The Savage Miss Saxon by Kasey Michaels

“But I must tell you that your granddaughter has little reason to love me. You see, sir, she hasn’t exactly had an easy time of it since she set foot on her homeland.”
    “It is not my homeland, and you know it,” Alexandra interrupted.
    “Sit still and keep your mouth shut!” her grandfather commanded in a voice that shook the gin goblets. “Linton—carry on.”
    “Yes—er—yes, sir. Well, as I was saying, Alexandra has had quite a time of it. Traveling by post chaise is never comfortable, and from her few confidences it would seem her journey was more uncomfortable than most. Possibly this explains the extreme fatigue that led her to take herself off to a bedchamber last night without first making quite sure she was—er—precisely where she thought she was. You see, sir,” and now Mannering measured each word carefully, “she thought she had arrived at Saxon Hall when in reality she was somewhere else altogether. As a result, she spent the night under the roof of an all-male residence, unwittingly compromising herself quite thoroughly.”
    Sir Alexander bounded to his feet, the bench he had been sitting on toppling over onto the stone floor. “By Jupiter, I never before heard the like. Whose roof was she under?” he asked, leaning his hands on the table and peering into Linton’s face.
    Nicholas swallowed hard. “In point of fact, sir, it was my roof.”
    Here it comes at last, Alexandra thought smugly. Now this insufferable, one-eyed simpleton will get his comeuppance. Go on, grandfather, she urged silently, tear a strip off his hide. Her satisfied smirk faded before it ever really had much of a chance to begin, however, when Sir Alexander boomed, “Confound it, lad, that’s a splendid piece of news! I had thought you had taken one look at the gel here and fallen arsy-varsy in love with the chit like I did with her grandmother. Stands to reason, don’t it, for she is a fetching piece. But this is even better—compromised her, did you? Splendid! Never could abide those long-drawn-out engagements. With any luck I should have a great-grandson to dandy on my knee before the first snowfall next winter.”
    Now it was Alexandra’s turn to hop to her feet. “Well if that don’t beat the Dutch!” she charged. “My own grandfather pushing me into marriage within an hour of learning of my existence. Well, let me tell you, old man, I’ll be having none of it. Harold! Harold! ” she yelled in the direction of the kitchens, “ N’dellemúske! Wischiksik! ”
    For once Sir Alexander was nonplussed. He looked from his granddaughter to Lord Linton in bewilderment before at last asking, “Who is Harold? Why’s she spouting gibberish?”
    The huge Indian had heard Alexandra call to him that she was leaving and wished him to come quickly. Such a command was not to be taken lightly, he knew, and he took one last bite of the greasy meat he had been throwing down his gullet with as little notice to its spicy flavoring as if it were no more seasoned than a bit of brown bread before running soundlessly up the stairs and into the Great Hall.
    “I said—who is Harold?” some strange-looking fat man dressed up like a wild turkey was asking as the Indian entered.
    Drawing himself up to his full height, Harold strode kinglike into the Hall, not stopping until he was breathing straight down into Sir Alexander’s face. “ Lennápe n’hackey ,” he pronounced in regal tones—telling Sir Alexander he was a Lenape—whereupon the old man took three paces backward and, tripping over the raised platform, plunked rudely rump down on the boards. By Jupiter!” he breathed in awed tones. “By bloody damn Jupiter...”

Chapter Three

    A lix wearily dragged herself up the steep spiral stone staircase that led from just outside the Great Hall to her own sleeping chamber, her feet treading soundlessly in the moccasins Harold had sewn for her the previous summer. As she climbed, she began working at undoing the dozens of