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When a Scot Ties the Knot

Page 42

“You weren’t exaggerating,” he said. “They do appreciate your aunt’s castoffs.”

She looked up from her basket. “They’re not usually this eager. That must be for you. When I . . .”

Her voice trailed off. When Logan turned to look at her, he could see she’d grown still. He recognized that pale, disconnected expression on her face. It was the same look she’d worn at their wedding.

She’d called it shyness, but to Logan, it looked rather like shock. He’d seen it in soldiers, particularly the ones who’d survived the ugliest of battles. Their eyes stared for miles, and their minds seemed to be somewhere far away.

“Maddie?”

She shook herself.

“This is Captain MacKenzie,” she told the women, pushing the basket into Logan’s hand and backing away. “He’s going to distribute the gifts today.”

“Wait,” he said. “You mean to just leave me here with all this . . .” He fished a small tin out of the basket. “ . . . rose-­hip beautification balm?”

“I’ve just remembered a woman down the lane who’s entered her confinement. I meant to look in on her.”

“It can wait until you’ve finished here.”

She shook her head, and then she was gone.

Chapter Eleven

Maddie hastened away, ducking behind a long, narrow stone cottage with a sloping thatched roof.

Once alone, she wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself tight. Her teeth chattered, and her skin prickled all over.

She felt a touch guilty for leaving Logan on his own, and under false pretenses. There wasn’t any woman who’d entered her confinement in this humble village. Not that Maddie knew of, at any rate. But she found a ewe nursing a pair of lambs in the stone enclosure behind the cottage, and she decided that made her honest enough.

When the crowd had closed around her, the cold had closed in, too. She’d known she had to get away, and the truth never made a useful excuse.

Over the course of her life, she’d learned this lesson over and over again. If she begged to be released from a social obligation on the grounds that she was simply too shy, her family and friends never took her at her word. They insisted she only needed to give it a chance. They wheedled and nudged, telling her of all the fun she would have. This time, they promised, it would be different.

It was never different.

Maddie had long ago accepted the truth. The same occasions that brought joy and merriment to others were torture for her. And no one would ever understand.

Once she’d recovered her composure, she walked back to the cottage’s corner and peeked around it to observe.

The women were still crowded around Logan and his basket of beauty supplies. They tapped the bottles he offered and peered into jars of cream, talking and giggling amongst themselves. He uncorked a bottle of eau de toilette and held it out for a young woman with coppery hair to sample the aroma.

After taking a cautious sniff, the young woman laughed and smiled. A wash of pink touched her freckled cheeks. Maddie suspected it had nothing to do with the bottled scent and everything to do with its handsome purveyor.

Goodness, he looked fine today. The morning sunlight brought out the ginger highlights in his hair and turned his skin a warm bronze. The air about him was one of command and ease. He was in his element. He’d likely been raised in a baile much like this. He knew just how to greet each of the cottagers who came forward, from the oldest grandmother to a curious youth who came down from the grazing slopes.

When she could see that Logan’s basket was emptied and the women had begun returning to their cottages with their new treasures, Maddie emerged from her hiding place. They bid their farewells to the dogs and children and began the walk back.

Logan didn’t seem happy with her. “That was quite a trick you played, abandoning me to play tinker with the lasses.”

“I don’t think it was my gifts that those lasses were interested in. I think they were more curious about you.”

“I would have done better to walk out to the fields and have a talk with the men.”

“I suppose that would have been more lairdly, you mean.”

He made a dismissive noise. “It’s not being lairdly. It’s doing my duty. Getting to know the neighbors. Letting them know they needn’t worry about their future.” He slid her an assessing look. “Speaking of worries, what happened back there?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do. When the women surrounded you, it was like you went away somewhere else. Or pulled inside yourself somehow. You weren’t there. I noticed the same during our wedding.”

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