To Tempt a Scotsman Page 16

  A groom stood waiting for him at the front steps, a shadow of blue against the glaring white facade of the house. The moment Collin's foot touched the ground, he was assailed with anxiety. Was she awake? Would her eyes widen in horror at the sight of him among her family? She might not even know what had happened, might not know that their secret lay exposed.

  Collin gave a polite greeting to the butler, instead of rush­ing past him as he had done before. The man was cool. . . Cooler than he was to anyone else, Collin could not say.

  "His Grace awaits you in the library," the man intoned, taking his hat before he turned to lead the way.

  Collin stared at the balcony above and did not curse. The library first. Fine. Alexandra was out of danger. He could stand to wait a moment.

  When the library doors opened, when he saw Somerhart standing in the window, fear spiked his blood. Something was wrong. The always impeccable man was disheveled, his face tired and creased with worry.

  "What is it?"

  Somerhart blinked at him, hand tight around the handle of a porcelain cup. His frown was blank, as if he couldn't quite place this strange man in his home.

  Collin's chest twisted. "She's worse."

  "No. No. She's resting. She's better. I, on the other hand, am exhausted."

  Collin's shoulders slumped with relief, his knees too, forcing him to collapse into the nearest chair.

  "I must look even worse than I feel."

  "Can I see her then?"

  "I just left her. She's just fallen asleep."

  Dryness burned his eyes. They felt large, swollen till they pressed against their lids, scraping the flesh. Collin rubbed them carefully, heard the whoosh of her brother dropping into a chair close by.

  "She nearly died last night. I nearly lost her."

  "But the fever has broken?"

  "Yes. At three this morning. She finally quieted and her skin cooled. I thought she had died, you see. I thought she was dead and growing cold with it. But it was only the fever breaking."

  The pain in Collin's eyes eased, and when he opened them he realized they were wet. Somerhart's face twisted, as if he too would weep, but his eyes were dry. Dry and sunken.

  "You may ask for her hand, if that's what you plan to do. But I will not force her to anything. She is alive and that's my only care. She may do what she wishes. She may move to town and wear her breeches to balls and have my blessing."

  "I would not want a wife who didn't come willingly."

  "Well, good luck to you then."

  Collin stared at the duke's hand, at his fingers looped carelessly in the handle of a teacup. The cup was empty. Collin felt almost as empty inside. He wouldn't be at ease until he saw for himself that she was out of danger. Lean­ing forward to rise, he was stopped by a sudden, sharp glance from Somerhart's bloodshot eyes.

  "You had best be sure you can make her happy if you mean to marry her. I will kill you if you break her."

  Collin nodded. "She would not settle for anything less than happiness."

  The duke seemed to measure him, seemed to try to draw something out of him with his gaze. Whatever he found must have been enough, because he leaned back with a nod. "Well, do your best then. I wouldn't start measuring for a new jacket just yet though."

  "No. But I am at an advantage. She is weak and not in her right mind."

  Somerhart's rusty laughter followed him from the room.

  Chapter 14

  Do not let Collin fool you with his scowls and curses. I have never seen him enamored before, so I can only guess that this is the cause of his current mood.

  And imagine how excited I was to learn that you are a scandalous woman. What better neighbor could I hope for? Please consider accepting Collin's pro­posal, whether he has made it or not. We are sadly in need of interesting women here in my part of the Low­lands. And, of course, Collin would make as fine a husband as a man can. Faint praise, I suppose, but I feel certain you are well aware of his best qualities.

  Alex tucked the letter back under her pillow with a crooked smile. What a character Jeannie Kirkland was, and what a perfect friend she would be.

  Collin had not proposed yet, not again, at any rate, but she was rigid with the knowledge that he would He would certainly not be lurking about her brother's home if he did not intend to do the honorable thing.

  Yes, Mr. Blackburn, please come in. Shall we leave you two alone for a spot of bed play, then?

  Alex smothered a giggle. This was not the time for light­ness. She had to focus. She'd been utterly unprepared for his visit this morning, as no one had seen fit to inform her that he'd not only stayed in town but had actually been admitted to Somerhart itself. Nobody had mentioned one word about him, actually, and she'd been afraid to ask. Then his voice had rumbled just outside her door, an­swered by a maid's low murmur, and Alex had burrowed into her pillow like a squirrel seeking cover. Why her first inclination had been to hide, she couldn't guess, but hide she did, pulling the covers up to her nose and her braid over her cheek.

  That bit of cowardice made her glad now, for even after an hour she couldn't begin to think what to say to him. An apology, certainly. There was no possible pleasant scenario she could conjure of his welcome to her home. At best, he'd been shamed by his own conscience, at worst her brother had done him violence.

  And now he would have to propose again, and a refusal would not come so easy this time. There was Collin to think of, his pride and honor, and the shame he would suffer to be known as a debaucher of women, something so truly at odds with his character that it hurt her chest to think of it.

  Her brother must be considered too. He could not help but be ashamed of her now. She'd lied to him, sullied the Huntington honor in selfish disregard of his feelings. She could've claimed naivete as a defense the first time; now she had no excuse but her own slatternly nature. So there were two men who would suffer for her refusal of Collin's offer.

  And she herself, would she suffer? She thought of Collin's presence in her room, of the scent and shape that was his alone, of the shiver that took her skin even as he stood in the doorway. And when he'd smoothed his fingers over her cheek, when he'd leaned in close and whispered a prayer of gratitude over her head . . . Oh, she'd almost thrown her arms around him and wept in happiness that he was hers. So, yes. Yes, she would be injured too, if she sent him away, possibly more than anyone. She loved him. She loved him, and how could she not?

  But she was a pragmatic girl, or so Collin had told her. He did not love her and might never love her. And what of her freedom? What of her precious independence?

  Alex reached for her tea and nearly spilled it with the clumsy lurch. My God, she was weak as a newborn foal. And probably looked something like one too.

  The cup cracked sharp against the saucer when she set it down to grab the tiny bell beside it. Danielle flew in from the dressing room before she'd even finished the first peal.

  "Mademoiselle?" Her deep curtsy dizzied Alex's tired eyes.

  "Oh, would you please stop that? It's my brother who's angry with you, not I."

  "Your brother pays my wage."

  "Well, I will pay it myself if your security would be improved. You'll not be dismissed. I don't even have to argue for you. Hart knows that I placed you in an unten­able position."

  "He did not seem so understanding yesterday."

  "He was only worried for me."

  "And so were we all." She gathered brush and ribbon and jerked the bell pull in passing. "It was a close thing, you know. His Grace had lost hope."

  "Well, the problem I pose cannot be gotten rid of so easily, I'm afraid. And you did not tell me that Collin had been here."

  "I did not know myself. No one is speaking to me."

  "I am sorry, Danielle. Things did not go as I'd planned."

  "It's fine. I did enjoy my week, though it was not worth risking your very life."

  "Mine was." She settled against the pillows with a sigh, enjoying both her memories and the
soothing whisper of the brush over her hair. A quick peek revealed her maid's sparkling look.

  "That good, was he?"

  "Oh, you have no idea. I did not, at the very least."

  "Will you marry him then?"

  Alex's happiness trailed away, the loss punctuated by a snarl the maid caught with the brush. "I am considering it." She thought of his hands slicking over her naked skin. "I am sorely tempted. What do you think?"

  "I think if Scottish footmen look like your Mr. Black­burn I would be content to move north."

  "Ha."

  "And I think that if a man can tempt you to marriage, then you'd be wise to marry him. You've never been tempted before, not that I can recall."

  "No." She thought of Collin again. Of him older, hair graying. Thought of him cradling a tiny child in those mus­cled arms. Her heart warmed, melted a little, the heat of it dripping down to pool in her belly. "He's a good man. He would be a good father, a good husband." She thought of his dignity and honor. "I don't think he'd be unfaithful."

  "And you love him, do you not?"

  A smile trembled over her lips. "He is easy to love."

  "That is the best kind of man."

  "Have you ever been in love, Danielle?"

  Her maid's pert nose wrinkled. "Definitely not."

  "Not even a little?"

  "Hmph," she sniffed, nose now raised in the air. "And who am I to fall in love with a pale English boy? I loved my father and I was rather fond of that chef your brother hired just before we left London, but he kissed like a farmer despite his airs."

  "Like a farmer?" Alex laughed. "Whatever does that mean?"

  "He kissed like a man who must hurry back to the fields, not a man who has time to savor."

  "Ah."

  "And your Scotsman? How does he kiss?" Alex closed her eyes, imagined his mouth falling to hers.

  "He kisses like . . . He kisses like a man who knows what he wants and will never have it again." She bit her lip, body already tight with the memory of pleasure.

  When her eyes slid open, Danielle's wicked smile made her blush. "He loves you, Mademoiselle. Marry him."

  "I wish it were that simple."

  "He is poor, no?"

  "I don't care if he's poor. I have money enough. The prob­lem is his pride, a worse fault by far. And he doesn't. . . He doesn't truly want to marry me."

  "Pah. Men cannot be depended upon to know these things. You do what you want and he'll follow along easily enough. . . If you keep him pleasured."

  "Well." Alex felt a blush creep up her skin, though it wasn't embarrassment. Awareness, more likely. "Well, I would do my best, certainly."

  Her maid smoothed the dark curls up to the back of Alex's head and began to braid just as a young maid rushed in to curtsy, cheeks flushed pink before the scandalous Lady Alexandra.

  "Bring a bowl of hot water. Some soap and towels."

  "Oh, a bath, please," Alex interrupted.

  "Non. Tomorrow, maybe. The doctor has ordered that you not be chilled."

  The girl bobbed at the maid's narrow look and rushed from the room. Danielle coiled the braid and pinned it before heading toward the sitting room. She returned with an armful of lace and linen.

  "Something pretty, I think. Blackburn is still below."

  Her heart fluttered so, Alex wondered if the fever had made a sudden return. But no, strength rushed to her shaky limbs as the seconds ticked by. Oh, it was a fever, but it was no illness.

  "Is he waiting then?"

  "That's my understanding."

  "I would imagine my brother cannot have made him too comfortable. Hurry and get me out of this gown."

  A quarter hour later found her scrubbed and tidied as well as she could be. The barest touch of rouge dispelled the sickly pallor from her cheeks and lips, and Danielle had pow­dered her face to help conceal the dark hollows beneath her eyes. She no longer resembled a day-old corpse at any rate.

  Her brother came to her room first, carrying a tray for her, of all things. His blue eyes seemed soft with sadness, though he smiled when she greeted him.

  Alex could count on one hand the number of times she'd felt uncomfortable with her brother. This was one of them. She'd seen him only briefly this morning and had been too tired to consider what he might think of her, but now . . . Now there was no ignoring it.

  "You look splendid, Alexandra. How are you feeling?"

  "Well."

  He leaned close, arranging the tray on a side table and moving closer still to press a firm kiss to her head. "You must never scare me like that again, pet. You stole a decade from my life, at least."

  When he sat on the bed, hip pressed to hers, she saw the marks of exhaustion on his handsome face.

  "I promise never to fall ill again," she said with a solemn smile.

  He did not return it, not until his eyes had studied her face for long seconds, then he relented, white teeth flash­ing. "Well, this deadly fever was an excellent ploy to dis­tract me from your recent misstep." Alex's heart throbbed in a hollow chest, but he still smiled. "It worked. I am not half as angry as I should be."

  "No?" Tears burned hot in her eyes.

  "No, not half. Do you love him or was this a lark?"

  "I. . . I'm not sure. I think I may. Love him, I mean."

  "He claims he offered marriage and you declined."

  "He did, and I did."

  "But you say you might love him? Is it his standing then? His pedigree?"

  "No, no. None of that."

  "What then?"

  "He did not truly want to marry me, Hart. He only pro­posed after. . . after. . ."

  "After what?"

  Alex shrugged and looked down to her hands, so that the two tears that fell wouldn't leave tracks in her powder.

  "What he said was true? You were a virgin?"

  She let her silence answer. What could she say? She had never dreamed she would be discussing her deflowering with her brother.

  Hart took her hand and cradled it in the warmth of his long fingers. "Why did you let him think the worst of you, Alexandra? Why did you let me?"

  She blinked the last of the wetness from her eyes, a fa­miliar anger burning them dry. "No one even asked me. No one ever asked if I was a strumpet or just playing at being one. Well, I was only playing at it, but once I was caught, I. . . I was almost relieved."

  "Alex, how—"

  "Can you imagine being set loose in London for the first time—to dance and drink and flirt and laugh—set free to have the best time of your life and knowing all the while that you must find a mate and put it to an end? I daresay you've never been tempted to marry; why should you have been? I wanted to have everything. Everything that you take for granted."

  His mouth fell open and stayed there, as if he had lost whatever word was set to emerge. He blinked and closed it. "I had no idea you were unhappy."

  "I wasn't unhappy, really. Or I didn't know I was. I just wanted something that I couldn't put a name to."

  "Sex?"

  A nervous cough choked her. "No, not that exactly. A re­prieve, I suppose."

  "Alex, you were free to take your time. Two Seasons, three or four. I wouldn't have cared."

  "Oh, I had planned on two at least. But I ended up with only a half. A reprieve indeed. A full commutation from the sentence of marriage."

  "And is that what you wanted?"

  Alex smoothed her hands over the pale blue of her bed, trying to find her words, her thoughts. "I've been happy since then, I think. Useful. But now. . . Now I find myself wanting more than just usefulness."

  "Blackburn seems a good sort, or he did before he turned up on the doorstep with my little sister in his arms."

  "Is that how it happened?" She blushed at the tight set of his mouth.

  "You remember nothing, I suppose?"

  Her blush heated and spread down her neck. "Not after a certain point."

  Hart's scowl seemed to warm the air. "Well, luckily, I do not know those details,
but Blackburn says you took feverish in the middle of the night. He carried you here on horseback, afraid to trust your health to a midwife or herbalist. He brought you here and refused to leave."

  "You let him stay?"

  "Not under my roof."

  "No, I wouldn't think so. And how long was I ill?" "Five days. Five nights."

  A shock of horror jolted through her. "Five nights? What day is it?"

  "Sunday."

  "Sunday? Oh, no!" Damien. She should have told Collin at the beginning. Perhaps he wouldn't have left the cottage immediately. And now he would hate her.

  "What is it, pet?"

  "Oh, I. . . Surely he. . . Collin. . . Surely he needs to return home."

  "I gather that he had planned to visit your cottage for several days at least."

  "Um. Yes, I guess he did." She plucked at the bedspread, mind buzzing, unable to think of anything more to say.

  "Well, I'll send him up then. I don't doubt he will pro­pose, but I did not ask him to, mind you. I would not force either of you to marriage, you understand?"

  She nodded.

  "You are free to do what you will. Do not marry him unless you think you will be happy. It is your decision."

  "Yes, Hart." "I mean it."

  She nodded, then twitched in surprise when he swooped in to hug her.

  "I love you like no other, Alexandra. And I understand you. We are too much alike, you and I."

  "Ha!" She forced a laugh past her tight throat, pressing her face to his familiar shoulder. "Do not insult me."

  "Watch yourself. I still owe you a thrashing."

  His arms slipped away, leaving her laughing, but her laughter faded as he stalked from the room. Was Collin wait­ing outside the door? Did she have only a moment to prepare herself or half an hour? The answer arrived immediately.

  "Alex."

  She could read nothing in him but tension, but she re­membered the words he'd whispered over her that morn­ing and forced a smile. Perhaps he would not hate her. Perhaps she could make this right.

  "Collin." Just saying his name gave her a happy jolt, or maybe it was his body, large and male and in her bedroom. She felt a real smile bloom.