And he certainly wasn’t in love with her.
No, this man wanted something, and that something wasn’t Maddie. If she could learn what his goal was, perhaps she could convince him to go away.
“You said you don’t want money. What is it you’re after?”
“I’m after this, lass.” He nodded toward the loch. “The castle. The land. And I’m prepared to do anything to get it. Even marrying a deceitful English minx.”
At last, here was an explanation she found credible.
Unfortunately, she also found it terrible.
“You can’t force me to wed you.”
“I willna need to force you. You’ll wed me eagerly enough. As you say, you’re an independent woman now. ’Twould be a shame for these letters”—-he pulled the yellowed paper from his breast pocket—-“to fall into the wrong hands.”
He cleared his throat and began to read. “ ’My Dear Captain MacWhimsy. This morning, the dreadful Miss Price came to call. Lavinia is always prodding me for stories about you. Today she asked if we had kissed. I said of course we had. And then of course she had to ask me what the kiss was like.’ ”
As he read, Maddie felt her face growing hotter. The edges of her vision turned a pulsing shade of red. “That’s enough, thank you.”
He went on reading. “ ’I should have said something insipid, like sweet or nice. Or better yet, nothing at all. Instead . . .’ ”
“Captain MacKenzie, please.”
“ ’Instead,’ ” he continued, “ ’this silly, boastful word tripped off my tongue. I’m not certain where it came from. But once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. Oh, my captain. I told Miss Price our kiss was—-’ ”
She dove for the paper. He raised his hand overhead, removing it from her reach. Despite herself, she hopped in a futile attempt to grab it. He chuckled at her attempt, and she felt the loss of dignity keenly.
“ ’I told Miss Price our kiss was incendiary,’ ” he finished.
Oh, Lord.
He folded the paper and returned it to his breast pocket. “This one isna so bad, really. There are more. Many more. You may recall, they grew quite personal.”
Yes. She recalled.
For young Maddie, those letters had served as a diary of sorts. She would write down the things she didn’t dare speak aloud. All her petty complaints, all her most uncharitable thoughts born of adolescent moods and disappointments. Her ill--informed dreams about what love could be between a woman and a man. She’d sent those letters to Captain MacKenzie precisely because she’d never wanted anyone who knew her to read them.
And now he threatened to expose them to the world.
A sense of despair churned in her belly. She felt as though she’d spent her youth stuffing heartfelt wishes into bottles and tossing them into the ocean—-and suddenly, years later, they’d all been returned.
By a sea monster.
“What if I refuse to marry you?” she asked.
“Then I think I’ll forward your letters on to someone else. Someone who’d be verra interested.”
She winced. “I suppose you mean my father.”
“No, I was thinking of the London scandal sheets. Most likely I’d go to both and see which one will offer me more money.”
“I can’t believe anyone would be that heartless.”
Chuckling, he touched the folded letter to her cheek. “We’re just getting acquainted, mo chridhe. But believe me when I tell you I’m nothing you ever wanted and worse than you could have dreamed.”
Of course he would be.
This was a perfect example of Maddie’s luck. Of all the ranks in the army, all the names in Christendom, and all the clans in the Highlands . . . she had to randomly choose his.
If this had only been a matter of some mortification, Maddie would have taken that punishment, and gladly. However, if those letters became public, it would mean more than simple embarrassment.
-People laughed at a fool; they hated a fraud. Perhaps she hadn’t set out to deceive all of England, but she’d made no objections to stirring her family’s sympathy and her peers’ jealousy. Years later, after the captain’s supposed death, she’d accepted their condolences.
She’d even accepted a castle.
All of her acquaintances would know that Maddie had deceived them, and for the silliest of reasons. The gossip would haunt her family for years. And who would commission scientific illustrations from a woman infamous for lies? She could find herself all alone with no means of support.
Her sense of panic only grew.
“Let’s discuss this rationally,” she said. “You’re proposing to blackmail me with letters I wrote when I was sixteen years old. Didn’t you do anything rash and foolish when you were sixteen years old?”
“I most certainly did.”