When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After #3)(53)

Madeline stood before him in a gown of rich, emerald--green silk. The low--cut bodice did miraculous things for her bosom, and the vibrant color made a striking contrast with her pale skin and dark hair. And her lips . . . something about the green brought out their richness. They looked like two lush slices of a ripened plum.

His mouth watered.

She turned and twisted in front of the mirror, trying to get a look. “It needs some alterations, but I think it will do.” She turned to Logan. “Don’t you?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Very well, then.”

She disappeared once again, drawing the curtains closed.

He was still nodding dumbly.

What had just happened? She’d parted those curtains for all of ten seconds, perhaps, and he felt like a prophet who’d glimpsed divine revelation. Now his world was on end.

Aunt Thea tugged on her gloves. “Well, that’s done. While Madling finishes with her fitting, you stay here. I’m going to duck down the street and have a peek in the apothecary.”

Logan nodded. Again.

“Are you feeling quite well?” Aunt Thea asked. “You haven’t spoken a word since Madling emerged. And your face is all flushed.”

“Is it?” Logan rubbed his face. “Perhaps I need one of your tonics or possets.”

“I don’t think so.” She arched one slender, silver brow. “I’ve seen this affliction before. It’s a heart malady. And there isn’t any cure.”

“No, wait. It isn’t like that. Aunt Thea—-”

Once the older woman left, Logan leaned forward in his chair and let his head drop into his hands.

Brilliant. Just when he’d started to worry about breaking Maddie’s heart, he now had to worry about her aunt’s, as well.

“Where’s Aunt Thea?” Maddie asked.

He looked up to see she’d emerged again, this time in her usual gray frock. Rationally, he should not have found her even lovelier than he had a few minutes ago—-but he did. It was the familiarity that stirred him. He knew this frock. He knew her.

“She said she wanted to stop in at the apothecary’s.”

“Oh, dear.” She pulled a face. “Well, I happen to need new gloves. I don’t suppose you can tolerate a quick stop by the draper’s? I think it’s just down the street.”

Together they left the shop and made their way toward the other side of the lane. It was midday, and a market day, and the street had grown considerably busier while they’d been in the dressmaker’s shop.

A trio of laughing boys racing down the lane divided them. Logan was forced to release his grip on Maddie’s hand. When he reached the pavement on the other side of the road, he turned to look for her.

She wasn’t at his side.

“Maddie?”

Madeline had come to a dead halt in the center of the road. She stood pale and trembling. -People and horses moved about her like trout swimming around a rock in the stream.

Jesus Christ. If she didn’t move, she was likely to be hit by a cart.

Logan pushed his way to her side.

“Maddie. What is it? Are you going to swoon? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer. Only stood there, her eyes unfocused and her whole body quivering.

He was tempted to pluck her off her feet and carry her in his arms, but he worried that would create even more of a scene. He didn’t want to draw more attention.

Placing his arm around her shoulders, he guided her to the side of the main thoroughfare, scouting their surroundings for a safe place where she could sit and recover her breath. There was a tea shop nearby, but it was crowded with patrons at this hour.

Out of desperation and a lack of alternatives, Logan steered her toward the kirk.

Of all places, a kirk. He hadn’t been inside a proper house of worship in years.

But the space was dark and quiet and empty, and that was what Maddie needed right now.

He walked her down the center aisle and helped her find a seat on a narrow wooden bench. Then he put his arms about her, attempting to soothe the tremors racking her slender frame. He thought of the way she’d touched him that morning, when he’d woken shaking and covered in sweat. Tracing his fingers down the linked pearls of her spine, he tried to imitate her soothing caress.

He held her like that for several minutes, until she felt ready to speak.

“I can’t do this.” She choked on a sob. “I’m sorry. I know we had an agreement, but I can’t even walk down a street without panicking. I don’t know how I thought I could go to a ball.”

“Easy, mo chridhe. I have you now. It’s over.”

“It isn’t over. It’s never over.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “I hoped at last I could move past this, but I’ve been this way almost all my life. At least, ever since . . .”

“Ever since what, mo chridhe? What happened? You can tell me.”

“You’ll think me so stupid and foolish. I was stupid and foolish.”

“I’d never think you stupid. Foolish, possibly. Tell me the story, and I’ll let you know.”

She plucked at the lacy edge of her handkerchief. “When I was seven years old, it was Christmastime and my mother was dying. I knew it, even though no one would tell me so. I could see it in the way she’d grown so pale and thin, and I could smell it on her breath. It was the strangest odor, like mineral spirits and rose petals. There weren’t any callers, other than doctors. My lessons were suspended. I had to be very quiet at all times, so as not to disturb her rest. So I learned at quite a young age how to be invisible. Any game I played, any joy I found—-it had to be undetectable. I spent a great deal of time out of doors. Taking interest in other small, quiet things.