“I understand.” Rustling sounds suggested she’d just moved to pick the dog up. “Believe me, I understand. I want him, too.”
The downward rush of blood through his veins happened so fast he lost balance. That, he decided, constituted an invitation. He braced himself on the door handle, and, before he could talk himself out of his resolution, he unbolted and opened the door. Then, moving quickly, he successfully rescued both dog and lady from an inadvertent tumble.
One he’d caused, but still. Heroism was heroism.
“Harbury!” she exclaimed at the same time the puppy yelped.
“I heard a scratching noise,” he said, carefully righting her.
She held the dog away from him as if he posed a threat. Meanwhile, Mercy used all seven-ish pounds of his puppy strength to repeatedly surge in Harbury’s direction.
He sighed. “Give me the mutt.”
“No!” she insisted. “I won’t have him taken to the stables!”
“I won’t take him to the stables. I’m not any danger to him, I promise.” He placed his hand over his heart for good measure.
She sent him a warning glance before reluctantly transferring the squirming mass into his arms. Once safely against his chest, the puppy stilled. Mercy was a warm little thing. And he’d just brought them together. How could Harbury not be grateful?
“There now,” he said with a touch of Scottish brogue. “Calm yourself, wee laddie.”
Cassie put her hands on her hips. “Where did that come from?”
He glanced up from the dog’s adoring gaze. “The thicket?”
Her turn, apparently, to roll her eyes. “I meant to inquire where a good English duke picked up a phrase likewee laddie?”
“It just slipped out.” He frowned. “The coachman I was telling you about earlier, the one who taught me to drive, was Scottish. He used to let me play with the dalmatian pups he raised to ride alongside thecarriages.”
He’d forgotten all about those dogs.
“Oh!” She looked pleased. “So, you do like dogs?”
He wouldn’t go so far as to say helikedthem, butthisdog was growing on him, and fast.
He scratched Mercy beneath his chin. The puppy sighed and went completely limp.
“I like this one. I suppose.”
She briefly brightened. Then, her face fell. “Then I suppose you’ll want to keep him with you tonight?”
He glanced down at the dog.
Mercy, indeed.
“You,” he spoke to the dog in a commanding voice, “will get what you want if you do what you’re told. Do you understand?”
The dog tossed his head and snorted.
Harbury considered that an agreement. He walked over to his bedside and then placed Mercy carefully into his pillow’s crevice. His scent should be enough to keep the thing calm for a time. Mercy propped himself up on his front legs and glared upward accusingly.
“Those are expensive sheets,” Harbury laid down the law. “You are not to muss them.”
“He’s just a pup,” Cassandra said from the door. “Ergo, messes are not his fault.”
“Did you hear her?” Harbury asked the dog. “A jury of one has preemptively declared you not guilty. I might be inclined to agree. However”—he glanced over his shoulder—“If I have to spend one more night in frustrated want of my wife, the consequences will not be my fault.”
Her mouth formed an unspokenoh.
