When a Scot Ties the Knot

“While we’re waiting, I’ll give you a bit of advice.” She pushed to her feet and prodded him in the elbow. “Come along. Stand up. A man should never be sitting while a lady stands.”

 

 

Logan reluctantly stood. He didn’t especially want etiquette lessons at the moment, but he didn’t know what else to do with himself in this place, either. At least she offered a way to pass the time. It was better than fidgeting. If he tapped the heel of his boot any more times, he would wear a hole in the carpet.

 

“Now,” she began, “when you first make a new acquaintance, the person of lower social rank is presented to the higher.”

 

“No need to memorize any of the social ranks,” he said. “I’m going to be on the same end of that exchange every time.”

 

He couldn’t imagine there would be anyone of lower rank present at an earl’s residence. Even within a humble Highland baile, Logan had always been the lowest of the lowly, one step above the animals. Sometimes he’d been fed after the dogs.

 

“Regardless, you will then bow. No need to bow deeply from the waist. That’s for toadying footmen. But something more than a nod is in order with the aristocracy. Think of a hinge in between your shoulder blades and lean forward from there. That should do.”

 

Logan obeyed as best he could, feeling rather like a marionette.

 

“Now kiss my hand.”

 

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers.

 

“That part isn’t strictly necessary.” Her eyes twinkled. “It was mostly for me.”

 

He couldn’t help but smile a little. He didn’t know where Madeline had inherited her shy nature, but it certainly hadn’t been from her aunt’s side.

 

“Now for the dancing,” she said.

 

“We won’t be dancing.”

 

“Most of the steps aren’t difficult. Wait for a country dance and watch the gentleman next to you. Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, you could try the waltz.”

 

Logan shook his head. “Maddie told me she won’t want to dance at all.”

 

“Perhaps she won’t. But I do. It’s been ages since I danced the gavotte with the Comte de Montclair. Humor me?”

 

He cast a wistful look at the heavy drapes that guarded the dressing room, willing them to open and give him an excuse to refuse.

 

No luck.

 

So he allowed Aunt Thea to position his arms just so and teach him to step this way, then that. One--two--three, one--two--three. He wouldn’t remember any of it later, but if it made an old woman happy, he supposed he couldn’t object.

 

“Not bad,” she said. “Not bad at all.”

 

Logan bowed and kissed her fingers again.

 

She kept his hand and squeezed it. “I never had children, you see. That’s why my Madling is so precious to me. I’ve thought of her as my own. Mothered her the best I could. You do realize what that means, Logan?”

 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Is this the moment where you warn me that if I hurt her, you’ll slip poison in my tea?”

 

“No, no. What I have to say is much worse. If you’re Maddie’s husband, that means I’m going to mother you.” She gave him a quick, tight hug before releasing him. “And you’ll just have to endure it.”

 

Logan was stunned.

 

He’d never been mothered by anyone. He wasn’t certain he’d recognize the feeling, much less know how to return the sentiment. But he understood loyalty. The familiar protective impulses rose as he helped her take her seat. In that moment, she’d been added to a short roster of -people he would give his life and soul to protect.

 

It wasn’t a decision, just a fact. He would guard this daft old woman’s happiness with his life. No matter how she tried to kill him with tonics and salves.

 

And just when he’d begun to recover his wits, Madeline pushed aside the dressing room curtains.

 

And he was stunned again.

 

Madeline stood before him in a gown of rich, emerald--green silk. The low--cut bodice did miraculous things for her bosom, and the vibrant color made a striking contrast with her pale skin and dark hair. And her lips . . . something about the green brought out their richness. They looked like two lush slices of a ripened plum.

 

His mouth watered.

 

She turned and twisted in front of the mirror, trying to get a look. “It needs some alterations, but I think it will do.” She turned to Logan. “Don’t you?”

 

He nodded dumbly.

 

“Very well, then.”

 

She disappeared once again, drawing the curtains closed.

 

He was still nodding dumbly.

 

What had just happened? She’d parted those curtains for all of ten seconds, perhaps, and he felt like a prophet who’d glimpsed divine revelation. Now his world was on end.

 

Aunt Thea tugged on her gloves. “Well, that’s done. While Madling finishes with her fitting, you stay here. I’m going to duck down the street and have a peek in the apothecary.”

 

Logan nodded. Again.

 

“Are you feeling quite well?” Aunt Thea asked. “You haven’t spoken a word since Madling emerged. And your face is all flushed.”