When a Scot Ties the Knot
Page 44“Not me.” He shrugged. “When I close my eyes at night, there’s naught but darkness behind them. Just emptiness until I wake.”
It was Logan’s greatest fear—the thought that had likely preserved him through many a battle and campaign—that when it came for him, death would be nothing but an endless night. He’d be a shivering boy again, caught alone in the empty darkness.
Forever.
“But last night, you—”
“Last night I what?”
She pressed her lips together. “Nothing. It’s just so strange. I’ve never known someone who didn’t dream at all.”
“Never developed the talent, I suppose. I was an orphan with nothing. What use would dreaming be? I wouldna have known what to dream about, even if I’d tried.”
“Surely it’s not too late to learn.” She reached out to brush a bit of fluff from his sleeve. As if she wanted to touch him but had thought better of it. “You don’t have to be trapped in a marriage to me. Not if you don’t want it.”
He pulled her to him, roughly. Letting her feel his body pressed against hers. “I dinna think you can doubt what I want.”
“Yes, but there’s wanting, and then there’s wanting. The desire of your body might not be the desire of your soul.”
He made a dismissive noise. What soul?
“This life you’re so determined to create for your friends and the tenants—a cottage, crops in the ground, cows at pasture . . .” She touched the front of his shirt, somewhere close to his pounding heart. “A bonny Scots lass to welcome you home from the fields every evening, keep you warm at night, give you bairns . . . Maybe you want that for them so badly because it’s what you really want, too.”
“Perhaps not.”
“It doesna matter what I want. Much less what I dream about. My soul has no say in the matter. None of this has anything to do with me. I came here to marry you because it’s what the men need. I’m taking one for the clan.”
She flinched at his words.
He knew at once he’d hurt her.
And it didn’t feel nearly as satisfying as he’d hoped it would. It made him feel rather small, actually. Like a boy caught winging rocks at songbirds.
She exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Thank you for that. After watching you with the tenants, I was in far too much danger of liking you.”
As she strode away from him, the feisty swing in her gait beckoned him to follow.
“You did want a new reason to despise me, after all. I’m just trying to oblige.”
“You’re doing a fine job of it, too.”
“So you’re upset with me.”
“Yes.”
“All three.”
“Excellent.”
He caught her arm and pulled her to face him, letting his gaze wander over the flushed skin at her throat and the rise and fall of her corseted breasts. An attractive spark of defiance lit her dark, secret eyes.
“Then our next stop is the bedroom, mo chridhe. You should be ready to make this marriage real.”
Chapter Twelve
Oh, no.
Maddie immediately rued her foolish words.
“Don’t be absurd,” she said.
“I willna be absurd. I mean to be incendiary.”
Maddie wished she could think of a tart, sophisticated reply to set him in his place and get herself out of this. But the brisk wind whipping at her skirts seemed to have stolen her wits, as well.
So in lieu of a sophisticated reply, she made a juvenile one.
The winding path back to the castle was suddenly much too long. Maddie needed to be home at once. Home in her bed, inside a cozy tent of pillows and blankets.
With Logan safely on the other side of the bolted door.
Lifting her hem, she left the footpath and began a route straight overland, walking as fast as the muddy ground would allow her.
“Don’t walk that way,” he called after her.
She ignored him.
I will walk where and how I please, thank you. I’m not one of your foot soldiers. You do not command me.
“Ack.”
Maddie nearly tripped over her own hem. She looked down. In her haste to prove her independence, she’d independently taken a grave misstep. The entirety of her half boot had disappeared into black, fibrous mud.