Page 14 of To Wed a Wild Scot
Well, there could be no question of Fitz’s marrying Lady Juliananow. Still, an aristocratic lady of the sort Logan imagined Lady Juliana must be—that is, a lady accustomed to having her own way in all things—would no doubt kick up some dust when she discovered her ambition had been thwarted.
“Who are you?” she asked suddenly. “Fitzwilliam is staying with you, you have access to his letters, and you look just like him. So much alike you must be his brother, but I’ve known Fitzwilliam all my life, and he’s never said a word about having a brother. I’ve certainly never laid eyes on you before.”
Logan didn’t see any point in withholding his name from her. He had no choice but to take her to Castle Kinross now. Once they were there, the entire truth would come out.
“Logan Blair.”Laird of Clan Kinross. The title rose automatically to Logan’s lips, but he bit it back. He wasn’t the laird anymore. Or, more accurately, he never had been. That title belonged to Fitz. Fitz was the elder of the two of them, by eighteen minutes. Incredible how much difference a mere eighteen minutes could make in a man’s life.
“Well, Logan Blair, only a blackguard would steal a lady’s private letter, read it, then toss it into the fire.” She paused, then murmured to herself, “Though I’d rather it was that than Fitzwilliam ignoring me.”
Her voice caught a little, and it occurred to Logan there was one other reason a lady might travel six hundred miles to retrieve her betrothed.
Love.
It was the simplest explanation of all. Love could move a certain type of lady to a greater degree of courage than either a fortune or a title ever could.
Whether Lady Juliana was such a lady or not…well, he’d find out soon enough, wouldn’t he? He took in her disheveled hair, her creased, dusty gown, her ruined boots. She was a dainty little thing. Very English, with that pale skin, fair hair, and an angelic, heart-shaped face.
A perfect English rose, a belle, a diamond of the first water. In short, she was just what he’d imagined she would be.
Then again, how many belles rode from Gretna Green to Inverness with vomit on their boots? Then there were her eyes. They were too bright, too intelligent, and too apt to flash with temper for Lady Juliana to be mistaken for anything other than what she was.
A lady of courage, of spirit.
Right now, those eyes were narrowed on him, subjecting him to much the same inspection to which he was subjecting her. To Logan’s surprise, he found himself wondering what Lady Juliana Bernard saw when she looked at him. Fitzwilliam’s brother? A rough Scot with travel-stained clothes, wild hair, and lines of exhaustion bracketing his mouth?
But then she’d already told him what she thought of him.
A thief, a scoundrel, a despicable villain…
For the first time since this business with the letters began, real regret landed in the pit of Logan’s stomach.
He hadn’t chosen for the Duke of Blackmore to marry an Englishwoman, particularly not Lord Graystone’s daughter. So, he’d set about making sure it didn’t happen. He’d told himself he had far more serious concerns than some spoiled English chit who could have any man in London for the asking, but was in a temper at having lost the chance to marry a duke.
He told himself he was doing what he must to protect his clan.
He’d been content enough with that reasoning at the time, but that was before he’d thought of Lady Juliana Bernard as anything more than an heiress, and the daughter of the bloody Marquess of Graystone. Before he’d been obliged to look into her eyes.
Six hundred miles was a long way to come to be disappointed.
But disappointed she would be, and bitterly so. If Lady Juliana had come all this way because she was in love with Fitz, then she’d end this night with a broken heart.
“You’re a villain, Mr. Blair, but I’ve come this far, and I’ve no other choice but to rely on you now. I demand you take me to Fitzwilliam at Castle Kinross at once.”
Logan had taken great pains to see to it Lady Juliana Bernard never set foot in Castle Kinross. He didn’t want her anywhere near his home or his family, but he could hardly leave her out here alone on the dark moors. Fitz would be furious, and Logan’s own sense of honor forbade it. He’d fought to keep her away, but she’d fought harder, and here she was.
He hated to admit it, but she’d earned the right to be taken to Castle Kinross.
“It’s another half hour’s ride.” He went to her horse, nodding at her to mount while he held the reins.
She shot him a distrustful look, as well she might. “You’ll take me with you, then?”
“I’ve not much choice, have I? I can’t leave you here. Fitz won’t like it.”
“Fitzwilliam is there, then? At Castle Kinross?”
Logan waited while she mounted, then lifted himself onto his own horse’s back. “You’ve come all this way not to be sure of even that much, my lady. Determined to become a duchess, are you?”
She didn’t answer, or even look at him, but her face paled, and Logan immediately wished the words back.
