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“Me, pester? Never.”
His amusement faded as she related what she’d discovered. And while it was the first true break they’d had, it also confirmed his fears. If the Barr family was still in the vicinity, they were a danger to Sabrina and anyone else who might cross them.
Still, he needed more information. As soon as he got her safely home, he would ride back to Dunlaggan and try for a frank talk with Mr. Chattan.
“Unfortunately,” Sabrina added, “no one seems to know where the Barrs are. But it’s clear some of the villagers are still afraid they might return. They are apparentlynotnice people.”
“Oh, you think?”
“There is no need for sarcasm, Mr. Kendrick.”
She looked so very proper and pretty, with her stylish riding habit and jaunty plumed hat. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Graeme would have found a nice cozy meadow and proceeded to engage in some very improper behavior that would involve removing both habit and hat.
“There’s every reason for sarcasm, since I just pulled your pretty arse out of a near riot.”
“It was not a near riot, and you simplymustcease referring to my posterior in that way.”
“And you must cease taking risks with your life.”
She shot him a veiled look. “The way you do with your life?”
He snorted. “That’s different, and you know it.”
“That last time I looked, you were made of flesh and bone, just as I am.”
“I’m trained to do this, lass. You are not.”
They turned from the main road into the drive that led past the gatehouse and up to the manor.
“I assure you,” she said as they passed between the imposing stone gateposts, “I have no desire to take unnecessary—”
Chips of stone exploded from the post closest to Sabrina as the sound of a shot echoed. Her horse shied, but she brought the mare quickly under control.
Graeme wheeled his horse around, blocking her as best he could. “Sabrina, get down and behind that post.”
“Where is it coming—”
Suddenly, more chips exploded from the gatepost as another shot slammed into it. Graeme threw himself from his horse and dragged Sabrina from her saddle. He forced her into a crouch and pushed her behind the post and out of range—he hoped—of the shooter.
He ran a quick hand over her dark green riding habit, checking for blood. The shots had hit the post, but stone chips had exploded everywhere.
“There’s no need to grope me,” she breathlessly said. “I’m uninjured.”
“Are you sure? I took you down fairly hard off your horse.”
She nodded, her golden hair coming loose from its pins. “Other than losing my hat, everything seems to be fine. And that was someone shooting at us.” She grimaced.
“Yes.”
“Drat. How would anyone even know where to find us?”
Graeme snuck a quick look around the pillar. He saw nothing and thankfully heard no shots. “Lass, the entire village knew where we were going.”
“Yes, but I didn’t see anyone leave the pub, did you?”
“I just wanted to get you out of there.” And he should have been more careful.
She sighed. “Well, this is most inconvenient. Both our horses have bolted. I’m assuming you’re armed, however.”
