Page 9 of Finding Faith (Seduced in Scotland #2)

A thick, gray fog engulfed a sweat-slick Logan while hazy flashes of British canon fire and echoes of Burmese rifles echoed around him. He had been trapped in this dream a thousand times, but it felt as visceral and as terrifying as the actual day every time.

The vessel that had taken him and the other troops up the Rangoon River, a vessel called the Medusa , had run aground. While half the men had been dispatched to try and figure out how to get their ship free, the others had been dictated to watch for the enemy, as their presence was heavy in this part of the jungle.

The heat and humidity had taken its toll on a handful of troops, including Duncan Carlyle. He had been below deck, suffering from the strange fever that swept over nearly half of the soldiers. He had just come topside and called out to Logan, who turned to face him.

“Duncan, what the devil are you doing out of bed?” Logan asked in a mocking sort of way.

While he had been concerned for his friend’s well-being, the jungles during a war were hardly a place for pampering someone back to health. If Duncan was up and walking, he was likely well enough to fight. After having been down for nearly a month, it was obvious that he was finally ready to escape the sickroom.

“I can’t stand it in there anymore,” Duncan answered, coming up the railing. He placed his elbows on the wood. “I swear, every time I started to feel better, I’d just contract something new from one of the other men. It’s a rolling stone, down there, isn’t it? Recovery and reinfection, over and over again.” He shook his head looking into the dense jungle. “I’ve a better chance topside.”

“Well, if you’re feeling better, I won’t stop you. Although, Jeanne will have me quartered if you end up catching some sort of pox that might scar that ugly face of yours,” Logan said with a smirk.

That made Duncan smile.

“Jealous that I’ve such a pretty wife and you’re stuck cuddling sheep back home?” he teased.

“It’s not sheep I keep company with.”

“Oh no, that’s right,” Duncan said, with a jovial nod. “It’s cattle.”

Logan had nearly quipped back when the first blast happened. Everyone dunked their heads as chaos erupted all around them. He looked up to his side after a second, wondering why Duncan hadn’t dropped when he saw blood spurting from his shoulder as his body tipped. Standing up, Logan tried to grab him, but Duncan was already swinging back. He grabbed at Logan’s collar, snapping the leather strap that held the small, circular amber charm that his sister had given him before he left Scotland. An instant later, Duncan fell over the ship’s railing before Logan could stop him.

Jolted awake and drenched in sweat, Logan’s eyes opened wide in the darkness. The gentle growl of Jaco reverberated through the room as his heart raced. He tried to swallow, but he found it difficult. Pushing back the covers, he launched himself off the side of the bed. Bare feet touched the ornate carpet that covered the wood floors as he crossed the room to a table, where a pewter pitcher of water sat. He poured himself a glass and gulped it down while Jaco’s head nudged at his hip. His hand dropped absently to the dog’s ears.

“It’s all right,” he said into the dark, more to himself than the dog. “It’s all right.”

Jaco whined, seemingly worried about his master. Walking toward the bedside table, Logan reached for a small, brown glass bottle and shook it. Empty. Dr. Hall had given him laudanum to help with his sleep, and while Logan didn’t like using it, he couldn’t deny that it helped him sleep. Unfortunately, he was all out.

Groaning, he turned, noting the faint gray light that shone through his window. Whether it was the moon or the early morning sun, he did not know, but he decided to get dressed. He would go to Glencoe that day to see if Dr. Barkley had any laudanum to give him as he tried to shake the nightmare from his body.

Once dressed, he went to the kitchens to find something to eat. Mrs. MacGregor always left him a plate of cheese, bread, and biscuits at the ready. After eating, he tossed a piece of cheese to Jaco and returned to his room. Usually, he would walk the halls, admiring the art pieces that took him away from his dreams, but lately, there was only one painting that could stave off the horrible memories of Burma.

Lighting several oil lamps in his room, he removed the sheet that hid Odalisque Reclined , sat on his bed with his back against the foot post, and observed the piece. Jaco turned in two wide circles and lay down at his feet. Faith’s spirited, come-hither facial expression seemed less playful tonight, and Logan was sure she was practically frowning at him. Obviously, he was seeing things, but the longer he looked at it, the more defensive he became.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” he murmured, causing the dog’s head to perk up. “It’s not as though I’ve hung it on display for the whole house.”

Jaco tilted his head, apparently confused.

“And now the dog thinks I’m losing my mind for talking to a painting,” he murmured, his eyes following the yellow velvet fabric painted over the curve of her hip. His jaw tightened. “If you’re going to be mad at anyone, it should be Donovan. I’m not the one who sold it. I would never, ever, sell a portrait of you. Not to anyone.”

No, he certainly wouldn’t. Besides the fact that it was close to a masterpiece, Logan had found that he had become rather possessive over this piece, even though the stillness of the painting unnerved him. In real life, Faith possessed endless facial expressions, sharp words, piercing glares, and a rather adorable smirk that would cross her face whenever she thought she outwitted someone. It had annoyed him a great deal at first, but now he found it appealing, if not downright erotic.

He wondered, not for the first time, if Faith had had a physical relationship with Donovan. Of course she had , he thought, ignoring the bitterness that rose in his throat. Though he hadn’t ever met the man except through their correspondence, Logan disliked him. No, he detested him. What sort of man had someone like Faith in his confidence and then betrayed her as he had? It was apparent when Logan told her about buying the painting that she had been stunned by the artist’s treachery. The expression on her face was one of heartbreak. The sort of look a tossed-aside lover might have.

It burned his insides to think that someone had hurt her. He wished he could demonstrate what a proper lover should be, could be to a woman like Faith. Although that was highly unlikely. Faith wasn’t in any rush to see him again, and he couldn’t blame her. She was mortified and likely would avoid him forever now. It was just as well. It was becoming too easy to be in her presence, and the added desire he had begun to feel toward her was undoubtedly as unrequited as it was unwelcome. It would be best to simply follow her lead. If she ignored him, he would do the same and save her from further embarrassment.

Still, he sat and looked at the painting for a long time. When the first streaks of true morning light finally entered his room, he got up, stretched, and covered it back up.

He left his room and found his way to the dining room, where he discovered his father dozing off in his seat and Arabella, her brow pinched with worry.

“Early day, today?” Logan inquired upon entering the room.

“Yes,” Arabella said, her voice scratchy, as though she hadn’t slept much. “Papa did not sleep well last night. I’m afraid he hasn’t slept well for the past several nights.”

“He’s not the only one,” Logan mumbled as he sat, nodding to the servant who poured him coffee while Arabella gave him a tense look. “What?”

“You needn’t be so cavalier about it.”

“About what?”

“Papa’s health.”

“What am I to do for him?” Logan asked, annoyed that he was arguing this early in the morning. “He mopes about this place every day, tucked away beneath his plaids like an invalid waiting to die.”

“Logan!”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he countered as his father snorted. They both looked at him, waiting for him to wake, but he didn’t. Logan peered back at his sister. Didn’t she understand that they couldn’t help him when he did not wish to be helped? A man without the desire to live would have his way sooner or later. Logan had accepted it a long time ago. Why couldn’t she? “He’s been this way for years, Arabella. He has no desire for life.”

“He wasn’t always like this,” she argued. “He was different when you were away.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Logan said sarcastically. “When I was in Burma he was the image of good health. No doubt because I was out of the country.”

“It wasn’t because you were gone.”

“No, it was because if I died over there, he’d have to sit up and pay attention to life so that you might find a husband. Which I’m sure is the only reason he’s holding on now, as limp as that hold may be.”

Arabella stared daggers at her brother, but she held her tongue. Perhaps he should have let the matter rest there, but he was in a frightful, argumentative mood, so Logan leaned over the table.

“What? Say I’m wrong. Make any valid point and I will concede on the matter.”

“You’re so damn unfeeling when it comes to Papa,” she said in a blistering whisper. Logan was surprised that she cursed. “Why are you so harsh in your judgment of him?”

But Logan didn’t want to speak it out loud, didn’t want to admit to his sister that he had argued with his father when he had first joined the service, telling the man that he had enlisted in an endeavor to get away from Scotland in general and him, in particular, since he had run out of sympathy for the old man who had let his grief consume him.

Logan leaned back against his high-backed chair, reaching for his coffee. The bitter, hot liquid burned his throat, but he barely registered it. He glared at his sister.

“If you’re so concerned about his sleep, you should come to Glencoe with me today.”

Arabella’s brow quirked, confused.

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to see Dr. Barkley for something.”

Arabella gave their father a concerned glance.

“But I can’t leave him like this.”

“Like what? Sleeping? He won’t even know you’ve gone.”

“But what if something happens?”

Logan nearly let a biting retort slip but inhaled slowly instead as a plate of food was placed before him.

“Do whatever you wish then.”

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, and then went their separate ways. Logan hadn’t expected to see her again until after his return, but when he was ready to go, Arabella had come hurrying down the stairs, dressed in a pale-violet day gown. His brow went up at the sight of her, but she barely acknowledged him as she hurried out the door.

The ride to the village was quiet, though not for lack of trying on Arabella’s part. She always tried to find some common ground between herself and Logan, searching for a bond that had been severed when he left for war. In truth, they hadn’t been terribly close as children since Arabella was seven years Logan’s junior. Still, she tried to connect with him time and time again, only to be rebuffed.

It wasn’t that Logan didn’t like his sister. On the contrary, he was very fond of her. Arabella was an intelligent, caring young woman, not prone to pouting or bouts of stubbornness. She was delightful, which was why Logan kept his distance. He didn’t wish for his cantankerous disposition to rub off on her. Not to mention that the empathy she felt for their father irked him. It was best to stay out of each other’s way.

Upon reaching the bustling village, Logan was regretfully reminded that it was market day for the local livestock. Dozens of farmers had brought their fattest pigs and cows to be sold to the butcher or possibly individual families. This, of course, made town exceptionally crowded, and as Logan got out of the carriage, he helped his sister out just as a gaggle of geese scurried across the dirt road, barely avoiding being trampled by a group of pigs.

“Blast,” Logan muttered under his breath. He did not like crowded places. “A fine day to come to town.”

“Oh, it’s just a little busy,” Arabella said, standing on her tippy toes to see over the crowd. “Shall we see if the doctor is in?”

Logan gave his arm to his sister, and they walked down the street. Three distinct ridges, known as the Three Sisters of Bidean Nam Bian Mountain, towered over the village, partially hidden by low-lying clouds. It seemed the weather was determined to stay miserable and wet this early summer.

Dr. Barkley serviced most in the council area, though he did share his offices with Dr. Hall whenever he was in town, which was once a month at the least. The small, whitewashed cottage that served as their office sat in the center of town, flanked on one side by a draper and, on the other, a chemist who aided in filling the doctor’s prescriptions.

Logan and Arabella purposely approached the building, knocking on the black-painted wooden door. The excellent doctor opened the door within moments, and his white brows lifted.

“Harris, Miss Harris,” he said with a slight nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You aren’t busy with a patient, are you?” Logan asked as the old man stood back to let them in.

The small house was divided by a wall that ran the length of the building. The front room acted as an office and reception space while private examinations were handled in the back. Logan was aware that old Miss Fletcher, the so-called local witch, lived upstairs. He hadn’t been fond of the old woman since she had convinced his sister that talismans and tokens of amber were good luck, and he gave the ceiling a sour look as he moved toward a wooden table that stood against the far wall opposite a small pot stove.

“No, no,” Dr. Barkley said, waving his hand. “I was just on my way out actually. I’ve not another appointment until…” He patted his vest pocket, looking for something. His fingers dipped into the shallow breast pocket, and he pulled out a silver pocket watch. “At least an hour.” He looked up. “What can I do you for?”

Arabella stepped forward.

“Papa has not been sleeping restfully these past few nights,” she said. “No amount of chamomile tea helps, and he refuses spirits.”

“Does he?”

“Yes. He says alcohol only makes his dreams more vivid and he doesn’t wish them to be.”

The hesitation in Arabella’s voice caused Logan to stare. There was something she wasn’t saying, and he wondered what his father had told her to make her appear so sad.

“Ah, well, that it does for some. That it does. Very well,” the old man said, turning his back on them as he headed toward the desk beneath the front window that overlooked the street. He hunched over and, after picking up his pen, scribbled something on paper. “Take this,” he said, handing it to Arabella. “To the chemist next door. He’ll give you some laudanum.”

“Thank you, Dr. Barkley,” Arabella said. “And is Miss Fletcher home?”

“I believe so,” the doctor said, giving her a speculative look. “Why? You’re not looking for a love potion or anything, are you?”

“Oh no,” Arabella said, her cheeks turning pink. “I only wanted to say hello.”

“She’s a fool, Arabella, don’t waste your time,” Logan said.

“She’s an old woman, who has been very kind to me. And you, if I do say so.”

Logan rolled his eyes, not willing to argue over magical nonsense with her again. Instead, he sighed.

“Very well.”

Arabella smiled.

“Lovely. After I say hello, I shall go next door then?”

He nodded at her as she made her way out of the little cottage. Once she was gone, the doctor gave Logan a knowing glance.

“I suppose you wish for some as well?”

“If you would,” Logan said as the doctor opened one of his drawers at his desk.

Pulling out a small, brown vial, he handed it to Logan. Dr. Hall had arranged to keep Logan’s supply at the office, for which Logan was grateful.

“That last one lasted a little longer this time, didn’t it?” Dr. Barkley asked. “Nearly two weeks longer.”

“Is that so? I’ve not paid attention to it.”

“I have,” the doctor said. “In fact, if I were to guess it, I think you might not need it in a year or so.”

Logan pocketed the small bottle.

“You’re an optimist, then.”

Dr. Barkley shrugged.

“I’ve been accused of worse,” he said before letting out a humorous huff. “In fact, I’ve been called a traitor to my profession at least twice today.”

Logan’s brow furred. Dr. Barkley had been the town’s physician for nearly thirty years. Whoever would accuse him of poor practice was a fool.

“By whom?”

“Well, just this morning, Mark Finley said he’d take his ailments elsewhere, if there were any other place he could go.”

“But why?”

“Because I’m letting the Sharpe girl apprentice with me,” he said, taking his coat off the coat rack and putting it on. “I must admit, I was apprehensive about it. But with Hall off in Glasgow, I’ve no other eager students to teach. Besides, she’s smart as a whip, that one. Did a fine job tending and diagnosing her sister while she was under your care.”

Logan’s shoulders tensed at the mere mention of Faith, but he tried to shrug it off as he followed the doctor out of the cottage.

“Indeed,” he said as they both set off in the same direction along the crowded street.

“I should like to speak with Lady Belle about finding her a surgeon’s apprenticeship, actually. She’s a fine mind for it, I think, and she doesn’t have the malady of fainting at the sight of blood.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. I suppose I’ll be able to talk to her at Lady Belle’s surprise party next week.”

Logan glanced to his side.

“Is there such a party?”

“There is. I only received my invitation this morning, from the middle sister, actually, not ten minutes before you arrived.”

“Faith is in Glencoe?”

“Yes. All three of them are,” he said, his eyes squinting as he looked over the bustling street. He pointed a finger diagonally across the road. “There they are now.”

Logan’s head turned, and there, sat on that ridiculous petite Connemara horse, was Faith. It had been days since he saw her, and he was amused and aggravated at how his heart seemed to hammer beneath his chest at the mere sight of her. It was ridiculous to be so blatantly excited and miserable at seeing her sitting proudly on the too-small pony. Her honey-brown hair was pinned beneath a black, curved-brimmed top hat, and she was dressed in a brass-colored habit, with black piping stitched up the front of her chest in a military fashion.

Hope stood beside her horse, speaking with Graham, while Grace was just getting up on hers. Faith sat sidesaddle, as was expected of gently bred women, but her rigid back seemed too stiff as the horse moved from side to side in agitation as a large drove of pigs made their way down the street.

She was nervous. How he knew, he couldn’t begin to understand, but she was. Impulsively, he stepped in her direction, wanting—no, needing—to get to her, but in an instant, a sickening dread flooded his veins as everything moved in slow motion.

The honking of several geese, frightened by a dog working to keep a flock of sheep in line, scared the pigs, which rushed toward the edge of the road. Faith’s horse, Sweetness, reared up suddenly, turning midair before letting out a frantic neigh. Grace’s horse shifted to avoid the commotion while Faith’s hands gripped the reins as the horse twisted and took off, her hat dropping to the ground amongst the shouts and screams of busy passersby.

“Faith!” one of her sisters screamed, but Logan was already on the move.

Without hesitating, he ran forward, shoving his way through people and farm animals alike until he reached Hope’s horse. He barely registered her panicked expression as he tore the reins out of her hand, hopped onto the horse’s back, and took off after Faith.

All the noise from his surroundings seemed to die away as he galloped after her, down the country lane and across the stone bridge that led out of the village. The road led into the forest that sat between the town and the mountains. As best he could see from trailing behind her, Faith’s body was hunched over, and it appeared as if she were desperate to hold on.

Logan rode faster, urging his horse to a breakneck speed. He could grab her horse’s reins if he could only get to the side of it, but the surprisingly fast pony would not yield. When a fork in the road appeared before them, the animal hesitated, and Logan seized the opportunity to gain the upper hand, driving his horse faster up along the side and snatching the reins with deft precision.

All at once, the trampling of the horses’ hooves died away, and within moments, Logan was off his horse, pulling Faith off hers as he held her tightly against his chest. Her entire body shook, flooding him with waves of fierce protectiveness that surprised him.

He held her for long moments, squeezing her as if he could absorb her fear. He barely even realized that he was laying kisses on the top of her head. He even kissed the spot between her brows that creased whenever she was deep in thought, unable to stop himself. The softness of her body against his was as provocative as it was necessary. Nothing had ever felt more natural to Logan than holding her protectively in his arms. Gently caressing the back of her neck with one hand, he murmured foolish, sweet nothings to calm her.

“It’s all right. You’re safe now,” he whispered, his tone raw as a tremor moved through her. “My darling, it’s all right.”

The bare skin of Faith’s neck was cold and clammy, but it was her silence that unnerved him most of all. She was most likely in shock, and he didn’t know how to rouse her from it.

“Can you not speak?” he said, pulling back a fraction to look down at her as she clung to him. “If I knew a mere horse ride could rob you of your speech, I’d keep a stable full of wild ponies to silence you.”

The soft teasing seemed to break the spell over her. Blinking, she pulled back, though she didn’t release her grip on his coat. Her green eyes flashed with uncertainty.

“How can you—”

But the relief he felt at the return of her ability to speak was almost too much for Logan, who had feared that she might not shake the near-death experience, and he leaned forward to kiss her. Taken off guard, Faith pulled back at first, only to lean forward forcefully, her grip tightening to keep him from moving away from her.

Her lips were relaxed but parted as the velvet swipe of her tongue touched his, and he was overcome by a barrage of heat and yearning. Every muscle in his body reacted to her; every inch of skin begged to be touched by her slim hands. He was aflame as his mouth searched hers. Only a moment longer , he told himself, though every exquisite exhale from her seemed to pull him closer. His hand dropped to her breast, and he had begun unbuttoning the front of her dress when a set of hooves sounded in the distance.

Groaning, Logan stopped and tore away from her, leaving her to stumble slightly as he regained control of himself. They had waited too long to return, and he wasn’t surprised that someone had followed them, though, at that moment, he was brutally unprepared for the desperation that engulfed him.

Breathing heavily, he turned back to see her standing there, staring back at him slack-jawed as the distant noise came closer.

“Are you all right?” he asked roughly. Faith nodded, though she seemed unsure. “Say it.”

“I—I’m all right,” she said, her tone shaky.

Of course she wasn’t, but as Graham’s black horse appeared around the bend, there was little else he could do for her, so Logan tried to steady his breathing as his friend stopped.

Graham was off his horse in an instant, coming up to Faith.

“Thank the Lord,” he said. “You gave your sisters a right fright back in town.”

“I—”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Logan snapped, surprised at his anger aimed at his friend. “What the devil is she doing riding a horse meant for someone half her size?”

Graham’s brow lifted quizzically as he looked at his friend.

“I beg your pardon?”

“She’s too tall for that damn pony, and if she were riding a proper animal, not something so skittish, she’d not have taken off in the first place.”

Logan knew it was unfair to attack Graham, but he wasn’t sure how to express himself. He was angry, terrified, aroused, exhausted, and utterly frustrated, mostly by the fact that none of his feelings could be dealt with in the way he would wish.

“Now, see here,” Graham started, but Faith came forward, holding her hands up between the two.

“Please,” she said, her tone slightly steadier than before. “I am well. I just wish to see my sisters.”

Begrudgingly, Logan glared at Graham before reaching for his horse’s rein. In a swift, singular motion, he was back on the animal and moved it toward her, holding out his hand to her. She only stared at it.

“Come,” he commanded quietly. “You’ll ride with me. Graham can walk your horse back.”

With a tentative glance at her brother-in-law, Faith took Logan’s hand, and he pulled her up as easily as if she were a blanket floating in the wind. He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her against him as they began to move down the wooden path at a snail’s pace, back the way they came.

After a while, they crossed the stone bridge and returned to the kilt shop where Faith’s sisters had remained. Both women were frantic as they caught sight of Faith, hurrying toward her with Arabella in tow. Though he didn’t wish to, he let Faith go, helping her into her sisters’ waiting arms.

“Oh, Faith, are you all right?” Hope asked. “My God, we were so scared.”

“I didn’t think Sweetness could move that fast,” Grace said, patting Faith’s hair. “Were you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Faith said as the two crowded her.

Hope’s eyes peered around Faith’s shoulder.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Harris. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been here to go after her.”

“Of course,” he said, brushing off the comment as Faith turned in her sister’s arms. His gaze locked with Faith’s. “I’m just glad she’s not hurt.”

“It was all very heroic to watch,” Arabella said, bouncing on her toes as she faced Faith. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” she answered, giving Arabella a half smile. “Thank you.”

“Well, I will come to check on you in the next day or so. At the very least, we’ll be at Lismore Hall in a week’s time.”

“We will?” Logan asked, confused.

“Yes,” Arabella said, holding up an invitation. “Mrs. MacKinnon has invited us to Lady Belle’s birthday celebration. But it’s a surprise, so you mustn’t tell her about it.”

“Ah. Well, we will see you all then. Come, Arabella,” Logan said, taking his sister by the elbow and escorting her away from the Sharpe sisters as quickly as possible.

Arabella glanced back over her shoulder as they hurried down the street.

“Why did we leave so abruptly?” she asked, but Logan didn’t reply.

To answer her truthfully would be a mistake, particularly since he didn’t quite understand it himself, but the longer he was in Faith’s presence, the harder it was to leave, and if he didn’t do so quickly, he feared he might never do so at all.