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“Sabrina—”
“Graeme, I know how I feel because Ifeelit.”
He frowned. “Feel what?”
“My emotions, you booby. In fact, I’m sure of those feelings because they fail to dissipate even when I’m vastly annoyed with you. Like now.”
“You do rather look like you might bash me over the head with the poker.”
“It’s precisely because Idolove you that I want to knock some sense into you. If I didn’t care so much, it wouldn’t matter.”
“That doesn’t make . . .” He scratched his chin. Actually, it made perfect sense. Graeme frequently wanted to bash his older brothers or toss them out the window, especially when they acted like interfering old biddies. But that didn’t mean he loved them any less.
“Graeme, I am not some silly miss just out of the schoolroom. Nor am I drifting about in some romantic Highland dream. Our experiences together have been dreadfully uncomfortable and sometimes quite frightening.” Sabrina blew out a frustrated breath. “In fact, there has been a distinct lack of romance.”
“Hang on,” he couldn’t help saying. “That ride in the hackney was romantic.”
“You yelled at me. Besides, that hackney smelled like a goat pen.”
“But you were fairly enthusiastic about that kiss.”
She hesitated before giving him an uncharacteristically shy smile that wrapped silken tendrils around his heart. “Itwasa very nice kiss. Almost as nice as the one at the Caledonian Hunt Ball.”
He sighed. “Oh, hell, you’re right. We do have feelings for each other.”
“And is that such a dreadful thing?”
“It is for me.”
Sabrina looked blank for a moment before practically exploding out of her seat. “What a dreadful thing to say, Graeme Kendrick. Take it back!”
“You’re not getting my meaning, lass,” he protested.
“Then try explaining it to me.”
Since she looked ready to grab the poker, Graeme captured her hands. He sucked in a calming breath, trying to find the right words but finding himself distracted by her delicious scent. She reminded him of wildflowers and honey, and a summer day in the Highlands. Everything about her muddled his brain.
“Sabrina, it doesn’t matter how I feel, because what I feel isn’t . . . isn’t right. You are the sweetest, prettiest, nicest girl in England, and I would give you the world if I could.”
“I already have quite enough of the world,” she responded in a surly tone. “What I need is you.”
“But that’s the problem. I’m not good enough for you.” He tried to muster a wry smile. “These days, I’m barely good enough for anything, much less such a bonny lass.”
She went from surly to soft in an instant. “Graeme Kendrick, you are a perfectly wonderful man. Why would you say such a thing?”
“I’m afraid you don’t know enough about me.”
“I know that you’re kind, brave, and intelligent. You care about the innocent and the helpless, and you will do anything to protect them, even risking your own life.”
Such extravagant praise made him uncomfortable. “Och, ye’ll nae be turning me into a hero.”
“But you—”
“It’s my job, Sabrina. Which brings me to another point. My work is dangerous, and I refuse to put you in harm’s way.”
“In this case, I believe I’m the one putting you in danger.”
When he opened his mouth to refute her statement, she lifted a sardonic brow.
