“’Tis late.” Leah stood and set aside her embroidery. “I’m for bed.”
Fortunately, that did the trick.
Ethan and Malcolm staggered to their feet, hugging one another and still laughing about cats. Then they pulled Fox to his feet and forced him to join in the hugging and backslapping.
Leah rang for William as she would need help getting the three men safely into their rooms.
Five minutes later, William had an arm around each of Leah’s brothers, helping them lurch out of the great hall. How he was going to manage the tight stairs with both men, Leah had no idea. Thankfully, she had asked a maid to light all the sconces in the stairwell so they would be able to see. Leah gave William strict instructions to ensure a chamberpot was close by each of her brothers’ beds. She suspected they would most definitely regret their life choices come morning, if not sooner.
Of course, that left Leah with Fox, who appeared a wee bit more steady on his feet, though he had to be just as drunk. He still swirled a half-finger of whisky in his tumbler.
Her brothers no longer in the room, his smile faded. He stared at her with hooded eyes. Not threatening or menacing. Just quiet. Contemplative.
“Are ye for bed, too?” she asked.
He nodded . . . but made no move toward the door. Even three sheets to the wind, he cut a striking figure—broad-shouldered and unbearably masculine.
“I like your brothers.” His tone was more open than usual. A layer of his guard had sloughed off, washed away in currents of whisky and port. “I always wanted a brother. I think—” He spread his arms expansively, swaying slightly. “I sh-shall adopt yours.”
She knew it was the alcohol speaking. That a sober Fox would hardly be so effusive, but his words made her smile nonetheless.
And yet, in the same breath, Leah mourned how little she knew about Fox’s life before that afternoon in Aberdeenshire so many years ago. She hadn’t even known he didn’thavea brother.
She remembered him telling her why he was named Fox. That his parents had died, and his uncle had purchased him a regimental commission.
But beyond that . . .
“I’m glad ye like my brothers. Of course,Ialways wanted a sister.” Leah seized the opportunity to quiz him. “Do ye have any sisters I could adopt in return?”
“No. I’m afraid I don’t have a sister on offer.” Fox shook his head, the motion causing him to stagger a step sideways.
Yes, he was drunker than she supposed.
Frowning, he tossed back the remaining bit of whisky. He stared into his empty tumbler for a moment before lifting his gaze and pinning her with his blue eyes.
“Was Malcolm . . . was Malcolm correct earlier today?” he asked. “Are you . . . are you unhappy, Leah?”
15
Fox’s question fair stole Leah’s breath . . . much as it had earlier when Malcolm first asked it.
Wasshe unhappy? She couldn’t quite say. She had been too busy to ponder the state of her life.
Fox grimaced again. “You’reveeeeeeryslow to answer that question, Mrs. Carnegie.” He tilted as he dragged out the word and ended up taking a stumbling step toward her.
She held out her arms, catching his chest with her hands. Her palms thrummed at the contact.
He pressed forward, putting more weight onto her, the smell of whisky on his breath. Clearly, he required an answer.
“I cannae rightly say,” she whispered.
With yet another frown, Fox pushed away and turned, hand reaching for the whisky decanter again.
“I should be happier if I knew yourself better,” she rushed to add, drawing his attention back to her.
“Me?”
“Aye. Are ye happy yourself, Fox?”
