"Trying to escape, were you?" Tassie bit her lip. Why hadn't he turned her over to the constables? She certainly wasn't going to try to run past him, even if he did have a limp. She was tall, but this man towered over her— six feet of hardened muscle, shoulders forbiddingly broad beneath his riding coat, strong booted legs set firmly apart. Major Marcus Forrester. All ready for action. And Tassie couldn't help but remember his kiss.