She paused for a moment and laughed. “Do you know, Alasdair, four years ago, just after we met, that was my fondest wish. That I would become ill or pretend to be ill and you would come and examine me.”
“Ye must ne’er wish to be ill.”
“No, of course not, it was just foolishness, I didn’t really wish to be ill, I just wished ... for you.”
He lunged forward and kissed her. He was still holding the plate of pheasant so it was awkward but she put her hands in his hair and held him there.
When the kiss was over, he returned to his seated position on the far end of the bed. He had pressed his body against hers during the kiss and had felt her softness, her curves, her warmth under the nightdress. The temptation to keep kissing her, to lie down beside her, to run his hands all over her body was very strong. To give her a version of the examination she had once longed for.
“Is flirtation,” he said and then cleared his throat. “Is flirtation the same thing as romance?”
“No,” she said. “And you prove that.”
“How is that?”
“You are terrible at flirtation but I suspect you have a gift for romance.”
“I see.”
“And that,” she said, “is far preferable to the opposite case.”
An hour later, they had eaten all the food. Arabella was lying back and groaning and saying she was exceedingly full and why had she thought eating the second tart was a good idea? Alasdair understood this was a rhetorical question and did not answer. He removed the tray to the table and lowered the wicks on the lamps and went and sat in the wing chair and put on his stockings. Then he took his tailcoat and draped it over himself.
The room was dark except for the glowing embers of the grate.
“You’re very far away, Dr. Andrews.”
“Aye. I saw ye have a ring on yer left hand now, Miss Lovelock.”
“Yes, Rebecca noticed I had no ring and gave me one. I don’t think she will share our secret with anyone else.”
“She is a good and true friend, then?”
“Yes.” A silence. “Are you really going to sleep in that chair?”
“Aye.”
“Is there anything I could say that might convince you to come into the bed?”
“Nae.”
“But I have thought of something. A text in support of my cause.If two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?Ecclesiastes.”
He couldn’t help himself. “Did my cousin the minister—did Boyd Cormack say that to ye?”
“Dr. Andrews, you must not always be so suspicious of me.”
“I’m sorry. ’Tis not ye that I’m suspicious of, Miss Lovelock.”
“I forgive you, Dr. Andrews. A little jealousy can add to the excitement of flirtation. But only a little. It’s like whisky for me. A little goes a long way. Too much is tiresome.”
He noticed she had not answered his question. He mustered his memory.
“God will not suffer ye to be tempted beyond what ye are able.Corinthians. Good night, Miss Lovelock.”
“Good night, Alasdair.” And the sound of a body shifting on a bed.
It was cold. He should have looked earlier for an extra blanket or rug to cover himself. But he didn’t want to get up and disturb her now with his movement. Then a much more urgent thought occurred to him and he got up and locked the door.
