She stared at him for a long moment.
They couldn’t live this way, always doubting each other, always questioning whether their bond was a true love union or a convenient arrangement.
Was it their hearts that locked together like two pieces of a puzzle? Or merely their fears?
She loved him. She felt certain of it, even if he didn’t. But unless she wanted to live out the rest of her life under the fog of his doubt, she had to convince him of that.
Maddie would go to the ends of the earth. To hell and back, if need be.
By contrast, Bermuda didn’t seem so far.
“Let me ask you this way.” Logan tipped her face to his. “If he’d come here and asked you two months ago, before I ever came into your life . . . what would you have said? I think we both know.”
Maddie nodded to herself. She did know exactly how she would have answered.
And after she considered it that way, everything became clear.
Before she could give herself time to rethink it, she returned to the parlor. “Mr. Orkney, I can leave with you today.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Logan did not take well to idleness.
It hadn’t been a week since Maddie’s departure with Mr. Orkney, and he was already out of his mind with boredom. And, of course, missing his wife like mad.
He didn’t know how he was going to survive six months of this.
At least the men seemed to know he needed company. It was just like old times on campaign. They all sat around the fire of an evening, drinking whisky and talking of lost loves and their future lives.
Logan reached into his pocket and touched the corner of a folded paper. He’d found it tucked in his sporran the night after she’d left with Mr. Orkney. Just the sight of a creased paper with her handwriting had sent his mind tumbling into memories. His heart had given a familiar throb. Could it be another letter?
And then he’d opened it to find something so much better.
A sketch.
The little minx.
He wouldn’t take it out in company, but he’d taken to carrying it with him always. The charcoal drawing all but glowed like an ember in his vest pocket, threatening to burn straight through the pocket lining.
He uncapped his flask to pour another whisky. Then he thought better of it and put the flask away. After scratching his chin, he decided he could do with a bath and a shave as well. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be a raging drunk with a yard--long beard by the time Maddie returned.
And she would return to him.
He had to believe that, or he’d truly go mad.
Grant roused himself. “What’s this, then? What’s happened?”
Logan considered mumbling through his usual litany of reassurances: we’re in Scotland, they’d go Ross--shire tomorrow, and so forth. But then he stopped himself.
Instead, he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve suffered an injury, mo charaid. One that disrupted your memory. We’re back from the war, safe. Your family wasna so fortunate. But I’m here, and I’ll always tell you the truth. Ask me whatever you wish.”
But Grant surprised him. “I know where I am, Captain. And I’m starting to recover pieces of the rest. There’s only one question I wanted to ask. Where’s Madeline?”
No one could reply. If the rest were anything like Logan, they were wondering if they’d heard him wrong.
“Where’s Madeline?” he repeated.
“She’s . . . well, she left.”
“Left? Why would she do that?”
“I told her to go.” Logan scrubbed his face with one hand. “I sent her to Bermuda to draw sea creatures with a naturalist.”
Grant was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke the words everyone—-Logan included—-seemed to be thinking. “You stupid bastard.”
Logan raised his hands in defense. “What else could I do? She has talents. And dreams. I dinna want to stand in the way of them. She’ll be back.”
He had to cling to that thought. She would come back.
She would.
Wouldn’t she?
Callum scratched his head. “Well, I understand why you wanted her to go. But what I canna fathom is why you didna go with her.”
Go with her.
Logan had to admit, the idea had never occurred to him. “I couldna go with her.”
“Why not?”
“We’ve only just settled at Lannair. I’m the laird of the castle now. Someone needs to watch over the property. And you lads need me here.” He looked around at the men. “Do you not?”
His only reply were the sounds of a clearing throat and someone’s boot scuffing back and forth against the stone floor.
So. They didn’t need him.
“I see,” he said tightly.
“It isna that we want you gone,” Callum said. “But we’re grown men, the lot of us. We can fend for ourselves. The cottages are underway; the crops are in the ground. Even Grant is on the mend.”
The words were meant to console him, but Logan felt hollow inside.
If Maddie’s true dreams had been hidden in the margins of her letters, his own hopes had been hidden on the borders of his plans. It wasn’t the land he’d wanted. It was family. Kinship.