“Ah, the roadwork that must be stopped,” Neaves said. “I nearly forgot it is yours.”
Aedan nearly replied, but it was too indelicate for a lady’s ears. He bit his lip.
“Sir Aedan is helping me,” Christina said. “I was walking back to the house when the rain and thunder hit.”
The rain increased, slanting so hard that Aedan nearly lost his apparently unfashionable bowler, and grabbed its wet brim. He was more than done exchanging pleasantries in the pouring rain with a man who could be so unpleasant.
“Thank you for assisting my fiancée.” Edgar smiled, showed long, perfect teeth beneath his long, perfect nose. Aedan felt a primitive urge to put his fist through that chiseled countenance.
Aedan did not show the flinch he felt. “Let me extend my congratulations.”
“I did not make that promise,” Christina said low, between her teeth.
“But he knows you well enough to ask you.”
“You know me better,” she said.
“I thought so.” He narrowed his eyes.
She thumped his back with her fist, out of sight of Edgar and hard enough that Aedan exhaled with a huff.
Lightning split the sky, and Edgar gestured. “Christina! Into the carriage. Driver, help the lady,” he called.
“Go with him,” Aedan murmured. “You are soaked.”
“So are you.”
“Go!” Aedan dismounted quickly, holding Pog’s reins steady as he leaned forward with her so that he could swing his right leg back to dismount on the left. Reaching up, he guided her down, holding her steadily at the waist until her feet hit the muddy ground.
Casting him a frown, she took up her bedraggled skirts and walked to the carriage to climb in with the driver’s help. Seated inside, Edgar did not extend a hand.
As the carriage rumbled away, Aedan sat in the saddle, rain dripping from his hat brim and thunder shaking the skies, and watched them go.
Fiercely,he had said, and he’d meant it.
*
“My dear, yourgown looks a dreadful mess,” Edgar said. “If you were presentable, I would kiss you in greeting, for I have missed you. Whatever possessed you to ride with Dundrennan? He knows better than to share a horse with a young lady.”
“He only meant to save me from a drenching,” she replied. Sniffling, she dug into her pocket for a handkerchief, found none, rubbed her nose with the back of her glove, then sneezed. “Excuse me.”
Edgar made a disparaging sound and handed her his handkerchief. “You are always forgetting something, gloves,handkerchief, spectacles, and such.” He tilted his head. “Though you are always fetching, even now.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and sneezed again.
“I am anxious to hear about your discoveries. You did not give me enough detail in your letters. Saving the best to surprise me, are you?”
She sneezed again, mopped at mud, and would have returned his handkerchief, but he raised a hand to refuse it. “I gave you all I know about the hillside. I sent measurements and sketches, the dimensions of the foundation and the souterrain, the number of clay jars we found, their shape, and copied some of their decoration. What more did you want?”
“What about artifacts, other than pots?” he asked. “Did you instruct the workers to dig further for anything valuable?” He leaned forward. “Did you open the sealed jars?”
“I decided to wait.”
“Yes, wait for me, as you should.”
“I decided to wait until digging reveals more of the site,” she finished, bristling. “If you think I am incompetent, sir, why did you send me out here?”
“My dear, you can be so prickly, but it is part of your charming nature. You are not incompetent, and you have Reverend Carriston to advise and guide you. Have you written to ask his assessment? I am curious to know his opinion.”
