Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Gage had her now. He wouldn't let go, but he could feel his elbows digging in to the softened earth. He wouldn't be surprised if the hole was some part of an underground offshoot of the overflowing creek. The rain had been constant over the past few days, and a few of his own pastures had flooded. Rain was good for crops, but too much of it could be disastrous.

He'd been on his way back from visiting his own tenant farms when he'd decided to call in on the Earl of Oberton to see if he had any ideas about irrigation. The earl's estate was thriving and didn't seem to have suffered as much damage as his fields had. It wasn't until he'd seen Lady Evangeline that he realized he'd also been hoping to see her .

Though finding her wallowing in a mud swamp hadn't quite been what he'd been thinking.

But it was a welcome opportunity to win her over, and he wouldn't waste it.

Shimmying forward an inch, Gage slid his hand over her slender wrist, putting most of his weight into his hips so that he didn't pitch forward and end up in the same predicament.

"Hold on," he said. "I'm going to guide you toward me."

She let out a shuddering breath as she closed brown-splattered, ice-cold fingers around his forearm. Gage's gaze jerked to her face. He hadn't noticed before, but the edges of her shell-pink lips were beginning to turn blue and her teeth were clenched tightly together. He could feel the cold damp seeping up from the wet ground beneath him, and a beat of worry pulsed through him. How long had she been stuck there before he'd come along?

"What were you doing?" he asked, inching forward again in a precarious balancing act, his core muscles burning as he fought to keep his lower half glued to the harder ground. "To end up here?"

"I saw a raven fall out of its nest."

His brows went up. "Where?"

"It was in that tree over there. It flew away."

Gage gave a mock grimace. "And abandoned you? How dare it be so ungrateful?"

"If I waited for the animals I rescue to thank me, I would be here a very long time." She gave a small shrug. "But even so, I'd much rather their mute ingratitude than dealing with those who have tongues and use them for sport to wound others."

The toneless edge in her voice told him much more than the words themselves. "Surely not all people are so badly behaved."

"No," she agreed after a moment. "Not all of them."

"All right, hold tight, but let your body go limp as though you're floating in a lake," he instructed her. "I won't let you go, I promise. Trust me."

He saw her eyes flicker for a moment before her pale, gilt-tipped eyelashes fluttered down and then she gave a short, decisive nod.

Pivoting his hips, Gage started inching backward. It was hard, grueling work, but with every sliver of ground he gained, her body crept forward. The trick was to keep consistent movement. With a squelching sound as though the earth were unwilling to release its hard-won prize, she came loose, offering just enough leverage for him to get his hands under her arms.

With a tremendous heave, he pulled her free, and they tumbled back to safety in a muddy heap. Gasping for air, she rolled to her side next to him as they both stared up at the blue-patched sky, breaths coming in stuttered pants. A barking, wet bundle of fur leaped on them. Lucky was obviously thrilled that her mistress was safe.

"Oof," he huffed when the dog jumped onto his midsection to get to her.

"Goodness, that was an adventure," she said with a breathless laugh as the dog hopped up to cover her face in licks. "Wasn't it, my sweet girl? We have a duke to thank." She glanced at him. "I'm not sure what might have become of us if you weren't here."

"You're both welcome."

Smiling, Gage stared at the dog. It truly was an odd-looking thing—likely the result of chance or a cross-breeding situation gone wrong. Trust the lady to love something that most others would deem unlovable. Lady Evangeline draped herself in thorns, but now, he caught a glimpse of that tender heart Lushing had said hid beneath that truculent exterior. It fascinated him.

She fascinated him.

"I've lost my walking boots," she lamented. "They were my only pair."

Still panting from exertion, Gage propped himself up onto one elbow, peering down at her. She was covered in brownish-gray mud and yet still made something inside of him tighten. It was concern, that was all. He swung his gaze down her dirty clothes, and sure enough, the points of her dainty toes wriggled within her befouled, soiled stockings. He frowned. "Your only pair?"

"I direct all of my pin money to the shelter. One pair was enough for me. Until now, that is." She stared morosely at the mudhole that had greedily devoured her boots, a stoic smile limning her lips. "No use crying over spilled milk, however. I shall simply have to borrow a pair from Viola. She has dozens. Her feet are smaller than mine, so they'll pinch a bit, but a little pain is better than an animal going hungry, isn't it?"

Her pale eyes glittered with purpose, and good God, Gage suddenly wanted to bottle some of that passion. How was she even real? She'd been stuck in mud for who knew how long, lost her boots, and still had the wherewithal to smile and think about her bloody strays. He stood and held out a hand, and before she could attempt to stand on her own, he swept her up into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked.

"You have no shoes," he pointed out. "It's a long way to the house, and I fear that Douglas, my coachman, might have gotten stuck."

"You cannot carry me all that way."

"You weigh hardly anything, and you're half frozen to death. I insist."

She firmed her blue-tinged lips into a mulish expression, eyes gleaming with what looked like unshed tears. "And I insist on walking, Your Grace."

Surprised at the intense reply, Gage stopped and gazed down at her. He didn't pretend to know or understand why she would insist on such a thing or why she suddenly seemed on the verge of tears after such fortitude earlier, but it wasn't his place to assume he knew better. He would not force her to accept his assistance against her will. Still, there was no way she could go barefoot without injury.

He exhaled, sat her down, and then proceeded to kick off his own pair of boots. "If you insist on walking, then you'll wear mine."

Glossy eyes widened as she swung a hand over his. "Vale, stop." She glared at him. "I won't take your boots, you vexing man. Will you cease this foolishness if I let you carry me then?"

"It's your choice, my lady. Boots." He extended his arms. "Or these."

"Very well, arms, though that's not much of a choice," she grumbled when he swept her up once more, sliding one arm beneath her cold, damp knees and the other behind her back. "Who gives away his bloody boots?"

Gage was pleased. Even though she was covered in mud, wet, and smelled like a pigpen, he savored the satisfying shape of her in his arms. And besides, he couldn't have gotten his new boots off without the help of his valet anyway—it took the strength of two men to pry them free.

"I'm heavy," she muttered after a while. "I'm not a waif."

"To me, you are," he said.

"You are rather enormous." She pursed her lips, staring at a point on his cravat, color flooding the tops of her cheeks. "I can almost imagine you throwing cabers around somewhere in the Highlands." A curious frown pleated her blond brows. "Are you a Highlander?"

"Yes." A rumble of laughter left him, even as his biceps gave an involuntary, prideful flex. "I hold the record in my mother's clan for best toss."

"That doesn't surprise me," she murmured and then worried her bottom lip. "I'm sorry about your coat. It's ruined."

"I'll add it to the favors you owe me. That's two coats now."

An indignant gaze lifted to meet his, and Gage bit back his grin. It was astonishing how her expressive eyes went from silvery gray to ice blue in a heartbeat. They were a mirror to her emotions; grayish when she was hurt or angry, bluer when calm, silver when heated.

She glared. "That was the kittens' fault, not mine!"

"They're your monsters, aren't they? Feline destruction happened on your watch."

"And who said anything about favors? I never agreed on any such thing." Those jutting cheekbones of hers flushed, and he let her stew for a moment, knowing her just nature would not let his help go unrewarded. "Fine," she grumbled eventually. "One favor, but only for the second coat. The first coat is what happens when you venture into a den of feral kittens of your own foolish will."

He hid his pleasure. "Very well."

"What kind of favor did you have in mind?" she asked, eyes narrowing with distrust.

"Nothing wicked, trust me." He couldn't keep the rasp from his voice.

The bit of muslin in his arms dropped her eyes, but not before he caught the slightest burn of reciprocal interest in them. If his own muscles weren't currently absorbed with the effort of carrying them uphill, he was certain other parts of him would have been at full roaring attention.

Thankfully, they were met halfway up the road by the earl's coach and several of his men, his own coachman among them. "Cracked a wheel, Your Grace," Douglas admitted sheepishly.

"I gathered so when you didn't return quickly." Gage canted his chin. "You weren't hurt?"

"No, Your Grace," Douglas replied. "And the wheel is being repaired as we speak."

"Good man."

Within minutes they were driven up to the house, whereupon Lady Evangeline and her canine companion were whisked away by a bevy of maids and Gage was escorted to a cheery salon, despite his missing coat and disheveled, mud-covered appearance. He was offered a hot cup of tea by the housekeeper, which he accepted gratefully, but did not sit. He didn't want to soil the furniture.

"It seems I am in your debt, Your Grace," Lord Oberton said, shuffling into the room with the assistance of a cane.

"Anyone would have done the same, my lord."

The earl shook his head with a slanted glance at the mud drying on Gage's waistcoat. "Not everyone would have gone to the ends you did. I thank you. If there's ever any service I can provide, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Truly, it was no hardship, but you are welcome." He set down his empty teacup.

"May I offer you something stronger?" Oberton asked. "Whisky, brandy, port?"

Gage shook his head. "Tea is perfect, thank you. Is Lady Evangeline all right? The mud was quite cold with the river runoff, so I hope she does not catch a chill."

"She seems to be in good spirits, given the circumstances." The earl let out a rueful laugh. "If you ever have children, Your Grace, I pray you don't have daughters like mine. Every gray hair on my head is because of those two. If it isn't Effie's misadventures, it's Viola's constant intrigues and flirtations." He shook his head. "How my eldest managed to find and get stuck in a sinkhole, I have no idea."

"She explained that she meant to rescue a raven."

The earl's eyes gave a fond twinkle. "Of course she did. Ever since she was little, she couldn't bear the thought of any creature suffering. I shall have to send men to backfill that area. It does tend to get marshy after a big storm. Something to do with the type of soil."

Gage was reminded of why he'd come in the first place.

He cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, Lord Oberton, I was actually on my way here to ask you about your fallow pastures and how you manage drainage. Mine are quite submerged, you see, while yours seem to be protected."

Oberton nodded. "It's a system of brick-lined barrages, clay pipes, and headworks that act as valves on each of the channels between the fields. So it sends the water when it's needed, and redirects it around the pasture, if there's too much."

"Ingenious," Gage said.

"Effie's doing."

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's her design." The earl's shoulders lifted in a proud shrug. "When she's not with her animals and her charities, she spends her time ensconced in the library, poring over manuals and civil engineering books. For fun, she claims. Much of the improvements at Oberton Hall, including the ones on the estate, are my daughter's doing."

"What have I done now?" the object of their conversation interjected.

Turning toward her voice, Gage froze. Her face was still pink from a recent bath, and she was clad in a clean blue muslin dress shot through with silver that matched her eyes. Pale, damp hair, pinned away from her face, hung in a loose sheet down her back. She looked no worse for wear after her valiant fight with a mud pit. In fact, she quite took his breath.

"Field irrigation," he answered in a rush. "Lord Oberton said it was your idea."

Her cheeks flushed as her gaze panned from the earl back to him. "Papa is exaggerating. I just suggested the design based on some simple research. Anyone could have done it."

Gage frowned. Was she embarrassed? She should be shouting her brilliance from the rooftops. Then again, if she were a man, she probably would have. Women in their world were held to different standards. Not in his mind, however—as he'd learned watching his mother be laird of a castle, handle hundreds of clan disputes, and negotiate dozens of political agreements, intelligence wasn't a factor of one's sex.

"Well, it's bloody genius." His gaze flicked to the earl. "Apologies, my lord."

"Don't on my account, I completely agree," Oberton said.

He bowed. "Thank you for the tea. Lady Evangeline, I hope you stay clear of mud traps in the future."

"I've learned my lesson, thank you, Your Grace," she said with a small nod.

Something glinted in her eyes as she stared at him, a thawing and a bit of goodwill, perhaps. It wasn't much, but it was there. Gage nodded back, but for some reason, when he should have felt elated at the victory, he felt guilt instead.

The earl's gaze swung between the two of them, intrigue clear on his face, and Gage squashed down his discomfort. He had no wish to lead her father on as well as to his intentions, but it was obvious that the man loved his daughter and hoped to see her situated. What father wouldn't? His guilt only sharpened.

He blinked and shoved the emotion away. He needed to remember what was at stake here. The lady might be splendid and smart in equal measure, but this was his life hanging in the balance.

Becoming intrigued by her would be a mistake… no matter how fascinating she was.