Page 32 of Lyon of Scotland
She smiled, realizing he had stayed to watch over her, falling asleep there. Grateful for that, she felt something more runwarm and expansive through her. Affection, even love. It could be; she had hoped for that in her dreams all this time.
Ever since their first meeting in her father’s house, when he had smiled shyly and spoke quietly, she found him fascinating, felt drawn to him each time he visited. When she had imagined her life in the future, he was part of the dream.
He was a Highland laird, a peer, an official in the Scottish government—a man who scarcely knew her and need not spend time with her, yet he had kept vigil. That was beyond obligation, even if her father had asked him to visit her in London. It was devotion, kindness, and more. She was not certain why he would do that for her, but she was thankful he was here.
Stretching out her hand, she touched his, wanting to send him to find some proper rest. Though he did not wake, his fingers wrapped over hers. His touch was tender, familiar, as if her hand belonged in his.
Then she remembered more from the house where Dove had taken her. Strathburn had been there, his arms around her. She recalled his kiss, his touch, heat and flame, kindness and passion and safety, all at once.
She burned at the memory, cheeks hot, body hot, heart rippling in excitement.
His hand turned, his thumb soothing over skin. She did not pull away.
“Lord Lyon,” said a young woman. “Lord Lyon, sir. Pardon me.”
He woke, blinking. Georgina Gordon-Huntly stood in the doorway. Early morning light filled the room. Wiping sleep from his eyes, he sat up, glancing at the bed. Hannah Gordon lay like a sleeping beauty, honey-gold hair spread over the pillow, her body slim and straight under the coverlet. One arm was extended toward him, her fingers wrapped in his—
He pulled his hand away and stood hastily. “Good morning, Miss.” He cleared his throat. “What time is it?”
“Good morning, my lord. Seven-thirty. I apologize for waking you so early. But the doctor came to the door with Sir Walter and Mr. Lockhart, asking for you.”
“Oh?” Surprised, he tugged at his coat sleeves, his loosened neck cloth, his kilt. Across the room, he saw the housemaid drawing the curtains open. Last he had seen, she had been snoring in the corner. He had slept soundly too, even in the stiff upholstered chair. He shoved fingers through his hair and tried to focus.
Georgina went toward the bed. “Hannah! How are you feeling?”
Hannah Gordon was awake, blue eyes blinking wide. “Good morning,” she said, her voice hoarse. She glanced at him, a silent message flashing there.Please do not say where we were, what we did….
“The doctor is here to see you again, dear,” Georgina said. “I will bring him up when you feel ready. Would you like some tea and toast first?”
“I would love it.” She looked at Dare again, eyes limpid, lovely, shadowed.
“How are you this morning?” he asked quietly.
She pushed back her hair, a cascade of gold. “Better. Hot tea would help.”
“I will bring it up,” Georgina said. “Let me help you. Will you dress?”
Dare stepped back. “I will leave you two. Where are my friends?”
“In the breakfast room, where the kitchen maid is setting up coffee and such. If you would like to freshen up, there is an empty guest room across the hall.”
“Thank you.” The fog of the drug had left him, and he felt alert and hungry. And the sight of Hannah Gordon sitting up, smiling, lifted his spirits.
“I will fetch tea, dear, and Flora and I will help you dress if you feel up to it. Lord Lyon, thank you,” Georgina said. “You have done more than we could ask.”
“No trouble,” he murmured.
“Hannah, you were so ill, it worried me,” Georgina said. “What was it?”
“Just an ague, I think,” Hannah said, glancing at Dare, then away.
He gave a flat smile. Last night he had confided the truth to Linhope, trusting his friend completely. But Georgina knew only that Hannah had taken ill, having gone to the College of Arms that morning, and Lord Lyon had brought her home. Oliver knew that Dare had been at the Dove-Lyon house and believed he had stayed there to rest. Neither of them would ask more, he was sure. If the scandalous details got out, Dare feared for the reputation of this good Scottish family.
Truly, he was not sure Sir Frederic Dove would keep quiet—even if Dare met his demands and married Hannah in order to protect her from further humiliation. The man was unpredictable.
“How fortunate that your friend is a doctor, sir,” Georgina was saying. “Mama and my stepfather are away from London for a few days, and left Oliver and me to look after things. But Hannah needed urgent help, and you were so kind to make sure she got home.”
“I am very glad she is better. Let me leave you for now.” With a rueful smile, he left the room, aware that Hannah watched him, wide-eyed and silent.
