“Well, that’s excellent to hear,” Mr. Orkney replied. “To deprive the world of such talent would be a true tragedy.”
“But Mr. Orkney, are you certain you want to hire me? Perhaps you didn’t yet receive my letter. There was a delay, of sorts, with the lobsters.”
“Yes, yes. But that is of little consequence. This is a new project, you see. You may have noticed, I’m a different sort of naturalist from Lord Varleigh and his friends. I’ve no desire to trap the things and bring them home to England as effigies. I prefer to study and record my findings in the wild. My aim for this voyage is to record the native mollusks and crustaceans of Bermuda.”
“Bermuda. My goodness. What an adventure.”
“Yes. I had come here to ask if you, Miss Gracech—-Mrs. MacKenzie, would be available to join the expedition as our illustrator.”
Maddie couldn’t speak for a moment.
He wanted her to join an expedition to Bermuda?
Mr. Orkney tugged on his ear. “It’s quite short notice, I’m afraid. We hadn’t planned on leaving until later this summer. But just last week we were offered passage on a ship that sails from Port Glasgow this Thursday next. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
“Thursday next? So you’re asking me to leave—-”
“Immediately.” He pulled an apologetic face. “I’m afraid so, yes. Once you have your things, we’d travel from here to Glasgow and use the remaining time to gather supplies for the voyage. You’d be welcome to bring a companion, should you desire one. However, my wife will be undertaking the journey with me. I know she would be glad of female company.”
When Maddie’s head stopped spinning, she managed a reply. “It sounds like a most exciting opportunity, and I’m honored that you would think of me. But I’m a newlywed, as you see. My husband is recovering from an injury. I simply can’t—-”
Logan’s hand tightened on her arm. “How long would she be gone?”
“About six months.”
Logan nodded. “Will you give us a moment to discuss it?”
“But of course.” The man bowed again, more deeply than ever.
Maddie followed Logan into the corridor, confused. What was there to discuss? He didn’t need to talk her out of it, if that’s what he meant. She’d already expressed her intent to decline with regrets.
He said, “I think you should go.”
“What?”
“I think you should accompany Mr. Orkney on his expedition to Bermuda.”
She couldn’t believe this. “What about everything we said to each other on Beltane? Everything we shared in bed that night? If you’ve forgotten all that, surely you must remember twenty minutes ago.”
His mouth quirked in a little smile. “Believe me, I’m not going to forget twenty minutes ago so long as I live. I still think you should go.”
“I thought you wanted us to stay together. Always.”
“What I want is to hold you tight and never let you out of my sight again. What I want is to spend every moment of every day with you and clutch you skin to skin for every moment of every night. I love you to the point of madness. But I am just rational enough to know that I want those things because I have difficulties with trust.”
“And I understand it.”
“I know you do, sweet lass that you are. That doesn’t change that it’s my problem to overcome.” He took her by the shoulders. “This is a remarkable opportunity. An expedition to Bermuda. Illustrating from life, rather than these dead, dusty things they send you. A chance to travel and establish your career. It’s what you’ve longed for.”
“But . . . Logan, I don’t want to—-”
“You want to go.” He laid the backs of his fingers to her cheek. “I’ve seen your studio, mo chridhe. That faded map with all those wee pins. You can’t tell me you don’t want to go.”
“Part of me might,” she admitted. “But all of me wants to be with you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“What if I’m pregnant?”
“It’s unlikely after so few times. When do you expect your courses?”
“Any day now.”
“Then you’ll probably know for certain before the ship sails. In the meantime, you might as well prepare. An opportunity like this won’t arrive every day. Mr. Orkney could be your best chance to chase your dream.”
“My dream?” She arched an eyebrow. “Since when do you put any credence in dreams?”
“Call it a recent development.”
“If you ask me, you’re afraid. You’re so afraid I might think of leaving, you’re pushing me away.”
He shrugged. “You could be right. You say you love me, but I can’t stop thinking . . . How can you be certain? I’ve known you for years. You haven’t known me but a few weeks, and now you’ll give up the chance of a lifetime? How do I know it’s me you want? Perhaps you’re still hiding behind the story.”
“So now I’m the girl who cried kilt. Because I made up a Scottish officer once upon a time, you will never fully trust that I love you?”
“What I’m saying is this, Madeline. If you followed your dream and came back to me . . . ? I’d trust that.”