When a Scot Ties the Knot

“Logan.” She stepped forward and put a hand to his chest. Warm and solid as ever. It felt so good to touch him. So essential and right. “This would go much faster if you’d stop trying to guess and simply let me do the talking.”

He opened his mouth to speak. Then shut it.

She took that as her cue.

“You asked me to think about what I would have answered had Mr. Orkney invited me to join his expedition two months ago. And I knew at once what my answer would have been. It would have been no. I would have been too intimidated, too fearful. I would have pinned myself to a specimen board and let my own wings shrivel to dust. The only reason I could even contemplate leaving . . . It was because of you.”

“Then why are you back here?”

“Because you wanted me to chase my dream. And it wasn’t in Glasgow or Bermuda,” she explained. “I did what I should have done the night of the Beetle Ball. I apologized to Mr. Orkney and went to Edinburgh instead, where I took my portfolio to Mr. Dorning. He’s the printer working on the encyclopedia, if you recall.”

He nodded.

“You were right, Logan. I do have ambition. I do want to do something grand with my talents. But the encyclopedia was the commission I truly wanted from the first. So I showed Mr. Dorning my work and offered my ser­vices for his project.”

His eyebrows lifted. “And . . . ?”

“And . . .” She smiled. “He gave me the post.”

There was no holding him back any longer. He caught her in his arms and lifted her off her feet, swinging her around in a circle.

Maddie felt as though she were flying.

And even when he dropped her feet back down to earth, her heart kept on soaring.

“Your ribs,” she said, suddenly remembering. “Be careful. Remember what Mr. Munro said about your lung.”

“My lungs are fine. It’s my heart that’s about to burst. With pride. That’s brilliant, mo chridhe.” He turned to his men. “Lads, Mrs. MacKenzie here is going to illustrate an encyclopedia. Four whole volumes. Congratulate her.”

The men offered their hearty congratulations, which Maddie was most glad to accept.

“Now bid her good-­bye,” he said.

“Good-­bye?” Maddie looked up at him, confused.

“Aye.” He pulled her close and growled into her ear. “Once I have you upstairs in our bed, they’ll not see you for a fortnight or two.”

Her face heated. “Oh.”

He followed that promise with a searing kiss that tasted of whisky and sweetness. She kissed him back, sinking into the embrace fully. No safety net, no tether to grasp. From this moment forward, she wasn’t holding anything back.

She refused to let him carry her from the room. But he whisked her away by the hand, leaving her breathless as they mounted the spiraling stairs. By the time they reached the bedchamber, she was dizzy with laughter and desire.

Together they fell onto the bed.

He pulled at her frock, working the buttons loose with one hand and pushing up her skirts with the other.

They made love in slow, cautious strokes. Partly in deference to his injured state, and partly just to savor the closeness. Neither of them wanted it to end too soon.

Afterward, he stayed inside her while she held him close.

“Did you really mean to keep me here a fortnight?” she whispered.

“Maybe two.”

“I can’t stay in bed forever, you know. There’s work to be done. And I feel I need to warn you . . . soon my studio will be crawling with beetles, dragonflies, moths, and more.”

She felt him shudder.

“Don’t worry. Most of them will be dead.”

He peered down at her. “Most of them?”

“And people almost never die of insect bites.”

“Almost never.”

She gave him a teasing nuzzle. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

His brow pressed to hers. And for a moment, that’s all they did: just breathe. Trade the same air back and forth, until there wasn’t his breath or hers, but just theirs.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

“I missed you fierce, mo chridhe. I was a jackass to ever let you go.”

“Oh, you were Captain MacJackass.”

He smiled a little. Then his expression grew solemn. “I just didna want to hold you back from your dream.”

“That’s just it. You never could.” She stared deep into those eyes, the same brilliant blue as wide Highland skies. “Logan, you are my dream. You always were. You have to know that. The deepest desire of my heart. And as wild a fantasy as I spun . . .” She laced her arms about his neck. “ . . . the reality of us is so much better.”