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“Nothing normal or mundane about us, love.” Logan finished with the fire and went to lock the door.
“You’ll have to leave before daylight,” Donella warned. “The housemaid will be suspicious if my door is locked. And you’re much too big to hide under the bed.”
He strolled over and propped a brawny shoulder against the bedpost. “A bit nervous, lass?”
She raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“It’s understandable,” he said with a lopsided smile. “I confess to feeling the same way.”
“I have never once seen you nervous, even when we were attacked on the Perth Bridge.”
“Och, that wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as tonight.”
Donella scowled. “You shouldn’t tease, you know. I already feel like a henwit.”
He came around to her side of the bed. “May I sit?”
She scooted over to make room for him.
Logan took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “On top of everything else, I’m guessing my reputation might be making you apprehensive.”
“You mean your reputation as a rake,” she softly replied.
He nodded. “I know I’ve made some blunders in these last weeks that may have . . . reinforced that impression.”
He meant his interactions with Jeannie MacArthur, of course. Since she had no intention of even saying that woman’s name, she simply nodded.
“What people say about me might have been true long ago,” he said. “But remember I’m now a widower who loved his wife and grieved for a long time after her death. I would never wish to dishonor her memory or act in any way that would embarrass my son or family. My stupid, selfish behavior is in the past, Donella. I promise you that.”
Her heart ached for him and all the sorrows he’d suffered. And for how hard he’d tried to make up for his youthful mistakes.
“Anyone who knows you understands that you’re a good man.” She squeezed his hand. “And I also know how much you loved your wife. And how much you miss her.”
It seemed rather selfish of her, but Donella could only hope he would love her as much someday.
“I did miss her, for a very long time,” he quietly replied. “But then I met you.”
She saw the stark honesty in his gaze, and the breath caught in her throat. “I’m glad, because I want you to be happy.”
“I’m happy when I’m with you,” he gruffly replied. “But, like you, I’m dealing with a new feeling. Hence, my inclination toward a wee bit of hysterics, myself.”
Donella choked out a laugh. “I have some smelling salts in my dressing table. Do you want me to fetch them?”
“I do feel a swoon coming on. But if I lie down for a bit, I will surely recover myself.”
“That is a very transparent excuse for getting into my bed, sir,” she severely replied.
“Is it working?”
“Better than you know.”
He chuckled before starting to yank off his boots.
Donella settled back and watched him. “This reminds me of that night in the inn, when I was in bed and you were getting undressed. I was mortified by the entire situation.”
“There were occasional comical elements, though. I recall a great deal of talk about chamber pots.”
She groaned. “Please, I’ve been trying to forget.”
