“To save you,” Joan cut in, all but tearing off her veil as the tears threatened to spill for the second time that day. Dear Lord, she’d been terrified! Who knew what those men wanted to do to Morgan if they had captured him? What was he thinking, going at it alone like that? She asked him that very question.

“Why? Why would you run headlong into danger like that?”

“I could ask you the very same question!” Morgan all but shouted. “And you, allowing her?” Morgan glared at Rowles.

“He’s not my warden,” Joan shot back.

Morgan snorted. “Maybe someone needs to be!”

“More like you need one! Didn’t you read all three letters? They—”

“They were bloody after you!” Morgan yelled. “You, Joan! They wanted Saint! What else could I do? I was going to take them all out—”

Joan shook her head. “I know they wanted me, but that doesn’t mean you… What do you mean, take them all out? You were going to murder three men? Then what? Wait till more came along after them? Kill them too? No! You leave it and don’t make it so easy for them to trap you! Good Lord, Morgan, think with your brain, not your biceps.” Joan leaned back and sighed, glancing heavenward, praying for the patience she didn’t have.

“I will never, ever allow them to harm you,” he vowed.

“They won’t. Because I won’t do anything as foolish as you—”

“You just did.”

“Because I was saving you because you decided to do something stupid. If you don’t do something stupid, I won’t either!” Joan yelled.

Morgan blinked, snorted, and crossed his arms like a petulant child.

“You look like a scolded five-year-old,” Joan retorted.

“You sound like an old fishwife.”

“You both have no idea how thankful you ought to be,” Rowles cut in. Joan turned her attention to him, for the first time noticing the tension in his face, the tight draw of his lips.

Morgan must have sensed it, too, for he fell quiet as well.

“You’re so blessed to have each other. Stop your bickering and appreciate the fact you’re both alive and well. Good Lord, my heart nearly stopped, watching my betrothed singlehandedly halt horses and pickpocket a thief.” He looked heavenward as if also praying for strength.

“You saw that, did you?” Joan asked sheepishly.

“I’d hate to bump into you on Bond Street. You’d rob me blind.” He softened the words with a warm tone. “My Joan, a woman of many talents.”

Morgan froze, then moved his attention between them. “I gather that he knows?”

“Yes,” Joan replied, unable to stop herself from returning Rowles’s warm expression.

“I see. I suppose that went better than I expected.”

“Although I’d much prefer to be told information before I find myself on the way to perform some rescue in the future.”