He understood ladies expected sweet words and romantic gestures, but he was not that kind of man. However, if his own sister, who was—in his estimation—as far from a romantic as could be found . . . well, if she thought his answer lacking, that was bad. Scratching the back of his head, he peered back at Jetta and noted her dejected pose. She was peering at her hands where they lay on her chest, and she looked disappointed. Wounded even, he thought. “Tell the lass how ye feel about her, ye dolt,” Uncle Acair hissed.
