“I beg your pardon.” She frowned. “I gave that to Grant. It’s his.”
“He’ll forget in ten minutes. He’s not going to miss it.”
“Perhaps not, but he’s missing them. They’re his children.”
Logan shook the paper as he advanced on her. “This is not the way to help. What good does it do? It’s only going to upset him, wondering where they are.”
“Perhaps talking about the memories will help his mind to heal.”
“It’s been over a year. He’s not going to heal. He needs consistency. A safe, familiar place where he won’t be agitated all the time.”
Maddie circled to his side of the table and leaned her weight on the edge. She crossed her arms over the front of her dressing gown and regarded him with that solemn, searching expression. Looking for his empty spaces.
“So this is why it’s so important to you,” she said, “for the two of us to keep up appearances. To be properly married. It isn’t only about the land. If Grant believes you’ve had your happy homecoming with the sweetheart who sent you letters, you can keep him believing that his own happiness is just around the corner. That you’ll take him to Ross--shire to see his nan and the wee ones. Always tomorrow. Never today.”
Logan didn’t try to dispute it. He wasn’t ashamed. “I just want him to be at peace. As much as he can be.”
“But you can’t lie to him forever, Logan. What happens when he starts to get older? When he looks around to see that everyone’s hair is gray, and his hands are spotted with age, and his friends have all married and had children—-even grandchildren—-of their own?”
Logan sighed heavily and pushed both hands through his hair. “We have years before that happens.”
“But it will happen. You’re telling yourself you can keep him safe. You can’t.” She took the sketch from his hand and set it aside. “I know what it is to live in a world built from lies, Logan. It’s anything but comforting. It means living in constant fear. At any moment, the slightest thing could bring it all crashing down. It’s not good for Grant, and it’s not good for you, either.”
“It’s not your place to make that decision.”
“It is my place. This is still my castle. And I’ve come to think of Grant as my friend. You can try to tell me what to wear and where to go and what to serve for dinner. But you can’t forbid me from caring for him.”
The mere mention of caring gave Logan’s heart a kick and sent it spinning to some uncharted place.
“I can, and I will.”
She huffed out her breath in silent disagreement.
He leaned in, bracing his hands on the table. “You shouldna be alone with him. He’s a big man, with unpredictable moods and an addled memory. There’s no telling what could happen. When I came around that corner and saw the two of you . . .”
She tipped her head to one side and looked up at him through that fringe of dark lashes. “You were worried for me. I know. It’s sweet.”
He clenched his jaw. “It isna sweet. I saw a dangerous situation. I reacted.”
She dropped her eyes and touched the lapel of his coat. “I was worried about you, too. We expected you home yesterday, Logan. It’s why I’m down here with Grant at all tonight. Passing the time.”
Holy God.
Her fingertips touched a button on his coat. “It would be natural to be frightened.”
“I wasna frightened. I’m angry.”
“I can see that.” Her eyes lifted to his. “But I don’t understand why.”
Logan didn’t understand it, either. Any more than he understood how much he’d thought of her in the past three days. He was losing control, and he hated losing control.
And since he didn’t seem to have any hope of regaining it, he’d decided he’d settle for making her lose control, too.
He leaned forward, capturing that lush, pink mouth in a possessive kiss. She didn’t need any coaxing to kiss him back. Her lips parted beneath his, and when he slid his tongue deep, her tongue moved forward to welcome his.
Yes.
God, he wanted her.
He put his arms around her and gathered her to him, running his hands over the quilted velvet of her dressing gown and tugging at the knotted belt.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer. He just kept on doing, expecting his intent would become perfectly clear.
He pulled the belt loose and let the length of braided fabric drop to the floor. Then he slid his hands inside her dressing gown to meet the cool, crisp linen of her shift—-and the soft, pink heat of her body beneath it.
He smiled against her mouth. She was only wearing one shift tonight.
With a low, weary groan, he dipped his head and began to draw a line of kisses down her neck. He skimmed one hand down the firm slope of her thigh, gathering the muslin and giving it an upward tug.
“Logan,” she gasped.