But it was a ridiculous notion to consider repeating it. He and Faith were too volatile toward one another, too different. Besides, there was something about Fatih, a quality about her seemed to whisper the word “forever,” and he would not be consumed by one woman for the rest of his life and end up like his father.
No. He wouldn’t do that.
Logan had tried to be sympathetic toward his father for having lost the love his life, but the old man’s loss of joy in life had only managed to leave Logan bitter toward the whole idea of falling in love. He often pitied his father, and he had no wish to become pitiable himself, even with the lure of soft curves, silky curls, and vibrant green eyes.
The sudden deep growl emanating from further along the path caught Logan by surprise. Distracted from his thoughts, he stilled as he looked ahead. Jaco’s head was low to the ground, and he was positioned just beyond the crest of a hill. He was in a pre-attack stance. Curious, Logan hurried to see what warranted such a posture.
The wooden path led to an open field that sat beneath the beginning of a mountainous landscape. Just at the foot of the mountain stood an old stone crofter’s house. Logan had played there as a boy amongst the overgrown rose bushes that had nearly engulfed the tiny house—but he hadn’t been there in years.
“What is it, boy?” he asked, hunching down to Jaco’s side to pet the dog’s head. “Is it a stag?”
But just as he spoke, Logan thought he saw the flapping of a cloth just around the cottage’s corner. Straightening up, he squinted. It was a decent way away, and the wind was blowing, causing the tall grass and heather to wave before him to the point where he couldn’t entirely be sure if what he saw was real or merely a shadow.
Jaco’s growl intensified, and while Logan was curious, he did have a standing appointment to meet with Graham. If he went to inspect the building, he would likely find nothing… but still, he stared. This land butted up against his own. If there was any danger here, he needed to be aware of it. But the longer he observed the cottage, the more he was convinced it was some sort of shadow playing against the bramble bush that covered the corner.
He rustled Jaco’s head.
“Come on, boy. Let’s go.”
Logan hadn’t ridden his horse in the hopes of exhausting himself, but by the time he reached Graham at the northern half of the shore, he had barely even started to build up a sweat. He was used to the rocky terrain, and he was in the process of wondering if he should try running when Graham’s tall form entered his vision.
Dressed in his usual dark jacket and matching pants, Graham stood with his back to Logan, gazing out over the loch from his favorite fishing spot. Why Logan continued to pursue this foolish sport, he did not know, but he was eager to speak with Graham if only to learn how Faith was doing since her departure from Harris House.
He only hoped that Graham had left his wife at home this time.
“Oy!” he called out, never the sort to sneak up on anyone. Graham turned around, flashing him a smile. Logan made a point to look around. “Is your bride not with you?”
Graham had recently made it a habit of bringing his wife, Hope, with him on fishing excursions. Logan hadn’t minded at first, except when she began landing the damn fish almost before her line had been cast. Her natural ability surpassed even her husband’s, and while most men might be aggravated by it, Graham only ever puffed his chest out, proud as the day was long about his wife’s talent.
“Not today, I’m afraid,” he said as Logan and Jaco reached the water’s edge. Graham bent down to pat the dog on the head. “She isn’t feeling well.”
“Oh? I’m sorry to hear it,” Logan said.
“She’s saying she’s all right, but she was pale yesterday, as well as today. I was going to send you a note to cancel, but she insisted I go,” Graham said, eyeing him. “I hope she didn’t catch anything from Faith.”
Logan looked straight ahead as he dropped the wicker basket slung across his chest to the ground.
“Miss Sharpe appeared to be in perfect health when she left Harris House. Besides, I doubt her sister would have let her leave if she had felt otherwise.”
“Aye, that Grace is a stern one,” Graham said, a sense of brotherly pride in his tone. “She was the one to convince me to come today, actually. Said there was nothing to worry about concerning Hope and that it would do her good to get some rest without my bothering her.”
Logan smirked, privately amused by Graham. He had always been so self-possessed, so sure of himself and his purpose—which had always been to regain Lismore Hall, the ancestral home that his father had gambled away to Lady Belle thirty-some years ago. When he had learned that her nieces were going to inherit, he had been so determined to not like the Sharpes, particularly Hope, but then had fallen madly in love with her.Now, he was the bane of every bachelor’s existence: a happy husband.
It was tiring to be around him sometimes, Logan acknowledged. A man should never be so overtly pleased with himself or his family. It led to complacency since it left one with little to no reason to strive to better one’s situation. Logan would certainly never be so content.
“How does Miss Sharpe fair?” Logan heard himself ask as he baited his line. “She seemed well enough when she left my house.”
“Very well. And my wife wanted me to thank you for taking such good care of her. Especially considering well…You know.”
Logan paused and glanced at his friend.
“Do I?”
“Well, considering you two don’t get on. Hope was very grateful that you kept her in such good spirits.”
It shouldn’t have been surprising to hear. Logan and Faith had rarely kept their contentious feelings for one another hidden. Yet he found himself irritated. Mildly so, like when a twig is caught in one’s sock. And even though no one knew what had transpired between them, he wanted to make some sort of amends.
“It was no trouble. I believe Miss Sharpe and I have cleared up some misunderstandings between us.”
