Though, thinking of Gabriel . . .
“Ye have yet to tell me why Gabriel favored such paintings.” Alex waved a hand toward Gabriel’s dragon still hanging on the wall beside his bed. “The dragon looks like a cross between a deranged lizard and an adder. Did Gabriel have a preference for painting mystical animals?”
“Like half-human dogs?” A smile touched Lottie’s lips as she reached for a loose pillow at the bottom of the bed, stuffing it behind her back. “No. His subjects ranged widely. His finest painting hangs in the library. It was also his last work, arriving only a month before his death.”
“What is the subject of the painting in the library? More dragons?”
“I would never spoil the surprise. As soon as you are able to move, I will show it to you.” Lottie smiled in earnest, a wicked glint touching her blue eyes. Wisps of silvery hair had escaped her chignon, ringing her head in a soft halo. She was shades of blue and gold.
I could look at her for days on end and never tire.
The thought bolted in and out, no less true for its brevity.
Did Lottie truly view Alex in the same fraternal light as she had Gabriel?
Because his thoughts of her were decidedlynotcousinly. He could scarcely think of her asCousinLottie.
Instead, she was this . . . this. . .
Och, blast it all.
He genuinely, thoroughly liked her.
No. It was more than that.
He was well and truly on his way to being smitten.
“I should take the dragon painting back to Grandmère,” Lottie continued. “It is her favorite. She feels that it encapsulates the passion that Gabriel had for his art.”
“And not my vile temper while under the influence of laudanum?”
She chuckled. “I’m not entirely sure the two are as different as you suppose them to be.”
Alex laughed, the motion jarring his bruised ribs. But the catch in his breath felt vital somehow, the cleansing act of laughter worth the wee stab of pain.
Their conversation roamed after that.
Alex described his practice in Edinburgh.
Lottie expressed her disgust with the current state of child labor laws.
Alex loved listening to her, he realized. The rasp of her voice as she outlined her goals.
He recognized himself in her words.
The fire within. The idealism. The deep-rooted need to alleviate suffering.
All the things that drove him to medicine in the first place—
To make the world a better place for him having walked through it.
Surely, he was not the first man to recognize Lottie’s internal magnificence. How was it she remained unattached?
“I wonder that you are not married, Cousin Lottie.” The words tumbled from him, as if his tongue were helpless to stem the tide of his own curiosity.
Her eyes widened, and she paused, head tilted to the side.
It was an exploring sort of expression, as if she were ascertaining the seriousness of Alex’s question.
