“Oh, yes. He sent our Madling reams of love letters. So eloquent and well expressed.”
What the devil was this about? Logan sent a sharply inquiring glance at Maddie. She bit her lip and stared into her wine.
“I’m certain she saved them all. Madling, why don’t you bring them down so the Captain can read a few? I always wished we could hear them in that delightful Scots brogue.”
“That will not be necessary,” Logan said.
“Perhaps not necessary,” the older woman said, “but I think it would be sweet.”
That word again. Sweet.
“No one wants to hear them.”
At the far end of the table, Callum grinned. “Oh, I’d like to hear them.”
His eager sentiment was seconded by every other man at the table, save Grant.
“Perhaps another time, Aunt Thea,” Maddie said. “We’re in the middle of a meal. The letters are in my dressing table all the way upstairs. As hostess, I can’t leave our guests.”
“It’s out of the question,” Logan agreed.
“Of course it is,” Aunt Thea replied. “You stay right here, Madling. I’ll go fetch them myself.”
With that, the elderly woman was gone from the room before Logan and his men could even rise from their chairs as a mark of respect.
As soon as she was gone, Logan slid closer to his secretive bride. “What is she talking about?”
She murmured her response from behind her wineglass. “Well, I had to make up your side of the correspondence, didn’t I? It wouldn’t have been believable otherwise.”
“And what, exactly, did this version of me say?”
A glint of amusement warmed her brown eyes. “Perhaps you should have made this inquiry before you pressured me into a hasty wedding. Whatever is in those letters, you’re stuck with it now.”
Holy God. Logan shuddered to imagine what utter foolishness a romantic sixteen--year--old chit like Madeline Gracechurch would put into the mouth of a Highland officer.
This could be bad. Verra bad.
“Perhaps we could make a trade,” she whispered. “I’ll give you back your letters if you give me back mine.”
“Those aren’t my letters in your dressing table.”
“The ones I sent weren’t your letters, either. And yet you claim possession of them. You can’t have it both ways.”
Her lashes gave a coy flutter. So this was what she turned into, given the smallest scrap of power over him. A saucy flirt.
Damned if he didn’t like it. Confidence did more to enhance a woman’s beauty than any kohl or rouge could manage. Lights sparkled at him from the depths of her dark eyes.
His appreciation dimmed swiftly when Aunt Thea returned to the dining room.
“Here we are.”
She plunked an enormous stack of envelopes on the table. Logan marveled. There must have been at least a hundred of them. They were bound with a red velvet ribbon, which the older woman began to unknot.
Logan groaned inwardly.
This wasn’t going to be bad. It was going to be a bloody disaster.
Rabbie rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “I’d be glad to offer my ser-vices for a dramatic reading.”
Logan was tempted to launch a fork in Rabbie’s direction. “That won’t be necessary.”
“So you’ll do it?” Maddie asked.
“Yes.”
In point of fact, there were few things on earth that Logan wanted to do less than read aloud from that menacing stack of parchment, and nearly all of those things involved spiders or entrails. But he didn’t see that he had much choice. He couldn’t allow any of his men to examine them too closely, or they would see the letters weren’t written in his hand.
Maddie was right. Whatever was written in those missives, he couldn’t disclaim it without disclaiming her. And disclaiming her meant giving up the lands his men so desperately needed.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Do give them here, Aunt Thea,” Maddie said. “I’ll choose my favorite one.”
“One,” he told her. “And only one.”
After which he would burn the things and see that no one ever mentioned them again. Under penalty of pain.
But judging by the amused smile that tugged her lips as she sifted through the envelopes, Logan began to suspect he’d made a mistake in allowing Maddie to choose.
When she plucked a letter from the stack and handed it to him, grinning?
Logan didn’t suspect any longer. He knew.
He’d made a grave error indeed.
“Read this one.” Her voice lilted with false innocence. “It’s one where you wrote me a poem.”
Maddie watched his face carefully, awaiting Logan’s reaction to this statement with giddy anticipation.
“A poem,” he echoed.
Amazing. When he spoke the words, his jaw did not even move.
“Oh, yes. Two whole verses.” She sipped her wine and savored his panicked expression.
At last, she had a moment of victory. This Highlander might have arrived out of nowhere and backed her into a corner, leaving her without options that didn’t adversely affect the remainder of her life . . . but she had this one tiny banner of triumph over him.