“Oh no you don’t, Master Sammy. That’s not for the likes of you,” Mrs. Sinclair scolded.

Without a word, Elise gathered up her gun and placed it out of the boy’s reach.

“Maeve, go run a hot bath for Lady Elise and tell Sarah to start one for Sammy,” Mrs. Sinclair said, picking up the sopping towel Sammy had dropped on the floor. “I’ll send a supper tray up to your room, Lady Elise, and check on you myself once you’re settled. That was a brave thing you did for that laddie.”

“I can’t run a bath. Sammy’s father’s waiting,” Maeve protested.

“I doubt Mr. Benson would make a very good nursemaid should Sammy take sick,” Mrs. Sinclair retorted, her dark eyes snapping to Maeve. “Sammy, go with Maeve. She’ll get you some dry clothes and something warm to drink. I’ll explain to your father.”

Sammy did not need to be told twice. He followed Maeve obediently from the room. When it came to his stomach, he was no different than other lads.

Mrs. Sinclair turned to Elise, hands on hips.

“I daresay you’ve hurt yourself trying to save that good-for-nothing bairn.”

“I’ll be f-fine.” Elise hated fussing, especially when it was focused on her.

“You just saved that wee laddie’s life. I’m fetching you tea.” Mrs. Sinclair bustled from the room, muttering under her breath.

The wind unleashed its fury with a deafening roar, and horizontal rain beat against the conservatory’s glass cladding. Leaning against the rattan chair to stay upright, Elise pulled off her boots, exposing her manicured toenails with their bright turquoise polish. Thankfully, she was alone, and no one could see the evidence of this feminine whim.

Behind her, the sound of a firm step on the tile had her spinning about. Harry Benson’s gray eyes swept over her. Something stirred in their depths, and he looked away. “They said Sammy might be here.”

“He’s having a bath. Your son took the dory out on the loch just before the storm hit.” Elise adjusted the towel on her head to keep it from falling off.

A dark scowl filled Harry’s face. “And you went after him,” he finished, still avoiding looking at her directly. He shook his head.

Elise glanced down at herself. Her clothes clung to her body. A hot flush burned up her neck, and she grasped another fluffy towel off the pile Mrs. Sinclair had provided and wrapped it around her torso.

“I’m sorry about Sammy,” Harry said. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No. I only froze half to death.” Thankfully, her weightless state in the loch had mostly protected her injury. But she didn’t want to talk about that. In her line of business, it was always best to go on the offensive. She marched barefoot to where he stood. “Have you found a nanny yet?”