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.
Something lightened in him too, as he drew closer, as he watched her smile, and Alex was shocked to realize he was nervous. He stopped a few feet from her bed.
"How do you feel, Alex?"
"Well."
"You look well. Impossibly so."
"Thank you. Won't you come sit with me?" He blinked, looked at her bed, and she realized that he was about to say no and rushed on to stop him. "No one would be shocked to find you here."
Ah, there was that hard jaw she knew so well. "No, I don't suppose they would be."
"I'm sorry, Collin. I'm sorry to have gotten you into this mess." She noticed the green cast on one side of his chin and cringed. Still, a bruised jaw was better than a broken nose.
He stepped closer then, bringing the scent of rain. When he sat beside her, she could not resist the urge to wrap her fingers into his hand. Collin watched this, staring as he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, a warm rasp of skin on skin. His eyes finally revealed something, a hot, fierce pain that startled her, even as she saw him leaning in to kiss her.
"Alex." Her name whispered over her lips as he pressed his mouth to hers. When his palm came up to cradle her cheek, she felt her heart break open and shine, so that she almost cried out yes! before he'd even asked for her hand.
His mouth slid from her lips to press kisses over her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose. "You scared me to death, ye wee brat."
"You sound just like my brother."
Grunting, he pulled back to sweep her face with his eyes, taking her in until she touched fingers to his jaw.
"I'm sorry he hit you."
"He had a right to it." His thumb traced her eyebrow, then her cheek, trailing sparks that swirled into her veins and down to her belly.
"Would you have missed me if I'd died?"
His thumb stilled, his hand firmed against her chin and that bright hurt lit his eyes again, fading her smile. "Aye. I had plenty of time to think how much I'd miss you."
Tears pricked her eyes, and, wanting to soothe his pain and her own love, she reached to curl her hand around the back of his neck, sliding her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt to the hot skin beneath. He leaned in when she pulled him close, and she kissed him, harder, more fiercely than he'd kissed her.
Collin tried to gentle it, but she opened her mouth and licked at his bottom lip, pressed between his lips with her tongue until he groaned and cursed and kissed her back.
She couldn't help a small laugh of triumph, a laugh that was caught by his questing mouth. Oh, his tongue was so hot, sliding over hers, and he tasted of tea and something sweet and of the man she wanted so much. She thought of that tongue and what it could do to her and moaned so roughly that he kissed her harder, till she sank back into the pillows and pulled his body atop hers.
When his hand wandered down to slide over her nipple, she cried out, high and loud, and startled him away from her.
"Ah, Christ," he groaned, pulling back till her hands fell away.
Alex pouted.
"I've insulted you and your brother enough. I meant not to touch you again."
"Ever?" Panic pierced her heart, but her pulse quieted at his quick smile.
"Not till we're married at any rate."
"Married?"
"Aye. Will ye have me, caitein? I cannot give you the life you're accustomed to, but I can provide. I've a home and servants. I own more horses than you'd care to ride."
"Yes."
"And I believe that—Yes?"
"Yes. I will have you, Collin Blackburn."
"You will?"
"If you really want me." "Oh, I want you."
"And not just to soothe your honor?"
"Ha." His hand rose to smooth her hair. "I'm finding it hard not to maul you in your sickbed. That has little enough to do with honor. And you? Would you marry me to honor your family?"
"Oh, you know me better than that, my lord. I care not a whit for honor."
His silver eyes narrowed at her, searching for an answer, urging her to offer him a reason, but she kept her lips tight together. Oh, she loved him, but she wasn't such a fool that she'd offer him that. He did not love her and, regardless what he'd said, his honor was the crux of this proposal. Still, he wanted her, and he liked her more than a little and that was enough. She would love him so well, be such a good wife, that he would fall in love with her before the year was out, she was sure of it.
If she could make this right. "Collin. . ."
