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angel entered, carrying a tray. Simon turned to her gratefully, glad to push aside the madness in his mind. Like the last time he’d seen her, she was dressed in nun gray with her dark hair pulled into a simple knot at the back of her neck. Probably she had no idea how erotic a woman’s nape could be when exposed. He could see little wisps of hair curling there and the beginning of the delicate slope of her white shoulders. Her skin would be soft, vulnerable, and if he ran his lips along that angle where shoulder met neck, she would shiver. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought, like a half-wit given a cherry pie.
    She frowned austerely at him. “Should you be doing that?”
    Most likely she was referring to his exercise, not the fatuous expression on his face. “Undoubtedly not.” He lowered his arm. This time it felt like only a thousand bees were stinging it.
    “Then I suggest you stop and have some supper.” She put the tray down on the table by his bed and went to the hearth to stir the fire, returning with a taper to light the candles.
    He raised his arm. “Ah. What delectable dishes do you have there? Pap in warm milk? A cup of beef tea?” Such had been the menu for the last two days. Hard, dry bread was beginning to sound downright delicious.
    “No. A slice of Mrs. Brodie’s beef and kidney pie.”
    He lowered the arm too fast and had to bite back a groan. “Really?”
    “Yes. Now stop that.”
    He inclined his head in a teasing half-bow. “As my lady commands.”
    She arched her eyebrow at him but didn’t comment. Simon watched her remove the dish cover. Praise whatever saints would listen, the lady did not lie. A thick slab of meat pie reposed on the plate.
    “Blessed, blessed lady.” He broke off a piece of crust with his fingers and almost wept when it touched his tongue. “Like the ambrosia of the gods. You must tell the cook that I am overwhelmed with devotion and will die if she won’t run away with me at once.”
    “I’ll tell her that you thought the pie very good.” She placed a slice of pie on a plate and handed it to him.
    He settled the plate on his lap. “You refuse to convey my offer of marriage?”
    “You didn’t mention marriage the first time. You only offered to disgrace poor Mrs. Brodie.”
    “The love of my life is named Mrs. Brodie?”
    “Yes, that’s because she’s married to Mr. Brodie, who is away at sea at present.” She sat in the chair by his bedside and looked at him. “You might be interested to know that he is considered the strongest man in Maiden Hill.”
    “Is he? And by that remark, I suppose you wish to cast aspersions on my strength?”
    Her gaze wandered over his form, and his breath quickened.
    “You are lying in bed recovering from a near-fatal beating,” she murmured.
    “A mere technicality,” he said airily.
    “But a decisive one.”
    “Hmm.” He forked up some of the pie. “I don’t suppose there is red wine as well?”
    She gave him a chiding look. “Water for now.”
    “Too much to hope for, I agree.” He swallowed a meat-filled bite. “Yet the wise men do counsel us to be content with what we have and so I shall.”
    “You’re very welcome,” she said dryly. “Is there a reason you’re torturing yourself by exercising your arm?”
    He avoided her topaz eyes. “Boredom, simple boredom, I’m afraid.”
    “Indeed?”
    He’d forgotten how quick she was. He smiled charmingly. “I didn’t get very far with my fairy tale last night.”
    “Do you really have a niece?”
    “Of course I do. Would I lie to you?”
    “I think, yes. And you don’t seem the kind of man who would be a doting uncle.”
    “Ah. What kind of man do I seem to you?” he asked without thinking.
    She cocked her head. “One who tries too hard to hide his soul.”
    Good God. For the life of him he didn’t know how to reply to that.
    Her lips twitched in that bewitching way she had. “My lord?”
    He cleared his throat. “Yes, now as to my fairy