He lifted her up and held her against him. “Katie, calm down. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Stop struggling. You’re not going to drown.”
She shrieked in his ear.
Which reminded him to ask why she was screaming earlier. “Was someone chasing you?”
“Not someone. Some thing. I accidentally walked too close to a fox den and the mother fox chased me away from her kits. I thought she was going to bite me.”
He tried not to roll his eyes. “You are quite the adventuress, aren’t you?”
Her bottom lip quivered. “Don’t mock me. I’ve been ridiculed enough this week.”
“Sorry. My point is, you wouldn’t last more than five minutes on your own.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve lasted perfectly well since leaving London, and that was almost a week ago. I made it all the way up here on my own, didn’t I?”
“I suppose. Why are you still wearing your wedding gown? And your perfect white gloves? Don’t you have a wardrobe filled with clothes at Pringle Grange?”
She cleared her throat. “I do. But no one knows I’m here yet. I rode the mail coach as far as St. Michael’s Priory and then walked the rest of the way. I was just cutting through your property on the way to my house when the fox chased me.”
No wonder she looked pale and exhausted in addition to looking like a drowned water rat. Her long, dark hair fell flat against her cheeks. Her big, green eyes usually sparkled as bright as emeralds, but also looked rather flat at the moment. She had dark circles under her eyes. “Katie, do your parents know where you’ve gone?”
She cast her gaze down. “No.”
“Bollocks, they’ll be worried sick about you.”
“I know. But I needed to get away before they made me marry Yardsley. I wanted time to decide what I’m going to do. Oh, dear! What if they have Bow Street runners waiting for me at Pringle Grange? I should have thought of it sooner.”
He gently brushed back the few strands of hair plastered to her cheek. “You are too tired to think straight just now.”
She nodded and began to nibble her lip.
After a moment, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I can’t go back there until I’m certain it’s safe. Would you mind terribly if I came home with you?”
“To Alnwick Hall?”
That would be a terrible mistake.
She was still looking up at him with soft, trusting eyes. “Just for a day or two.”
“Out of the question. Phillipa isn’t here. You and I would be alone save for the Crisps. The wife is my housekeeper and her husband takes care of the Alnwick grounds.”
“I remember them. They’ve been with your family for ages. I would be no trouble to any of you. I’ll do my best to stay quietly out of your way.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You do know my reputation, don’t you?”
“Are you suggesting I’m in danger of being seduced by you? I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I don’t,” he grumbled, surprised that she was not more afraid of him. In truth, she appeared intrigued more than horrified.
“Then where’s the problem?”
“I suppose there isn’t one.” Since she did not seem at all put out by the arrangement, he lifted her back onto the river bank. “Fine. Sit here while I dress. Close your eyes and don’t you dare peek.”
“As if I ever would.” She tipped her chin in the air. “I have no interest in gawking at you.”
“Good. Then don’t. Because I am completely, bare-arsed naked. Something you would have noticed if you weren’t so distracted by almost dying.” He swam the few strokes to the spot where he’d left his clothes spread atop a gorse bush. The low lying shrubs and small trees with branches leaning out over the water were not going to hide much of him if she did choose to look.
As for him, he did not much care if she saw him naked. But the sight of him would give the girl another shock and she’d had enough surprises this week. Not even he had the heart to cause her more strife.
He quickly donned his breeches, boots, and work shirt that still reeked of his sweat. “Mrs. Crisp will feed us,” he called over his shoulder as he tucked in his shirt. “She’s an excellent cook. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“I am.”
He strode out from behind the barrier of shrubs and took the reins of his trusted gray, Templar, who was tethered nearby. “She’s a much better cook than your Mrs. Simms at Pringle Grange. Her food tastes like sawdust. Why does your mother keep her on?”
“Her cooking is just fine. But I will agree your Mrs. Crisp is unrivaled.”
He returned to her side, wondering why she was suddenly blushing. Had she been peeking? No, the Perfect Miss Pringle would never do such a thing. “I’m sure there will be a hearty stew waiting for us. But you’ll have to change out of those wet clothes first. Phillipa keeps some gowns here. We’ll find you something of hers to wear.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Mrs. Crisp will help you out of your wedding gown.” Because he certainly had no desire to put his hands on her to help her out of her clothes.
“Don’t call it that.”
“What? Your wedding gown? As you wish. It’s ruined anyway.” The fine silk was soaking wet and molded to her body.
Her very shapely and beautiful body.
Blessed saints!
When did this happen?
He picked her up, ignoring the jolt of heat now coursing through him as he took her back in his arms to seat her on Templar. “Hold onto the saddle or Templar’s mane. I’ll walk you back.”
“No. I don’t want anyone to see me. Get on behind me and take me back to your home as fast as possible.”
Bad idea.
He shrugged. “All right.”
“Thank you, Alnwick.”
“Call me Niall. I hate that title.”
“Why?”
“Because it came with nothing but a pile of debts and an
