“And it wasn’t the first time you were left for dead. Was it?”

He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t.

“Na tréig mi,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me. Do you know you say that in your sleep?”

“I don’t—­”

“You do. Na tréig mi, na tréig mi. Over and over, while shivering.” She slapped a hand to her brow. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. It explains everything. Your mother wrapped you in a plaid, pinned the luckenbooth on to keep evil away . . . and then she abandoned you.”

“Yes. Yes, all right? That’s exactly what she did, and ’twas on a hillside not much different from the one we’re standing on now.”

“Which means you weren’t an infant. You were old enough to remember.” She hugged herself. “Oh, Logan. The things I said . . . that she must have been a clever woman if she left you. You must know I didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. So sorry for what happened.”

“Sorry for what happened? Don’t be sorry for what happened. Be sorry for what you did.”

“What did I do?”

He moved back, taking time to breathe and walk a slow circle. He was angry now. Not only with her. But partly with her. He’d been angry with Madeline Gracechurch for a long, long time. And since she’d asked, he was going to let her have it.

Here, in the dark.

“Do you want to hear something verra amusing?”

“I don’t suppose it’s a joke that ends with ‘Squeal louder, lass. Squeal louder.’ ”

“Oh, far better than that. When your first letter reached me, I wasn’t a captain. I was a private. Lowest rank in the army. Undisciplined, uninterested. Too poor to afford shoes. Here came this letter to Captain Logan MacKenzie. What a joke. They teased that I must have chatted up a girl before leaving, made myself out to be more than I was.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Before long, they were calling me ‘captain’ whenever my back was turned. My sergeant had me whipped for putting on airs.”

“And you blamed me.”

“Of course I blamed you. You were to blame. I’d read your letters. I knew they were nothing but fancies for a spoiled English debutante who didna fancy a turn about Almack’s that season. But the letters kept coming. The mockery, too. And after a while, I started to wonder . . . could I not make captain? That would show them all.”

“That sounds very like you. Ambitious. Determined.”

He snorted. “It was absurd. Do you have any idea what a stupid notion it is for an enlisted private with no money and even fewer connections to set his sights on making captain?”

“But you did it.”

“Aye. I did it. It took me four years, but I did it, one promotion and field commission at a time. The address on the envelope became the truth. The men’s teasing became respect. And the letters inside, they were changing, too. They were . . . kinder. Thoughtful. Bloody odd, but thoughtful. You sent me news of wee Henry and Emma. Here were children praying for me every night, as though I were part of their family. You canna understand, Maddie. I spent my youth in the byres, or huddled beneath my tattered plaid on the ground. I’d never had that. Never in all my life. I felt like a fool for it. But I started to pray for them, too.”

“Logan . . .”

“And then there was you. This strange, sweet woman that wouldna recognize me in the street but told me all her secrets—­and made more of me than I could have made of myself. Someone who was dreaming of me, wishing to hold me in her arms. It felt . . .” His voice caught. “It felt as if I’d tugged on a loose thread of God’s tartan, and a world away, someone tugged back. What was lies and foolishness to you was more than that to me. Your letters gave me the dream I didn’t know how to imagine for myself. They brought me to life. And then you left me for dead.”

Maddie pressed a hand to her mouth. “Logan, I’m so sorry. I cared for you. What you felt . . . I felt it, too. I never would have kept writing for so long otherwise. I knew it was real somehow.”

“Dinna say that.” He seized her by the arms and gave her a little shake. “Dinna tell me I was real to you and then you walked away to never think of me again. That only makes it worse.”

“Then tell me how to make it better.”

“It’s no use.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing you could say.”

She touched her hand to his cheek. “Not even I love you?”