To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

"Do you know the way to Somerhart? The fastest route?"

She shook her head, looking as helpless as Collin felt. "There's a fork in the road two miles out. Take the east road, that's all I know. But it's hours away."

"I know. If anyone comes for her, you must tell them I've taken her home, understand? Her maid or driver. . ."

She edged the door closed, murmuring, "Of course. God keep you."

Chapter 13

The hours passed so slowly that Collin began to feel mad, began to wonder if he'd slipped into some nightmare where dawn did not exist. He was forced to go carefully; even his panic could not make him run the horses on the strange road. Then there were the frequent stops, to change mounts, to urge a few drops of water past Alex's dried lips. Sometimes she was sick. Sometimes she kept it down. Once, she even opened her eyes, such a shock that he nearly dropped her.

"Whatever are we doing?" she'd croaked. Before hope could surge in his chest, she'd tumbled back into sleep. Fi­nally, finally, just as he began to wonder if he'd ridden off the edge of the earth, the black lightened to gray, then to no color at all, and he could see.

He switched horses immediately, urged Samson to a tired run, murmuring promises of oats and hay all the while. He recognized the waking town he came to and knew it was only a few more miles to her home.

He did not waste time with wondering how to explain himself, but repeated the same questions over and over in his mind. Was the duke in residence? Did he keep a reli­able doctor close by? Or would Alexandra die under the care of a leech, without even her brother to comfort her?

Another hour passed before he spied the Red Rose.

Only a quarter hour more. A small weight fell from his shoulders. He could get her home at least. Get her into her own bed. He reined in suddenly at the sight of a familiar face. The innkeeper. "Mr. Sims," he called across the road. "Aye?"

"Is there a physician in town? Someone who tends the duke's family?"

Sims crept closer, suspicion wrinkling his red brow. He swept a searching look over Collin, tried to peer into the blanket. "Aye. There's Maddox. He's seen to them several times." He craned his neck.

"Send him up to the house, if you please. It's urgent."

Sims nodded, eyes still straining as Collin kicked the horse back to a run. Samson tossed his head in irritation, but he leapt to speed and delivered his riders to Somerhart with no more complaint.

Collin slid from the saddle before even the quickest groom had appeared.

"Somerhart!" He shouted as he crashed through the door. A hue and cry answered him, as several servants rushed for the entry. "Is the duke here?" he asked the man he recognized from his last visit.

"I beg your pardon—"

Collin threw back the blanket to reveal his fevered burden. The butler gaped at the swath of white skin revealed above her soiled dress. A maid gasped, loud and shrill.

"Your mistress is gravely ill."

"Jones," the butler barked to some invisible person. "His Grace is riding. Track him down. Bridget. Show this gen­tleman the way to her chambers." He glanced around, still dignified, but burning with purpose. "Where is Thom? He must be sent for the doctor."

"The doctor's on his way. I left word in town."

The maid began to scurry toward the stairs. Collin fol­lowed her, leaving behind a racket of whispers and urgent hisses. He flew up the soft carpet of the stairs, Alex lighter than she should be in his tired arms. When he laid her on her bed his muscles tingled and jumped at the strange­ness of having nothing to hold.

Bridget hovered, darting panicked glances between her mistress and the stranger. "Get some water," he barked. "A towel."

"I'll take care of that."

Collin turned to the scrape of that voice and found him­self face to face with six feet of outraged housekeeper. She shouldered Collin to the side and began to wash Alexan­dra's face, her arms and feet, clucking and shaking her head with every pass of the rag. Collin backed away, won­dered what to do with himself.

"She took ill around midnight," he finally contributed. The woman pierced him with green eyes. "High fever. She can't keep even water down most of the time." Collin looked away from her to Alexandra's face. Her teeth began to chatter, each shiver sending ice into his veins.

"Get out! I need to see her properly dressed."

Collin backed from the room, knowing he had no right to be there and desperately wanting to stay. He hovered just outside the chamber door and gazed dazedly around her sit­ting room, noticing only the oddest things . . . The rearing jade horse perched on the mantle, the small circle of a bright red pillow canted against a chairback. One yellow­ing glove lay on a table next to the window, beginning to crack with age. A keepsake, no doubt.

The hall door opened to a maid who bustled by, weighted down by a tray. Collin caught the faint spice of tea. He fol­lowed her back into the bedchamber.