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waist so narrow he could span it with his hands.
    “Why did you run away?” He forced his eyes back up to her face and noticed the dirt that smudged her chin, covering a dainty cleft in the center. A tinge of pink crept into her cheeks, as if she knew where his eyes had been.
    “She’s bent on marrying a man her father deems unfit,” Pinkard answered for her. “Some ruffian who passed through on his way to the States. Her father forbade the marriage, so she’s run after the scurvy fellow.”
    “You’re a liar, Pinkard,” she spat.
    “And you’re not Lady Salena,” Morgan said mockingly. “You’re just Silver Jones, a hardworking tavern wench who’s here only by mistake.”
    Silver didn’t answer. If Morgan Trask was a friend of her father’s, there was nothing left to say.
    “Why come to me?” the major asked Pinkard.
    “Believe it or not, beneath all that mud, Silver is a beautiful young woman. There are few men I’d trust to see her safely returned.”
    “You mean there are few men you’d trust to get her there unharmed so you can get paid.”
    “Precisely.”
    Morgan had known Pinkard and his sell-his-soul-for-a-dollar business dealings for years. He wasn’t surprised to find him returning a runaway girl to her grieving parents for money—but he was surprised to find the wayward young lady was Salena Hardwick-Jones.
    “My sources tell me you’re headed for Barbados,” Pinkard added. “Katonga isn’t far out of the way. You can return the girl and pick up my money. And William will see you’re taken care of as well—unless, of course, you want me to go along.”
    “Not a chance, Pinkard. An hour with you is just about all I can stand.”
    Pinkard let the words pass. “Then you’ll take the girl home?”
    “I seem to have no other choice. I’m not about to leave her with you and your thugs. She may not whet your appetite”—he glanced once more in the girl’s direction, at her nipped-in waist and the alluring curves of her breasts and thighs—“but I don’t doubt the others would find her a tasty morsel. I’m surprised you’ve been able to keep them in line this long—assuming you have.”
    “I assure you the lady’s virtue remains intact. William was quite adamant about that.” He arched a black brow. “Speaking of which, I hope I can count on your loyalty to William to overrule the sexual prowess women seem to find so attractive in you.”
    Silver glanced at Morgan, who shot her a look that told her exactly the appeal she held for him. She was dirty and ragged and rain-soaked. And she hadn’t bathed in a week.
    “Don’t say it,” she warned, watching his eyesmove over her soggy clothes and matted hair. Handsome or not, he was just a man. What he thought of her meant nothing.
    Morgan just smiled.
    “Take care, Major,” Pinkard cautioned as he turned to leave. “She’ll do anything to keep from going back to Katonga. I’d watch my back if I were you.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.” The major’s look said Pinkard’s warning concerned him not in the least.
    Good
, Silver thought.
A man who underestimates his opponent is the easiest to defeat.
    “You know where to find me,” Morgan finished. “I’ll have your blood money ready and waiting when I get back.”
    “You do that, Major. Both William and I are more than grateful for your assistance—even if it has been given with some reluctance.” With a last glance at Silver, Pinkard walked out the door, closing it firmly behind him.
    Morgan turned his attention to Salena Hardwick-Jones. Though she held her head high, there were smudges beneath her eyes that betrayed her fatigue, and her wrists were chapped and raw from the too-tight bindings. His brows drew together as he assessed the red mark across her cheek left by Pinkard’s hand. The bastard hadn’t the conscience God gave a snake.
    Pulling open the door, he leaned into the passageway and caught the attention of Hamilton Riley, who sat waiting in the