British Black Sheep - Lauren Smith Page 0,37

attention. It wasn’t a child’s book; it was a novel called The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle.

“You know, this was my favorite book as a child,” Brie told Trina.

“It was?” The girl’s voice was melodic like a songbird.

“Yes, you’ve read it before?”

The girl grinned. “Yep! My mom even let me see the movie. It was a cartoon, but it’s still good.” Trina opened her cookie parcel and took out a tree-shaped snack.

“Would you like me to read a little?” Brie opened the book where the bookmark rested.

“Yes please.” Trina leaned forward, her small delicate body still managing to carry some excitement despite her illness. She adjusted the stocking cap covering her bald scalp.

Brave, beautiful child, Alec thought.

Brie began to read aloud. Just as Alec had thought that first time he met her, she should narrate books. She used accents and special voices with ease, making the little girl laugh. By the time Trina had eaten half her cookies, she looked relaxed and fresh color blossomed faintly in her pale face.

Trina’s mother returned with a grateful look and reclaimed her seat. Brie and Alec said goodbye to the little girl.

“I’ll check out with the nurses and call for the car,” Julia said, leaving them for a moment in the hospital hallway. Alec held the mostly empty basket and turned to Brie. Her face was drawn and she was quiet. He wondered what was wrong, but quickly remembered that Brie had lost her mother to cancer. This had to be bringing back hard memories for her.

“You okay?” he asked.

She tried to smile but the expression floundered. “No…not really. Those poor kids. I’m trying so hard not to think about how much they’re suffering because it can drown a person but spending the afternoon here…it was good and a bit awful at the same time.” She sighed. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?” Alec gently caught her chin and lifted her face.

“Hey. I know exactly what you mean. No one likes to feel useless, and that’s exactly how we feel. We cannot slay their dragons, but we can give them a few hours of smiles and a dangerous amount of sugar.” He smiled at her, feeling a cottony warmth in his chest.

She smiled back. “Slay their dragons… I like that.”

“My grandfather used to say it. Sometimes you want to help someone but the only thing you can do is spend time with them. He used to say, ‘Alec my boy, you cannot slay another man’s dragons, but you can be that man’s friend.’”

Brie’s eyes softened with understanding as she gazed up at him. “I would have liked your grandfather.”

“He would have loved you.” Alec stroked his thumb over her cheek, tracing the faint smile lines around her mouth. Her sweetness was killing him.

“We should go before your mother sends a search party,” Brie said, stepping back.

Alec waited in the hall a few seconds before going after her. He’d meant what he’d said before. He’d wanted to be with her again. He wanted however many nights he could steal with her while she stayed at Merryvale. He knew she wanted him, too. He’d tasted the way she’d responded to his kiss, but she was holding back. He would have to show her that a hidden passion might just be what they both needed.

Brie had dinner with Alec’s family, plus Simon and Bridget. The formal dining room was put to good use. The dogs waited, half-hidden beneath the white tablecloth, as the first course was carried in. Copper and Pepper were silent except for the sounds of their tails thumping on the ground. Yogi must have been somewhere nearby because they could hear his heavy breathing, and Brendan kept covering his mouth to hide his laughter at whatever the bulldog was doing below the table.

Wedged between Alec and Morgan, Brie was once again treated to the humor of the brothers playfully antagonizing one another as everyone enjoyed their white onion and truffle soup.

“Fetch your notebook,” Alec said to her in a husky whisper. “I can tell you this recipe.”

Brie pulled her notebook from her bag and scribbled the ingredients and cooking instructions down.

“How do you know this one?” she asked.

“One should always memorize their favorite dish by heart.”

“Actually, it’s the only one he knows.” Morgan leaned in to whisper from other the other side. “Alec could burn a pot of hot water.”

Alec shot a glare at Morgan. “You don’t know how to cook either.”

“Not true.” Morgan shot back. “I know how to make Christmas