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

by Tessa Dare

Maddie didn’t do well in crowds. More to the point, she didn’t do anything in crowds. In any large gathering—be it a market, a theater, a ballroom—she had a tendency to freeze, almost literally. An arctic sense of terror took hold of her, and the crush of bodies rendered her solid and stupid as a block of ice.

Maddie pleaded with herself not to stare. It was a losing campaign.

She was going to look bonny wearing his plaid.

Logan could have stood by that mirror-finish loch and kissed her for hours. Days. Weeks and months, perhaps, while the seasons changed around them.

“Invented me? Lass, you didna invent me.” “No, you’re right. I invented someone understanding and kind.”

A realization struck her like a lightning bolt. She now had a confidant. A conspirator. Someone who knew everything. All her secrets. He didn’t love her for them, but he hadn’t run screaming from her, either.

“That won’t be necessary. I mean to carry you.” “Like a sack of oats?” “Nay, lass. Like a bride.”

“Be still my heart. I do love a book with multiple volumes.”

“Logan. You’re home.” God. The words set his world spinning. She almost sounded happy to see him. And those words. Logan. You’re home.

“It’s as if you make me so irritated, I forget to worry about myself.

“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?”

“That’s the most remarkable thing about you, mo chridhe. The way you have of bringing things to life.”

Sometimes a woman doesn’t quite fit in with her expected role. We do what we can to make our own way, carve out a space for ourselves.

This place belongs to the Highlands. To the people who’ve lived here for generations. To those whose ancestors piled the stones of this castle with their bare hands. And I can’t imagine a better person to watch over it.”

Your letters gave me the dream I didn’t know how to imagine for myself. They brought me to life. And then you left me for dead.”

“Let’s have a look at your tatties, then.” She blushed and crossed her arms over her chest. “What? Now? Here?” “Not those. Your tatties. The potatoes, mo chridhe.”