To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)
"What?" That snapped Jeannie out of her brooding. "Oh, God no. We've known each other forever."
"But I would think, after so much time . . . You seem very close."
"Well, close in the way I am with my cursed brothers. We met when I was seven or eight and I suppose he caught me at a time when I was sick to death of boys. He was just a disappointment really. Another neighbor who wasn't a girl."
"And when you got older?"
"Hmm." Jeannie passed the flask back. "I willna say I've never noticed him, but I've been told my brothers are handsome—"
"Oh, yes."
"—So perhaps I was just exposed too young to braw, bonny men. It doesn't weaken my knees. Or anything else for that matter."
Alexandra sighed and wilted into the wall. "Well, he leaves me weak, I confess. Of course we've only been married a month now."
"And are you getting on?"
"Yes. Although . . ." Alex glanced in her direction, and Jeannie saw the pained tension in her face. "He is very dark sometimes. And the circumstances of our marriage—"
"What were the circumstances?"
"Oh, um. A bit of an indiscretion. My brother did not force him to the altar, but I doubt Collin would have thought of it if not for the . . . extenuating circumstances."
"Don't be so sure, Alex. He was quite fierce when he spoke of you."
"He spoke of me?"
"Oh, I caught him sneaking back into the ball that night with lilac petals in his hair." They both broke into giggles at the thought. "He was beside himself. 'Do not speak of this to anyone. She is a fine lady.' Needless to say, I was scandalized."
Alex laughed so hard that tears leaked from her eyes, and Jeannie grinned in delight, thinking of Collin tortured by love. The man had seemed to live like a monk before. But now . . .
"Really, Alex, I have never seen him so much as flirt with a lady. Do not doubt that he cares for you. Why, he stared at you tonight all through dinner!"
"I. . . Yes, but he seems angry, doesn't he?"
"He's just jealous. He didn't like the attention my brothers showered over you. And Fergus too."
Fergus, Jeannie thought. Fergus, who avoided her like the plague. Fergus, whom she'd spent so many hours watching from this very rooftop.
Alex leaned a little closer. "Jeannie, I couldn't help but notice. . ."
"Oh, I love him!" Jeannie cried, voice hoarse, rusty from the years she'd been waiting to say this very thing. "I love him, Alex. What am I to do?"
"Fergus?"
"Yes, Fergus. He won't. . . He won't hear of it. Says my father wouldn't consider accepting his hand."
"Would he?"
"No, that cold-blooded whoreson! He says Fergus has no money and no land and no hope of ever having either."
"Oh."
Jeannie pressed her knuckles to her eyes. "Alex, what should I do? It's been a year and I feel I'm going mad."
"A year since what?"
"Since he kissed me. Oh, he acts cold and indifferent now. But a year ago he caught me in the hall and told me to stop swishing about in front of him or he'd do something I wouldn't like. So, of course, I dared him to—"