Nothing.
While the men continued their search, Maddie went upstairs to change out of her gown. She would be of more help in practical clothing.
As she went, she scanned every niche and pocket in the stone. It seemed highly unlikely that a lobster would have managed to climb stairs, but she kept her eyes open anyway.
She went into her bedchamber and set about undoing the closures of her green silk, when her eye fell on something that caught and held her attention.
Not Fluffy.
Logan’s black canvas knapsack.
He’d worn a small dress sporran to the ball tonight. But there on a hook hung his military--issue satchel for coins, spectacles, gloves . . . and, presumably, several years’ worth of Maddie’s embarrassing letters.
She abandoned her plan to undress and hurried to seize it in her hands. Those letters had to be in here. They just had to be. She’d searched everywhere else.
Her fingers trembled as she loosened the buckle holding the strap.
And then she paused.
What would she do with them if they were inside? She’d been planning to destroy them at first opportunity, but now she wondered. Would she truly be able to throw them in the fire?
Maddie didn’t know. So much had changed.
She took a deep breath, opened the knapsack, and peeked inside.
Nothing.
Well, not nothing. There were the usual odds and ends inside, but no packet of letters. Drat.
“What are you looking for?”
Logan’s voice.
She wheeled to face him. “Oh. Nothing. Well, I’m looking for Fluffy, of course. The knapsack was lying open, and I thought she might have crawled inside. It’s . . . a little known fact that lobsters love the smell of canvas.”
In a lifetime of telling stupid lies, Maddie knew she had just told her stupidest.
But Logan looked too fatigued to question her, or perhaps simply too weary to care. His eyes were red with exhaustion, and his jaw had grown over with stubble again.
Her heart softened. He’d been working so hard for her.
“No luck on your end, either?” she asked.
He shook his head. “But we’re not giving up. Not if it takes all night and into morning.”
“You should rest. It’s just a lobster.”
“She’s not just a lobster. She’s your dream, and that was our bargain. Your dream for mine.”
“It’s over, Logan. It’s over. You saw the way Lord Varleigh treated me tonight. Even if he had introduced me to Mr. Dorning, it would have been for nothing. I’m a woman. That’s already a strike against me in most -people’s eyes. And if I’m newly married? They’d never hire me for a long project. They’d assume I’ll get pregnant at any moment and abandon the work.”
“Why are you speaking as though we’re married?”
“Because maybe we should be.” She forced herself to meet his gaze.
“You don’t want that.”
“Don’t I?”
“No. You don’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Aside from the fact that you’ve been telling me so, in no uncertain terms, ever since I arrived?” Heavy footsteps carried him closer. “The letters, mo chridhe. You’d spun a tale of a Scottish officer and a home in the Highlands. But that was just a story. Your true dream was in the margins. All those moths and flowers and snails. I’m not letting you give that up just because Lord Varleigh is a bastard and one lobster crawled away. It means something to you.”
Perhaps it did. But it meant everything to her that he understood.
“Maybe we could mean something to each other.”
“Maddie . . .”
She reached to touch him, grasping the lapels of his coat to draw him close. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she told herself to be brave.
He was ragged and weary, but she was weary, too. Exhausted from holding back this tide of affection and tenderness inside her. She couldn’t control her emotions for another moment.
She wanted to hold him. She wanted him to hold her.
“Don’t you see?” She slid her hands inside his coat, skimming over the rippled surface of his abdomen and reaching to encircle him in her arms. “If we could have a marriage that was real . . . one that meant something . . . Lord Varleigh and Fluffy and the encyclopedia wouldn’t matter. Nothing else would matter.”
“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse. “Don’t talk like this. We still have a great deal of castle to search.”
“Let the men search. Stay here with me.”
She sensed his will to resist weakening. His breathing grew ragged. She found the spot where his open collar gaped. She kissed the dark notch at the base of his throat.
“Stay with me, Logan.” Stretching onto her toes, she kissed his jaw, then his cheek. “Make love to me.”
She kissed him.
And any feeble, insincere protests Logan might have made were lost, washed away in the sweetness.