Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

“A much more comfortable dwelling,” he murmured. “Shells can be cold and wet.”

“Yes, but I shall be in very hot water when I return to my room,” replied Catherine. She bit her lip, her gaze turning wistful as she darted a look behind her. “I am forbidden to play in the fountain, but it looked so pretty in the sunlight, and the fish and their friends seemed to be having such fun.”

“So they do,” agreed Alec. “But as you have learned, it can be dangerous to play alone around water and such towering heights.”

“Accidents can happen, no matter how careful you are,” added Caro.

For an instant she shut her eyes, recalling a long ago day when she, too, had disobeyed the rules and run off on an irresistible adventure. To this day, she was still terrified of…

She quickly shook off the grim memory. Thankfully, Catherine had suffered no more than a tiny tear to her dress, which was easily mended. A small price to pay for a valuable lesson.

Lifting her lashes, Caro found Alec eyeing her quizzically. He then crouched down and put his hands on Catherine’s slim shoulders. “Miss Caro is quite right. So please promise me you won’t do it again.”

The little girl sighed, then gave a solemn nod. “Very well.” A pause. “I was a little frightened when I couldn’t get down,” she admitted.

“No harm done.” He smoothed a scraggly curl from her brow. “As for being in hot water, I am sure that Miss Caro and I can come up with a plan to keep you out of trouble.”

“You can?”

“Oh, indeed.” Alec shot her an amused look. “Miss Caro has a very clever imagination. And she’s very experienced at creating stories.”

“We need not get too imaginative,” murmured Caro. “We’ll simply say I asked you to show me the fountain, and you were kind enough agree. I was too curious and stood on the bench for a closer look and slipped. You tried to help me, but I knocked you into the pool.”

“And then of course, I happened along,” interjected Alec. “And rescued both of you.”

Catherine stared at them in open-mouthed admiration. “That’s a corking good bouncer! You think it will work?”

“Not that we are encouraging you to tell Banbury tales,” said Caro hastily. “But as this is a special day of festivities, we shall make an exception.”

Alec covered a chuckle with a cough. “So yes, Pearl, I daresay it will work.” Swinging the little girl into his arms, he set off for the back of the house. Caro gathered up his coat and boots, then hurried to catch up.

A quick explanation to one of the maids who answered the knock on the kitchen doors resulted in a flurry of activity. The nanny was called, Catherine was much fussed over, and effusive thanks were offered to Alec, along with a vigorous toweling of his boots and an insistence that he stand by the stove until his trousers were dry.

As Catherine was carried away to be given a warm bath and a posset of honeyed milk, the little girl managed a last little wave. And a wink.

“You are very good with children,” observed Caro, once she and Alec had made their way back to the gravel walkway.

“I like bantlings,” he replied. “My cousins have a great brood of the

m, so I often have them underfoot at my estate in Scotland.”

“And obviously children like you. They have an unerring knack for knowing when someone is insincere in their attentions.”

“They are not yet tainted by the sly subterfuges and false flatteries of the adult world.”

The hard-edged Alec was suddenly back, she noted with a pang of longing, the impish smile shuttered behind a sarcastic scowl.

They walked on, the crunch, crunch of the small stones the only sounds between them.

Caro slanted a furtive look at his profile, watching the slanting shadows sharpen his features. Only the fringe of his lashes, which caught a few flickering sparks of light, softened the somber shades.

“You are looking at me rather strangely,” said Alec abruptly. “Have I done something wrong, or—” He cut off with a wry grimace. “No, allow me to rephrase that. I know that you hold me in low regard, but have I done something recently to increase your displeasure?”

Caro looked away, embarrassed that he had caught her staring. “I—I can’t imagine that my opinion concerning your behavior, low or otherwise, matters to you, sir.”

“On the contrary, Miss Caro,” he responded gruffly. The breeze ruffled through his damp hair as he came to a halt and turned to face her. “It does matter to me.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but as the flutter of his open shirtfront accentuated the “V” of sun-bronzed flesh, her mind was suddenly blank. All she could muster was a faint “Oh.”