Page 16 of Finding Faith (Seduced in Scotland #2)

I nstantly, Faith turned into a nurse. After calling for a maid and sending for Grace, she practically pushed Logan onto the settee in her aunt’s study she crouched down and began rolling up his pant leg, ignoring his resistance.

“There’s no need to do that.”

“Hush,” she said, shooing his hands away just as the maid returned with a bowl of hot water and torn linens. “Don’t move.”

“Well, don’t press on it like that.”

The sight of blood dripping from his calf sent a chill through her. Who would want to shoot at him? Everyone within a hundred miles adored Logan Harris. In fact, that had been one of the most annoying things about him when she’d first arrived in the Highlands last year. Everyone seemed to fawn over him wherever he went. Whether it was because he was handsome or a war hero, she did not know.

“A fine thing to have happened to you,” she muttered to herself as she began to clean the wound.

“It’s not my fault someone took aim at me.”

“Isn’t it? You must have done something to anger someone.”

“A fine quality, blaming me for being shot at,” he sneered sarcastically.

Faith knew she was wrong to do so, but she couldn’t help but slide back into her old argumentative ways. It was like Logan had said during her stay at Harris House. Anger was an easier emotion to feel and express than fear.

“Could it have been an accident? Perhaps you walked into the path of a hunter stalking prey.”

“I was on the road. No one in these parts would be so foolish as to stalk an animal so close to a fairway.”

“Not even early in the morning, when they had reason to believe the rest of the world was still asleep?” She shook her head as she dipped the crimson-soaked linen into the warm bowl of water. She squeezed it out and continued to wash away the blood.

He leaned forward, causing her to stop her nursing as she looked up into his hazel eyes.

“I wouldn’t have been out so early if you hadn’t fled from my home like some sort of spooked rabbit.” His words were heated and for a moment she thought she saw fear in his eyes. “If the shooting was an accident, then I’m only grateful that it was me who was injured and not you.”

His worry for her, even when she was completely fine, echoed in her heart like a hammer striking a horseshoe. Perhaps it was her fault. Oh, why had she fallen asleep so quickly last night? She should have stayed awake, crawled out of his warm, tender arms, and destroyed the painting once and for all. Then he wouldn’t have felt the need to chase after her—and wouldn’t have ended up on the road, in a bullet’s path. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to destroy the portrait any more than she’d been able to resist the urge to fall asleep next to him.

Going to Harris House had been a wasted venture. Though she would cherish the memory of their experience for the rest of her life, she feared the consequences that might come of it. All the more so since she had lost her lucky amber during her rush out that morning. She might not fully believe in the idea of the stone being lucky, but it had been comforting to have something to hold on to. Now that comfort was gone.

And now, Logan was bleeding in her aunt’s study, distracting her once more from what she wanted to say.

“What’s all this now?” Grace asked as she entered the room, her eyes widening at the sight before her. “Oh dear. Mr. Harris, you’re bleeding.”

“He’s been shot,” Faith said, standing up as she motioned her hands toward his leg. “Fix him, will you?”

“I suppose I should try, shouldn’t I?” Grace said, seemingly bemused by Faith’s reaction.

A maid hurriedly moved Aunt Belle’s chair over, and Grace sat to inspect Logan’s leg.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his tone annoyed. “I barely even realized it before Faith noticed it.”

“That’s to be expected,” Grace said calmly as Faith peered over her sister’s shoulder. “Adrenaline can cause muscle extension and a temporary loss of feeling pain.” Grace leaned closer to inspect it. “Yes. You wouldn’t have noticed, particularly if you were on the run.”

“How did you know that?”

“Graham told us,” Hope said from the doorway, causing everyone to look in her direction. “He came to see me just before he left for Glencoe.”

“Great,” Logan said sarcastically, but Faith was suddenly panicky.

“What do you mean, you were on the run?” she asked. “Who was shooting at you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You must know,” she insisted.

“I don’t.”

“But you must have seen something.”

“I just said—”

“Um, pardon me,” Grace said, lifting a hand. “I’m afraid I’m going to need to interrupt this squabble. Una?” she said, calling to the maid.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Would you fetch me my sutures? They’re in a brown leather bag I have on top of my desk in my room.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Faith’s heart sank at her sister’s words.

“Sutures? He needs stiches?”

“Oh, just a few,” Grace said, gently cleaning the wound as Faith glanced down.

A crab apple-sized bloody indent showed just at the swell of his calf. It was blistering around the edges, and Faith wince upon seeing it. Logan cleared his throat, bringing her attention to him.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly.

“Of course, it is,” Grace said, seeming unaware of the tender back and forth playing out over her head. “It’s a clean wound. No bullet lodged in here. We’ll just have it cleaned and tied up as soon as possible.”

“Does he…” She began before redirecting herself to Logan. “Do you need anything?”

“A dram of whiskey?”

“Oh no,” Grace said. “Alcohol increases bleeding. I won’t have you drinking for at least a week.”

“A week?” he said, looking down at Grace. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“It’s true, Mr. Harris. I certainly do not care if you believe it or not. As my patient, I strictly forbid it.”

“God save any man who becomes your patient,” he muttered as Una returned with Grace’s leather bag.

“Faith, dear, come over here,” Hope said, standing behind a chair.

Faith glanced at her elder sister and noted the death clutch her fingers had on the chair she stood behind. In fact, her whole face was quite pale.

“What’s wrong?” Faith asked, going to her sister.

Hope released the chair and gripped Faith’s hand in an almost painful grasp.

“We should leave. There will be blood, no doubt,” she said faintly. “Let Grace tend to it.”

“But I can help,” Faith argued.

Grace turned around and gave them both a concerned look.

“Faith, can you escort Hope back to her room, please? I don’t want her to faint and I’ve my hands full at the moment.”

“Faint? Hope has seen blood before,” Faith said somewhat stubbornly. “She tended to Graham last year when he was shot.”

“Yes, but in her current condition, I believe the sight of blood will make her sick. Now will you please remove her?”

Grace’s words fell on Faith slowly as she looked at Hope and then back at Grace.

“Her condition?”

“Oh, please keep it quiet,” Hope said, her breathless tone suddenly worrying Faith. “If Graham… If Graham finds out, I’ll… I’ll…”

“Take her away now , Faith,” Grace ordered.

With a shared look of confusion with Logan, Faith turned and guided her sister out of the room. Within moments of leaving, Hope seemed to feel better, and by the time they reached her rooms, she had even gained some color back in her cheeks.

Faith was sure to handle her with care as she brought her into the room, where Hope sat on the edge of her bed before looking up sheepishly.

“I’m sorry I did not tell you sooner,” she said quickly before Faith could ask a question. “But I’ve been trying to keep it secret, you see. If Graham were to discover it, I’m afraid he would become unbearably overprotective.”

“Why did you tell Grace then?” Faith said, unable to keep a slight hurt out of her voice.

Hope shook her head.

“My dear, you try keeping a medical condition away from that girl. Besides, she was the one who informed me, actually,” she said. “I thought I had a head cold.”

Faith smiled then, unable to stop herself. Of course Grace had guessed. It would be foolish to assume they could purposely keep a medical secret from her. She squeezed Hope’s hand.

“A baby. I can’t even imagine,” she said softly. “Does Aunt Belle know?”

“I didn’t tell her, but that woman has a knack for knowing everything about everyone at all times,” Hope said.

“When will you tell Graham?”

“Soon, most likely. It will become obvious to everyone before long.”

“Oh, Hope,” Faith said, feeling suddenly emotional. “I’m so happy for you.”

Hope smiled warmly at her sister.

“I guess you can understand now why I was so against you leaving for London. I didn’t want you to be away from me during this time.” She looked down. “But I guess that was rather selfish of me, wasn’t it?”

“Selfish? Goodness, no, Hope. Had I known, I never would have even suggested it.”

Hope perked up.

“So, you won’t be going to London?”

Faith’s smile became strained as she thought about her question. She had more reasons to stay than go, but the biggest reason to leave was sitting downstairs in Aunt Belle’s office.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. In fact, the opposite was true. She found that she had come to enjoy their back and forth. It was ridiculous, but the constant, simmering heat between them had become something she looked forward to. But then he had proposed and ruined everything. It was purely out of obligation, and she couldn’t bear it.

“You should rest,” she said, avoiding the question. “I really should be helping Grace. I’ll have Una bring you some tea.”

“Thank you,” Hope said as she lay on her bed.

Faith returned to the study just as Grace cleaned her hands with a damp cloth.

“Well, then, Mr. Harris. I’m afraid your pant leg is ruined. As talented as I am with sutures, I’m a sight worse with embroidery.” She said, smiling at her little jest as she stood up. “But you should heal up just fine. I’d keep off the leg as much as you can for a day or two—and as I said, no drinking any spirits for at least a week. If the wound becomes red or raised, send for either myself or Dr. Barkley.”

Logan peered down at his torn pant leg.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said, causing a blush to stain Grace’s cheeks.

“Oh, well, yes,” she stuttered before turning to Faith. “I’ll leave him in your capable hands then. If you’ll excuse me.”

Faith was left alone with Logan, who appeared unaffected by his injury. In fact, he looked almost bored, as he stared at the opposite wall. Turning her head to follow his eyes, she saw that he was gazing at her grandmother’s portrait.

“Who is that?” he asked, nodding at the painting. “She looks familiar, but not all at once.”

“My grandmother, the late Lady Alice Sharpe,” Faith answered. “She was Aunt Belle’s sister.”

“That’s it,” he said, more to himself then to her. “She’s been painted rather sternly. Not quite as smiling as Lady Belle.”

“Well, she was rather stern.”

“Is it a true likeness?”

“I believe so.”

He glanced at Faith.

“Is it yours?” he asked, which unfortunately caused Faith’s cheeks to warm. His brow lifted. “It is, isn’t it?”

“How did my sister do at stitching you up? You certainly seem well,” she said, coming forward as she ignored his question. “Was it painful?”

“No doubt you wish it would have been.” He peered back at the painting. “It’s a good portrait.”

“How would you know?” she asked, her tone tinted with humor. “You never met her.”

“Why should that matter? I never met Elizabeth I, and yet I have a portrait in my gallery that looks just like her.” Faith frowned. “I think you tend to be hard on yourself when it comes to your artwork.”

“I don’t… That’s not…” She tried to ignore his observation.

“But you are. Take for example this portrait. You were able to convey her character through it, weren’t you? The colors are smooth, and the shading is particularly impressive.” He glanced at her. “I think I would commission you to paint my portrait, if you weren’t leaving for London.”

Faith hated that she should be so pleased with his observation as well as his flattery, but the reminder of London gave her pause. Unsure how to accept his praise, she turned the subject back to his wound.

“Are you sure you’re not in any pain?”

“I’m sure. I’m quite used to cuts and scrapes, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I suffered a number of injuries aboard the Medusa , though nothing serious.”

“Was the Medusa your ship during the war?” she asked, coming to sit next to him.

“Yes.”

“Jeanne told me her husband was lost on that ship,” Faith said slowly, unsure why she even mentioned it. Surely it was a sensitive topic, but then she was curious. “I can’t imagine that it was easy for you.”

He gave her a cautious look before speaking.

“We were told it was a liberation mission. That the sitting government was a tyrannical one, and we were saving the people from despotism—but the truth was we weren’t even supposed to be there. We were used by the East India Company to further their business interests. But I was a soldier with a job to do.

“Duncan had been ill for nearly a week before we were attacked. We were ambushed from both sides of the river without warning. A stockade was set ablaze, smoking choked out the space between the riverbanks. We were desperate to get out of there, but before we could escape, Burmese soldiers began to board the ship.

“I had been a part of several skirmishes at that point, but this was different. The unrelenting heat, the lack of visibility, and impending dread made it feel like we fought for hours. Before I knew it, the ship had been freed, and we could withdraw. Nearly every man made it that day…except Duncan. He had only just returned to duty from the sickroom below decks, and he was struck right at the start of the ambush, causing him to fall overboard. His body was never found.”

Faith stared at him, suddenly understanding why he refused to use his title.

“And you think because Duncan was lost, you don’t deserve your knighthood?”

“I don’t,” he said plainly.

Faith heartily disagreed, but Logan’s countenance told her now wasn’t the time to argue. Instead, she changed the subject.

“Why are you here, Logan?”

He gazed up at her, his unfairly handsome face making her heart flutter as he did so.

“I came, because you and I have unfinished business.”

“We do not.”

“We do,” he said, shifting slightly. “Why are you so determined to say no to me?”

She looked down at her hands as they folded together in her lap.

“I don’t understand why we must make such a drastic, life-altering decision when if I hadn’t been…” She shook her head, unsure how to word it. “All I mean to say is, you needn’t feel required to offer.”

“My feelings on the matter are not relevant. It’s what needs to happen.”

“That’s where you are wrong,” she said, standing. “I’m not going to be anyone’s burden, Logan. I’ve no desire to be connected to you for the rest of our lives simply because we made the mistake of—”

“Mistake?” he scoffed as he stood, wincing only slightly. “There was no mistake, you stubborn fool. I want to marry you.”

She shivered at his words, embarrassed that she was so satisfied to hear them. But she didn’t want to be pleased by his words. She wanted to be free of him for good. It seemed that the only way she could be was to tell him the truth.

“You may not still feel that way after hearing my confession.” His gaze turned dark, but she continued when he didn’t speak. “I only came to Harris House… because I wanted to destroy Odalisque Reclined .”

Faith didn’t dare look up at him as the room filled with silence. She knew how bad it sounded; what an absolute, conniving person it made her to say it out loud. She decided that this was it and that she would confess all her sins now.

“When I sent you that note, to meet me at the Lismore Hunting Lodge? I knew Hope and Graham ventured there weekly at that precise time. I wanted us to be nearly caught, to prove that Harris House was the only place we could truly have an affair, but you wouldn’t budge. So, then I invited you to Loch Fyne, knowing Grace needed to gather medicinal herbs for Dr. Barkley. I invited myself on her outing, knowing that we would be caught and hoping that the experience would prove that Harris House was the only place we could be together, solely to gain access to that painting.” Faith paused and squeezed her eyes shut. “You see, Logan? I’m not someone you should want to marry.”

A long pause followed. Faith anticipated a loud shouting match, but he spoke quietly after what felt like days.

“Was everything a lie?”

Her head snapped up, and she saw the bitter pain in his face.

“No,” she said desperately. “I do have feelings for you, but I’ve deceived you—and all for…” She shook her head. “You don’t know what it’s like, to have a painting that displays every bit of your insecurities. It displays a time in life when I was at my most vulnerable. I was so sure of myself when it was painted, so glaringly unaware of the mistakes I was making. I’ve only myself to blame for the broken heart I had at the end, but I could not simply move on, the way other people do after heartbreak. No, there is a massive shrine to my idiocy—”

Instantly, she was in the strong bands of Logan’s arms as he squeezed.

“You’re not an idiot, Faith,” he said softly, savagely. “You just…”

She nodded as a tear fell down her cheek. She knew she had wounded him. She had lied and hurt him because she had been lied to and hurt, and it wasn’t fair.

To her surprise, Logan let out a strangled breath and released her. Turning, he walked out of the room, leaving her alone.

Convinced that she had finally ruined her chances with him, Faith turned and followed him out, watching as he headed to the front door without a single look back. She stared at the door for a long time after it closed behind him, wondering how long the ache in her heart might last this time.