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“Just a little trouble on the road.” Logan paused a moment. “Grandda, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?”
The old man looked hesitant. “Well, ye see . . .”
“Ah, Logan. There you are.” Logan’s sister-in-law hurried out of the drawing room. Victoria gave him a quick once-over, frowning. “Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not. Now, perhaps you’ll tell me what’s going on?”
She and Angus exchanged a glance. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Didna have the chance.”
Notanothercrisis. Logan hoped he would have time to splash water on his face and change his clothes before he had to start bashing heads together or breaking someone out of jail.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Victoria smiled. “Nothing awful, dear. It’s just a surprise.”
“I love surprises,” he growled, “so bloody well tell me.”
“Well, ye see,” said Angus, “I’ve brought home—”
“Hello, Papa.”
The little voice caused Logan to spin on his boot heels to face the drawing room. His head spun too, because there stood Joseph. The boy’s hands were folded neatly across his stomach as he regarded Logan with a wary gaze, as if unsure of his reception.
“I brought yer son home,” Angus proudly said.
Logan fought to marshal his overwhelmed thoughts. He hadn’t seen Joseph in over a year but had planned on sailing to Canada in March for an extended stay. To now have his son standing in the hall of Kendrick House, right before him . . .
“I told you it was a surprise,” Victoria said with a twinkle.
Angus poked him on the arm. “Say hello to yer boy, ye jinglebrains.”
Logan lunged across the hall, sweeping his child into his arms. He hugged him close, his heart pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer. Joseph was the first thought in his head in the morning and the last at night. His absence was a wound that never fully healed, closing over when the boy was with him and ripping open when he said good-bye.
Joseph had been safe in Halifax with his grandparents and Royal and Ainsley. The thought of his son taking that six-week sea voyage, even on a Kendrick ship, made Logan queasy. The boy was the dearest thing in the world to him, and if anything had happened . . .
“It’s a damn good thing I didn’t know you were coming over,” he growled at his grandfather. “I would have been a wreck.”
Angus tapped the side of his nose. “Which is why I didna send word ahead. I knew ye would have worried like an old biddy.”
“Marie agreed to this?”
Marie Pisnet, Joseph’s grandmother, had raised the child from birth. Normally, she didn’t let him out of her sight and had readily agreed it was best for Joseph to remain in Halifax, under her watchful and loving care whenever Logan was in Scotland.
Angus nodded. “It was her idea.”
Joseph, who’d been hugging Logan around the neck, pulled back and wriggled a bit, as if wanting to get down. Logan eased his hold, propping the lad on his hip so they could look at each other.
“Aren’t you happy to see me, Papa?” A troubling caution lurked in the boy’s coffee-brown gaze.
Joseph had his mother’s eyes. And like his mother, those eyes were open and honest, holding nothing back. Logan had always been able to read whatever Marguerite was thinking from her gaze, and he could do the same with his son.
And it made him feel like a worm.
“I’malwayshappy to see you, my dearest boy. I was just a little surprised, that’s all.”
Joseph’s mouth tilted up at the corners. “But it’s a good surprise. Grandda said it would be good.”
