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He rushed off, all but leaving a dust trail in his wake.
“You are truly an awful man,” Sabrina said to Graeme.
For the last few minutes, his instincts had been telling him to get her back to the house as soon as possible. Now, they were all but blowing trumpets in his ear.
“You love me anyway,” he replied as he scanned their surroundings.
“Ha. In your dreams,” she muttered.
That was exactly his dream, that Sabrina would love him. But he’d have to keep her alive first.
“Mr. Brown is incredibly well-mannered and kind, which is more than I can say for you.” Sabrina gave a haughty little sniff. “In fact, I like him very much.”
“Oh, do ye, now? And what, exactly, does that involve? More secret visits to the parsonage? More pints of ale in the local pub?”
“I will visit whomever I please.” She jabbed Graeme in the chest again. By now, his cravat was likely demolished. “And you have nothing to say about it.”
He leaned in so close that her peacock-blue eyes practically crossed. “Oh, I’ll have something to say about it, lass. Count on it.”
She blinked, then a slow smile curved up her lush mouth. “Well, I do believe you’re jealous, Mr. Kendrick.”
He straightened. “Don’t be ridiculous. And where is that damned . . . ah, finally.”
“Here be yer horse, my lady,” Methuselah said as he rounded the corner of the pub.
“Thank you,” Sabrina replied.
She still wore that smug little smile. Cheeky lass. The hell of it was he loved that about her.
The old man held the mare while Graeme boosted Sabrina into the saddle.
She settled her skirts. “Thank you, Mr. Chattan.”
Graeme cocked an eyebrow at the old man. “You’re a Chattan? You’re a member of Lady Sabrina’s clan, then.”
“Aye, and ye’d best be gettin’ the lady home. My nose is twitchin’, ye ken.”
“Mine, too,” Graeme dryly replied.
Despite his annoyingly cryptic comments, Chattan seemed to know quite a lot. Graeme would have to further their acquaintance.
He untied his horse and vaulted into the saddle. “Let’s go lass. No dawdling.”
“You are so annoying.” She took off at a trot down the street.
“Ye have yer hands full with that one,” Chattan commented.
“Aye, that.”
Graeme cantered after her, coming abreast as they left the hamlet. She made a point of ignoring him.
“So,” he finally said, “are you going to tell me, or do I have to pay my own secret visit to Reverend Brown?”
“You’d probably give him a conniption, you’re so rude.”
He bit back a smile.
“Very well,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “You’ll just pester me until I tell you.”
