When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After #3)(49)

Logan supposed maybe she’d been searching for one, but he had never been interested in compromise. “I want what I want, lass. That’s all.”

“I know. I do understand. That’s what makes it perfect.” She whirled away from him, as if powered by her own little breeze of excitement. “See, you have a dream.”

“I told you, mo chridhe, I dinna—-”

“You don’t dream. Fine. Call it a goal, then. You want to give your men a baile here, in this glen. I have a dream, too.”

“A dream with bugs.”

“Exactly. A dream of all the insects in the British Isles. If Mr. Dorning hired me on for his encyclopedia, I would have a small, but steady, income to support myself. And then I would be established, with excellent prospects for more work thereafter. I wouldn’t even need to live here.”

Logan shook his head. “We’ve already discussed all this. A lease willna be acceptable, and I canna buy the land.”

“Perhaps we can work out another sort of bargain. A trade.”

“A trade? What kind of trade?”

“Your goal for mine.”

He could only stare at her. She wasn’t making sense.

“I could never think of attending a ball on my own,” she said. “I’m shy, I’m awkward. I want to flee and hide. But maybe I won’t be that way if you’re near.” A little smile played about her lips. “It’s as if you make me so irritated, I forget to worry about myself. If you escort me to Lord Varleigh’s ball, perhaps you can help me make a good impression on Mr. Dorning. And if he gives me the encyclopedia post . . .” She turned to face him. “ . . . I’d give you this castle, and gladly.”

What?

Logan couldn’t believe that offer. He certainly didn’t trust it.

“I didna ask for that,” he said, “and I dinna want it. No one’s ever given me anything. I’ve worked for everything I’ve ever had.”

“I know. And you’re going to work for this. Perhaps it doesn’t seem equal if you look at it in terms of money or land. But to me, it will be an even trade. Your dream for mine.”

He didn’t know what to say. “You’re certain?”

“I’m certain. Well, and there’s one other thing.” She bit her lip. “I’d need those letters back, too.”

“Right,” he said. “The letters. Of course.”

That might be a wrinkle in this plan of hers, but Logan decided he would swim that loch when he came to it. He’d just make certain she signed her side of the papers before he handed his over to her.

She laced her arms around his neck, lightly swaying to and fro in a flirtatious manner. “And perhaps, if we’re not playing this will--we--or--won’t--we--consummate game any longer, we can enjoy a few lesser carnal pleasures.”

Now she had his attention.

“You did say men are more creative than lobsters.”

“Aye, lass. That we are.”

“And you also said that I’m curious. Maybe you were right about that, too. Especially after last night.”

Her hands flattened against his chest, soft and warm. Exploring. Enticing.

This plan of hers . . . well, it sounded nigh on perfect. Too perfect, he worried. Or at least it might have been if there hadn’t still been one significant hurdle to clear.

He had just promised to take a lady to a ball—-one hosted by a bloody earl, at which beetles would be the main topic of conversation—-and make her a success.

And he didn’t have the damnedest idea how.

Perhaps he could find something in a book.



Chapter Sixteen

When Maddie prepared for bed behind her screen that night, she emerged to find the most terrible sight yet.

“Oh, really, Logan. That just isn’t fair.”

He looked up from his reclined pose in her bedroom chaise longue, his face partly hidden behind a book bound in dark green leather. “What?”

“You’re reading Pride and Prejudice?”

He shrugged. “I found it on your bookshelf.”

Seeing him read any book was bad enough. But her favorite book? This was sheer torture.

“Just promise me something, please,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Promise me that I’m not going to come out from around this screen one night and find you holding a baby.” That seemed the only possibility more devastating to her self--control.

He chuckled. “It doesna seem likely.”

“Good.”

“While we’re on the topic of books . . .” Logan rose from the chair and tossed the book to the side. “I have a question for you. If these are the kinds of stories you prefer, why did you invent a Scottish officer for your imaginary suitor? You could have created a Mr. Darcy type.”

“Because Scotland is far away, and I needed you to be someone who’d never come around.”

He gave her a half smile. “How did that work out?”

“Not quite as I’d planned. More’s the pity.” At the dressing table, she finished plaiting her hair and tied the ends with a bit of plaid. “Any further questions?”

“Aye. I have one.”

She turned around and found him staring at her with unabashed desire.