“Ah, right again.”

“I believe you called it five earlier.”

“Close enough.” I waited until he’d hooked it up. “Right, let’s do this before the wind picks up.”

“It’s going to get worse?”

“Welcome to the countryside,” I said dryly. “This part of the road is a wind tunnel, so unless you want your car on its side in this water, let’s get moving.”

That made him react.

We both got in. It took us a good ten minutes because of the rubbish visibility, but I was able to pull him out of the flood water and into a dry space where we took off the winch, checked his car worked fine, and he turned it around. Miles followed me back up to the house and pulled up behind me, then ran back to get the gate.

That was nice.

My ankle was really hurting now, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it there without doing the same to the other one.

Apparently, anything was possible today.

We went in through the front door—carpets be damned—and I finally took him up on the offer to help take my boots off. My foot felt a thousand times better being out of the shoes, but I was still absolutely freezing and soaking wet.

“Oh,” I said after a moment. “I need to find you some dry clothes.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You’re soaking.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I keep a spare set in the boot. It’s not like I have a clean job.”

“Oh.” That was true, I supposed. Always handy, especially in inclement weather like this. Rain did tend to sneak up on one unannounced in this country.

Miles darted outside and returned in less than a minute with a backpack.

“Your clothes are in there?” I eyed it. “That doesn’t look like it holds warm clothes.”

“Warm enough,” he replied. “Anywhere I can change?”

“Oh, sure. Um, follow me.” I motioned to the stairs, hobbling slightly. “None of the spare rooms are made up, but I can get sheets and do that for you.”

“You can barely walk up the stairs.”

“A gentleman would carry me, especially since I just saved his arse, but I won’t judge you for not doing that. Besides, I need to get changed myself.” I made it to the top successfully and hobbled my way along to one of the spare rooms that was as far away from my room as possible. “Here,” I said, opening the door. “I’ll get some sheets while you change. If you put your wet clothes in the laundry basket there in the corner, we can wash and dry them tonight.”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“No problem.” I swallowed and backed away, heading in the direction of the airing cupboard where all the bedding was stored.

At least I hoped that was where it was stored.

Thankfully, I was saved the embarrassment of having to traverse a four-hundred-year-old manor house for spare sheets by the fact they were in the exact place I thought they would be.