When a Scot Ties the Knot

His hand slid to the back of her head, tilting her gaze to meet his. “You will be.”

 

 

“Logan, are you . . .” Her eyes searched his. “Surely you can’t be jealous?”

 

“He had his hand on you.”

 

“What if he did, Captain MacEnvy? You gave me a brooch with some other woman’s initials on it.”

 

He shook his head, refusing to let her bait him. “If you think I’m harboring feelings for another woman, you have it all wrong. I dinna have any feelings, mo chridhe.”

 

“That’s another thing. I wish you’d cease calling me that. If you have no feelings, I don’t know why you keep referring to me as ‘your heart.’ ”

 

“My lack of feelings is precisely why it’s easy to call you that. Because my heart means nothing to me at all.”

 

“Be that as it may,” she said, “am I to believe that you’ve lived chaste and hermit--like all your life?”

 

“No. Certainly not all my life. Just the past several years of it. And that’s your fault, by the way.”

 

“I fail to see how that’s my fault.”

 

“There was a time,” he said, “when I enjoyed a great deal of female companionship. But then you put me in a cage with those damned letters of yours.”

 

“I’m not understanding you.”

 

“All the men believed I had a devoted sweetheart. They looked up to me, believed me to be loyal and devoted, too. None of them wanted to see that falter. They chased the camp--followers away from my tent. The other officers went to the brothels and left me to mind the camp. Our chaplain passed more time with fast ladies than I did.” Agitated, he pushed a hand through his hair. “I haven’t lain with a woman since what feels like Old Testament times.”

 

She smiled a little. “Are you saying you were faithful to me?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Not on purpose. Dinna dress it up as something it’s not.”

 

“Believe me, I’m trying very hard not to do that. But I have too much imagination. Now I’m picturing you huddled by a lonesome campfire while all the other officers are out carousing. You’re holding one of my letters and caressing it like a lovesick . . .”

 

No, no, no.

 

Logan had to put a stop to that notion, here and now.

 

His hands went to her waist and he pulled her close, startling a little gasp from her. Her body met his, soft and warm.

 

“What I’m saying isna romantic. It’s raw, primal, and entirely crude.” He lowered his voice to a growl. “You, Madeline Eloise Gracechurch, have been driving me slowly mad with lust. For years.”

 

Maddie couldn’t decide whether to laugh hysterically or faint with joy. Her, an unwitting temptress? She had no idea how to respond to the idea.

 

So, naturally, she said the most juvenile thing possible.

 

“Me?”

 

In answer, he bent his head toward hers.

 

“Wait.” She ducked away from the kiss. “What are you doing?”

 

“Nothing unless you want it.” His thumb caressed an aching spot on her back. It was maddening, how he could melt her defenses with a single touch. “But I think you do want it. I know you’re curious. I know how you responded to me last night.”

 

“That’s precisely why I need time. I’m not prepared for this. For what it might mean.”

 

“It’s only physical,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “It doesna have to mean anything.”

 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t, for you. But I haven’t yet cultivated that talent. I don’t know how to make it not mean anything. I think too much, too hard. I invent meaning where there’s none to be found. Soon I’ll be telling myself that you’re . . .”

 

“That I’m what?”

 

That you’re in love with me.

 

That was the danger she had to guard against. She knew, rationally, that Logan was no such thing. But she also knew herself, and her heart was far too imaginative.

 

“Let’s take a moment to think,” she said. “What would happen if we didn’t consummate the marriage?”

 

He stopped kissing her. “That is out of the question.”

 

“Then maybe we’re asking the wrong question. Perhaps there’s another mutually agreeable solution. What if I were to lease the lands to you and your men? For a low rent, indefinitely.”

 

He shook his head. “Not enough. You don’t think my men had leases on the lands they already lost? The word of an English landowner is worthless in the Highlands now.”

 

“I’m not just any English landowner. I’m one with a most compelling reason to keep my word. You could trust me.”

 

“Trust you. That’s something, coming from a woman who’s lied to everyone in her acquaintance for years.”

 

“I never lied to you.”

 

His gaze held hers, intense. “Even if I could trust you, I canna trust the world. What if something happens to you?”

 

“What do you mean? If I were to die?”

 

“If you married elsewhere.”

 

She laughed at the idea. “Me, marry elsewhere? Death is the more likely event. I’m so far on the shelf now, I’ve accumulated an inch--thick layer of dust.”