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

by Tessa Dare

Callum began to cough with alarming violence. Rabbie slapped him on the back with vigor. “Do I need to stop?” Logan asked. “Are you dying?” Callum shook his head. “Because I wouldna mind it if you were dying.”

“perhaps we could . . . That is, I hoped the two of us might . . .” He stared at her, expecting her to complete that sentence, and Maddie had no idea what to say. Braid each other’s hair? Play hide-and-seek? Search the loch for sea monsters?

“Just rock to and fro. As if you’re dancing.” “Oh, Lord. That’s it. I’ll die here. I don’t know how to dance.”

“Did you never hear of knocking?” “Not in my own house, no.”

“It would be natural to be frightened.” “I wasna frightened. I’m angry.” “I can see that.”

Rabbie cocked an eyebrow at him. “Still no progress on the bedding front?” Logan stared straight forward. He refused to acknowledge the question. “That’s a no, I take it.”

“You’ve got to be the Rob Roy of her imaginings. Are you calling her a ‘bonny lass’? The Englishwomen’s hearts go all a-flutter at that.”

“You strip down to your skin, and then you have a dip in the loch. Wait until she comes looking for you. Because she will. They always do. But pretend not to notice when she does. And then—just when she’s close enough to see and she’s been watching for a while, you rise up out of the water. Like a dolphin. Or a mermaid.

Curse it, couldn’t she see that Rex wasn’t the only frustrated male in this castle? If the bloody lobster ended up satisfying his natural urges before Logan did, he would be tempted to climb the highest tower of Lannair Castle and fling himself off it.

“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.

“Now kiss my hand.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “That part isn’t strictly necessary.” Her eyes twinkled. “It was mostly for me.” He couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Is this the moment where you warn me that if I hurt her, you’ll slip poison in my tea?”

“It isna flouncing,” he said. “It’s pacing.” “If you say so, Captain MacFlouncy.”

“You really don’t know, do you?” “Know what?” “How wildly magnificent you look tonight.” He made a dismissive noise. “It’s the kilt.”

“Did you want to dance?” “No,” she quickly replied. “Thank God. I’ll stay close to you then so no one else asks.”

“I can’t believe that any man would care enough to go to all that trouble. Not for me.” He stopped pacing and approached her. He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to meet his intense blue gaze. “I am wearing a cravat and cuff links at the godforsaken Beetle Ball. Does this not count as going to trouble for you?”

Logan grabbed him by the coat front. “You had one task.”

“I need you to move swiftly and surely, lads. In all our years together on campaign, we never once left a soldier behind to die. We’re not leaving this lobster, either.”

“What will you live on?” “Anger, for the present. It feels as though I have enough to fuel me for some time.”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “Forget about me.” “Oh, believe me. I intend to.”

“We were just dancing,” she said. “I saw.” “Not very well.” His mouth quirked. “I saw that, too.”

“I owe you a debt for saving my life. It willna be forgotten. Thank you.” Munro nodded. “That said, I hope you’ll take this in the kindest possible way. Get out. I want to be alone with my wife.”

“What is it?” “Oh, Logan. I hate to tell you this. But I think we’re cuddling.” She

“Lass, I’m dying here.” “Oh.”