak, only a croaking sound came out.

Reeve McKenna ignored her, raising his voice to be heard over the hubbub of Sydney. “What were you reading so intently back there? You were squinting and holding the paper an inch from your nose.”

Something—Maggie could not have said what—made her take Mr. Kirk’s list from her bag and extend it to her captor. Her voice was back and she’d meant to harangue Reeve McKenna vociferously but, strange as it seemed, she spoke in normal tones. “I’ve been wondering why a governess would be required to have such clothes,” she ventured to say.

McKenna scanned the list several times before he replied, and his frown made creases in his brow. Far more unsettling, however, was the snapping blue-green fury in his eyes. For a moment it seemed that he was about to say something unforgivable—in fact, Maggie braced herself for that very occurrence—but Mr. McKenna only hesitated and then said, “I have no idea. But I thought you said you were an actress, Mag—Miss Chamberlin, not a governess.”

Maggie sat up very straight, feeling as though her integrity had been challenged. Susan’s remark about women who like warming a gentleman’s bed came back to her, stinging her cheeks to a fiery pink. “I have never taught before, Mr. McKenna, but I do like children very much and I am well educated. Since my plans to perform”—she paused to favor the fiend with a scathing look—“fell through, I had to find another way to make a living.”

“Have you any understanding at all of what Duncan expects of you?”

Maggie snatched back the list of clothing required for her position. “Quite. Mr. Kirk expects me to train his children in reading, writing, and arithmetic. I intend to teach them history and botany as well.”

“Guess what Mr. Kirk plans to teach you, Miss Chamberlin: basic anatomy.”