Page 2 of The Highlander’s Unexpected Wife

They reached the end of the alley and halted. Streetlight illuminated the thin shawl she clutched to her chest. He couldn’t deny the relief. She wasn’t wholly wrong in that tongues would wag if she were seen getting into her carriage with her bodice ripped. The tear was enough to start scandalous rumors. Cameron wasn’t certain she hadn’t agreed to meet someone, but he didn’t give a damn how much a woman threw herself at a man, he had no right to rip the clothes from her body. Cameron grasped the shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. She stared up at him, eyes wide and adoring. God help him.

She dropped her gaze. “What you must think of me.”

“I think nothing,” he said. “Now, keep the shawl on your shoulders and no one will be the wiser.” He didn’t mention her hair. The girl might not come out of this unscathed.

“I hate to be the reason for your early departure,” she whispered. “There is no one home at my father’s townhouse. Father keeps a bottle of French brandy in his library. We can spend a moment alone. Allow me to properly express my gratitude.”

Cameron looked sharply at her. “Forgive me, Miss Lennox, but this behavior is likely to get you into even worse trouble than a torn dress.”

A tear slid down her cheek. By God, she could perform on the stage. He returned his attention to the street. He needed at least a respectable hackney. He caught sight of a gleaming black carriage four spaces down.

“It seems luck is with us. If I’m not mistaken, that is your father’s carriage.” He nodded toward the vehicle. “It seems he decided to attend the party, after all.”

He started forward, but she tugged him to a jarring halt. “I cannot be seen like this.”

“It is this or return to the party,” he said.

She glanced back at the mansion. “Please, my father cannot know of this-this incident. His driver will report to him that my dress was torn. I beg of you, take me home in your carriage.”

“Ma’am, I am afraid your family carriage is your only option.” He released her and stepped away. “Hurry along. I will inform your father you are in need of his attention.”

“But, sir, you cannot leave me out here. What if the stranger returns? My safety is in your hands.” Her brows puckered in a fierce frown.

If she threw a temper tantrum… “You disregarded your safety the moment you stepped into the gardens without an escort.”

Her lips pulled into a pretty pout. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

He was, but he didn’t want a public argument on the matter. “Nae, I am simply saying that I am not the solution.” He turned her toward the street. “I will watch until you are safely in the carriage. Then I will return to the party, find your father, and direct him to you.” He gave her a gentle shove.

She took a hesitant step toward the street. “Please, my lord, how will I survive the embarrassment?”

“There will be far less talk if you go to your carriage alone than if I escort you.” He suspected she knew that. “Your father can deal with your driver.” Cameron nodded toward the carriage “Go on now.”

She didn’t move.

If she wanted to stand in the street all night, that was her prerogative. He turned and took three steps back into the alley, then glanced over his shoulder. The little fool was halfway to the carriage. Although, he wasn’t sure who was the bigger fool. Her for venturing into the gardens alone, or him for giving her aide.

***

At the clatter of hooves coming to a halt on the darkened street below her bedchambers, Alison rose from the chair before the fire and went to the window. She recognized the carriage. Dim moonlight illuminated the coachman as he alighted from the driver’s seat and opened the door. He reached inside and helped a woman to the ground. Alison couldn’t discern her features, but the woman had to be her cousin Erin.

Alison gave thanks her cousin Henry was out for the night. Since he’d moved to Eversley Place nine months ago after the death of his wife, he’d taken more seriously his role as her guardian and asked far too many questions. She hurried from the room and slipped down the servants’ stairs. She reached the front door just as the knocker sounded. Alison opened the door.

“Of all the foolish—” Words failed as she took in Erin’s hair, which tumbled about her shoulders.

“I cannot return home,” Erin said.

Alison pulled her inside, then closed the door. “What happened?” She spotted a leaf tangled in Erin’s dark strands. “Are you hurt? Where are Lady Carrington and Annabelle? Why aren’t you with them? Why did you arrive in your father’s carriage? For heaven’s sake, Erin, tell me.”

Erin sighed. “It was wonderful.”

Alison frowned. “Wonderful? You look as if—” She spotted the torn dress bodice and yanked her gaze onto Erin’s face. “Your dress is torn.”

“Forget the dress. He could have torn it from my body and ravished me right there in the gardens.”

Alison stared. “Have you lost your mind?” Disgust overrode concern. “I need not guess the who you refer to.” Alison didn’t condone the games Erin played, but her younger cousin fancied herself in love, which meant any means to an end was justified. Viscount Weston, the future 8th Earl of Weston, had garnered Erin’s affection. “He was there?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.