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Sabrina snapped her fan shut. “Therefore, I suggest you leave town as soon as possible, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
When he suddenly lunged, Sabrina reacted instinctively and leapt to the side. Cringlewood fell heavily against the stone balustrade, almost toppling over the rail.
“You bitch!” He righted himself and reached for her.
“Don’t touch her, ye bastard!” Graeme Kendrick, in all his Highland glory, charged toward them.
When Cringlewood jerked round to face Graeme, Sabrina made an instantaneous decision. She rammed into Cringlewood, shoulder-first, knocking him over the balustrade.
“Ouch,” she yelped, surprised by pain that shot down her arm.
Graeme reached her, a broad-shouldered giant radiating masculine ire. Sabrina had to resist the urge to throw herself into his arms.
Don’t be a ninny.
He briefly cupped her cheek. “Sabrina, are ye all right?”
She flexed her arm and then shook it. “I gave myself quite a jolt.”
His calloused fingertips brushed over her shoulder with a surprisingly gentle touch. “Och, ye daft girl. There was no need to hurt yerself.”
She managed a smile. “Your brogue becomes quite marked on occasion, I’ve noticed.”
He let out a snort. “Aye, you’re fine. Yon idiot, however, may not be.”
They both peered over the considerable drop into the rosebushes below. The groans drifting up became curses, suggesting a decidedly hard landing.
Graeme’s expression turned rather stern. “Sabrina, what were you thinking, coming out here with him? And knocking him over the railing? Not helpful, lass.”
“But you were going to mill him down, were you not? Surely brawling on the terrace would have been even less helpful, for my reputation and yours.”
His mouth twitched sideways. “Point taken, I suppose.”
The noises from below suggested Cringlewood was attempting to free himself from his thorny prison. Graeme peered again over the balustrade.
“Stay here while I go check on the bastard,” he said. “Better yet, go back inside.”
Sabrina had no intention of complying with that instruction. For one thing, she suspected Graeme might take the opportunity to exact further punishment. While she sympathized, it was best not to draw any more attention to the scene. A quick glance around showed her that they’d been lucky so far. She’d like to keep it that way.
She picked up her skirts and followed him down the curving, shallow steps into the night-shrouded garden. Graeme came to a quick stop, and Sabrina almost collided with his brawny form.
“Do you never listen to anyone?” he asked.
“When I decide it makes sense, I do.”
“Going back inside would make a great deal of sense.”
“If I do, you’ll no doubt commence brawling with his lordship, and that will cause more unwanted attention.”
Graeme muttered something under his breath.
“Or you might even kill him,” she added, remembering Graeme’s apparent fondness for stowing knives on his person.
“Killing’s too good for that bas—that bounder.”
“It would not be good for you, however. Or for Lady Ainsley, I suspect.”
“Good of you to remember that now,” he sarcastically replied.
