When a Scot Ties the Knot

She took his hand and placed it on her belly. “There’s another little heart inside here now. It’s a bit of you and a bit of me, and a lot of someone we’ll have to wait to know. But Logan”—­her dark eyes tipped up to meet his—­“this means we’re a family.”

A new flame. A fresh start. Nothing in the past mattered any longer. There was only the future now.

He did what he’d been threatening to do since the very first night. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of oats.

And carried his bride home.

To bed.

“You don’t think I’ve tried stopping? For that matter, I tried mightily not to start in the first place. Neither strategy succeeded.” Her fingertips grazed his jawline. “I can’t help it. And I can’t deny it any longer. I love you. Whether anything comes of it or not, I want you to know.”

“It’s over, Logan. It’s over. You saw the way Lord Varleigh treated me tonight. Even if he had introduced me to Mr. Dorning, it would have been for nothing. I’m a woman. That’s already a strike against me in most ­people’s eyes. And if I’m newly married? They’d never hire me for a long project. They’d assume I’ll get pregnant at any moment and abandon the work.”

“I need you to move swiftly and surely, lads. In all our years together on campaign, we never once left a soldier behind to die. We’re not leaving this lobster, either.”

“This lobster is of great importance to Madeline. Which means it’s of great importance to me.”

“I am wearing a cravat and cuff links at the godforsaken Beetle Ball. Does this not count as going to trouble for you?”

“But . . . that’s not for me. Not really.”

“Maddie, mo chridhe.” His grip on her arms softened to a caress, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Like hell it isn’t.”

And once he held her in his arms, he was never going to let her go.

“You may say you dinna want to attract notice. Well, I notice all of you.” He tipped his head, letting his gaze saunter down her body. “In fact, I’m starting to fancy myself a sort of naturalist. One with verra particular interests. I’m becoming quite the expert in Madeline Eloise Gracechurch.”

“Logan . . .”

“And lass, you canna stop me.”