Page 7 of The Highlander's English Bride

“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 withhisbody.

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.

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