The Highlander's English Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  He rapped on the door, more loudly than he’d intended. Graeme had pursued ruthless killers through London’s rookeries without batting an eyelash, yet now he was acting like an anxious old bachelor. And when the hell had that happened?

  When a pretty English lass turned your life upside down.

  The lass who’d made his life worth living again.

  The door swung open, and Sabrina scowled up at him. “Are you trying to wake the entire household?”

  She was dressed in the daintiest wrapper he’d ever seen, a frippery of cambric, lace, and ribbons that skimmed over her lovely curves. Sabrina wouldn’t realize it, of course, but she was backlit by a roaring fire, rendering her robe semitransparent.

  She was truly going to kill him.

  “Mr. Kendrick, are you going to stand there like a booby all night or say something?”

  “Sorry, lass. Didn’t mean to knock so loudly. Maybe my nerves got the best of me.”

  “You don’t have any nerves. You are the most insensitive, ill-tempered man in the world.”

  Graeme tried to look soulful. “I’m here because I owe you an apology for my insensitive, ill-tempered behavior.”

  “And did you come to this decision all on your own?”

  “I confess that I had a wee bit of help in that direction.”

  She let out a delicate snort. “Ainsley.”

  He flashed a smile. “She threatened to shoot me.”

  “A forced apology is not welcome.”

  When Sabrina started to shut the door, he stuck a booted foot in the gap. “I didn’t need Ainsley to tell me, daft girl. It might surprise you to know I figured out I was a dolt all on my own.”

  “Yes, it would surprise me.”

  He wedged his foot in a bit more. “May I come in? So as to facilitate the making of the apology?”

  “That would hardly be appropriate, sir.”

  “That never stopped you before, my lady.”

  When she rolled her eyes and swung the door wide, he bit back a smile.

  “All right but you can’t stay. It would be most improper.”

  He shut the door and leaned against it. “We’re not in the habit of being proper, are we?”

  Her gaze flickered over him. Graeme wore only boots, breeches, and a shirt unlaced at the throat. She’d seemed to find the combination appealing last time, and he’d decided the situation called for a wee spot of manipulation.

  “I like what you’re wearing,” he said.

  Sabrina glanced down at her body, as if she’d forgotten how she was attired. A fiery blush reddened her cheeks.

  Graeme waved at her frilly, beribboned nightcap. “Especially that cap. It’s like a topper on a wedding cake.”

  “You’re a twit, Graeme Kendrick.”

  She stomped over to a needlepointed armchair by the fireplace, plopped down, and primly folded her hands in her lap, doing her best to look stern. But her pretty bare feet and the outline of her nipples through the delicate fabric of her nightclothes ruined the effect. Graeme felt a surge of heat in his groin as he settled his shoulder against the solid wood mantel of the fireplace.

  “Aren’t you cold? No slippers, lass.”

  She tucked her feet under the lace-trimmed hem of her wrapper. That was unfortunate, since Graeme liked looking at her toes. He rather thought he’d like to nibble them, too.

  Well, at least the nipples were still in view, pert and begging for attention. Sabrina would have a heart attack if she knew just how pert they currently were.

  “I never get cold,” she said. “And it’s barely the beginning of September. It’s still summer.”

  “And it’s still the Highlands. And that’s quite the fire for someone who isn’t cold.”

  The blaze was all but roasting his backside. Then again, the rising heat in his body was just as much the result of the salacious images pouring into his brain.

  Her continuing scowl did nothing to dampen that heat. He wanted to use all his skills to replace that grumpy expression with one of sensual ecstasy.

  “Are you going to make your apology?” she demanded.

  “Absolutely.” He was about to launch into his prepared speech when he finally took full notice of the bed on the other side of the long, low-ceilinged room. “Good God.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to follow his gaze. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I practically have to call a hackney to get from one side to the other.”

  The obviously ancient bed was the sort of thing an entire family could sleep in. Four thick, heavily scrolled posts rose up a good ten feet to support an enormous wooden canopy that curved up into a carving of a crown. The bed would befit a Renaissance prince, one who would lounge in bed while receiving his court.

  It was also the perfect bed for entertaining a royal mistress—or a pretty little Sassenach. Graeme could easily imagine spending a day or three in that bed with Sabrina.

  “Apparently,” she added, “it was built for Mary of Guise, who was married to a Scottish king in fifteen-something-or-other. How it ended up at Lochnagar is a bit of a mystery.”

  “Everything about this place is a mystery. But I have to admit it’s growing on me. It’s got good bones.”

  “I think so, too.” Then she pulled a face. “I hate that my father has neglected it.”

  Graeme hunkered down, lacing their fingers together. “That doesn’t make you responsible for what happened here. Nor do you need to fix it all at once.”

  She tried to tug her hands away. “Are you actually going to apologize, or are you about to lecture me again? If it’s the latter, you can leave.”

  He took one of her hands and turned it over, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Her pulse jumped against his mouth.

  “Of course I’m going to apologize.” When he licked her delicate skin, she startled a bit.

  “Then perhaps you’d best get on with it,” she said rather breathlessly.

  He let go of her hand and cupped her delicately determined jaw. “Lady Sabrina Bell, I sincerely apologize for saying such idiotic things. I hope you realize that my . . .”

  “Bad temper?” she prompted.

  “My bad temper stemmed from concern for you. I most sincerely and humbly beg your forgiveness.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched. “It was a rather volatile situation. I was not at my best, either.”

  “Och, ye were both bonny and brave, like a true Highland lass, ye ken.”

  She giggled.

  “I, on the other hand,” he continued, “apparently succumbed to a bout of hysterics, which no doubt accounted for my . . .”

  “Raising your voice?”

  He nodded.

  She scoffed. “You don’t have a hysterical bone in your body. As for the yelling, it merely seems to be a Kendrick family trait.”

  “True enough. You need to get better at yelling.”

  Her blush deepened. “Does . . . does that mean I might be a member of your family some day?”

  He leaned in and feathered a kiss across her lips. “Only if you accept my apology.”

  She sucked in a wavering breath. “That sounds like blackmail to me.”

  “I’m very good at underhanded tactics, in case you failed to notice.”

  “Oh, I’ve noticed.”

  She slipped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down. She gave him the sweetest of butterfly kisses before slipping her tongue out to taste him. Graeme murmured his appreciation, gently cupping her cheek as she teased along the seam of his lips.

  But when she pressed closer, he sighed and slowly pulled back. Before they went any further, there were things she needed to know.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, her peacock-blue eyes soft and hazy with desire.

  “Why are we stopping? Is something wrong?” Then her gaze snapped into focus. “Something is wrong. What?”

  The words still eluded him. With her in his arms, nothing else seemed to matter. But she had the right to know everything, g
ood and bad. And even if the bad had been in service of the good, it had stamped a mark on his soul.

  “I have to tell you something, and it’s not very pleasant.” He huffed out a bitter laugh. “That’s an understatement. It’s bloody awful.”

  She stroked his hair, smoothing the locks she’d disheveled only moments ago. “I won’t shrink from it.”

  “You say that now—”

  “Just tell me.”

  Her tart command almost made him smile. “Yes, my lady.”

  “You don’t look very comfortable, though. Do you want to sit in the other chair?”

  He settled onto the floor, crossing his legs tailor-style. “I’d rather stay close to you, if you don’t mind.”

  She took one of his hands and plopped it onto her lap. “I won’t let go.”

  He quietly began. “I had a case last winter that was probably the hardest of my career.”

  “Harder than this one? Because this one seems an absolute mess.”

  He cracked a brief smile. “This one is only hard because it involves you, sweetheart. It scares the hell out of me that something could happen to you.”

  She squeezed his hands. “Then we’ll simply have to make sure nothing happens to me.”

  “Aye, that. Anyway, this other case . . . it involved children, little girls. They were . . .”

  “Just say it, Graeme,” she gently urged.

  “They were sold into prostitution, to brothels, mostly. Some of them catered to men with money and connections, including aristocrats.”

  Sabrina closed her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them again, they glittered with fury. “Sometimes I wish I never had to set foot in London again.”

  He kissed the back of her hand. “There is evil everywhere, love, but I take your point. London can be rather a sewer.”

  “Honestly, these stupid Lochnagar smugglers are nothing compared to monsters that harm children,” she fiercely said.

  “True, enough.”

  “Was it a case you worked with Aden?”

  “Yes, and three other agents. Aden always prioritizes cases in which women or children are subjected to danger or degradation.” Graeme flashed a wry smile. “And he doesn’t care whose toes he steps on, either.”

  “Good for him. And good for you, too.”

  He grimaced. “Eventually, yes. But things went sideways at one point. We were tracking a gang that was preying on children in the stews. On orphans mostly, ones who lived on the streets. But a family named Watson in Bethnal Green also came to my attention. The father occasionally ran errands for one of the madams at the center of the whole thing. Watson did the occasional nasty job for her, but nothing that would necessarily bring him to our notice.”

  “Then what did?”

  “Mrs. Watson. She was the break in the case. They had a girl of ten. She was a beautiful child and caught the attention of the madam, who offered Watson a considerable sum for the girl to work in her brothel.”

  Sabrina had already gone pale, so he’d spare her the more horrific details. She needn’t know that with the father’s eager agreement, the madam had arranged the sale of the daughter at auction, the kind that attracted the vilest sorts of men.

  “The girl’s mother stumbled upon the plan. In a panic, she went to a pub owned by a friend who was a former inquiry agent. The pub is often frequented by Bow Street Runners, which is how the matter came to our ears.”

  Sabrina dug her nails into his hand. “Please tell me that you got to the child in time.”

  “We did, but just barely. The poor woman had very little information to go on, other than the night the girl was to be turned over to the madam.”

  “Why couldn’t you just arrest the madam?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that easy, I’m afraid.” Too many people in high places enjoyed the services of such establishments.

  “It should be easy,” Sabrina said with a scowl.

  He kissed her hand again. “True. As well as trying to rescue this child, we wanted to bring down the ring. That meant we had to both find the child, who had already been taken from her mother, and also catch the gang leaders in the act of procuring the girl.”

  While Graeme had wanted to go after the girl, Aden and the other agents had thought tracking the madam would be more efficient. In the end, they’d decided to do both.

  “What did you do?” she gently prompted.

  “I discovered Watson’s hiding place. I should have gone for help then, but I was afraid of losing the girl if the bastard got spooked.” Graeme sighed. “Watson had told his daughter that she was to be a fancy lady’s companion, and that she would finally have nice clothes and lots to eat. The poor thing had no reason to doubt him. After all . . .”

  “He was her father.” Sabrina’s gaze was soft with compassion.

  “And children tend to believe their fathers.”

  “What happened next?”

  He’d found father and daughter holed up at a grubby tavern owned by the madam. Graeme had taken down two armed guards before he even got to the father. And Watson himself had been a right nasty piece of work, almost as big and burly as Graeme.

  “I had to fight Watson in front of that terrified little girl. She was convinced I was a bad man attacking her father.” He snorted. “She whacked me over the head with the chamber pot. Gave me quite a nasty lump.”

  Sabrina winced. “Oh, dear. But you prevailed.”

  “It was a near thing. Watson got ahold of one of my knives, but I finally managed to kill him.” Graeme let out a weary sigh. “He gave me no choice. The bastard almost took me out.”

  Sabrina looked stunned. “Thank goodness you were able to wrest the knife from him.”

  “Only after he used it on me.” Graeme hesitated, not wanting to say the words. But he knew he had to tell her everything. “And that’s not how I killed him.”

  “Then how . . .”

  “I strangled him to death. With my bare hands, and in front of that poor, screaming child, I murdered her father.”

  * * *

  Horror clouded Sabrina’s brain. But Graeme looked so heartsick, she forced down her roiling emotions. “I’m so sorry you had to suffer such a terrible thing, Graeme.”

  “It was the wee lass who suffered. To lose her da like that . . . her screams . . .” He closed his eyes.

  The poor man blamed himself. The things he’d seen and done, the weight of it all . . .

  Sabrina took his face between her palms. “Look at me, dearest.”

  When he opened his eyes, the sorrow in his gaze wrenched her heart.

  “You did not murder that man,” she said. “You killed a monster and saved a child. By any measure, you did the right thing.”

  “The wee lass didn’t think so.” He blew out a disgusted breath. “I should have found a way to get her out of there first, or gone for help. To make sure—”

  “Stop. You always blame yourself, and I’m not having it anymore. You’re the bravest, kindest man I know, even if you are pigheaded and high-handed. So enough of this nonsense.”

  A tiny smile edged the corners of his mouth. “Pigheaded, am I?”

  “And rather thick, if you think this would make me turn away from you. You saved a child from a life of horror and degradation. That is incredible.”

  “I just hope she understands that, someday.”

  “Is she safe and with her mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then she will, when she’s old enough. And even if that child hates you for the rest of her life, it doesn’t matter. You saved her. That is what matters.”

  He frowned. “I never quite thought of it that way.”

  “It’s time you did. And I won’t hear any more bottle-headed notions about your not being good enough for me. I’m not good enough for you.”

  He scoffed. “Don’t be daft.”

  She went nose to nose with him, as he’d done to her on more than one occasion. “I love you, Mr. Kendrick. I’d give
n up hope that there were men like you in the world. I’m so happy to be proven wrong.”

  He looked blank for a moment. Then green fire sparked in his gaze. In one graceful movement, he unfolded his legs and stood, pulling her with him. Sabrina found herself swept off her feet and into his arms.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m taking you to try out that ridiculous bed. I just hope I don’t lose sight of you once we get in there.”

  She huffed out a laugh. The relief she felt that he’d finally shared his deepest secrets—finally trusted her—was overwhelming. As was her love for him. Being able to say it, straight out, was simply wonderful.

  “I must warn you that it’s not very comfortable,” she joked, trying to master her wobbly emotions.

  He set her down on the high mattress. “It doesn’t look comfortable at all. But I’m hoping we’ll find an appropriate strategy.”

  She circled her arms around his neck as he untied the laces of her cap. “Do you have a specific plan in mind?”

  “I’m a spy. I always have a plan.”

  “Does that plan include a conclusion to your spying career?”

  His smile was wry. “Sooner rather than later, I expect. That’s if your father doesn’t murder me first.”

  “You leave Father to me. Now, tell me the rest of your plan.”

  He went to work on the laces of her wrapper. “The first part is to get you out of all these frilly things. The second part is to make love to you for the rest of the night.”

  Her heart thumped. “All night? Won’t you be exhausted in the morning?”

  He flashed a wolfish grin as he began to ease the wrapper down her arms. “I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”

  Suddenly, she felt out of breath. “That’s quite no . . . noble of you.”

  Graeme’s hands froze. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, really.”

  Sabrina stood on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into a world that would forever change. It was thrilling but also daunting.

  He grimaced. “I didn’t even ask you. You should give me a swift kick to the bollocks and shove me out of the room.”