Not many aristocratic English ladies would undertake a journey of ten days or more to chase her errant betrothed so far when she could have another marquess or earl with a snap of her pretty fingers. Lady Juliana was an heiress, after all, and there was nothing the English nobility loved more than money.
Unless it was a title.
Fitz could give her both.
Was there a chance Lady Juliana might venture so far if she believed Fitz would make her a duchess at the end of her journey? She must believe he’d marry her if she came to Scotland. No sane woman chased a man hundreds of miles unless she expected to become his wife at the end of it.
Well, there could be no question of Fitz’s marrying Lady Juliana now. 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.
They rode for some time in silence, but then a thought occurred to him, and he turned back to her. “Your father, Lord Graystone. Does he know where you are?” Having Lord Graystone appear at the door of Castle Kinross was, above all, the last thing Logan wanted.
“No. My father is in Bath, taking the waters. He believes me to be in Buckinghamshire with friends.”
So, she’d ridden off to the Highlands of Scotland without her father’s permission, or his knowledge. For such a proper lady, Lady Juliana seemed to tell a great many lies.
“Perhaps Fitzwilliam will ride back to Inverness with me tomorrow,” she said hopefully.
Logan gave a slight shake of his head, but he didn’t say anything. Lady Juliana would find out for herself soon enough things weren’t going to turn out as she hoped as far as Fitz was concerned.
Or perhaps they’d turn out just as she wished. Fitz might take one look at her, and do precisely as she asked him to do. Perhaps Logan would be the one who was surprised.
He wouldn’t be the only one.
He cast a quick glance at her, uneasiness tightening his chest. She was beautiful, an English heiress, and one of Fitz’s dearest friends. When he spoke of her—which was often—it was with the tenderest affection. She came from the world Fitz had grown up in, a world he understood, and she and Fitz had been promised to each other for most of their lives.
Logan’s chest drew tighter as they made their way in the dark toward Castle Kinross. This was what came of lies, wasn’t it?
His lies…
If a heart did break tonight, it might not be Lady Juliana’s.
Chapter Four
“You look surprised, Lady Juliana. What did you expect to find in a Scottish castle? Drunken clansman on every sofa, and sheep running around the hallways?”
Logan Blair had been so quiet during their ride to Castle Kinross Juliana had nearly forgotten him until his mocking drawl interrupted her thoughts. She glanced at him, and found him regarding her with a sardonic half-smile on his lips.
Once her gaze alighted on his face, she found it difficult to look away. His eyes were a much more vibrant blue than she’d first thought
, and heavily lashed with such a thick, dark fringe it was a wonder he could keep them open at all.
He wasn’t the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His features were too strong, too aggressive to be deemed classically handsome, yet it was his very roughness that held her gaze. Logan Blair was a thief and a scoundrel, but there was no denying his was the sort of face that caught a lady’s attention.
“Scots aren’t quite the savages the English aristocracy thinks we are.” That infuriating grin flirted at the corner of his mouth. “You can rest easy during your stay at Castle Kinross, my lady.”
A sharp retort hovered on Juliana’s tongue, but she held it back. He was a dreadful, teasing thing, and she was determined not to gratify him by falling into a temper. “I’ve never been to a Scottish castle before. I didn’t know what to expect.”
Whatever it was she had expected, it wasn’t this.
The road leading up to the castle was dark and isolated. She’d thought the castle would be as gloomy and forbidding as the thick copse of towering elms they’d passed under, but as soon as they were free of the tree line she’d let out a gasp of pleased surprise.
Light poured from a row of windows on the ground floor. Mr. Blair ushered her through the arched doorway, and she found the entryway was no less pleasing. It had a massive wood-timbered ceiling, rich tapestries on the walls, and thick carpets covering a spotlessly clean stone floor.
Castle Kinross didn’t boast a grand, curving drive or elegant stone columns flanking the front entrance, but the place had a friendly, welcoming look about it, in the way only places that had sheltered generations could have. One had only to glance at the staircase to imagine the dozens of feet that had trod up and down it, or curl one’s hand around the doorknob to feel the hundreds of fingers that had grasped the worn iron.
It looked like a home.
Fitzwilliam would like it here.
Juliana knew it instinctively with a sinking sensation in her chest. She stood blinking up at the carved wood staircase, and thought perhaps he never intended to return to England at all.
She had to see him, to talk to him. It was the only way to relieve the unbearable anxiety she’d labored under these past five months. “I’d like to see Fitzwilliam at once, if I may,” she said, turning to Mr. Blair. “I daresay he’ll be shocked to see me, since he didn’t receive my letter.”
She’d intended to give him a set-down, but it seemed Logan Blair was impervious to shame, because he only raised an eyebrow at her waspish tone. “He won’t be the only one who’s shocked.”
He glanced over her shoulder, and Juliana turned to find a butler with a headful of white hair coming toward the entryway.
“There you are, Craig. His Grace has a visitor. Fetch him, please, and bring him to the library.” Mr. Blair paused and glanced at Juliana. “Once you’ve brought him down, Craig, wait in the hallway. His Grace may need you again.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.” The old man assisted Juliana out of her cloak, bowed, and shuffled back in the direction from which he’d come.
“This way, my lady.” Logan Blair took her arm and led her down a long hallway and into an enormous library. “You must be fatigued. Please, sit down.” He guided her to a leather chair so massive it nearly swallowed her, then crossed the room to a sideboard and removed the stopper from a crystal decanter. “Sherry? Or Madeira?”
“Neither, thank you.” Juliana glanced around the room, trying to gather her wits. It had been nearly six months since Fitzwilliam left England—months of uncertainty and worry, followed by days of exhausting travel. She could hardly believe she was here at all, moments away from seeing him at last. She twisted her hands in her lap and prayed he’d be pleased to see her.
Or if not pleased, then at least not angry—
“Here. Take it.”
Juliana looked up to find Logan Blair standing beside her chair, holding out a tumbler to her. She shook her head. “No, I don’t care for—”
“Take it, Lady Juliana.”
He didn’t say any more, but Juliana noticed a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. She reached for the tumbler with a shaking hand, her stomach suddenly heaving with dread. If a hard man like Logan Blair could feel compassion for her, then she must be a pitiable object, indeed.
She didn’t like this man. He’d stolen her letter and lied to Fitzwilliam. He was a scoundrel and a blackguard, but he was here, and she couldn’t bear to go another minute without knowing whatever bad news awaited her. She grasped his arm, her fingers clawing desperately at his coat sleeve. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Quickly, tell me what it is at once, before he—”
But it was already too late. The door to the library opened. Fitzwilliam’s voice carried clearly through the room. “Where the devil have you been, Logan? I expected you back here well before the dinner hour…”
He trailed off into silence as his gaze alighted on Juliana. His face paled, and he seemed to freeze halfway across the room. Juliana took a moment to squeeze her eyes closed and pray for strength, then she rose unsteadily to her feet and held her hand out to him. “Fitzwilliam. I—I’ve missed you.”
“Juliana? My God, it is really you? Where did you…how did you…”
Just when Juliana thought she must faint, the smile she remembered so well lit up every corner of Fitzwilliam’s handsome face. Oh, how she loved his smile. How she’d missed it! She couldn’t remember a time when his smile hadn’t been a part of her life, and to see it now was like holding a memory of her childhood in the palm of her hand.
“Juliana.” Fitzwilliam hurried across the room and clasped both her hands in his. “I can’t believe you’re here. Why didn’t you write? Only let me look at you. Ah, yes. A little travel weary, but as beautiful as I remember. You can’t know how much I’ve missed you, Lina, and how happy I am to see you!”
Tears sprang to Juliana’s eyes at the unmistakable affection in his voice, and his use of her childhood nickname. It felt as if a dozen lifetimes had passed since anyone had called her that. Her brother Jonathan and her dear friend Emma had used the nickname as well, but now Fitzwilliam was the only one left who ever called her Lina. “You’re not angry I’m here, then?”
His face softened at the sight of her tears. “Angry? No. How could I be? Oh, don’t cry, Lina! I only wonder you came such a long way without writing first.”
Juliana shot Mr. Blair a dark look, but she didn’t say a word about her stolen letter. She likely would have made it to Castle Kinross before her letter did, even if Logan Blair hadn’t burned it. There didn’t seem to be much point in fussing over it now. She had no idea why he’d taken it, or why he wanted to keep her from finding Castle Kinross, but there was a great deal going on here she didn’t understand. Until she had the whole story from Fitzwilliam, she’d keep quiet about the letter.
“You haven’t come alone?” An anxious frown clouded Fitzwilliam’s brow. “Where is Lord Graystone? Surely your father must have accompanied you.”
“My father?” Juliana shook her head, confused. Had Fitzwilliam not understood from her letters how dire the state of her father’s health was? “No. He’s in Bath, taking the waters.”
“Taking the waters! Why should he? He’s always been a picture of robust good health.”
Juliana stared at him, a sudden chill rushing over her skin. She couldn’t imagine how he could describe her father as robust after reading her letters. “I—I’m sorry. I thought I’d explained this, but perhaps I didn’t…I might not have been…”
The color must have drained from her face, because Fitzwilliam took her arm and hurried her back to her chair. “It’s all right, Lina. Sit down, take a deep breath, and tell me when you’re ready.”
Juliana struggled to catch her breath, but she was exhausted from her journey, worried about Stokes, and distressed over Logan Blair’s treachery. The next thing she knew, she was blurting
out the bad news. “My father is dying, Fitzwilliam. His friend Lord Arthur has taken him to Bath to try the waters, but the doctor warned us not to expect much improvement. I’m afraid it’s quite hopeless.”
Fitzwilliam went pale with shock. “But I don’t understand this. How could he have deteriorated so quickly? He was healthy enough when I last saw him, and that was only a few months ago.”
Juliana sighed. Fitzwilliam was fond of her father, and it would pain him to hear this. “He suffered a severe consumptive attack soon after you left. He recovered, but about a month ago he had another attack after returning from a trip to Buckinghamshire. Since then…well, you’d be shocked to see how feeble he’s grown.”
“Oh, no. Oh, Lina.”
Tears threatened once again, and Juliana sucked in a deep breath to clear them from her throat. She and her father were both strong-willed, and they’d had a number of bitter arguments about Grace over the past few months, but he’d always been an affectionate parent, and she loved him dearly. “That’s why I’ve come, you see. It’s only a matter of time before I lose him, and I’ve got Grace to consider.”
Fitzwilliam had taken her hands again. As soon as she mentioned Grace’s name, his fingers tightened convulsively around hers. “Grace? What has she to do with this? Has something happened to her?”
Juliana had been fighting off a growing sense of dread since this conversation began, but it wasn’t until Fitzwilliam mentioned Grace with such urgency that it swelled into full-blown panic.
She’d written to him weeks ago and told him all about her father’s illness, Lord Cowden’s threats, and Grace’s situation. She’d been distressed, and her letters might not have been as coherent as she’d thought, but Fitzwilliam was behaving as if he were hearing all this for the first time.
To Wed A Wild Scot Page 5