To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

"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?"