The Groom Says Yes Read Online Free Page A

right; Sabrina had no choice but to accept the marriage.
    Sabrina would become an unwanted appendage in their lives, a shadow of what she’d once been. Then she would die. Alone. Unmourned. A morality tale to young girls of what happened to the unmarried—
    Her thoughts broke off as the hairs on the back of her neck tingled with awareness.
    She might die alone, but she was not alone now.
    In the space of a pause, she’d heard someone else’s breathing, a heavy sound as if with difficulty.
    Slowly, she turned, and her heart gave a start.
    A man blocked the doorway to her room. He leaned against the stone wall as if needing support to stand.
    He had the disreputable appearance of a brigand or a pirate. His black hair was overlong. A beard shadowed his jaw. He was tall, lean, muscular—and deathly ill.
    His eyes burned with fever, he said, “Help me. Please. Water—”
    His plea broke off as he fell to the floor at her feet.

Chapter Three
    S abrina stared at the man sprawled out on the floor—and then thought to scream.
    She wasn’t one for hysterics. Her belated cry sounded as if she had been startled by a mouse, not a well-over-six-foot man with villainous looks.
    A man who had dropped like a sack of grain . . . and didn’t appear to be breathing.
    Surprise gave over to curiosity.
    Was he dead?
    Charging up to the bothy alone now seemed like a terrible idea, especially when her only escape from the hut was blocked by his big body, although flat out on the ground, he didn’t seem as frightening as he’d been a moment ago. And what sort of blackguard asked for water? Certainly not a dangerous one . . . she didn’t think.
    He wore dark breeches and a shirt made of what appeared to be good material. The linen was filthy now. His jacket and the neckcloth were in a heap on the floor of the other room. His boots were run-down at the heels.
    Her heart slowed its beat. Common sense returned.
    It was quite possible that he wasn’t anyone to be alarmed over but a traveler who had taken ill and sought out the shelter of the bothy for protection.
    Sabrina had learned a great deal about healing while caring for her mother. She now considered the gentleman with a critical eye before kneeling and pressing her fingers against his neck. He had a pulse, a faint one. His skin was hot to the touch, and her fingers left white print marks. The man did need water and anything else liquid she could think of to pour down his gullet and cool the fever.
    He’d probably suffered chills as well. Fever and chills. She didn’t want to think he could have the influenza.
    There hadn’t been a bout of it in the valley since the disease had claimed the life of the Menzies baby and one of the family’s aged aunts as well last year. Many others had come down with the sickness, but after a period of wishing they were dead, they had recovered.
    Usually, people Sabrina’s age could weather the illness. This man should be able to fight off influenza if he’d been healthy enough before contracting it, and that was the question.
    He was thin, too thin. He might not have been in robust health before the illness. There was a pallor to his skin she could not like, and the rattling in his chest concerned her. She knew that sound. She’d heard it in her mother before she died. He might not survive the night if something wasn’t done for him quickly.
    Her own problems evaporated.
    “Sir, do you hear me?” Sabrina said, talking loudly and distinctly and wanting to rouse him.
    He did not answer. He didn’t move.
    Unafraid of doing something drastic to make the man respond, she clamped her thumb and her finger around his well-shaped nose.
    He appeared capable of breathing out of his mouth, but then he started coughing. Good.
    She held on.
    Unable to catch his breath, the man came awake with a start, his eyes opening in surprise.
    “Hell-o,” Sabrina said. “Who are you? What is your name? Do you have family?” The answer to those question would be