"What way did you have in mind?" he asked. "Oh, hell, never mind. I don't want to know."

"But you have to know," she argued. "How can you kill me if you don't know how I want it done?"

"Later," he interjected. "You may instruct me in the method you've chosen later. First things first, Jade. Are your parents waiting at home for you?"

"It's doubtful."

"Why?"

"They're both dead."

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. "So you're all alone?"

"No."

"No?"

It was her turn to sigh. "I have a brother. I'm not going to tell you anything more, Pagan. It's too much

of a risk, you see."

"Why is it a risk, miss?" Monk asked.

"The more he knows about me, the more difficult the task will become. I believe it would be very upsetting to kill someone you liked. Don't you, sir?"

"I ain't never had to kill someone I liked," Monk admitted. "As to that, I ain't never killed anyone.

Still, your theory makes sense to me."

It took all Caine had not to start bellowing. "Jade, I assure you that won't be a problem. At this moment,

I don't like you at all."

She took a step back. "Well, why not?" she asked. "I haven't been half as insulting as you have. Are you just a cranky person by nature, Pagan?"

"Don't call me Pagan."

"Why not?"

"It's a danger, miss, if anyone overhears," Monk blurted out when he saw how infuriated Caine was becoming. The muscle in the side of his jaw had started flexing. Caine had a fierce temper and she was innocently shaking him into a real froth. Why if he let loose, he might very well give her her wish and frighten her to death.

"What should I call him then?" she asked the tavernkeeper.

"Caine," Monk answered with a nod. "You can call him Caine,"

She let out an inelegant snort. "And he thinks I have an unusual name?"

Caine reached out and grabbed hold of her chin. He forced her to look at him again. "What is your brother's name?"

"Nathan."

"Where is Nathan now?"

"He's away on pressing business matters."

"What business?"

She slapped his hand away before answering. "Shipping business."

"When will he be back?"

Her glare could melt a lesser man. "Two weeks," she snapped. "There, I've answered all your

questions. Now will you please quit pestering me and get on with your assignment?"

"Where do you live, Jade?"

"Sir, your endless questions are giving me a pounding headache. I'm not at all used to having men

scream at me."

Caine glanced down at Monk and let him see his exasperation. "The daft woman wants me to kill her,

yet now complains about a headache."

She suddenly reached out, grabbed hold of his chin, and nudged him back to look at her. It was a deliberate imitation of his earlier action. Caine was so surprised by her boldness, he let her have her way.

"Now it's my turn," she announced. "I'll ask you my questions and you will answer them. I'm the one giving you the silver coins, sir. First, and most important, I want to know if you're really going to kill

me. Your hesitation alarms me. That and this endless inquisition."

"You're going to have to satisfy my curiosity before I decide," he told her.

"No."

"Then I won't kill you."

"You scoundrel!" she cried out. "You promised me before you knew who your victim was. You gave

me your word!"

"I lied."

Her gasp of outrage nearly knocked her over. "You are a real disappointment to me. A man of honor wouldn't so easily break his word. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Jade," he answered. "I never said I was a man of honor."

"Nay, miss, he didn't," Monk interjected.

Her eyes turned the color of green fire. She was apparently furious with him. Her hands joined his on

the tabletop. She leaned forward and whispered, "I was told Pagan never, ever breaks his word."

"You were misinformed."

They were almost nose to nose now. Caine tried to concentrate on their conversation, but her wonderful scent, so clean, so fresh, so utterly feminine, kept getting in the way.

She was shaking her head at him now. Caine was literally at a loss for words. He'd never had a woman stand up to him before. No, the ladies of the ton usually cowered when he showed the least amount of displeasure. This one was different, however. She wasn't just standing up to him either. She was

actually matching him glare for glare. He suddenly felt like laughing and didn't have the faintest idea why.

Her insanity was obviously the catching kind.

"You really should be hanged," she said. "You certainly had me fooled. You don't look like the sort to

act so dastardly."

She tried to move away from the table but Caine's hands covered hers, trapping her. He leaned down again, until his mouth was just a scant kiss away. "I'm a pirate, madam. We're known to be dastardly."

He waited for another angry rebuttal. She burst into tears instead. Caine wasn't at all prepared for that emotional display.

While he reached for his handkerchief, Monk jumped to his feet and rushed over to comfort her. The barkeep awkwardly patted her on her shoulders. "There, there, miss, don't cry now."

"It's all his fault," she sobbed. "All I asked was a simple little favor. Just one quick task that wouldn't

take him any time at all; but, no, he couldn't be bothered. I even offered to wait until he'd finished his refreshment," she continued with a wail. "I was willing to pay good coins too."

By the time she'd finished her pitiful tirade, Monk was glaring at Caine. "You've upset the pretty," he

told the Marquess. "Why, you've broken her heart."

The tavernkeeper grabbed the handkerchief out of Caine's hand and began to awkwardly mop the tears away from her cheeks. "It will be all right, miss," he crooned.

"No, it won't," she argued. Her voice was muffled by the linen cloth Monk had shoved under her nose. "Do you know I've never asked anyone for anything in all my days? Yet the very first time I do ask,