“I know, but I think you worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough.”
“I find that it generally does no good. It only makes one grumpy,” she pointedly added.
“Sabrina—”
“I have to do this, sir. With or without you.”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
“You know why.”
They’re gazes locked and held with an intensity Sabrina felt in every part of her body. It seemed as if Graeme were trying to read both her mind and her heart. It was disconcerting, and . . . wonderful.
Wonderful because he truly cared about what she thought.
“It’s because you’re a kind, good lass,” he finally said. “Because you want to make things right. But sometimes you can’t make them right, Sabrina, no matter how hard you try.”
She suspected that last bit was more about him than her.
“It’s still important to try, though,” she said. “And besides, I don’t think this is one of those times. If there has been mismanagement at Lochnagar, I can fix it. What else am I to do with all this money I have? Father and I are disgustingly rich, you know.”
“I do know,” he dryly replied.
And it clearly bothered him.
“Then you also know my family is responsible for the people who depend on us for their very well-being. And if my father is not capable of carrying out that responsibility, it falls on me to do it.”
“I don’t think that’s necessarily—”
“Are you suggesting I’m incapable because I’m a woman?”
He scoffed. “You’re a force of nature, Sabrina. I pity the man who stands in your way.”
“Then don’t stand in my way.”
“I’ m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You are absolutely impossible to argue with.” He glowered down at her.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Lass—”
“Would Lord Arnprior allow a similar situation on his estate?”
Graeme blew out a frustrated breath. “Of course not. But Nick can take care of himself.”
She flashed her most winning smile. “And I have you to take care of me, do I not?”
While he studied her with a narrowed gaze, her heart thumped. Then he finally gave a nod—rather reluctantly, but a nod for all that. It made her shaky with relief.
“Thank you, sir. I am deeply grateful.”
He gave her a flourishing bow. “I live to serve, my dear lady.”
I hope so.
What she really hoped for was a good-night kiss. How to prompt such a display, however, eluded her.
Graeme started for the door. “It is now officially late, so I’ll escort you to your room.”
She jumped to her feet. “Wait. There’s . . . there’s something else we need to discuss.”
His sigh was resigned. “Which is?”
Could she really do this?
“Sabrina,” he started in a long-suffering voice, breaking the silence.
“I have feelings for you, Graeme.”
He froze. For a few seconds, the candles seemed to flicker and grow dim. Sabrina had to resist the urge to squeeze her eyes shut.
“Feelings?” he asked. “As in . . .”
Drat. Why did he have to make everything so difficult?
“Yes, feelings, as in emotions. As in the kind men and women have for each other when they . . . like each other. Quite a lot,” she defiantly added.
He looked more puzzled than anything else. “I see. And just how do you expect me to respond to that?”
* * *
The lass had all but dropped an anvil on his head. Her words certainly had that effect, knocking every sensible thought from his brain.
It was the fault of those blasted feelings she kept talking about. Feelings like the ones that urged him to sweep her up, carry her to the damn bed—which was right there—and make love to her. For their entire deranged conversation, he’d been forced to exert every ounce of willpower to keep his hands to himself.
And now, alone in the shadowed intimacy of his bedroom, was she offering herself to him?
He might as well shoot himself and be done with it.
Sabrina blinked, obviously startled by his tepid response—one that had taken every ounce of what little restraint he had left. Then her fine, golden eyebrows snapped together in an imperious scowl. She smartly covered the short distance between them and then jabbed a finger to his chest.
“For one, I would expect you to respond with a degree of courtesy befitting a gentleman.”
“Lass, you just propositioned me. I’m rather at a loss.”
Her cheeks burned with a bright heat. “I did no such thing. I told you how I feel, and I would expect you to do the same. After all, you have been rather free with your kisses on more than one occasion. Were you, in fact, simply dallying with me?” She sniffed. “That is hardly the behavior of a gentleman.”
Now that was annoying.
“Let me point out that on at least one of those occasions, you kissed me.”
“Very well, but you didn’t exactly fight me off. You responded with a great deal of enthusiasm, if memory serves.”
“Because I am clearly a moron who forgot he was a gentleman. And let that be a lesson to you, I might add.”
She blinked again and took a step back. Sabrina no longer looked angry or even imperious. She looked . . . wounded.
And that made Graeme feel like a total blighter. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. In case you’ve failed to notice, I’m not the most eloquent of men.”
“Oh, I noticed. And I will add that it’s not exactly the done thing for a woman to profess her feelings. It was horribly difficult. And embarrassing,” she added under her breath.
“Och, not for a brave lass like ye,” he said, trying to lighten her mood.
Her lips went flat with disapproval.
“Sabrina, what exactly do you want from me?” he asked, feeling at sea.
After staring at the floor for a few moments, she lifted her gaze. It shimmered with a mix of emotions that scared the hell out of him.
“I want to know how you feel about me,” she whispered.
He knew he should hustle her right to the door and out of the room. But with the hurt in her eyes and the wee softness in her voice, he couldn’t reject her. At least not without explaining why.
“Sit ye down,” he said, gently steering her back to the chair.
She grumbled a bit but complied, perching on the edge of the seat as she smoothed her pretty blue skirts over her knees. Her hands trembled, just a bit.
Graeme felt ready to jump out of his skin. His stupid brain—along with his cock—was urging him to take her immediately to bed. That would settle both their nerves in no time.
Instead of giving in to his reckless need for her, he moved back to the fireplace and propped a shoulder against the mantel.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Sabrina groused.
“Do what?”
She waved a vague finger. “Stand there, looking so . . . so manly. It’s distracting.”
Graeme bit back a smile. That was the bossy little lass he’d come to love.
His brain tripped.
Love.
Yes, he loved Sabrina, and wasn’t that a bloody awful turn of events? He’d known it for days, of course, while doing his best to shove the truth into a deep, dark hole. Now her brave declaration had brought the overwhelming feelings right to the surface.
Feelings. The one thing guaranteed to blow up in his face.
“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to just stand there like a sphinx? I am not leaving this room until I get an answer.”
“Standing here like a sphinx would be my preferred option. But since you insist, I will admit that of course I have feelings for you, goose. I should think I’ve already made it obvious enough.”
Her mouth twisted sideways a bit. “Well, you
haven’t. With the exception of those, um, interludes, you’ve been a complete grump. Does that not suggest the opposite of feelings, at least good ones?”
He leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees, so he and Sabrina were only a few inches apart. “I’ve got feelings, lass. And they’re bloody strong. If you had any idea just how strong, you’d turn tail and run.”
Sabrina’s lovely blue eyes popped wide, but then she mustered a pert response. “I’d bet you a bob I wouldn’t.”
He tapped her nose before straightening up. “And I’d lose that bet, God help me.”
When a cheeky little smile curled up her mouth, the band of steel around his chest gave way. Sabrina was sunshine itself, joyful and confident by nature. Graeme hated that he made her doubt herself. But she should turn tail and run, because he was no damn good for her. And was it even love she felt for him? In her mind, he probably represented some sort of romantic hero, not the deeply flawed man that he really was.
“Well, then,” she said, “why have you been so . . .”
“Grumpy?”
She nodded.
“Let me ask you a question first. How do you really know you have deep feelings for me?”
She scrunched up her face. “What sort of ridiculous question is that?”
“There’s nothing ridiculous about it. You’ve been a very sheltered young woman.”
“Nonsense. I’ve been running all my father’s households for years. I am no green girl, sir.”
“Managing your dear old da does not mean you know what it’s like to be in love.”
“And you do?”
“Uh . . .” She’d marched him neatly into that corner.
“So, there,” she said, rather unnecessarily, he thought.
“Sabrina—”
“Graeme, I know how I feel because I feel it.”
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 I do love 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. “It was a 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.
“You are incredibly annoying,” he said, gently pressing her back into her seat. Much easier to think when he wasn’t touching her.
“Ha, so I’m right,” she replied.
“Only in this case. The type of work I do—”
She twirled a hand. “Yes, it can be dangerous, but Aden and Vivien manage it. Surely there are other spies who get married.”
“I’m not a spy,” he automatically said.
“Then there’s not a problem, is there?” she sweetly replied.
She was running rings around him. She was right that there were any number of agents who had families. Most of them had retired, however, or gone into other work. But he knew he was good at what he did—better than good—and he couldn’t think of a damn thing he could do with his life except . . .
Marry Sabrina.
“Your da is one,” he said. “He hates me. I’m Scottish and a younger son. With not a shilling to my name, in fact.”
“You have a perfectly respectable competence, care of your two older brothers. Not to mention the income from your work.”
“Who the hell told you that?”
“Ainsley, of course.”
He was truly going to have to murder his sister-in-law.
“It’s hardly a fortune. Not up to your father’s standards by a long shot.”
“It’s not up to my father. And I have money enough for the both of us.”
“Sabrina—”
She pulled a face. “Why did I have to fall in love with the one man who isn’t a fortune hunter—in fact, who holds my fortune against me?”
“I don’t hold your fortune against you.”
“You do. It makes you feel unequal, or not as good in some stupid way.”
It did, but he could get over it because she was worth it. What he couldn’t get over . . .
“Sweetheart, I’m not worthy of you. There are things I’ve done, things that can never be undone.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I have blood on my hands. Blood that can never be washed off.”
“You mean you’ve killed people.”
He nodded, hating to even say it.
“Bad people?”
He snorted. “I generally make it a point not to kill good people.”
“Then what is the problem?”
The problem was one he couldn’t put into words, especially not to her.
After several seconds of fraught silence, Sabrina came to her feet. Damned if she wasn’t studying him like a specimen under glass.
“So, the answer must be that you are a coward, afraid of a wee Sassenach. Even worse, afraid of her father, an elderly hypochondriac.” She sighed. “I must admit to feeling disa
ppointed, after all the buildup. Highlanders are apparently all flash and no bang, rather like a squib gone awry.”
He narrowed his gaze. “So, it’s ferocious you want, is it?”
She curled her lip in a delicate little sneer. Even though Graeme knew she was baiting him, it worked. That blasted Sassenach sneer worked.
“Aye, then ye’ll have it.”
She squeaked when he yanked her against his chest. But when he tipped up her chin and took her mouth in a decidedly ferocious kiss, Sabrina enthusiastically threw herself into the spirit of things. So enthusiastically that when she flung her arms around his neck, Graeme stumbled back into the mantel.
“Oh, oh, sorry,” she gasped. “Are you all right?”
“Stop talking.”
He held her jaw while he devoured the most luscious set of lips this side of Hadrian’s Wall. After a few moments, he was convinced they were the most luscious lips south of the wall, too. She lured him in with a siren’s call he could no longer resist.
Graeme had been resisting her for weeks. Now she was finally in his arms, kissing him like mad, ravishing him with a sweet, sensual urgency. Aye, she was a treasure, one he longed to claim.
So, claim her.
He let a hand drift down to her arse, gently squeezing her. Those curves were so delicious that he cupped her with both hands, kneading her pretty bottom as he nudged her with his rapidly burgeoning cock.
Sabrina swayed, as if unsteady on her feet.
Too much, you idiot.
Mentally sighing, he forced himself to ease off. Sabrina sank back on her heels, resting her head on his chest as she sucked in a shaky breath.
“All right, love?” he murmured as he cuddled her.
She looked up, a wavering smile parting her kiss-swollen lips. He’d been a wee bit too ferocious, it seemed. But Sabrina was temptation beyond all earthly reason.
“Just a little wobbly in the knees.” She curled her hands into his shirt. “I hope you don’t mind if I hold on to you. It’s all a bit . . . overwhelming.”
It killed him to say it, but he did. “Lass, should I stop?”
“Graeme Kendrick, I practically had to hold a dirk to your throat to get you to kiss me. Why would I want you to stop?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“We’re simply kissing,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “There’s no need to be squeamish because I got wobbly.”
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