Page 131 of A Scot Is Not Enough
“According to theDictionary of Sir Thomas Elyota plaid is ‘a garment consisting of a long piece of woolen cloth.’ I also consulted the dictionaries of Messrs. Robert Cawdrey, Richard Mulcaster, and Edmund Coote and they concur with Sir Thomas Elyot. Highland plaid is wool. There is no mention of silk.”
He set the dictionary on Fielding’s table, while Grub Street’s writers were scribbling in their pocket journals.
Alexander was solicitous. “I brought Cawdrey, Mulcaster, and Coote’s dictionaries for evidence. Would you like me to read them as well?”
Fielding’s glare would melt ice. “That won’t be necessary.” He closed the dictionary and shoved it aside. “Have you any other evidence you’d like to submit?”
“Yes, my final affidavit.” Alexander set a sheet of paper in front of Fielding.
Cecelia touched her temple.When would this charade be over?She had never fainted in her life, but herlimbs were weak and her pulse was racing. Events of the past few days were catching up with her—her life was catching up to her. There was an awful spinning in her head and her belly as if she was twirling faster and faster and might retch.
She was doomed. Fielding would never rule in her favor. But Alexander stood proudly beside her, looking at her, his kind, intelligent eyes shining with love. He was still in the fight.
“Miss MacDonald pleads the belly,” he said.
“What?” She clutched Alexander’s robe, her pulse weak. The world was going black, but his was the last voice she heard.
“I am the father of her child.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Cold water dripped down her temples and into her hair. She was weak as a lamb, stripped to her shift in a bed, decently soft, but not her own. She turned into a down-soft pillow, Alexander’s scent in her nose. He was nearby. She could feel his presence, which was confirmed when the mattress dipped under his weight. How glorious was the feel of him, so close. She kept her eyes closed as he removed the cloth, refreshed it, and wrung it of excess water.
A kind hand wiped a cool cloth down her cheek.
“I can tell you’re awake,” he said.
She mumbled a groggy, “How can you know for sure?”
“I’ve watched you sleep.”
“Well, if it’s all the same, I’ll keep my eyes closed. Interesting things happen when there’s a washcloth in your hand.”
His quiet laugh was diabolically seductive.
“I’m glad you’re better. You had me and some very flustered Scottish women worried.”
She cracked open her eyes. “I imagine they would be, finding that I am with child.”
“There is that.”
A boyish grin spread at being called out on that bald lie.
Every nerve in her body gloried in his nearness. She couldn’t be angry with her brilliant knight in black-robed armor, though Alexander presently nursed her with his sleeves rolled up, his barrister’s robe and peruke carelessly draped over a chair. His future, it seemed, was likewise carelessly tossed aside—for her.
She covered his hand on her face. “What were you thinking?”
“That I must save you, no matter the cost.”
Her heart beat violently in her chest with need and love and deep, deep hurt. What an impossible combination to hold inside. They tumbled incongruently, her joy and her sadness. Any chance for letters patent had vanished the moment he signed the affidavit, claiming to be the father of an unwed Jacobite sympathizer’s child. Never mind the charges leveled against her. And never mind that she was not with child.
“I’m a besmirched woman.”
“And I love you just as you are. I love the way you curl your foot under your bottom when you sit in your favorite chair. I love your zeal for baked goods and overwrought romantic stories. I love your saucy tongue and your sharp wit and the way you look at me when either one of us says something clever. And I want us to never stop discovering each other... for as long as we live.”
Happiness flooded her. The world was right eventhough there was much that was wrong. Somehow the mess outside was bearable—because of him. She picked a loose thread on the sheet.
So, this was love, diving headlong into the unknown with a bridge of words under their feet.
