Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
In one powerful movement, Logan flung the door wide open, ready to launch a tirade of sharp words at whoever had dared to enter while he was away from the keep.
But a tirade of curse words reached him first, rattling out of the figure who was in the midst of ransacking his personal library.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” Adeline barked. “Is that how you walk into every room? You just kick the door down and frighten the life out of whoever might be inside? You almost gave me a heart attack!”
Logan bit off a mouthful of bread, chewing it thoughtfully. “Ye’re wailin’ at me for enterin’ me own study however I see fit?” He raised an eyebrow. “A study that ye’re nae supposed to be in, by the way.”
“Your mother said I could, so if you want to go and yell at someone, you can go and yell at her instead,” she shot back, panting hard.
Her hand clutched a book he did not recognize, pulled from the section he rarely read from, and never dusted. A collection of tomes that he had inherited from his father.
“They teach ordinary lasses how to read in yer world?” he asked, closing the study door.
Adeline looked at him as if he had just dropped a bar across it, trapping her inside. Not wanting to make her more fearful than he already had, he moved to the study window and leaned against the wall, finishing off his breakfast. Still, the door would remain closed—he preferred it that way.
“They teach ‘ordinary lasses’ everything they teach ‘ordinary lads’ in my world,” she said haughtily, clearly still unsettled by his dramatic entry.
He smirked. “That wasnae an insult. They daenae teach ordinary lads how to read here either.”
“Oh…” Adeline clasped the book to her chest. “Well, I didn’t know that.”
“I do me best to ensure that me clansfolk have some ability to read and write, but it’s persuadin’ them that there’s some benefit to it that’s the trouble,” Logan explained, dusting the crumbs from his hands. “Ye wouldnae see many choosin’ to read a book. They’d deem it a waste of their time.”
Adeline glanced up at him. “What about you? You’ve got… a lot of books I wouldn’t have expected to see. Sure, I haven’t heard of most of these people, but I’ve heard of some—Chaucer, Shakespeare, Francis Bacon, Walter Raleigh, Machiavelli.”
“Ye dinnae think an island Laird might take pleasure in readin’?”
Adeline’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that. I… don’t know what I meant.” Her expression hardened. “This is your fault. You startled me out of my skin, so my brain is all… jiggled. I can’t think straight.”
“Neither can I,” he replied silkily. “And that is yer fault.”
She turned her back to him, slotting the book back into its place on the shelf. “I thought we agreed to forget about that. You’re just bringing it up because you know you should’ve… knocked or something, and you want to turn it on me.”
“I was talkin’ about ye bein’ in me study, where ye shouldnae be without gettin’ permission from me,” he returned, smiling as her body stiffened. “I daenae ken what ye’re referrin’ to.”
For a short while, she kept her back to him, no doubt trying to figure out how to respond. Still, it pleased him to discover that she had not actually forgotten about the events of the previous night. Perhaps that meant she might be inclined to “test something” again.
He watched her as he waited for her reply, silently lamenting the fact that she had dispensed with that gray second skin he had come to like so much. Evidently, she had been introduced to a more appropriate wardrobe. She wore a simple gown of finely woven wool, the skirts parting like curtains at the hips to reveal petticoats below. He could not remember the name of the garment, nor did it seem important to know. But he could not deny that it suited her, making her appear more… graceful.
“Were ye lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?” he asked, when several minutes had gone by and she still had not spoken.
She took a breath and turned to face him. “The books your old healer left behind. Your mother said I might find some here, but I haven’t yet.” She paused. “Some of the writing is hard for me to read.”
“It is?” He approached.
She pulled out one of the books to show him. “Some of the books are handwritten, which is frankly impossible. I mean, I like a nice cursive as much as the next person, but this is just spider scrawl.” She pulled out another, opening it at a random page. “And then, there are ones like this, where the printing is so tightly packed—how is anyone meant to read it without straining their eyes? Just thinking about reading it is giving me a headache.”
“I can read ‘em to ye if ye start strugglin’,” he offered.
She met his gaze and then immediately lowered her eyes again, her cheeks reddening. “I might need you to. I was looking for something that could help with your mom’s back before I go and swipe what I can from your old healer’s room. But… like I said, this is impossible. I’m not even convinced it’s English.”
“That one isnae,” Logan said, stifling a laugh. “That’s French.”
She seemed surprised. “You speak French?”
“Ye need nae keep widenin’ yer eyes like that whenever ye discover I have some refinement about me, Adeline,” he half-chided. “I might nae be a fancy English Lord, but I wouldnae say I’m an uncivilized brute.”
She swallowed loudly. “You did kick the door in.”
“What would ye do if ye approached a door to a room that only ye ever enter, and ye found it ajar? Would ye enter quietly?”
Adeline frowned. “I think I’d find the nearest baseball bat, but then I am from New Jersey.”
“I daenae ken what that means.” He smiled at her, admiring her beauty… and the pretty pink flush on her cheeks caused by him.
There was nothing so satisfying as making a woman blush for the right reasons.
She smoothed her fingertips across the yellowed pages of the French novella, and Logan noted the dust on the leather exterior. He wished he could say the book had been a gift from a foreign guest, but how it had come to be on the shelves in his study was a much grislier tale. One he was not prepared to tell Adeline.
“Do you know where the medical stuff might be?” she asked, her shoulders relaxing.
He nodded, reaching high over her head to touch the books at the very top. “Do ye want all of them?”
She said nothing, her mouth slightly parted. Her eyes were fixed on his chest, no more than a hand’s length away from her. Clearing her throat, she backed away a little, her spine bumping into the bookcase.
“Ow,” she mumbled, still staring at his chest.
He decided to enjoy the moment, leaning closer as he grabbed the largest book on that top shelf. He took his time bringing it down to her level, while she stood silently in his shadow, her teeth grazing her lower lip.
“This is the one he used the most,” Logan explained, keeping one hand above her head while he held the massive tome in the other.
She nodded absently. “Hmm?”
“This book. It’s the one the healer used the most.”
Her gaze lifted to meet his, her breath catching in the softest gasp. “Is that right?”
“Aye, it is,” he replied. “I daenae ken if there’s aught in here that can help me maither, though. The old healer wasnae too concerned with aches and pains. He was more of a… broken bones sort of man.”
Adeline’s throat moved as she swallowed, drawing his eyes to that sensual curve. His lips ached to kiss her there, to feel her swallow again as his mouth grazed her skin. And his arms, so close to her, longed to pull her into an embrace once more, to make certain that the previous night had not been a mirage.
“Willow bark,” she whispered.
Logan arched an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“I… need to find willow bark.”
“Aye, we can do that,” he said, taking a half-step closer.
She pressed back into the bookcase, though she did not try to escape his proximity. His left side was entirely clear. If she wanted to be free of him, the way was open to her. Instead, her breath shallowed, her chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm as her eyes gleamed with desire.
“Actually, I was hopin’ that ye might help me with somethin’,” he told her, dipping his head.
Adeline shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do—”
“There’s a man on the cliffs,” Logan interrupted, to spare her blushes. “An old friend of mine. In the storm, his home collapsed on him. We only just found him. He’d been lyin’ there for a while. He wouldnae come to the keep, but I thought ye might consent to visit him, to test and see if ye can fix him.”
Adeline expelled a shaky breath. “Oh, well, if it’s that—I suppose I should do something to earn my keep. I’d… um… be happy to visit him, to see what I can do, but I’m definitely going to need that willow bark.”
“What did ye think I was goin’ to ask ye for?” He could not help teasing, though it was quite plain what she thought he was going to say.
She hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “Do you want me to help you or not?”
“Is that a threat? What have I done to deserve that?” He smiled, taking another half step until there was barely a breath between them. His hand lowered to cradle the back of her neck.
Her breath hitched. “What are you doing?”
“I dinnae want ye to knock yer head again,” he replied. “Now, would ye like me to stay here, or would ye like me to go to the other side of the room?”
She did not answer at once, clearly trying to gather herself. A red blush rose up from the swell of her breasts, coloring her neck, and creeping up to join the pink of her cheeks. Gently, she touched a hand to his chest, but whether it was to push him away or to bring him closer, he did not know… and did not get to find out.
The study door burst open.
Logan whirled around, standing in front of Adeline to protect her. An old instinct not yet forgotten. But as he saw the figure who barreled into the room, his tightly wound muscles relaxed. There would be no fight, nor was he sure why he thought there would be.
“Uncle?” Logan would have cursed the older man’s timing, but one look at the expression on his uncle Dallas’s face, and he realized there was something more serious afoot. “Have ye come from the east?”
Dallas stooped to catch his breath. “Aye, son.” It was the term of endearment he had always used, even in Logan’s adulthood. “It’s nae good.”
“Is Ben with ye?”
Dallas shook his head. “I left him in the village. He’s tendin’ to those poor souls as best he can, but his grandfaither dinnae teach him much.” He raised pale blue eyes. “It’s… dire, and it’s only gettin’ worse. Worse than the northern villages.”
“Are they dyin’?” Logan held his breath.
Dallas nodded slowly. “They’re beginnin’ to, but it’s nae as quick as in the north. I daenae ken if that’s a blessin’ or a curse. Och, Logan, it’s awful. The sounds of their pain are enough to curdle milk.” He paused, sweeping a hand through his silver hair. “But that’s nae the worst news I have for ye.”
“What do ye mean?”
Dallas took a deep breath, while Logan still held his. “Yer brother is among the sick.”
“What?” Logan’s eyes bulged, his heart lurching in his throat. “How can that be? I sent him away. He’s on the mainland.”
Dallas pulled a knowing face. “He isnae. He came back just before that terrible storm we had. Must’ve been hidin’ in one of the villages, drinkin’ himself into a stupor. Got himself sick instead.”
“Tell me ye brought him with ye,” Logan growled, fighting to control himself.
“I couldnae,” Dallas replied somberly. “He couldnae be moved without it causin’ him pain, and there were nay carts I could use to bring him. They’re all bein’ used for… the dead and dyin’.”
Logan clenched his hands into fists. “We’re ridin’ back, at once. I must find out what is causin’ this, and I must find out before… anyone else is lost.”
“I thought ye might say that.” Dallas sighed. “Hoped ye might, anyway.”
At that moment, Adeline stepped from behind Logan, drawing Dallas’s surprised gaze. “You’re not going anywhere without me,” she stated, gazing up at him. “I can be of service.”
“Nay,” Logan replied curtly.
“You’d be an idiot not to take me there,” she shot back, moving to stand in front of him. “I know what I’m looking at when I see sick people. I know what to do. I might not have my usual resources, but… I can help. At the very least, I can figure this out, and, by the Grace of God, if it’s something I’m familiar with, we might be able to stop it from spreading.”
Logan thought of his brother, claimed by this plague that continued to blight the island. It was not really a decision at all. Of course, there was a great risk of someone hailing Adeline as a witch, which came with its own cruel array of consequences, but if he did not let her come with him, his brother might die. He could not allow that to happen.
“Very well,” he said, noting for the first time that the purple was gone from her hair. “But remember yerself.”
She squinted. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He took hold of her chin, lightly brushing his thumb across her lower lip. “Guard this .” He lowered his voice so Dallas would not hear. “Be careful of what ye say.”
For if Adeline was their only hope of holding back the tide of this sickness, his clan needed to believe the story—that she was someone he had invited to the island to help, and not a witch or a sorceress or a woman who did not belong. They needed to trust her, and suspicion was a fever that spread far quicker than any illness.