Nicholas stared at him a long moment, his eyes moving to Alan’s chest, where he watched the gentle riseand fall for several moments before turning abruptly to Gillian.
“What is this? I was told he was dying.”
Gillian seemed frozen in her chair, hands folded primly in her lap. A slow blush climbed from her neck, staining her cheeks. Too terrified of him to speak? He had that effect on many people. The devil earl, they called him—murderer of wives and children.
“He is.” Her answer came out in a rush of breath just as he turned away. He turned back quizzically.
“He has been dying for months. You know that.”
“Aye, but that’s not what the letter I received said.”
Her lashes fluttered nervously, hands gripped tightly in her lap. “What did it say?”
She was lying. She knew what it said. He gave her a narrow look before returning his attention to the bed. Her skirts rustled as she came to the bedside.
“What did it say?” she repeated, her voice strong and steady.
“As if you don’t know.”
She let out a small breath. “I do not!”
His mouth twisted with disbelief, but he said, “The letter claimed he was at death’s door. That this is it— he’s to die before first light.”
“Oh.” She looked at her father askance.
Nicholas snorted softly and glanced away dismissively. “Wake up, old man.”
Before he could shake Alan awake, a small, pale hand touched his sleeve. “Wait.” Though she looked meek, a thread of command ran through her voice. She met his gaze. “Why did you make that noise?”
“What noise?”
Color slowly filled her cheeks again, and she dropped her gaze. Her chin immediately popped up, as though she forced herself to be bold. “You think I am lying.”
Nicholas’s mouth curved. “I know you are.”
She blinked at him, her mouth slightly ajar, exposing a line of small, white teeth. “But I am not! I knew nothing of a letter, only that you were summoned. I did not know why. Father has been trying to bring you here for months!”
Summoned. He should be insulted. A mere chieftain did not summon an earl, but then nothing about his relationship with Alan had ever been normal.
“Aye, letters and letters in which he tried to foist you off on me. I’ve had a taste of the MacDonell idea of fidelity, and that was quite enough, thank you. Your father is fortunate we are friends. I could have forced the betrothal, or demanded restitution for his default. But I did not.”
“He offered restitution.” She drew herself up taller and squared her shoulders, though her chin trembled and she nervously twirled a silver ring on her finger. “Me.”
Nicholas looked her up and down. She was a beauty, all soft curves, but he did not exaggerate when he said he’d had his fill of duplicitous women. He wanted nothing more to do with MacDonell women.
“I’m not interested. I never was.”
Her throat tightened, and her strong stance slowly sagged. She looked away from him, to her father.
He felt a small stab of remorse until she said, “Mysister is not as horrible as you believe. She did not even know you. Did not know anything about you but the rumors. She entered the betrothal in good faith, not expecting to fall in love with the knight who delivered her.”
“Aye, it was quite inconvenient for all parties.”
Gillian nodded quickly. “I respect your own . . . disappointment, my lord, but—”
“You are mistaken if you think me disappointed. Indeed, I am overjoyed to have discovered her true nature before being tied to her for life.”
The corners of Gillian’s mouth tightened, and she darted him an irritated look. She returned her gaze to her father and took a deep breath. “It is unfair of you to judge me by my sister’s actions. I am not like her . . . we weren’t even raised together.”
