Hunter Of My Heart

A few moments later, Sabrina waved to her aunt. Already air filled the sails, resembling giant pillows against a gray counterpane. The air smelled of rain. As the storm that had killed her parents unfurled in her mind, a prickling sensation inched down her spine. No! Everything was her grandfather’s fault. They wouldn’t have been at sea had it not been for him. Dropping her trembling hand, she whirled away and hurried toward his lordship’s coach.

Although Kenilworth was on her heels, she beat him and the driver to the door. She yanked it open. Plopping down onto a leather squab, she laced her fingers tightly. “Let’s attend your business.”

“No curiosity about why I agreed to take you to Dunfermline?” He slid into the seat across from her and eyed her steadily.

“Your affairs are your own.”

“I only agreed so we’d have some time together.”

Sabrina’s blunt nails dug into her hands.

Hunter’s long, heavy stride kicked up amber leaves. He and Sabrina walked down Edinburgh’s Princes Street where well-heeled citizens observed the gardens and entered fashionable shops. Smelling faintly of Scotch whiskey, the air teased Hunter’s nose, and, despite the early hour, he considered indulging in a tankard of ale himself. Yet, he didn’t dare. The letter she just tried to post would have been a bullet to his gut. He still couldn’t believe she would pursue an annulment behind his back.

Now, besides preserving his own hide and Gavin’s, he also needed to stay alert. Hunter thought he had passed the worst moment of his life by entering into an unwanted union. Taming her was his mission...that and to investigate her and Sadlerfield’s past. He wanted to gain the upper hand. The person who caused the debt weighed on his mind, too, as did his father’s whereabouts. Dissolving the marriage never entered his mind. He should have learned from her past actions.

Sabrina’s recent deed in the goldsmith’s shop proved she’d continue to defy him, thwart his intentions. Planning his caveat pumped his blood. He tightened his hold.

Just when they reached his coach, a little boy ran beside them. “Milord! Pansies fer yer lady?”

Hunter’s heart twisted, sending a thick lump to his throat. Gooseflesh riddled the lad’s exposed arms, and his toes curled and flexed against the cobblestone walk. Drooping violets provided a color relief to his faded garb.

Hunter released Sabrina’s arm. “Take the flowers.”

She threw him an uncertain glance, then accepted the bouquet. Pausing, Sabrina looked down at the urchin who appeared no more than half-a-dozen years old.

Reaching into his pocket, Hunter retrieved a handful of shillings and pressed them into the lad’s upturned palm. “Find some warm clothes and a cobbler. Winter will arrive soon.”

The boy beamed, and his amber eyes turned round and shiny as the coins. “Thank ye, milord!”

Sabrina brushed the child’s cheek with a trembling hand and her eyes glistened with tears. Suddenly Hunter saw her as just a woman with a tender soul, and something odd tugged at his heart that further stoked his sympathy. Looking abashed, the boy made an awkward bow and dashed away.

When Hunter moved to take her arm, Sabrina’s letter to Norton rustled in his pocket. He straightened, suppressed his emotion for the child, for the unnamed feelings her tears evoked. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her upright. How could he be so stupid as to show his compassion? He forgot Sabrina’s keen eyes and quick mind.

Hunter helped Sabrina into his coach and it dipped as he seated himself. The interior quickly captured the mingled scents of gardenias, violets and rich leather He rolled up the shades.

Sabrina adjusted the skirt of her dark brown traveling gown and gave him a wavering smile. “You were very kind to help him.”

His jaw worked. “I purchased the flowers to get rid of the lad. Don’t make my act into anything more.” He nodded toward the violets she still held in her hand. “You wanted romantic baubles? You have them. Flowers and that ring on your finger.”

As she hit the leather seat with her fist, the violet petals flew helter-skelter. “More cynicism? Isn’t one jest on me enough?”

“Perhaps when you quit fighting our marriage.” From the pocket of his gray frock coat, he removed a missive. “Slipping the goldsmith a letter to your solicitor? Do not try to contact him again. Is that clear?” He threw her a piercing look.

Mutiny glimmered in her eyes. “My father told me never to submit to a man’s demands unless I agreed with them in my heart. I cannot wear this ring.”

“No more foolishness like this. No more ideas about annulments.” He held the letter she’d written to her solicitor.

She looked down at her tightly clasped hands. “The missive wasn’t just about that. My aunt has...children. If something happened to her, we needed to arrange for my guardianship.”

“Nothing will happen to her.” As they passed St. Giles tower, Hunter ripped the letter into shreds and tossed it out the window.