Logan winked. “No, but they don’t know that. Now, off with you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Duncan skipped out of the room, much cheered. Logan watched him go, then turned to Juliana. Her expression must have given her away, because a faint smile rose to his lips. “Why do you look so surprised,galla? I told you I was good with children.”
“So you did.” She watched Duncan race down the hallway with a bemused smile, then turned back to Logan. “You haven’t said why you came looking for me this afternoon, Mr. Blair.”
His smile disappeared. “I, ah…I need to speak with you alone, Lady Juliana.”
Oh, no. Juliana’s heart twisted with dread. There was only one thing he could possibly need to say to her privately, and he didn’t look like a delighted prospective bridegroom. No, he looked like a man about to disappoint a lady—to crush her last hope, shatter her fondest dream.
Logan Blair had made up his mind. He was going to refuse to marry her.
Chapter Thirteen
Logan’s palms were sweating, and a bead of moisture dotted his forehead.
He hadn’t thought he’d be nervous. It wasn’t as if he were a lovestruck suitor, offering for his beloved’s hand. That is, hewasoffering, but only because she’d offered hers first. He wasn’t about to bare his heart, or fall to his knees with desperate protestations of love and devotion on his lips. Their marriage was a necessity, not the passionate conclusion of a budding romance. He hadn’t any reason at all to be nervous.
“Mr. Blair? What do you wish speak to me about?”
Her eyes were greener than usual today. She was wearing a pale green dress made of some sort of light, floating material, and a wide green ribbon nestled amongst the shining tendrils of her hair. No dusty riding habit today. No soiled boots. Not a whiff of vomit or Ruthven Burn about her.
Somehow, she’d emerged from the musty passageway looking as if she’d just climbed out of the bath. He leaned toward her and took a cautious sniff, and his stomach tightened.
She smells like springtime.
He’d never seen her look more beautiful, and all at once he became painfully aware his coat was rumpled, his hair was damp with sweat from his ride, and his boots were streaked with mud.
She looked like a breath of fresh air, a warm spring day, and he…he looked like he’d spent the morning mucking out the stables. Likely smelled like it, too.
Logan blew out a breath. Damn it, this wasn’t even a real proposal, but it was already turning out to be a devil of a business. He hadn’t the first idea how to go about it. If he hadn’t already known she’d say yes, he’d probably have fallen into a swoon by now. He huffed out a breath, disgusted with himself.
“You seem distressed, Mr. Blair. Perhaps now isn’t the best time to talk.”
She tried to dart past him, but Logan caught her by the elbow. “No, no, I’m…will you take a walk in the gardens with me, Lady Juliana?” It had rained all morning, but now the sun was peeking through the clouds.
To his surprise, her face paled. “The gardens? You chased me down a tunnel to ask if I’d walk in the gardens with you?”
Another bead of sweat trickled down Logan’s neck. He had a vague idea the gardens might be the right setting for a proposal, but she looked faintly ill, much as she had when she’d seen the rats in the secret passageway.
Still, he couldn’t propose to herhere. For all he knew, Finlay and Brodie Munro could be hiding behind the library shelf right now, listening to every word he said and laughing themselves sick. “A short walk only, my lady.”
Her shoulders slumped. She took the arm he offered and let him lead her out into the formal gardens, but she looked like a prisoner being led to her execution rather than a lady out for a stroll among the roses.
Once they were outside and Logan could drag in a few breaths of fresh air, his confidence returned. It was a simple enough thing, really. All he had to do was tell Lady Juliana he agreed to the marriage, wave off her gratitude, and then they could go on much as they’d done before.
Except hopefully there’d be more kissing…
He turned to her, determined to have the thing done, but as soon as he got a close look at her, the words died on his tongue. Her eyes were downcast, her lips turned down, and an anxious furrow rested between her brows. She’d hardly spared the garden a glance, and she’d gone suddenly quiet once they left the library.
This wasn’t a promising start, and Logan’s nerves came rushing back. Should they have remained in the library? He thought she’d find the masses of rosebuds spilling from the neat rows of arbors romantic, but she didn’t even seem to notice them. “Don’t you like the gardens, Lady Juliana?”
She started, and glanced up at him. “They’re lovely, of course. I especially like the, ah…the lavender.”
Logan didn’t think she could be that impressed with the lavender, given every garden from Exeter to Perth was smothered in it. “Aye, the lavender is…” Damn it, he didn’t care about the cursed lavender. He couldn’t think of a single word to say about it. “I wanted to speak to you about our—”
“Wait, Mr. Blair! I mean, these gardens don’t interest me. Will you take me to the wild gardens, instead? I’ve been longing to see the blue poppies the Highlands are famous for, and I believe they’re in bloom now.”
