“Can you not, for once, remain where you are safely out of danger?” he demanded sharply, his voice carrying more frustration than anger as he looked down at her dripping state.
Amelia, still stunned, blinked up at him. “It was not intentional.”
“It never is,” he muttered, adjusting his hold as though to ensure she was properly balanced in his arms as he cradled her.
“I am perfectly capable of walking,” she insisted, though the indignity of being carried again made the statement sound far less convincing than she intended.
“And yet you keep demonstrating otherwise,” he replied curtly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are impossible.”
“And you are constantly in trouble with locked carriages or carriage drivers and now a brook,” he shot back.
“I am not constantly in trouble,” she said with narrowed eyes.
“And now, you will catch a death of cold if we do not get you out of these wet clothes right away,” he said.
He carried her all the way back toward his horse and sat her on the saddle as he moved behind her. He pushed the horse into a trot back to the manor while Amelia endured the indignity of dripping steadily onto his coat.
Servants glanced at them as they approached, though none dared comment aloud, which Amelia considered a small mercy. When they finally reached the entrance, he set her down with careful precision, though not gently enough to suggest forgiveness.
“You will stay away from the brook,” he said.
“I will do no such thing,” she replied, wringing water from her sleeves.
His eyes narrowed. “Amelia.”
“I was not attempting to fall into it.”
“That is not reassuring,” he said.
She lifted her chin. “Perhaps you should build a fence around the entire estate if you are so concerned.”
“Do not tempt me,” he said. “Mrs. Jacobs!” he shouted.
Mrs. Jacobs scurried into the foyer. “Your Grace?” Then shock came over her as she saw Amelia. “Oh, good heavens.”
“Set a hot bath in Miss Shirley’s room and make her hot tea,” he barked.
“Right away, Your Grace,” Mrs. Jacobs said and moved quickly, shouting orders to the servants to boil water and fetch the tub.
Amelia stared at him for a long moment, water still dripping from her hem onto the stone floor. The air between them felt charged again, but this time, it was sharper, edged with irritation rather than something softer. Amelia became aware that her heartbeat had not yet returned to normal, though she could not decide whether it was from the fall or from him.
“I do not require constant rescue,” she said quietly.
“You appear to require it frequently,” he replied.
Her expression tightened. “I am not helpless.”
“I did not say you were.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied nothing of the sort,” he said as he peeled off his wet coat and handed it to a servant.
She stepped back slightly, crossing her arms. “You are insufferable when you are like this.”
“And you are reckless,” he said flatly.
