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“Don’t worry. I’m actually very good at calming dogs.” He took a slow step forward, stretching out his hand. “There’s a good boy,” he said in a soothing tone. “No need to worry. We are friends.”

“I don’t think he’s worried. He’s mad.”

“He’s mad only because he thinks we will hurt him.”

The dog lunged toward him, snapping his jaws, spittle clinging to his mouth.

“Sebastian?” Evie whispered. “Maybe we should just vacate the path and let him pass.”

“He’s only testing me.” Bash grinned, not breaking eye contact with the beast, whose hackles were as high as ever as he growled. “That’s a good boy.” He took another step toward him, and the dog charged. Bash dodged as the dog snapped wildly, his claws spread.

Evie cried out, and Bash grasped her hand, running with her as the dog nipped at their heels.

“Can you swim?” Bash yelled, stripping off his coat.

“Yes, but—”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, plunging into the river’s depths.

Sebastian kept a firm grip on her, and together they kicked to the surface, gasping.

The beast stayed on the path, growling at them as the river swept them away from the imminent danger.

Sebastian stroked with one arm toward the bank, keeping Vivienne firmly in his other arm as she kicked, despite her skirts tangling her legs, and paddled with her free hand.

“Can’t risk climbing up on our side of the bank. The dog may follow,” Sebastian managed between strokes.

She nodded, concentrating on not thinking of whatever was touching her limbs in the murky water and focusing on kicking to the shore opposite the manor. Sebastian gripped the stones of the riverbank, his fingers white with the effort.

His chest heaved beneath the plastered linen. “Can you manage to climb up?”

She peered at the rocks. “I wish I was confident in my skills …”

“Can you hold on to my back?”

She blinked at him. “Pardon?”

“Wrap your arms about my neck and shoulders, and I can climb us both out of here.”

She eyed him. It wasn’t necessarily that she doubted his ability, but her gown was soaked and the stones were slick.

He flicked the dripping water from his eyes, grinning. “I can do this.”

“I know you can.” She wrapped her arms about him, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. Satisfied she was not going to fall, she said, “Ready.”

He braced his feet against the stone wall and reached for the first handhold, testing it before he trusted it as secure, slowly climbing up the bank, as if he had done it many times before.

Her grip slipped and she faltered, tugging him with her back into the water.

Water spurted up her nose, and she broke the surface, coughing.

His hand barely managed to wrap about her wrist as the current pulled them farther downriver.

They kicked back to the wall once more. He anchored them with one hand and slid her in front of him, the river dragging her against him.

“It might be easier if you are hanging on from the front of me. That way if you fall again, I have a chance to catch you before we are swept away.”

Her cheeks burned at her clumsiness. “Sir Sebastian, I-I couldn’t.”

He gritted his teeth. “I’m afraid you must. I may be strong, but I am not certain how many more climbs I have in me, and I am not about to leave you in the water while I climb to the top and reach down for you.

” He didn’t wait for her to agree and repositioned her before him.

She kept her arms about his neck, face-to-face with him.

He seemed so familiar in his mannerisms and confidence.

He grinned and began the climb again. When his arms stretched out, she was drawn even closer to him.

Instead of having their noses nearly touch, she decided resting her head on his broad chest would be the better of the two.

She attempted to keep still and hold her own weight.

She had no idea how he was managing the feat with her clinging to him, but he did not seem to doubt his ability.

He reached the top, gripping the stones. “Do you think you can climb onto the shore yourself?”

She reached for the bank, crawling up as gracefully as she could with her skirts clinging to her drawers. He followed behind, then sprawled on his back beside her, panting.

“So you are human.” She laughed.

“Just barely.” He winked at her, still breathing heavy.

She shivered, cradling her arms over her soaked gown.

“We best get you back to the manor before Grandmother or your companion wonders what has become of you again.”

He rolled himself to standing and lifted her to her feet. She shivered. “I am sorry I cannot offer you a dry coat. I can, however, offer you my arm.”

She accepted it. He nudged her closer to him as they hiked back toward the manor.

“I’m afraid it will be rather a long trek. The river took us at least three miles from where we fell.”

“So many?”

He nodded. “We are on our neighbor’s property now.”

“We best hurry, because I would hate to be discovered in such a state.” It was bad enough that Sir Sebastian had a view of her looking like a half-drowned bunny with her skirts and hair clinging to every curve. “Have you always had the ability to scale walls with a maiden on your back?”

“It is a requirement for becoming a knight—we must save at least one damsel in distress per annum.”

“I’m happy I assisted you in meeting your required number twice over.”

He laughed.

She had come to love making him laugh … and it was a dangerous thing, given it would all end soon. “Grandmother Larkby’s heart has been pressing on me every moment, Sebastian.”

He nodded. “As it has me.”

“What do we do? I cannot parade here as your wife forever. Have you thought of how to break the news to her?”

“I’ll admit that I haven’t wanted to give much thought to it. I hardly dare to hope.”

She nodded. She wouldn’t press him, not when she knew the pain of hope unrealized.

“Sir Sebastian?” A grand lady holding her husband’s arm appeared on the path that joined the riverwalk. “Whatever happened to you?” She eyed Vivienne, a question in her gaze.

“Greetings Mr. and Mrs. Waterbury. To avoid an aggressive dog, my wife and I were forced from the path.”

“How terrifying!” She gasped.

“You left the dangerous beast alive?” Mr. Waterbury frowned.

Sebastian gestured to himself with open arms. “I had no weapons on my person.”

“I’ll see to it the dog is captured.” Mr. Waterbury nodded as sharply as his tone.

“But not harmed,” Vivienne cried, thinking of Tess’s dog. He had been aggressive at first too—but that was because he had been forced to fight in gambling dens. Tess had spent months building trust and working with him, and now he was devoted to her.

Mr. Waterbury shook his head. “It needs to be put down.”

She gripped Sebastian’s arm. “Please, you must not let the dog be harmed. Mayhap he is afraid of humans. You said you were good with dogs.”

Sebastian nodded. “If you do manage to have him captured, Mr. Waterbury, bring him to Lark Manor. We shall see if he can learn to trust.”

Mr. Waterbury narrowed his brows, his disagreement evident. “Very well, but if a dog caused my wife to leap into the Avon, he would be dead by nightfall.”

“Then it is good that he happened upon us instead,” Vivienne murmured to Sebastian.

Sebastian bowed to the couple. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. and Mrs. Waterbury, we need to return home to change.”

“We can fetch a servant to drive you.”

“It would be faster to walk.” He nodded to them.

“We shall send around an invitation. Mrs. Larkby sent us a note telling us all about your new bride, and we must get to know her ourselves.” Mrs. Waterbury called after them.

The walk back to the manor was faster than she would have liked, even if she was soaked through. The thought plagued her. She should not be allowing herself to grow attached to a man whom she would hardly ever see after her part of the bargain was complete.

Bash panted as he slammed the crate door closed behind the starving hound that was tearing into the slab of beef inside. It was an old trick, but a good one. He wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned at Noah, who flopped on the grassy bank beside the wooden crate, breathing heavy.

“And that, my friend, is how you capture a wild dog.” Bash rested his hands on his knees, drawing in a full breath after the chase the hound had caused them. He hoped Evie would be pleased with his efforts, and that he’d managed to capture the hound without harm to themselves or the animal.

“Now comes the hard part. We must see if the dog is diseased or merely distrustful of humans. If it is a matter of trust, there is hope—” He paused at the sight of a rider astride a beautiful black mare cresting the far hill, in the unmistakable blue coat of the Royal Horse Guard and glinting helmet with its regal plume.

He squinted at the rider and back to Noah.

Whoever he was, Bash would need to hold the conversation in private.

“Noah, do you think you could manage to get the crate back to the kennels and then fetch Farmer Stone? His land is adjacent to ours, and he examines any of our animals who have taken ill.”

Noah eyed the dog inside that now lay on his belly, using his paws to hold the T-bone in place as he gnawed it. “If I got the cart from the stable, I could manage it with one of the hands and then fetch Farmer Stone.”

“Have Ladd pay him for his troubles.” He nodded, and Noah darted up, racing toward the stables.

The boy was eager to prove himself every day to Bash, it seemed.

He would have to reassure Noah that there was no need to be anxious, as he would not be easily fired from his position.

While his last employer ruled through fear and an iron fist, Bash and his family chose kindness.

The rider approached the stone bridge, and at the flash of a bright smile and dark hair under his helmet, Bash grinned at Wynn Paxton, his closest friend in the Royal Horse Guard.

“Wynn! What brings you to Bath?” he called as Wynn crossed the bridge.