When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After #3)(28)

Damned if he didn’t like it. Confidence did more to enhance a woman’s beauty than any kohl or rouge could manage. Lights sparkled at him from the depths of her dark eyes.

His appreciation dimmed swiftly when Aunt Thea returned to the dining room.

“Here we are.”

She plunked an enormous stack of envelopes on the table. Logan marveled. There must have been at least a hundred of them. They were bound with a red velvet ribbon, which the older woman began to unknot.

Logan groaned inwardly.

This wasn’t going to be bad. It was going to be a bloody disaster.

Rabbie rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “I’d be glad to offer my ser-vices for a dramatic reading.”

Logan was tempted to launch a fork in Rabbie’s direction. “That won’t be necessary.”

“So you’ll do it?” Maddie asked.

“Yes.”

In point of fact, there were few things on earth that Logan wanted to do less than read aloud from that menacing stack of parchment, and nearly all of those things involved spiders or entrails. But he didn’t see that he had much choice. He couldn’t allow any of his men to examine them too closely, or they would see the letters weren’t written in his hand.

Maddie was right. Whatever was written in those missives, he couldn’t disclaim it without disclaiming her. And disclaiming her meant giving up the lands his men so desperately needed.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Do give them here, Aunt Thea,” Maddie said. “I’ll choose my favorite one.”

“One,” he told her. “And only one.”

After which he would burn the things and see that no one ever mentioned them again. Under penalty of pain.

But judging by the amused smile that tugged her lips as she sifted through the envelopes, Logan began to suspect he’d made a mistake in allowing Maddie to choose.

When she plucked a letter from the stack and handed it to him, grinning?

Logan didn’t suspect any longer. He knew.

He’d made a grave error indeed.

“Read this one.” Her voice lilted with false innocence. “It’s one where you wrote me a poem.”

Maddie watched his face carefully, awaiting Logan’s reaction to this statement with giddy anticipation.

“A poem,” he echoed.

Amazing. When he spoke the words, his jaw did not even move.

“Oh, yes. Two whole verses.” She sipped her wine and savored his panicked expression.

At last, she had a moment of victory. This Highlander might have arrived out of nowhere and backed her into a corner, leaving her without options that didn’t adversely affect the remainder of her life . . . but she had this one tiny banner of triumph over him.

And she intended to wave that banner now.

Rabbie laughed around a mouthful of food. “Never knew you were a poet, Captain.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Aunt Thea said. “Yes, he sent our Madling a number of verses. Some of them were even good.”

“This one was my favorite.” Maddie smiled.

With a heavy sigh, Logan unfolded the letter. Then he set the paper on the table and reached into his sporran, withdrawing something unexpected.

A pair of spectacles.

When he fitted the unassuming wire frames to his face, the change in his appearance was immediate and profound.

Profoundly arousing, that was.

His features were still every bit as strong and unpolished, as though cut from granite with imprecise tools. As always, his jaw sported the shadowy growth of new whiskers—-it seemed he could shave twice a day and never vanquish his inner barbarian. But the spectacles added an element of refinement to his masculine appeal. Not only refinement but civility as well. Humanity.

Strangely, they made her even more acutely aware of his raw animal nature. A lion might be trained to walk upright and wear a tailcoat, but one could never forget that beneath the manners, it was still a dangerous beast.

As Logan scanned the contents of the letter, Maddie imagined she could sense him craving violence.

From the far end of the table, his men began to urge and tease.

“Go on, then, Captain.”

“What’s the delay?”

“You could pass it here, and we’d read it ourselves.”

“I wouldn’t mind if they do,” Maddie said.

He shot her a glare through those spectacles.

She felt it raise every hair on her arms.

At last, Logan cleared his throat. “ ‘My dear Madeline,’ ” he read in a bored, dispassionate tone. “ ‘The nights spent on campaign are long and cold, but thoughts of you keep me warm.’ ”

The men drummed the table in approval.

“ ‘I think often on the charms of your fair face. Your dark eyes. And your soft, creamy . . .’ ” He tilted the paper to peer at it. Suspense thickened the air like humidity. “ ‘ . . . skin.’ ”

Rabbie whistled. “I was excited for a moment there.”

“Good save, Captain,” Callum added.

He pressed on, clearly eager to have it all over with. “ ‘When this war is over, I shall hold you in my arms and never let go. Until then, my love, I offer this verse.’ ”

“Well . . . ?”