“Because she followed me to Castle Kinross from Inverness tonight, and before that from Gretna Green,” Logan said bluntly, before Lady Juliana could speak.
Fitz’s mouth dropped open. “What? She’s been following you forfour days? Why?”
“No. Three days. I didn’t waste any time.” Logan’s gaze wandered over Lady Juliana, taking her in from the top of her head to the toes of her stained boots. She’d removed her riding jacket, but the white shirt she wore beneath was nearly as filthy as the jacket had been. It looked as if she’d tried to secure her hair, but half of it had come loose, and it hung in a tangled mess down her back. “I grant you it looks more like four.”
It was an unforgivably rude comment, but even anger would be better than Lady Juliana’s silence, that look of frozen despair on her face. It didn’t goad her into a reply as Logan had hoped it would, but Fitz’s face darkened, and he took a threatening step toward Logan. “What the devil’s gotten into you? Apologize to Lady Juliana.”
Logan didn’t back away from his brother, but he did offer Lady Juliana a bow. “Beg pardon, Lady Juliana.”
She didn’t answer him, but for the first time since she found out Fitz was betrothed, she did look at Logan. He half-expected her to fly at him, to shriek and claw at his face, but she didn’t. She simply stared at him, her green eyes hard, then looked away again without saying a word.
The moment when her gaze met his seemed to stretch and swell into the longest of Logan’s life. The look in her eyes…
No one had ever looked at him with such quiet scorn before.
I’d rather she clawed me.
Fitz was still far from satisfied. “Would you care to explain to me why Lina would find it necessary to chase you from Gretna Green, Logan?”
“It was the only way she could be certain to find Castle Kinross.”
“Why shouldn’t she be able to find it?” Fitz was growing more impatient by the second. “I wrote to her with the direction, and anyway, Fergus could have told her the way. Why should she have to follow you?”
Logan raised an eyebrow at Lady Juliana. “Will you tell him, or will I?”
She didn’t answer him. Her green eyes narrowed on his face, but it wasn’t until she turned away that Logan realized she didn’t intend to tell Fitz anything about the letter he’d stolen. He caught her arm and turned her back to face him, more upset by her silence than he should be. “Tell him. I don’t need you to protect me, my lady.”
“I don’t do it to protectyou!” She yanked her arm from his grip. “But to protecthim.”
She nodded at Fitz, who was looking between the two of them as if they’d both lost their wits. “What’s going on here?” Fitz’s voice had gone dangerously soft. “Why didn’t Lina know the way to Castle Kinross? I’m not going to ask you again, Logan.”
Logan didn’t spare Fitz a glance. He kept his gaze on Lady Juliana. “Because she never received your letters. I took them, and then today I made Fergus promise not to give directions to Castle Kinross to any lady who asked for them.”
Fitz stared at Logan, shocked. “Youtookmy letters? I don’t understand. Why would you…what did you do with them?”
“Burned them. Your letters to Lady Juliana, and hers to you.”
Fitz’s mouth dropped open. “Allof them?”
“All but the first half dozen or so.”
Silence fell as the two men stared at each other. Long, tense moments passed without a word between them, then Fitz slowly shook his head. “Why would you do that, Logan?”
Logan let out a short laugh. “Youknowwhy.”
He didn’t have to say anything more. Fitz’s face fell, and Logan knew his brother understood exactly what he meant.
When Fitz had first arrived at Castle Kinross, he’d been everything Logan had feared he would be. Stiff, proud, distant—a lofty aristocrat who, despite the Blair blood flowing through his veins, had no understanding of the clan, the people, or the land.
Fitz owned this castle, and the land it stood on. He was the rightful Laird of Clan Kinross, and he was honor bound to protect his people. But when he’d first arrived at the castle there’d been nothing of the Scot in him—nothing of the laird. He was every inch the Duke of Blackmore, right down to his proper English accent.
In Logan’s experience, English dukes were about as interested in the welfare of the Scots who worked their land as they were an insect that happened to land on a sleeve of their fine coats.
They’d flick them aside without a second thought.
Logan turned to Lady Juliana. “I never read any of the letters. Just the one you saw me read today.”
Lady Juliana didn’t look as if she thought much of this one restraint on his part, but before she could speak, Fitz blew out a breath. “I thought we were past all this, Logan.”
