She looked up to see his shock. "I was to meet him at an inn on Saturday. And now he must be gone. I am sorry."
He did not look furious, exactly. "And you did not tell me?"
"No." She shook her head. "I wanted to keep you with me. And I did not see the harm. But it was wrong, of course. Selfish."
"Selfish."
"I'm sorry."
"Did he hurt you, Alex? Threaten you? If he—"
"No. I was scared, but he believed me when I acted as if I knew nothing."
Collin sighed, a deep exhalation that ruffled her hair. Then he offered her the last thing she expected: a smile. Strained, at best, but beautiful all the same. "Well, I'd like to strangle you, I suppose, but it's probably an unlucky way to seal a betrothal. And you are still weak."
"Collin?"
"Perhaps he's heard you are sick. He may still be hanging about."
"And perhaps he's heard that I was in the care of a Scotsman named Blackburn."
"Perhaps." He leaned in to kiss her nose. "But you are alive, Alexandra. And he cannot stay hidden forever. Now tell me about this inn."
The warmth in his gaze melted her heart and wet her eyes, so she sat up and buried her face in his shirt, breathing in the scent of her lover and husband. "I am so sorry. But I'll be a better wife than I've been a lover. I promise."
His laugh rumbled through her. "Do not make threats, caitein. Anything better would surely kill me."
Chapter 15
"And the Northumberland parcel? That should pass to a daughter, should it not?"
Collin blinked, trying not to doze, lulled as he was by the droning of the solicitors. Jewels, land, income, furniture. All of it had to be accounted for and documented. All of her wealth and he wanted none of it. Her money would remain hers. It would pass to any children, as would her jewels and land. The furniture . . . Ah, that had proved a sticky question. In the end, the furniture she brought to his home would belong to Collin. He would also be the proud new owner of a coach and four. He'd never owned a carriage before, but he couldn't expect his wife and offspring to travel on horseback and camp beneath the stars. So . . . a coach, some furniture, and a wife.
Still it went on. Collin had no idea what they were speaking of now, but at each utterance of the word children or offspring, a strange flutter buffeted his chest. Children . . . babies . . . Alexandra round and firm and huge with his child. Flutter. Flutter.
It was anticipation, certainly—warm and wonderful. But it was fear also. She was so tiny, how could she possibly carry a child of his? He supposed it was done. His own mother was only two inches taller than Alex, after all, and he'd turned out to be a great brute. And what a mother Alex would be— "You can wake up now. They're gone." He opened his eyes to find the duke smirking down at him, blessedly possessed of two glasses of whisky. "Is it over?"
"Yes. My sister has been successfully broken down into legal parcels and those parcels distributed accordingly. The final papers will be drawn up tomorrow."
&
nbsp; Collin gratefully took the offered glass and drank a healthy portion of it.
"You are better off than you let on, Lord Westmore."
"Collin. We are to be brothers, after all."
He waited for a sneer or a barb, but Somerhart merely nodded. "Collin. Well, you must call me Hart then, though I'll ask you not to use any of Alex's nicknames for me."
"Ah, no. Hart it is."
"You're avoiding the question."
"Which question?"
"Does Alex know just how comfortable you are?" "My assets are less than hers."
"Hers are substantial."