"She'll be fine. But the wound needs stitching." Alex hunkered down to Jessie's level. "You must lie very still, lassie. 'Twill only be a few pricks and we'll be done."

Jessie battered him with her fists. "Go awa'! Dinna hurt me!"

"Jessie!" Her mother helplessly wrung her hands. "Ye must listen to the laird an' do as he says."

Jessie only cried louder and thrashed harder.

Helen took firm hold of the girl's dainty shoulders. "Sshh. Let me tell you a story, Jessie. It's about a beautiful, brave princess who found herself the prisoner of a wicked beast. But you must be quiet now if you wish to hear all the adventures she had."

Jessie took a few hiccupping breaths. Her stiff muscles relaxed slightly under Helen's soothing massage. She gazed up wide-eyed, her face streaked with tears. "W-what was her name?"

"Her name was Helen, just like me. She traveled all over the world with her father, the king, and they visited many strange and wonderful places. Like the ancient pyramids of Egypt and the bazaars of Baghdad. Once, she even fed the monkeys on the Rock of Gibraltar."

"How did the princess get caught by the beast?" Jessie asked. She didn't seem to notice that Alex was carefully cleansing her oozing wound.

"Well, one day while they were visiting the strangest and most wonderful land of all, her father was called back to his kingdom. But Princess Helen was so eager to explore the lovely countryside that she decided to go on without him, though people warned her the mountains were enchanted, and that a fearsome beast lived there. Princesses, you see, are not easily frightened away by fearsome beasts. No matter how loudly they roar." v Helen saw Alex's lips compress, though his attention was focused on the curved needle which he plucked from the tray of implements. Seeing that he was about to suture the wound, she hastily continued. "One sunny morning, Princess Helen set out to explore the mountains. But by the afternoon, when she ventured deep into the forest, an icy wind began to blow and snow fell so thickly she feared she might freeze to death. Just then, she came -upon a beautiful castle with lights twinkling in every window. When she knocked, the door opened by magic. She called out, but no one came. So she hastened toward a warm fire crackling on the hearth and a table laden with a fine feast of hot soup and cake and sugar plums.

"After the princess had enjoyed the most delicious meal of her life, a noise came from the shadows. She saw him then-the beast. He was big and fierce-looking, as shaggy as a bear. He said that eating his food had cast an enchantment over her and now she belonged to him forever."

Jessie had her thumb in her mouth, sucking hard while Alex finished the few stitches and knotted the end. From the black look he sent Helen, she knew he understood that the feast was their two idyllic nights together.

"The princess was afraid at first, but though the beast growled and snarled, he never, ever hurt her. As the days passed she saw kindness in him. And she learned he had once been a handsome prince until an evil witch had hexed him. Only a love pure and true could break the spell." Helen lowered her voice to a husky murmur. "The princess was determined to love the beast. She was the one woman who could heal his heart."

Alex uttered a low, derisive sound. But his hands were gentle as he applied a clean linen bandage with sticking plaster.

Jessie pulled her thumb out of her mouth. "Did the princess ever turn the beast back into a prince?"

Smiling, Helen rubbed the child's small back and ignored a fierce glance from Alex. "Of course, she did, darling. No matter how difficult the task, princesses always accomplish what they set out to do."

Over the next fortnight, his wife was a constant presence and a source of endless irritation. Alex did his best to drive her away, though when it came to bodily tossing her out of his office, he found he couldn't do it. So he raged and snapped, willing her to take the hint and leave him alone.

But nothing he said seemed to discourage her, and after a time, he noticed all the little ways in which she changed his life. She assumed the role of an adept assistant, brisk and cheerful with the natural ability to calm his patients. She rolled bandages, handed him instruments, and gave sympathy to the fearful. On busy days, she brought him a hot lunch on a tray. Somehow she found out all his likes and dislikes-no doubt by gossiping with Flora-and made certain he had bannocks and blackberry jam for his breakfast, cock-a-leekie soup or smoked haddock with his dinner, along with a glass of his favorite ale. On cold, dark days, when the mist came down from the mountains, she brought him piping hot tea with shortbread.

He tried escaping the house, calling on patients. But as often as not, he would encounter his wife in the glen on her rounds to visit the crofters. She delivered broth to the sick and blankets to those in need. Often she simply sat down for a chat, getting to know each and every one of his people.

Her people now, too, she had said.

He seethed with rage at the way she was deceiving them into thinking she truly cared. He wanted to warn them that Lady Helen was only playing at being the laird's wife. When she tired of living her princess-and-the-beast fairy tale, she would go scuttling back to civilized England.

But he gritted his teeth and said nothing. Time would prove him right. He was the MacBrut. He could outwait one paltry female.

If lust didn't kill him first.

She never mentioned their two nights together. Yet with every swish of her silk dress or whiff of her sultry scent, she teased him. With every smile, every casual brush of their hands, she reminded him that she was his for the taking. He could lock the doors and have her right there on the cot in his office. He could go to her chamber at night and lose himself in the sweetest pleasure he had ever known. She was his wife, after all.

But coupling held the risk of pregnancy. He could not condemn another child-his child-to a mother's abandonment.

By the time three weeks had passed, he existed in a purgatory of perpetual arousal. Need for her made him irritable and edgy. So did his need to know she had not conceived. By his calculation, she should begin her monthly flow any day now.

One morning, she entered his office looking pale and fragile. It was on the tip of his tongue to inquire about her health when Jamie came knocking on the door. A horse had kicked him. While Alex cleansed the bloody hoof mark on the stableman's shoulder, Helen stood close by to hand him a linen compress, then the basilicum ointment to treat the wound.

He and Jamie exchanged a bit of banter, but she didn't join in as usual. Perhaps she had started her courses. The thought cheered Alex. Women- were often peevish around that time, weren't they?

When he held out his hand for the bandage, she didn't give it to him. He shot her a frown, only to see her swaying on her feet. Her face was milk-white, her hand pressed to her mouth.

The signs of illness jolted him. Even as he took a step toward her, she uttered a little sigh and crumpled into his arms.

Chapter Eight

Helen couldn't fathom why she still lay abed when daylight flooded the room. Then Alex's big form moved between her and the window to block the blinding sun. And it all came flashing back to her: seeing Jamie's injury, feeling queasy and light-headed in the moment before all went black.

Alex must have carried her upstairs to her own bed. She blinked at the square canopy with its plain blue curtains. The sheets felt smooth and cool to her perspiring skin.

His face taut, Alex towered over her. "How are you feeling?"

Her head ached. Her palms felt cold and clammy. Worst of all, her stomach churned. Determined not to show weakness, she pushed herself upright. "I feel perfectly fine-" A rush of nausea overwhelmed her.

Luckily, he had the chamber pot ready. Through her misery, she felt the gentle stroke of his hand on her brow. He murmured something soothing, but she felt too wretched to pay attention. When she was done, he handed her a glass of water. "Rinse your mouth," he ordered.

She meekly obeyed. Then she lay back with her eyes closed, mortified that he had seen her at her worst.

Something deliciously cool came down on her forehead. She groped to touch it. A damp cloth.

The mattress dipped as Alex sat down on the edge of the bed. "Now," he said, "how do you really feel?"

"Better."

"And what do you suppose is the source of this illness?"

She had a suspicion she knew. But he looked disgusted, and she didn't feel strong enough to ward off his attack. "There's a family with the croup-"

"You dinna have the croup." He grimaced as if he'd choked on a dose of bitter medicine. "I would guess, Lady Helen, that you're pregnant."

Pregnant.

Rather than face his ill humor, she closed her eyes again. She had wondered about her unsettled stomach. And her monthly time was late by a few days. She had hoped and prayed, and her prayers had been answered with a baby.

Despite her physical discomfort, she felt a great surge of joy. Their lovemaking had started a new life inside her. They would be a family now, and Alex could not send her away. Because in nine months-no, eight-"she would give birth to his baby. The sheer wonder of it lent her strength.

"In late June," she said, opening her eyes. Her happiness blossomed into a smile. "So much for your knowledge of fertility."

His mouth twisted scornfully. "Aye, I blame myself for this mistake. I should ha' turned you out when you came crawling into my bed. You're the last woman I'd choose to be the mother of my bairn."