Page 65 of The Scottish Duke
“For her arthritis,” she said.
“What would you prescribe for me?” he asked, sitting on the stool next to her. “What ailments would you treat?”
“I think it would be best for you to consult your physician,” she said.
“Then you believe in modern medicine.”
“Of course I do.”
He reached out and fingered several of the closest bottles. Since none of them were potential poisons, she allowed him to examine the labels.
“Are there herbs of a singular nature here? Something along the line to prevent a woman from having a child, for example?”
He glanced over at her and smiled that wolfish grin.
“No,” she said.
“Pity,” he said, reaching out with a forefinger to push a bottle back in line. “You might have used it for yourself.”
“Is that what you’ve come to say, your lordship? That I might have been more careful? What an insightful comment. I would never have considered such a thing if you hadn’t mentioned it.”
“Mouthy little piece, aren’t you? I hope you put that mouth to good use with Alex. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? As a reward for your, shall we say, talents?”
She was too warm, the waves of heat rushing over her also spawning nausea. She rose from the stool and moved to the door, avoided looking at the earl.
He was, in his way, as frightening as Reverend McGill. But the reverend had only accused her of being a harlot. He hadn’t treated her like one.
At the door she folded her arms and stared at him.
“I’d recommend St.John’s Wort,” she said. “It helps reduce the craving for spirits. It also aids in brightening the mood.”
“Do you think I need to be treated for my craving for spirits?”
She wanted the earl gone, out of the cottage. Whether he liked it or not, this was her home, and he had no right to insult her in it.
“I’ve never seen you sober, your lordship. I would venture to say you begin your day with whiskey. Or brandy. Or wine. So, yes, I think you have a greatcravingfor spirits.”
His face lost its leer. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she might have surprised the man.
Did he expect her to sit there and cry because he was being mean to her?
“Thank you for coming to welcome me back to Blackhall,” she said, making her way to the front door. As she passed the kitchen she motioned to Peter, then turned to the earl. “I’m sorry you have to leave so soon, but perhaps next time you can let me know you’re coming. I’ll brew you a tea.”
“Something to give me the trots, no doubt,” he said, surprising her with an amused smile.
“No doubt.”
“I like you, Lorna, the maid. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, you would have chosen me over my nephew.”
She kept her smile fixed by sheer will.
“I think we could have had a most interesting relationship,” he added, nodding to Peter and leaving the cottage.
As the door shut, she said, “Tak the door wi’ ye.”
Peter grinned at her.
“Are there any other Russells at Blackhall?” she asked Peter.
