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“No escort is required. Except perhaps to enter the barn,” he said.

Her eyebrows rose. “Because your master keeps a vicious dog within?”

His master? Was it possible that she did not know to whom she was speaking? A vision of how he must appear flashed across his mind: dark hair falling loose from the strip of leather he’d used to tie it back, a jacket so worn at the elbows as to show the white of his shirt beneath, and breeches and boots as old as they were muddy. It was no wonder. He did not resemble a baron in the least.

“You are mistaken, Miss …”

“Densley,” she said. “And I hardly think so. If you had not appeared when you did, that dog would have attacked me.”

He shook his head. “Patch is a trained sheepdog, not a hunting dog. She was simply protecting her puppies. In her eyes, you were the predator.”

She blinked. “But I was only trying to help.”

“She did not know that.” He paused. Perhaps a second introduction to Patch would be worthwhile. “Would you care to see what she is protecting so fiercely?”

Her eyes darted to the barn, and a flicker of fear crossed her face. “How many dogs are inside?”

“Five,” he said. “Patch and her four puppies.”

“There are four puppies?” Her eyes widened and he chuckled.

“Unless Soot has wandered off again. He has a tendency to do that, but he usually finds himself in the sheep pens.”

“His name is Soot?”

“Yes. He’s the only one that is all black.”

Her smile was unexpected. “It’s a perfect name for him.” She glanced at the barn again, indecision written on her face. “Will Patch growl if I go in?”

“Not if you are with me.”

She gave a brief nod. “Then I should very much like to see her other puppies.”