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But his warning came too late. Jamie lifted the dog, and at the same time, a thin stream of yellow liquid poured onto the floor. Jamie stood there, mouth open, holding the puppy in front of him.
“Ah…” Sir Alistair stared blankly, his magnificent chest still bared. Helen sympathized with the man. Half killed by cold the night before, not even dressed this morning, and already invaded by incontinent dogs and running children.
She cleared her throat. “I think—”
But she was interrupted by a giggle. A sweet, high, girlish giggle that she hadn’t heard since they’d left London. Helen turned.
Abigail was still standing by the doorway, both hands clapped over her mouth, giggles spilling forth from between her fingers. She lowered her hands.
“He peed on you!” she crowed to her poor brother. “Peed and peed and peed! We ought to call him Puddles.”
For a moment, Helen was afraid that Jamie would burst into tears, but then the puppy wriggled and he drew the little animal to his chest, grinning. “He’s still a grand puppy. But we oughtn’t to call him Puddles.”
“Definitely not Puddles,” Sir Alistair rumbled, and both children started and looked at him as if they’d forgotten him.
Abigail sobered. “It’s not our dog, Jamie. We can’t name him.”
“No, he’s not your dog,” Sir Alistair said easily, “but I need help naming him. And at the moment, I need someone to take him out on the lawn and make sure he does the rest of his business there instead of the castle. Do I have any volunteers?”
The children jumped to the task, and Sir Alistair had barely nodded before they were out of the room. Suddenly she was alone again with the master of the castle.
Helen bent to wipe at the puddle on the floor with the cloth she’d brought from the kitchen along with the pap. She avoided his eyes. “Thank you.”
“What for?” His voice was careless as he flipped the sheets back on the bed.
“You know.” She looked up at him and realized her vision had blurred with tears. “Letting Abigail and Jamie take care of the puppy. They… they needed that right now. Thank you.”
He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. “It’s little enough.”
“Little enough?” She stood, suddenly irritated. “You almost killed yourself getting that dog. It was more than little enough!”
“Who says I got the dog for the children?” he growled.
“Didn’t you?” she demanded. He liked to act the beast, but underneath she sensed a different man entirely.
“And if I did?” He stepped closer and gently grasped her shoulders. “Perhaps I deserve a reward.”
She had no time to think or debate or even anticipate. His lips were on hers, warm and slightly rasping from the stubble on his chin, and oh, they felt good. Masculine. Yearning. She hadn’t been wanted like this in so long. Hadn’t been kissed by a man since she couldn’t remember. She leaned into him, her hands on his bare upper arms, and that was wonderful, too, the feel of his hot, smooth skin beneath her fingers. He opened his mouth over hers and probed gently with his tongue, and she opened, welcoming him in. Happily. Wonderfully. Easily.
Perhaps too easily.
This was her one great fault: a tendency to act too soon. To fall in love too fast. Giving everything of herself only to regret her impulsive passion later. She’d thought Lister’s kisses lovely, too, once upon a time, and what had that led to?
Nothing but despair.
She drew away, panting, and looked at him. His eye was half-closed, his face flushed and sensuous with a darkened beard of whiskers.
She tried to think of something to say. “I…”
In the end, she merely pressed her fingers to her lips and ran from the room like the greenest virgin.
“ROVER,” JAMIE SAID. He was squatting in the grass behind the castle, watching as the puppy sniffed at a beetle he’d found.
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Does he look like a Rover to you?”
“Yes,” Jamie said, and then added, “Or perhaps Captain.”
Abigail carefully lifted her skirts and found a bit of dryish grass to sit in. Most everything was soaked from the storm the night before. “I think Tristan would be nice.”
