“Perhaps you didna mean to. But involve me you did.”

“Is it an apology you want, then? I’m sorry. So very, very sorry. Please, if you’ll just give me the letters back and be on your way, I’ll be most generous. I’d be glad to pay you for your troubles.”

Logan shook his head. She thought a bribe would appease him? “I’m not leaving, lass. Not for all the pin money in your wee silk reticule.”

“Then what do you want?”

“That’s simple. I want what your letters said. What you’ve been telling your family for years. I’m Captain Logan MacKenzie. I received every last one of your missives, and despite your best attempts to kill me, I am verra much alive.”

He propped a finger under her chin, tilting her face to his. So she would be certain to hear and believe his words.

“Madeline Eloise Gracechurch . . . I’ve come here to marry you.”

Chapter Two

Aunt Thea sat across from Maddie at the tea table. “Well, my dear. I must say, this has been a most surprising afternoon.”

Maddie could not dispute it. She dipped her spoon in the posset and traced figure eights in the pale, lumpy brew.

The entire encounter with Captain MacKenzie had left her reeling.

I’ve come here to marry you, he’d said.

And in return, what had she said? Had she given him a scathing, witty refusal? Shredded his smirk to ribbons with her rapier wit? Sent him riding into the sunset, sworn to never again pester an unsuspecting Englishwoman in her home?

Hah. No, of course not. She’d merely stood there, still as a stone and twice as dumb, until her aunt had returned, posset in hand.

I’ve come here to marry you.

Maddie blamed her upbringing. Every gentleman’s daughter was raised to believe that those words—­when spoken by a reasonably attractive, well-­intentioned gentleman—­were her key to bliss. Marriage, she’d been taught over the course of a thousand dollhouse tea parties, should be her desire, her goal . . . her very reason for existing.

So ingrained was this lesson that Maddie had actually felt a foolish zing of exhilaration when he’d declared this preposterous intent. A little voice inside her had kept standing up to cheer. You’ve finally made the grade! At last, a man wants to marry you.

Sit down, she’d told it. And be still.

She refused to define her personal worth on the basis of a marriage proposal. Much less this one. Which was not a true proposal but a threat—­delivered by a man who was not a gentleman, not well intentioned, and attractive to an unreasonable degree.

“I never dreamed that this was possible.” Maddie circled her spoon in the bowl again and again. “I can’t imagine how it occurred.”

“To be sure, I’m stunned as well. The back-­from-­the-­dead part is quite a shock, of course. Even more than that . . .” Her aunt propped her chin on the back of her hand and stared out the window looking onto the courtyard. “Just look at that man.”

Maddie followed her aunt’s gaze.

Captain MacKenzie stood in the center of the grassy space, giving directions to the small band of soldiers in his command. His men had brought their horses inside the castle walls to be fed and watered and stabled for the night. After that, they’d expressed an intent to make camp.

They were practically taking up residence.

Dear heaven. How had this happened?

The same way all of it had happened, Maddie told herself.

It was her fault.

She’d made one mistake years ago, in much the same way a child made a snowball. It had been a small, manageable, innocent-­looking thing at first. It had fit in the palm of her hand.

Then the snowball had rolled away from her and taken a wild bounce down a hill. From there, everything escaped her control. The lies built on themselves, growing ever larger and gaining furious speed. And no matter how long and hard she chased after it, she never quite managed to get the snowball back.

“To think that my little Madling—­at the tender age of sixteen—­snagged that glorious specimen. And here I thought you only collected seashells.” Aunt Thea toyed with her cuff bracelet. “I know you told us a great deal of your captain, but I assumed you were overstating his qualities. It would seem you were being humble instead. Were I thirty years younger, I’d—­”

“Aunt Thea, please.”

“Now I understand why you resisted marrying elsewhere all this time. A man like that will ruin a woman for all others. I know it well. It was just the same between me and the Comte de Montclair. Ah, to relive that springtime at Versailles.” She looked over at Maddie again. “You haven’t touched your posset.”