Page 10 of The Highlander's English Bride

That this was a social setting she’d never before encountered went without saying.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

The husky note to his voice sent a little thrill coursing through her body. She firmly quashed it, as she did the memory of him gazing at her chest while they were in the water. He’d seemed quite appreciative, and she’d been forced to communicate her disapproval.

“Indeed, no. Your coat is very warm and comfortable.”

Especially once she’d divested a hidden inner pocket of yet another knife, one she’d discovered when she sat down on it in the carriage. Fortunately, it was encased in a sturdy sheath.

Although quite certain Mr. Kendrick was not a member of the criminal classes, Sabrina wondered what he did for a living.

It’s none of your business.

“You must be chilled, though,” she added.

“Och, no. Anyway, we’re almost there.”

“It might have been faster if we’d walked to Captain St. George’s house.”

Their destination was a townhouse off Cadogan Square, normally a short drive from the park. But the rain had made for slow going.

Kendrick chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure Lord Musgrave would have been thrilled to hear of us strolling about town, looking like a pair of mud larks. Let’s hope that maid of yours is trustworthy, by the way.”

She winced. If Father ever found out about this little expedition, she was sunk. “If Hannah does bungle the story, I’ll simply say I needed some fresh air and stepped out for a stroll.”

“Yes, nothing sets one up like a toddle in the pouring rain, I always say.”

“One problem at a time, Mr. Kendrick,” Sabrina firmly replied. “Right now, I am simply desperate to get out of these wet clothes.”

He looked blankly down at her for a moment before shifting uncomfortably on the seat. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one feeling rather squished.

“I told the driver to take us around to the mews.” His voice sounded oddly strained. “We’ll use the kitchen entrance to avoid being seen.”

“I imagine it’ll be quite the surprise when we appear like this.”

“No worries, lass. Tommy ran ahead to warn St. George.” Kendrick pulled a slight grimace. “Sorry. I should be calling you Lady Sabrina. I’m much too informal.”

Sabrina rather liked it when he called her lass, which was absurd. “You must admit that our introduction has been decidedly less than formal.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

He’d gone back to sounding grim. Once again, she got the feeling he was immensely frustrated about something—not her, per se, or her idiotic accident. It was obvious that he hadn’t simply been taking a morning constitutional. He’d been in the park for a reason, and her topple into the Serpentine had knocked him off course.

Still, there was nothing she could do but apologize, which she’d already done. Right now, her primary objective was avoiding the incineration of her life from a horrendous scandal of her own making. Even though the marquess was a handsome and charming man, he certainly wasn’t worththismuch trouble. At the end of the day, what man truly was?

The hackney took a sharp turn, all but tumbling her into Kendrick’s lap. She once more became sharply aware of his muscled thighs and imposing body—aware in a way she found shocking. Especially since the front of his wet breeches perfectly outlined—

Sabrina righted herself. “I beg your pardon.”

“We’re here,” he brusquely replied.

He was already opening the door and swinging out before the carriage came to a complete halt.

Trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face, she took his hand and stepped down with as much dignity as she could muster.

“You’re very flushed,” Kendrick said with a frown. “I hope you’re not catching a fever.”

She mentally winced. “I’m sure I’m not. I rarely fall ill.”

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