She clasped Maddie’s hands in her own. “I didn’t know we were, dear. For years, I rather thought it was all mutually understood. Sometimes a woman doesn’t quite fit in with her expected role. We do what we can to make our own way, carve out a space for ourselves. I thought you were happy here in Scotland, and I encouraged your father to leave you be. But then that enormous, glorious man appeared . . .”
Maddie laughed wryly. “Did he ever.”
“And then I didn’t know what to think. Perhaps you’d been telling the truth all along. I devised a test or two for him. The poem, the dancing lesson. I tried to make myself available should you need to confide in me. But mostly, I decided . . . you are a woman now. A strong, intelligent woman whom I admire. It wasn’t my place to interfere.”
Maddie picked at the crocheted edge of her handkerchief. “He’s a complete stranger. Can you believe it? My letters were delivered to him somehow, and he knew everything about me. About our family. But I’d never met him before he arrived in the parlor. And now . . .”
“And now you love him. Don’t you?”
“I’m afraid I might.” Her eyes stung at the corners, and she blinked hard. “But he doesn’t love me. Or perhaps he could, but he won’t let himself. I don’t know what to do. We quarreled terribly after the ball last night. I gave him back the engagement brooch.”
“A mere lovers’ quarrel, perhaps.”
“Is it? I don’t know if we’re lovers at all. I want to be loved so desperately, I’m afraid I’m just imagining he could love me in return. I’ll end up stuck in another lie of my own creation.”
Aunt Thea smiled. “After what I put him through in preparation for that ball, he must genuinely care for you. At least a little.”
“He’s a loyal man. But I . . . I think I’ve wounded him somehow. Deeply. Perhaps my lies didn’t hurt you or the family, but they hurt Logan. I don’t understand how or why the silly letters of a sixteen--year--old could have such an effect. But I wish I knew how to make it right.”
Even offering her love hadn’t been enough. What more could she give him than that?
She stared at the table. “I just feel so twisted up inside, and hopeless.”
“I have just the remedy for that condition.”
Maddie cringed. There was nothing to ruin a heartfelt moment like one of her aunt’s remedies. “Oh, Aunt Thea. In the interests of honesty, I must say . . . I don’t know if I can choke down one more of—-”
“Don’t be silly. It’s just this.”
Her aunt leaned forward and caught her in a warm, tight hug. It was a hug that smelled like a cosmetics counter, but so welcome nonetheless. They held each other, rocking back and forth.
By the time they pulled apart, Maddie had tears in her eyes.
Aunt Thea cupped her cheeks. “You are loved, my precious Madling. You always have been. Once you know and believe that in your heart, everything else will be clear.”
Logan kept his distance from Maddie for the next several days. It wasn’t easy staying away, but he didn’t see that there was anything to be gained from approaching her. She was already on the brink of leaving, and he didn’t have anything new to say.
He could only hope that time—-or perhaps the lingering threat of those letters—-changed her mind.
That seemed even less likely when on the afternoon of Beltane, he found her in the dining hall amid dozens of crates and boxes.
The table was covered with china, silver, glassware, linens, pewter candlesticks. And humbler items, too: pots and kettles, fireplace pokers, candles and small jars of spice.
He asked, “Are you having a tea party?”
“No,” Maddie said. “This isn’t a tea party. I’m building the men’s trousseaux.”
“Trousseaux?”
Her brow wrinkled. “Can men have trousseaux? I don’t rightly know. It doesn’t matter. When they move into the new cottages, they will need to set up house. They’ll be in need of these items.”
“Isn’t the castle in need of these items?”
“Not anymore.” She packed a pewter jug in straw. “I’m going home to my family. Someone ought to make use of these things.”
Logan set his jaw. It rankled him, the calm, matter--of--fact way she spoke of leaving. Not only leaving the castle but leaving him as well.
He followed her as she moved to the other end of the table, counting out equal piles of spoons.
“Do I get a parting gift, too?” he said, no doubt sounding more petulant and transparent than he would have liked. “Perhaps a side table and a pair of candlesticks?”
“Actually, I have something else in mind for you.”
“Oh really? What’s that?”
Her dark eyes met his. “I want you to have this.”
“What, a spoon?”
“No, this.” She tilted her head to glance at the vaulted ceiling. “The land. This castle. All of it.”
Logan stared at her. What was she saying? “Maddie, you can’t mean to—-”
“It’s already done.” She reached toward the center of the table and plucked an envelope from atop a pile of folded tablecloths. “I drew up the papers by copying the documents that transferred the property to me. Becky and Callum signed as witnesses. The news will have spread through the castle by now. By this evening, everyone will know.” She handed the envelope to him. “Lannair is yours.”