Truthfully, Jennifer didn’t know where she would possibly find a man prepared to allow her the freedom she’d known growing up. Until now, she hadn’t realised that the worry of it was weighing so heavily. Like all young women of good families, she was expected to marry – and marry well. While she couldn’t imagine her father forcing her into wedlock with someone she despised, Jennifer knew that even his legendary patience would only stretch so far.
What would her parents say if she declared her wish to remain unwed?
And that was the crux of the matter. Since her come out, Jennifer had gradually become more and more disenchanted with the whole marriage mart. She hadn’t shared her feelings with her closest two friends, aside from the conversation in her bedchamber, but she guessed that Mercy at least shared her disillusionment. It was difficult to know what Tory thought. George’s twin sister still kept her innermost thoughts very much to herself.
She knew there were men out there with the same progressive point of view as her father – indeed, in addition to the Duke, there were ten of them in her family. Both Peter and her Uncle Anthony were about as far from pompous as it was possible to get, and despite the lurid tales she’d been told of her aunts tying their collective garters in public, they had all found husbandsable to look past their supposed shocking behaviour and see their true worth. Indeed, in every case, the men in question had not only recognised, but actively encouraged their wives’ free spirits.
So Jennifer knew it was possible. But where to find such a man? There had certainly been no evidence of any tolerance in any of the stuffed shirts she’d come into contact with since her come out.
She was so lost in reverie that she wasn’t paying attention to the closeness of the loch as she finally broke free of the copse of trees. Only a sudden shout, made her stop and turn in surprise. ‘Stop, lest ye hae a mind for a swim.’
Frowning, Jennifer looked back down at the ground and nearly yelped in surprise. Her feet were inches from the edge. Her preoccupation with her thoughts and the green covering of algae had nearly ended with a dunking. Heart in her mouth, she hurriedly stepped away from the edge, and turned to see a man running towards her. Behind him was the biggest dog she’d ever seen.
In shock, she instinctively retreated, felt the ground beneath her foot give way, and promptly fell backwards into the freezing cold loch.
∞∞∞
Dougal Galbraith didn’t need his son to tell him he was being an old bampot, but like always, his mouth ran away with him. As he watched Brendon storm out for the second time in as many days, a sudden thought hit him. What if his foolish comments aboot the Sinclair family got back tae the Duke and actually cost Brendon the job? The job they both sorely needed him tae get if they were tae survive another winter.
Sighing Dougal poured himself another whisky. In truth, he would’nae blame the lad if he did’nae come back. Things were away tae hell in a handcart. If they did’nae dae the plantin' soon, it’d be too late. And here he was – gettin’ pished like always. It was enough tae make even a sober man weep. He took a deep swallow and poured another.
‘Bloody Sassenachs,’ he muttered, this time to himself. Hoo dare they turn away a Galbraith? Well, if Sinclair haed the bloody gall tae send his son packin’, Dougal Galbraith’d have somethin’ tae say aboot it. In fact, he’d do better than that. He’d gae an’ have a chat wi’ the cub himself. Right noo.
Tossing back the last of his whisky, Dougal climbed unsteadily to his feet and shrugged on his coat. He’d show them bloody guid fer nothin’ Sassenachs the wrath o’ a true son o’ Caledonia.
The feardie would nae eventhinkaboot nae makin’ Brendon steward once the Galbraith haed finished wi’ ‘im.
Chapter Six
‘Dear God, woman, are ye a complete eejit? What dae ye think ye be doin?’
Jennifer surfaced spluttering as a hand unceremoniously grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her clear of the murky water. For a second, she was actually dangling in mid-air, then before she could protest, the man hoicked her up to his shoulder and she was enveloped in strong arms, one of which was supporting her in the most scandalous position. She could scarce take in the fact that he was striding along the side of the loch, conveying her who knew where. Awareness dimmed until her whole being was focused on the cold which was swiftly seeping into her very bones. Right now he could have been taking her to hell itself and she would not have complained provided it was warm.
Minutes or it could have been seconds later, she had no idea of the passage of time, she heard him swear softly and felt the vibration of his boot kick against something hard. Abruptly they were inside. She heard the soft lapping of water, then felt him climb something, only to jump down again. Seconds later she was put down surprisingly gently and several blankets draped over her shoulders. Her eyes tightly shut, she snuggled down into their fetid warmth gratefully.
‘Ye’ll need tae take off yer wet claes if ye dinnae want tae catch yer death.’ The deep masculine voice was matter of fact, andharsh reality began to encroach into her hazy dreamlike state. Nevertheless, Jennifer determinedly buried her head in the blankets until suddenly a small bark intruded.Flossy!
Her eyes flew open, and she flung off the blankets, jumping to her feet, only to stumbleas the sodden mass of her skirt wrapped itself around her ankles. Gazing round wildly, she abruptly realised that she was on aboat. Reeling in shock, she sank back down again with a whispered, ‘What have you done with my dog?’
‘Dinnae worry, she be here.’ Jennifer watched as the man leaned to the side and plucked the little dog from where she was nestled in between the front paws of an Irish wolfhound. Had the beast been about to have her for dinner? With a gasp, Jennifer snatched Flossy out of the stranger’s hands and cuddling her close, glared at her erstwhile rescuer.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded, frustrated to hear the wobble in her voice. The stranger raised his eyebrows at her tone.
‘Home, ah hope, once ye’ve stripped off all yer wet claes.’
‘If by claes, you mean clothes, I will certainly not remove anything in front of you.’ Jennifer was proud that this time there was no wobble in her voice. ‘It is ungentlemanly of you to even ask, sir.’
‘They be drookin – soaking wet,’ Brendon pointed out wearily. ‘An if ye insist on sittin’ in ‘em, you’ll likely be deid o’ an ague wi’in a week.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, it be your funeral.’
Jennifer opened her mouth to utter a scathing retort, but could think of nothing at all, so closed it again. Embarrassingly, her teeth clattered together noisily. And to make matters worse, Flossy, clearly not enjoying being pressed against wet clothing, wriggled out of her arms and promptly seated herself back with the man’s brute of a dog.
Swallowing, Jennifer hugged the blankets closer to her and took a good look at her companion for the first time. Slowly her face suffused with colour. He was by far the most arresting man she’d ever seen. His eyes were a startling cerulean blue in an almost harshly beautiful face. His nose was slightly crooked as though he’d broken it once upon a time and his face bronzed from too much time outdoors. Full lips and wavy midnight black hair worn longer than was the fashion amongst the dandies of London completed the picture. Shockingly, she found herself wondering what it would be like to be kissed by those full lips.
‘So are ye gaunnae take off yer claes or stay starin’ at me as though ye’re expectin’ ma heid tae fall off?’
Jennifer pursed her lips at his brusque tone. ‘I thank you for your assistance, but I think I’m perfectly capable of walking back up to the house without any more help.’
‘Ah ken ye’ll not get ten yards wi’ the weight o’ that skirt flappin’ round yer ankles,’ he responded bluntly. ‘That’s why ah brought ye here since you was too heavy fer me tae carry all the way up tae the hoose.’
