Free Lady Rogue by Kathryn Kramer

there existed a labyrinth of secret passageways and concealed trapdoors beneath certain taverns' and inn's floors through which smuggled goods could be transferred.  The docks, as a matter of fact, had several rookeries, criminal districts and flash-houses, pubs frequented by criminals.
    "Come on.  Come on, Dawnie there mus' be someone 'ere who is a likely mark.  P ick a bloke out and be quick about it."  Black John Dunn readied his cloak for the proceeds.  It was a specially tailored, though tattered mantle lined with pockets.
    "Don't 'urry me.  Don't be impatient!  I wants te taike me time."  One tavern seemed to have attracted a crowd of frock-coated and top-hatted men.  It was an anthill of activity, with men of all sorts going in and out. Dawn peered in at the window to see  the patrons elbow to elbow as they lifted their tankards high.  "There’s a likely one 'ere, I’ll wager."  Cautiously she scanned the crowd.
    "Forget the pub.  I see jus' the one."  Tugging at her arm, Robbie pointed to a man pacing back and forth in the shadows.  "Whatever 'e's got in that sachel must contain a great prize.  Look at 'ow 'e guards it, 'anging on ti ght.  "At's yer man, me girl."
    "I don't know..."  Now that the moment had come she was filled wi th apprehension.  What if something went wrong, as it had this morning?  Besides, if the leather case was so valuable, the man would certainly put up a fight for it.   "Robbie...?"  She stood there indecisively, wishing she could tell Robbie that she had changed her mind.  She wasn't afforded the chance, for his firm hand propelled her forward.
    "Go on!"
    Taking a deep breath, Dawn walked forward, exchanging her graceful gait for the exaggerated sway Doris had taught her.  Holding her hands brazenly on her hips, she smiled. 
    "Ev'nin', luv..." she crooned.  Though she had practiced the strut and the smile for several hours , it still didn't feel quite right, but it was much too late to back out now.  "Nice ev'nin', ain't it.  'Ows 'bout you and me 'avin' a bit o' fun?"  To her dismay she could see that he was intent on ignoring her.  Looking over her shoulder at Robbie, she shrugged, but his annoyed gestures urged her on. Unlike some of the others she had passed, this man did not smell of gin or rum. Warily she eyed him. A sober toff might well pose a danger.  She could see only a silhouette and thus took a few halting steps closer.  "I was sayin' 'ow you and me ought ter get ter know each other better and..."
    In that instant the man turned his head.  "I beg your pardon, Miss, but I'm here for a very important reason that does not include dallying with such as your ki nd.  Excuse me if you please."
    Gasping in surprise , Dawn was dismayed to find herself looking into a face she recognized.  How could she ever forget that face, handsome as it was.  It was the very same man who had rescued her this morning.  The man whose carriage she had ducked in to hide.  Now her face burned under the scrutiny of his gaze, expecting him to recognize her too.  Mercifully he did not.  The gown and the rouge had aged her.
    "B...beggin' yer pardon s..s..sir.  I'll be goin' on me waiy."
    Backing away ,  all she could think of was flight, but it was dark and she stumbled on the slick, uneven boards of the quay. Long, firm hands gripped her, breaking her fall.  Suddenly she found herself closer to him than even Robbie might have schemed and Dawn found it was a heady feeling,  like  partaking of Black John's gin.  Her breasts were lightly brushing against his hard chest and a heady warmth enveloped her, a quivering tension as taut as a bowstring.  Her hand trembled in his as he helped her to her feet.
    "Are you hurt, Miss?"  His voice was a soft, deep rumble sending a shiver all the way from her head to her toes.
    "I'm fine.  Really I am." 
    She wanted to tell him who she was, that they had met before, but the impersonal way in which he was looking at her, the