The Highlander's English Bride Page 2

  Which, of course, had nothing to do with anything.

  “I sound awfully ungrateful, don’t I?” she said. “It was very kind of you to jump in after me, although quite unnecessary. I’m a very good swimmer.”

  “No bogged down by that rig. That cloak must weigh twenty pounds by now.”

  “Perhaps you haven’t noticed that we’re both standing on the bottom. The Serpentine’s not very deep at this end of the park.”

  Graeme looked down. He was only submerged to his waist, while the water reached her chest.

  “It’s deeper further out, but I only went under because he pushed me so hard,” she said. “I was quite safe at all times.”

  Graeme couldn’t help feeling annoyed. “To me, it looked like you were drowning. Anyone would have assumed that you were drowning.”

  “I was just surprised, that’s all. But of course there was no way for you to know that,” she hastily added.

  He was beginning to get the sense that she thought him rather dim-witted. “It’s not as if genteel ladies make a habit of paddling around in the Serpentine.”

  She nodded. “Correct. Having said that, do you think we could get on with the rescue?”

  Apparently, he was a dimwit. “My apologies.”

  The lass shoved the wreck of her coiffure out of her eyes. “I’d like to get out of here before anyone sees us.”

  “Little chance of being seen with this weather.”

  A quick glance around the park confirmed it remained deserted. Even the men of the Royal Humane Society had failed to put in an appearance, despite all the watery flailing about. The small building on the opposite side of the Serpentine was staffed at all hours in the event a hapless Londoner needed rescuing. In this case, it probably hadn’t occurred to the staff that anyone would be larking about on so dismal a morning.

  Why this particular woman was larking about was the question. Because of her, Graeme had lost his thief. Again. And that was incredibly annoying.

  “Thank goodness,” she said. “Naturally, I’m grateful for your help, but it might have been better if you hadn’t come along at all.”

  Unbelievable.

  He planted one hand on the embankment, keeping hold on her with the other. “How awkward of me. Thoughtless, really.”

  She crinkled her nose. “I just sounded rude again, didn’t I?”

  “Oh, not a bit.”

  “I will need your help climbing out of the water,” she replied in an encouraging tone. “I’m positively waterlogged, and my fingers are rather chilled. Who knew the water would be this cold in the summer?”

  It felt more like bath water to him, but he was a Highlander. He was used to mountain streams and lochs that could freeze the balls off a bull in August.

  “Then let’s get you out. Are you sure you’ve got your footing?”

  She shoved her sodden cloak back over her shoulders. “Since I am now standing barely chest-deep, I believe I can manage to stay upright.”

  The mention of her chest naturally brought his gaze to that part of her anatomy. Her pale yellow dress was a sagging mess that exposed the tops of her stays. It also clung to what appeared to be a grand set of breasts—perfectly round and full. And she obviously was chilly, because even through the various layers of fabric, he could see the jutting of her pert nip—

  “Ahem.”

  Graeme jerked his head up to once again meet an irate peacock stare.

  “Right,” he said briskly. “Let’s get to it.”

  He vaulted up onto the embankment, inadvertently splashing her with yet more water. She spluttered indignantly as he reached down a hand.

  “Sorry,” he apologized.

  She wrapped her gloved fingers around his wrist. “I suppose you can’t help it, since you are exceedingly large.”

  “Aye, that.”

  He hauled her out and set her on the grass, keeping a hand on her waist to steady her.

  “And strong,” she said, a trifle breathless. “And Scottish, obviously.”

  “Guessed that, did ye?”

  She made a game attempt to shake out her dripping cloak. “I’m not a moron, sir, despite certain indications to the contrary.”

  “Never said you were. And you’ll catch your death if you keep that stupid cloak on.”

  He swiped up his coat from the grass. While damp, it would be warm compared to her soaked garments.

  The poor girl was shivering, and her pink lips held a tinge of blue around the edges. Graeme’s worry spiked. If he didn’t get her dry and warm, she could catch a fever. He’d seen it happen in his own family, and results had been dire.

  “Let me help,” he said, as she struggled with the ribbons of her cloak.

  They were hopelessly knotted, so he just snapped them and tossed the cloak to the ground.

  She grimaced. “That was new and quite expensive.”

  “Lass, you’re safe. That’s what matters. Now, let’s get that bonnet off, too.”

  “Also new and expensive.” She pulled off the offending headgear and tossed it onto the cloak.

  He tucked his coat around her shoulders, then tapped one of her delicate gold earrings. Graeme had never found ears enticing before, but hers just might be the first.

  “At least you didn’t lose your earrings.”

  She pulled his coat tight around her body. “Thank you for this. It’s so—”

  Breaking off, she reached inside the jacket and gingerly extracted his knife.

  “Sorry about that.” He slipped the knife into his right boot.

  “There seem to be a few other, er, implements in your pockets.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  Feeling like ten times an idiot, Graeme extracted his pistol from one of the coat pockets, shoving it into the back of his breeches, then pulled a pair of knuckledusters from the other pocket. Those he tossed on top of her cloak before tucking the jacket back around her body.

  She eyed him. “Are you by any chance a Bow Street Runner?”

  “No, just the sort that likes to be prepared. Never know whom you’ll run into, as you just discovered,” he added with a wink.

  His answer got the response it deserved. She shuffled back, which brought her dangerously close to the edge of the embankment.

  “Watch it, miss. You don’t want another dunking.”

  She studied him for a few moments longer before apparently making a decision. “I suppose if you wanted to murder me, you would have done it before now. But it is rather odd to be carrying so many weapons on one’s person.”

  “No odder than a genteel young lady wandering alone in Hyde Park at the crack of dawn, in the rain.”

  Her eyes popped comically wide. “Oh, my goodness. Hannah!”

  “Hannah?”

  “My maid. I didn’t want her to get wet, so I sent her off. . . . Oh, dear!”

  She darted around him and headed toward a clump of oaks at the end of the lake. Graeme followed and saw that there was another person in the park—a girl who lay in a heap on the ground.

  The woman crouched next to the slender girl, who looked to be a few years younger than her mistress. “Hannah must have fainted when I was attacked.”

  “How helpful of her.”

  “The poor thing obviously suffered a terrible shock.”

  “You’re the one who suffered the shock. This one didn’t even scream or try to help,” Graeme said.

  She started to pat the girl’s cheek. “That is disappointing, but Hannah just came up from one of our country estates a few weeks ago. She finds London intimidating.”

  “Maybe you should give her a good shake. That might wake her up.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any smelling salts?”

  “I normally carry them right next to my pistol, but I seem to have forgotten them just this once.”

  She flashed him a scowl. “There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

  “Really? I would disagree.”

  The whole situation was now official
ly beyond ridiculous. They were as wet as drowned hens, he’d lost his man, and he was beginning to grow concerned about Tommy. If the lad had taken any foolish risks, he’d never forgive himself—and Aden would probably kill him and be done with him once and for all.

  “I do generally carry smelling salts, but they were in my reticule,” she said.

  “Perhaps the thief will find them useful,” Graeme acerbically replied.

  “Instead of making such unhelpful comments, perhaps you might do something useful instead.”

  “Such as?”

  “You could drip on Hannah’s face. That might do the trick.”

  When he laughed, it pulled a rueful smile to her lips. “There I am being rude again,” she said.

  “I canna blame you one bit,” he replied. “But fortunately your girl seems to be recovering.”

  Hannah let out a moan as her eyelids fluttered open.

  “Oh, my lady,” she said faintly. “I was sure you were dead.”

  Ah. Not simply genteel. The drenched lassie was a member of the Quality.

  “I’m fine, although quite wet,” her mistress replied. “Why don’t you try to sit up?”

  When Graeme reached down to help, the maid let out a faint shriek. “He’s still here, my lady. He’ll kill us both!”

  “Hannah, this gentleman saved me from my attacker. Now do please try to sit up.”

  They helped the maid to a sitting position and propped her against a tree.

  “Are you sure he won’t hurt us, my lady?” Hannah quavered, peering up at Graeme. “He looks a dodgy sort.”

  “Calling him a dodgy sort is hardly going to endear him to us.”

  “But who is he?” the maid asked.

  Her mistress glanced over her shoulder, lifting an eyebrow at Graeme.

  He sketched a brief bow. “I’m Graeme Kendrick, at your service.”

  “That don’t tell us if you’re respectable or not,” the maid suspiciously answered.

  “He’s perfectly harmless, Hannah,” her mistress said. “I assure you.”

  Perversely, Graeme found himself irritated by that description.

  “What is now important,” continued the young woman, “is returning home without anyone seeing us.”

  “But the other servants will be up by now, and you look like something the cat drug in.” Hannah grimaced. “I knew this were a bad idea, sneaking off to meet his lordship like—”

  “We’ll discuss that later,” the young woman hastily interjected. “Besides, lamenting the situation will not solve anything.”

  “Might I make a suggestion? Lady . . .” Graeme pointedly trailed off.

  She briefly pressed her lips into a flat line. “I’d rather not tell you.”

  Understandable, under the circumstances. Secretive meetings between members of the opposite sex rarely ended well, as he knew from painful experience.

  “Are you acquainted with Lady Vivien St. George?” he asked.

  She brightened immediately. “I am. Do you know her?”

  “I’m well acquainted with both Lady Vivien and her husband. Their townhouse is only a few blocks from the park, as you probably know. You could get dry there, and Vivien could find you suitable clothing that should make it easier for you to return home.”

  “That is an excellent idea, sir,” she said.

  “Oh, miss, are you really going off with him?” Hannah cried in dismay.

  “Mr. Kendrick has proven himself trustworthy,” her mistress crisply replied. “Besides, if I don’t get out of these clothes, I will turn into a block of ice.”

  A sudden and massively inconvenient image flashed through Graeme’s mind. He was stripping off her clothes, and then warming her body with his body.

  His naked body, naturally, since that was how his brain worked.

  “But how will I explain where you are?” Hannah protested.

  “You are to say that I’m still in bed with a headache, and that you stepped out to the apothecary to fetch some headache powders.”

  “But Lady Sabrina, you never get a headache.”

  Graeme caught her flinch at the use of her name. He began flicking through his mental files to place it.

  “I’ve certainly got one now,” the lady muttered.

  “Hannah, since the rain has finally let up,” he said, “I suggest you be on your way. I’ll see to your mistress.”

  “But—”

  “Please do as he says, Hannah,” Lady Sabrina said firmly.

  “But how will you get back into the house?”

  “I’ll think of something. Just remember what I told you.”

  “Well, if you’re sure,” Hannah doubtfully replied.

  “I am.” Her mistress pointed a finger in the direction of the Stanhope Gate. “Now, please.”

  Casting Graeme a final, suspicious glance, Hannah bobbed a curtsy and hurried off in the direction of Mayfair.

  “Can you trust her to do as instructed?” Graeme asked as he led Lady Sabrina back to retrieve her discarded garments.

  “I hope so, or my goose is cooked. My father will go into hysterics if he finds out about this.”

  “Sneaking out to meet strange men rarely meets with parental approval, oddly enough.”

  She made an impatient sound. “There’s nothing strange about this gentleman. He’s perfectly respectable.”

  “Not if he’s meeting young ladies at this time of day.”

  “Nonsense. Couples stroll in Hyde Park all the time.”

  Graeme snorted. “This early, and in the rain? Try again, lass.”

  “I was chaperoned, you know.”

  “Aye. Hannah seems quite the dependable sort.”

  Lady Sabrina muttered something under her breath while he bent down and quickly wrapped her cloak and bonnet into a neat bundle, after stashing his knuckledusters inside his waistcoat.

  “Do you find you need those on a regular basis?” she politely asked.

  “Only when I’m attending balls in Mayfair. Those affairs are cutthroat.”

  That elicited a reluctant smile. “After today, I’m thinking of getting a pair myself. Perhaps you might give me advice in that regard.”

  “They generally don’t come in ladies’ sizes.”

  She swiped a lock of bedraggled hair out of her eyes. Lady Sabrina had quite a lot of hair, thick and wavy, it seemed. Graeme suspected it would glow like the palest of wheat under a summer sun when dry.

  “Ladies could use them, and more often than you think,” she said in a serious tone.

  Graeme had no doubt of that. Several of the women in his family had been forced to protect themselves under fairly dire circumstances.

  He took her elbow to encourage her to pick up the pace. Now that the rain had eased off, traffic would soon pick up. In fact, someone had turned into the footpath and was trotting—

  Tommy.

  “Finally,” he muttered.

  “Someone you know?”

  “Aye, he’s a good lad. He works with me.”

  She shot him a curious look. “Mr. Kendrick, what exactly do you do? Besides rescuing damsels in distress.”

  “That’s actually one of my prescribed duties.”

  Graeme was spared what was obviously going to be a tart reply when Tommy rushed up.

  “Everything all right, guv? Is miss hurt?”

  “We’re fine,” he replied. “Have any luck?”

  Tommy’s mouth twisted sideways. “Caught up with the blighter on Curzon Street, but he gave me the slip past Regent.”

  Dammit to hell.

  “You can show me exactly where you lost him, later. I might get some ideas from that.”

  “Please do not trouble yourself on my account,” Lady Sabrina said. “I’m sure he was just a common cutpurse.”

  When Tommy shot him a look, Graeme gave a slight shake of the head.

  “As you wish,” he said to her. “Tommy, could you run ahead and fetch a hackney? I’m taking the lady to the captain’s house. She and
Lady Vivien are friends.”

  “Really? ’Cause ladies ain’t usually hanging around the park by themselves, ’specially not this time of day,” the boy replied with his usual and fatal candor.

  When Lady Sabrina bristled, Graeme cuffed him on the shoulder. “No cheek from you, lad.”

  Tommy let out a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t mean no offense, miss. My name’s Tommy, by the way. Pleased to meet you.”

  “And I’m happy to meet you. My name is . . .”

  When she hesitated, Graeme finished for her. “Lady Sabrina Bell.”

  She flashed him a startled look “How did you know that?”

  Graeme led her toward Knightsbridge, as Tommy jogged ahead. “I think you’ll discover I know quite a lot, my lady.”

  Her silence suggested she wasn’t best pleased with his answer.

  Chapter Two

  Sabrina rarely set a foot wrong when it came to dealing with gentlemen, but she’d made a capital blunder with the blasted marquess. Now she had to hope that Mr. Kendrick could shield her from the consequences of her error.

  “Serves you right,” she muttered to herself. She’d ignored her instincts when it came to this morning’s assignation.

  She couldn’t be blamed for falling afoul of a cutpurse, though. And who in his right mind would shove a person into the Serpentine?

  Kendrick peered down at her. “What was that?”

  Even when sitting he loomed over her, and also quite squished her into the panels of the hackney coach. Scottish people did seem to run on the brawny side, perhaps an effect of the clean Highland air.

  “Nothing of any note, sir.”

  She shifted, but there wasn’t an inch between them from their shoulders to their knees. And given how damp they both were, and how Kendrick’s wet buckskins clung to his muscled thighs and to . . . well, the rest of him, Sabrina couldn’t help feeling unnerved.

  Drat the blasted marquess. It was most disappointing that his lordship had proved so unreliable.

  Then again, men generally disappointed her.

  “We’re both dripping wet, which is no fun,” Kendrick said. “I had to pay the coachman half a guinea before he let us into this confounded thing.”