TO KISS A THIEF...   Scottish barrister Sinclair McBride can face the most sinister criminals in London--but the widower's two unruly children are a different matter. Little Caitlin and Andrew go through a governess a week, sending the ladies fleeing in tears. There is, however, one woman in town who can hold her own.   Roberta "Bertie" Frasier enters Sinclair's life by stealing his watch--and then stealing a kiss. Intrigued by the handsome highlander, Bertie winds up saving his children from a dangerous situation and returning them to their father. Impressed with how they listen to her, Sinclair asks the lively beauty to be their governess, never guessing that the uncoventional lady will teach him a lesson or two in love. “Ashley writes the kinds of heroes I crave.”—Elizabeth Hoyt, New York Times bestselling author Praise for the Mackenzie series   “Skillfully nuanced characterization and an abundance of steamy sensuality.”— Chicago Tribune   “Heartrending, funny, honest, and true… I want to marry the hero!”—Eloisa James, New York Times bestselling author   “A sexy, passion-filled romance that will keep you reading until dawn.”—Julianne MacLean, USA Today bestselling author Welcome back to the world of the Mackenzies! This time we visit Sinclair McBride, brother to Ainsley (wife of Cameron Mackenzie). Widowed Sinclair has a fine career as a barrister, but everyone knows his children are holy terrors. Can a charming East London pickpocket do what a host of governesses never could? And will she charm Sinclair, who knows a criminal when he sees one, into opening his heart? Plenty of Mackenzies return in this story: Hart, Eleanor, Ian--as always, Lloyd and Louisa, and the Mackenzie dogs. (Note that this book is set in 1885, five years before Daniel's story, so Daniel is around 19 again). Jennifer Ashley , New York Times and USA Today bestselling author and winner of a Romance Writers of America RITA Award, writes as Allyson James and Jennifer Ashley. She's penned more than seventy-five novels and novellas in historical romance, paranormal romance, and urban fantasy, including Wild Wolf and  The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie . She now lives in the Southwest with her husband and cats, spends most of her time in the wonderful world of her stories, and also enjoys hiking, music, and building dollhouses and dollhouse miniatures.  Chapter 1 WINTER, 1885 His voice drew her, and Bertie wanted to hear more of it. She leaned forward in the balcony to watch the man standing upright and arrogant, one hand touching an open book on a table in front of him, the other gesturing as he made his argument. The villains Bertie knew called the barrister Basher McBride, because Mr. McBride always got a conviction. He wore one of the silly wigs, but his face was square and handsome, and far younger than that of the judge who sat above him. A wilted nosegay reposed in a vase in front of the judge, both judge and flowers looking weary in the extreme. The case had caught the attention of journalists up and down the country—the sensational murder of a lady by one of her downstairs maids. The young woman in the dock, Ruthie, had been accused of stabbing her employer and making off with a hundred pounds’ worth of silver. Bertie knew Ruthie hadn’t done it. The deed had been done by Jacko Small and his mistress, only they’d set up Ruthie to take the blame for it. Bertie had known, had heard Jacko’s plans, but did the police listen to the likes of Roberta Frasier? No. Not that Bertie was in the habit of talking to constables most days. She stayed as far away from them as possible, and her dad and Jeffrey, Bertie’s self-styled beau, made sure she did. But she’d tried for Ruthie’s sake. Hadn’t mattered. They’d arrested Ruthie anyway, and now Ruthie would get hanged for something she didn’t do. The handsome Basher McBride, with his mesmerizing voice, was busy making the case that Ruthie had done it. Ruthie couldn’t afford a defense, so she was here on her own in the dock, thin and small for her age, a maid who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bertie could only clench her fists and pray for a miracle. Mr. McBride, despite his dire statements, had a delicious Scots accent. His voice was deep and rich, rolling over the crowd like an intoxicating wave. Even the bored judge couldn’t take his eyes off him. Mr. McBride had broad shoulders and a firm back, obvious even in the black robes. He was tall, dominating all in the room, the strength in his big, bare hands apparent. He looked as though he’d be more at home out on a Highland hillside, sword in hand as he fended off attackers. One glare from those gray eyes, and his attackers would be running for their lives. His accent wasn’t so thick Bertie couldn’t understand it, but his R s rolled pleasantly, and his vowels were long, especially the U s. “If your lordship pleases,” Mr. McBride said, his voice warming Bertie again, “I would like to call Jacko Small bac