Read Online McAlistair's Fortune by Alissa Johnson - Free Book Online Page B

going to ask how I learned them?”
    “Same as everyone else. From others.”
    “I…” She pursed her lips. “I could have read them in a book.”
    “All of them?” He cocked his head. “May I borrow it?”
    She felt a smile form slowly. “Was that a joke, Mr. McAlistair?”
    He withdrew the cloth from her forehead. “Of a sort.”
    Of a sort counted, she decided. “Not half bad for a man who appears to be out of the habit.”
    “I wanted to see you smile.”
    Her heart warmed. “And a kind word to boot. I should make myself uncomfortable more often. It’s made you positively charming.”
    “Uncomfortable? Is that how you’d describe it?”
    She was surprised to see a muscle work in his jaw, more surprised to be the one responsible for putting it there. Studying him, she kept her smile in place and her voice light. “Well, I could use a few more fitting adjectives, but I do hate repeating myself.”
    His face visibly relaxed at her small jest. “Certain you’re all right?
    He leaned in farther, his eyes searching her face, and suddenly, she was all too aware of how close they were. He was so near, so very near, that she could make out the smallest details of his face. He had wonderfully long lashes, endearing lines at the corners of his eyes, and the single most enthralling mouth she’d ever seen. She wanted to brush her finger along the full bottom lip. She wanted to reach up and spear her fingers into his hair—hair, she noticed for the first time, that was not just brown, but a luscious blend of browns and blacks and even reds where the sun hit it. A few strands had fallen from their tie to frame his face.
    She imagined pulling him down for another kiss.
    What would he do? she wondered. Pull away? Push her away? Or kiss her back, cede to her demands and lie down where she could feel the weight of him, taste him, breathe in that aroma that only came in tantalizing wisps now.
    “Evie?”
    “Hmm.” He’d hold her this time, not stand aloof as he had before.
    “Evie.”
    “Hmm?” She blinked, snapping herself back. “What? What?” She focused her eyes and noticed that the tic in his jaw had returned. “I’m sorry?”
    “I asked if you were feeling better.”
    “Yes. No.” She grimaced. “Yes, I feel better. I’m sorry, I’m rather tired.” Deliriously tired seemed more fitting, given that she was daydreaming about ravishing Mr. McAlistair in the woods. How extraordinarily absurd.
    Well, perhaps the woods bit wasn’t entirely absurd, but the rest was several degrees, several dozen degrees, beyond ridiculous.
    “I’d like to get up.” She didn’t wait for his agreement, and he didn’t argue, but when she moved to stand, he put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
    “Sit. Rest.”
    “I’d like to, but…that is, I’ve need…” She waggled her finger at a thick clutch of trees.
    “To take a walk?”
    “What? No.” She dropped her hand. “Well, in a way. I’ve been on a horse for hours, Mr. McAlistair. I require a moment of privacy.”
    “Ah.” He straightened. “Do you need help?”
    Help? “With what?”
    “Standing. Walking.”
    “Oh.” Oh, she dearly hoped not. She wiggled her toes experimentally, pushed her heel down and felt the pull up to her hip. “No, thank you. I believe I can manage.”
    Please, please, let her manage.
    She accepted his offered hand, but let go with a great rush of relief when she found she could stand on her own without difficulty. Her leg was still tender and likely would ache for days. But she could feel her leg, put weight on it, and place one foot in front of the other, all of which meant she could take her moment of privacy without assistance.
    Thank heavens.
    “Don’t go far,” McAlistair advised.
    “I rather doubt I could.”
    She hobbled into the woods and muddled through the process of seeing to her needs out-of-doors. There were times, she groused to herself as she righted her skirts, that a woman should be allowed to wear