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“Graeme, I didn’t hit my head or inhale any water. I just need a change of clothing.” She smiled up at him. “After all, you’ll recall that it’s not the first time I’ve had a dunking.”
He snorted. “Youaredaft.”
“As are you.”
“True, that.”
“You need to get out of those clothes, too,” she said, eyeing his dripping greatcoat.
He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on the floor. “Dickie,” he yelled out the door, “we need some dry clothes.”
The young man dashed into the shed and grimaced at Sabrina. “Sorry, my lady.”
“All will be forgiven if you can find something for her to wear,” said Graeme.
“And something for Mr. Kendrick,” Sabrina added.
Dickie rummaged in a trunk. “We only got stockings, breeches, and shirts.”
“As long as they’re dry.” And clean, she hoped. “Anything for Mr. Kendrick?”
“Aye. Magnus used to sleep here, too.” Dickie began pulling clothes out.
Graeme eased aside the blanket and unbuttoned her pelisse. His eyebrows shot up. “Your evening gown?”
“I didn’t have time to change into appropriate rescue attire.”
His gaze narrowed to green slits. “You shouldn’t have been rescuing at all.”
“And you shouldn’t have gone and gotten kidnapped.”
He winced. “Good point.”
“Here be some towels, sir,” Dickie said.
Graeme gently wiped her face, then briskly went to work on her hair.
“I have a suggestion,” Sabrina said, her voice muffled by the towel.
“Yes?”
“You stop getting kidnapped, and I’ll stop falling into lakes.”
He pulled back the towel, tipped up her chin, and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. His tongue dipped into her mouth, tasting her with a passion that almost knocked her flat. Sabrina clutched at his wet shirt. If she’d thought she was drowning before, she was mistaken. Because now she was drowning in Graeme—the scent, the taste, the feel of him, the emotions that poured through his desperate kiss and into her very soul.
And suddenly, she was no longer cold. In Graeme’s arms, she knew she would never be cold again.
When Dickie cleared his throat, Graeme reluctantly released her.
“Yes, Dickie?”
The poor lad had blushed as red as a cherry. “Here be the clothes, sir,” he said pointing to a stack on the table. “Will ye be needin’ anything else?”
“No, lad. Just tell the others that we’ll change and be right out.”
Dickie scampered out the door.
“He seems like a nice boy for someone you kicked in the nutmegs.”
