unable to sleep, and never expecting to encounter anything but the light breeze against her cheeks and the soft twitter of birds in the blossoming trees.
She had not expected the morning serenity to be shattered by this big Scot hurling himself over the wall from the fashionable Mayfair street known as Chipping Way and crashing onto the charming bench designed for sitting.
He’d smashed it to bits with his less than elegant dive.
“Are you drunk?” He did not need to answer. She smelled the ale on his breath and the acrid scent of cheap perfume on his jacket. “Ugh, you reek.”
He lay atop the soft grass, blinking his eyes as he tried to focus them on her. “Pixie? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. I ought to be furious with you.” But she was afraid he had truly been injured. Getting him tended before he did more damage to himself was more important than lecturing him on the evils of his rakehell life.
She wasn’t even certain he qualified as a true rakehell because he was too hardworking, had a well-defined code of honor, and had always been a complete gentleman in all his dealings with her. “What are you doing here at this hour?”
“Looking for ye, lass. And I’ve found ye. How’s yer ankle?”
“Completely healed. Thank you for asking.”
He smiled at her with enough warmth to melt a frozen sea. But this was Robbie’s way, wasn’t it? He knew how to turn on the charm whenever he wished.
Perhaps she was being too hard on him.
He had never attempted to take advantage of her. Quite the opposite, he’d appointed himself her protector and been quite wonderful to her until the Marquess of Tilbury had come along and taken up the role.
She shook out of her thoughts and touched him cautiously, afraid he might have broken a bone or cracked his head against the wood as it splintered. “Oh, dear. The wood sliced your arm as it broke apart. You’re bleeding. Please don’t move. Let me get help.”
He caught her hand in his rough palm, his touch surprisingly gentle. “No, lass. Give me a moment, and I’ll manage on my own.”
“Don’t be stubborn. You need help. You fell off the wall.”
“I could have fallen off the roof and not hurt myself. When ye’re that drunk, yer body does no’ feel it.”
“You must be jesting. If you ever dare climb on the roof, I’ll grab a loaded rifle and shoot you off it myself.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a warm smile that brought out the handsomeness of his features. “Just get me to the kitchen. I’ll tend to the cut on my own. What are ye doing out here at this unholy hour? Isn’t Tilbury’s ball tonight? As his betrothed, ye’ll be standing by his side. Ye want to make him proud, don’t ye?”
“Yes...I just...” She frowned at him. “You had better sober up before the party. I won’t have you showing up in your condition.”
He reached up and caressed her cheek. “Heather,” he said, pronouncing it Heether in his thick brogue, “I canno’ go, lass.”
“Why, Robbie? Are you still angry with me?” She wanted to cry, for his presence mattered to her more than she would ever dare admit.
He did not appear quite so drunk as he gazed at her with gorgeous eyes the green of a lush, Highlands glen. She had expected to find them reddened and dissipated, but they were surprisingly alert and clear. This was Robbie, somehow always looking magnificent even when he ought to look like something the cat dragged through a fetid alleyway.
Even now, a lone sliver of sunshine managed to shine down on his head so that his beautiful mane, cropped short at the sides and thick on top in military fashion, appeared golden.
This was one of his most irritating qualities, his ability to look as glorious as a Scottish sun god no matter what befell him.
He caressed her cheek again. “I could never be angry with ye. Why would ye think such a thing?”
“Because you left town so suddenly after the new year and we never got to read that book together. You also stormed off after rescuing me the other day at Dahlia and Ronan’s house. Now my sisters are worried because they think I’ve put a hex on myself by not reading the book with you as I promised I would.”
He closed his eyes and moaned. “Och, The Book of Love. I have it in my pouch. That’s why I came here.