The woman obviously sensed a threat better than her patron did, and she pushed the drunken man back to tug up her bodice and scurry to her feet.

The Scot swung a glance at Maddy as the pair lurched out, no doubt to gauge her reaction to what they'd just witnessed. She shrugged. One of her best friends and across-the-hall neighbor was apopular girl , and scenes like this took place constantly where she lived. Turn any corner and find a different vice on display.

At twenty-one years of age, Maddy had seen it all.

As soon as they were alone, he closed the door and retrieved a chair to wedge against it. Where was her alarm? Where was her well-developed sense of self-preservation in a place like this? The room was dominated by a massive bed—twelve feet square at least—draped in glaring scarlet silk; no one could hear her scream back here, and they would ignore it even if they could, thinking a prostitute was giving a good show.

Yet, for some reason, she sensed this man wouldn't hurt her, and she possessed unfailing and proven instincts with men—a priceless gift to have in La Marais.

In any case, if things played out badly, this wouldn't be the first time she'd kindly introduced her knee to a man's groin and her fist to his Adam's apple. He would be shocked at how dirty and fiercely this dainty mademoiselle could fight.

When he returned from securing the door, he stood before her, far too close to be polite. She had to crane her head up to face him. "As I told you before, sir, I'm not one of these women. I don't belong back here, nor should you be…collecting me as you did."

"And as I told you before, had you been a courtesan, I would no' have collected you at all. I know you're a lady. What I doona know is why you're at this masquerade."

I'm trying to forget that soon I'll have to return to hell….

She shook herself and answered, "I'm here with my friends. We're out for adventure." At least, the others were. She planned to pick pockets once the punch was flowing freely.