When a Scot Ties the Knot by Tessa Dare Page B

part of the Highlands. How much worse would it have been for her in a crowded London ballroom?
    He had been accustomed to thinking of her as spoiled or petulant for inventing a sweetheart the way she had. But now he was starting to wonder if there hadn’t been something more to it.
    Damn. He was wondering about her again.
    The wondering ended tonight.
    And it didn’t matter if she’d had motives of self-­preservation. The task of preserving her was his now. He’d just pledged as much before his men and God, and despite this marriage being a convenient arrangement, he wasn’t one to take those vows lightly.
    He helped her to her feet, acutely aware of how small she was, how delicate. Every wash of pink on her cheeks or labored breath was suddenly a matter for his concern.
    Which didn’t make a bit of sense, considering he was the villain in her life. He’d just forced her into a marriage she didn’t want, and now he was obsessed with protecting her? It was laughable.
    But no less real.
    As he helped her to her feet, he asked, “Are you well?”
    â€œJust a bit shaky. Perhaps from standing so long.”
    The men would be expecting a celebration. Music, food, dancing. Logan had asked the castle’s cook for a feast and wine. “Come along, I’ll take you upstairs.”
    â€œJust go slowly, if you will,” she whispered to him. “So I can keep pace.”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary. I mean to carry you.”
    â€œLike a sack of oats?”
    â€œNay, lass. Like a bride.”
    He hefted her into his arms and carried her out of the hall, to his men’s cheers and her aunt’s evident delight.
    Once they’d made it out of the hall, however, Logan realized he had no idea where he was going. “How do I get to your rooms?”
    She gave him directions. The directions involved a great many stairs.
    â€œYou walk up all of these steps each evening?” he asked, trying to hide the fact that he’d grown a bit winded.
    â€œUsually multiple times a day.”
    That was the problem with Scottish tower houses, he supposed. They were built tall and narrow for greatest protection from siege—­and inside, they were all stairs.
    â€œThe original lairds would have housed the servants all the way up here. Why don’t you use a room on one of the lower floors?”
    She shrugged. “I like the view.”
    Her bedchamber, once they reached it, was warmly furnished and cozy. The spaces under the sloping gabled ceilings were filled with rows of books and small curiosities. It wasn’t at all the way he would have expected an English heiress’s room to be—­but having read Maddie’s letters, he could recognize it as entirely her .
    His eye was drawn to a pair of miniatures on the dressing table, depicting two fair-­haired children, one boy and one girl. Logan knew them at once.
    â€œThat’s Henry and Emma,” he said.
    â€œYes. How did you know?”
    He shrugged. “Maybe I recognized them from your letters.”
    The truth was, not only did he recognize the children but he also recognized Maddie’s hand at work in the miniatures.
    A strange sense of intimacy overtook him.
    Fast on its heels came an inconvenient wave of guilt.
    He set her down.
    â€œThank you for carrying me.”
    â€œYou weigh less than a bird. It was nothing.”
    â€œIt was distressingly romantic, is what it was. Would you try to be a bit less dashing? This is meant to be a convenient arrangement.”
    â€œAs you like, mo chridhe. ”
    She was right. Romance was not in their bargain. Now that he had her upstairs, in a bedchamber, he was eager to get on with the parts they did agree to.
    The two of them, in a bed.
    He nodded to her as he left the room. “I’ll give you a half hour to make ready. And then I’ll return.”

 
    Chapter Five
    I ’ll give you a half hour to make ready.
    A half