When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After #3)(83)

And then he’d opened it to find something so much better.

A sketch.

The little minx.

He wouldn’t take it out in company, but he’d taken to carrying it with him always. The charcoal drawing all but glowed like an ember in his vest pocket, threatening to burn straight through the pocket lining.

He uncapped his flask to pour another whisky. Then he thought better of it and put the flask away. After scratching his chin, he decided he could do with a bath and a shave as well. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be a raging drunk with a yard--long beard by the time Maddie returned.

And she would return to him.

He had to believe that, or he’d truly go mad.

Grant roused himself. “What’s this, then? What’s happened?”

Logan considered mumbling through his usual litany of reassurances: we’re in Scotland, they’d go Ross--shire tomorrow, and so forth. But then he stopped himself.

Instead, he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve suffered an injury, mo charaid. One that disrupted your memory. We’re back from the war, safe. Your family wasna so fortunate. But I’m here, and I’ll always tell you the truth. Ask me whatever you wish.”

But Grant surprised him. “I know where I am, Captain. And I’m starting to recover pieces of the rest. There’s only one question I wanted to ask. Where’s Madeline?”

No one could reply. If the rest were anything like Logan, they were wondering if they’d heard him wrong.

“Where’s Madeline?” he repeated.

“She’s . . . well, she left.”

“Left? Why would she do that?”

“I told her to go.” Logan scrubbed his face with one hand. “I sent her to Bermuda to draw sea creatures with a naturalist.”

Grant was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke the words everyone—-Logan included—-seemed to be thinking. “You stupid bastard.”

Logan raised his hands in defense. “What else could I do? She has talents. And dreams. I dinna want to stand in the way of them. She’ll be back.”

He had to cling to that thought. She would come back.

She would.

Wouldn’t she?

Callum scratched his head. “Well, I understand why you wanted her to go. But what I canna fathom is why you didna go with her.”

Go with her.

Logan had to admit, the idea had never occurred to him. “I couldna go with her.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve only just settled at Lannair. I’m the laird of the castle now. Someone needs to watch over the property. And you lads need me here.” He looked around at the men. “Do you not?”

His only reply were the sounds of a clearing throat and someone’s boot scuffing back and forth against the stone floor.

So. They didn’t need him.

“I see,” he said tightly.

“It isna that we want you gone,” Callum said. “But we’re grown men, the lot of us. We can fend for ourselves. The cottages are underway; the crops are in the ground. Even Grant is on the mend.”

The words were meant to console him, but Logan felt hollow inside.

If Maddie’s true dreams had been hidden in the margins of her letters, his own hopes had been hidden on the borders of his plans. It wasn’t the land he’d wanted. It was family. Kinship.

Love.

This motley assortment of broken--down soldiers around him was the only family he’d ever known. He’d looked after them the way he would look after his own kin. If Maddie was gone and the men didn’t need him . . . who was he anymore?

“I thought we were a brotherhood,” he said. “A clan. Muinntir.”

“Aye, we are,” Rabbie said. “And that’s the thing about bonds of brotherhood, mo charaid. They stretch. For thousands of miles if need be. You can depend on us to hold the place together while you take your bride on a honeymoon.”

A honeymoon.

What a notion. Logan hadn’t even thought of it that way. Men with his origins didn’t have holidays. Now it was all he could imagine. Sailing with Maddie through clear blue waters, watching the breezes stir her dark, unbound hair. Making love to her on sandy shores.

At last, they could really take that walk along the beach.

“What day is it?” he asked.

“Wednesday,” Callum answered.

Logan rose to his feet and kicked his chair to the side. “Then there’s time. I can catch the ship before it leaves.”

The men snapped into action.

“That’s the spirit,” Rabbie said. “I’ll ready your horse.”

Callum brought him his coat, and Logan eased into it.

He brushed his hands down the red sleeves before spearing his fingers through his hair. He had no hose, no stock or cravat. There wasn’t any time.

“How do I look?” he asked Callum as he jammed his left foot into a boot.

“Like something a wildcat dragged through gorse,” Callum said.

Logan shrugged. Nothing to be done about it now. She would either take him as he was, or she wouldn’t.

“Wait, wait.” Munro blocked his way. “To have any chance of traveling to Glasgow by coach, you’d have to leave”—-the field surgeon checked his pocket timepiece—-“twelve hours ago. And as your doctor, I canna recommend you ride overland. Not with that recent injury.”