To Marry McKenzie

'Smile, you silly wee lassie,' he murmured gently in her ear as he whirled her

around to The Last Waltz. 'Never let a McDonald know he's got you down,'

he added reprovingly.

Darcy gave him a startled glance. 'A McDonald...? But you—'

'Logan's mother may have married a McKenzie, but he's more of a

McDonald than any of them,' Hugh told her with a mischievous twinkle in

his eye. 'A bit slow witted where the ladies are concerned, ye ken?' He gave

a loud bellow of laughter at her stunned expression. 'My late wife had to hit

me over the head with a frying-pan before I realised I was in love with her!'

Darcy laughed softly at the image he projected. 'I think I would like to hear

that story some time!" But she also knew that approach wouldn't work on

Logan...

Darcy knew that Hugh meant well with his teasing, but she had already done

too many horrific things to Logan to even thi»k about—and all it had

succeeded in doing was having him invite her upstairs to his suite of rooms.

Hardly a declaration of love!

'Oh, you've tried that, have ye?' Hugh observed thoughtfully as he easily

read at least some of her thoughts. 'He always was a fool where women are

concerned.' He sighed. 'If I were forty years younger I'd ask ye to marry me

myself.'

Darcy laughed again. 'If you were forty years younger, I think I might be

tempted to accept!'

Hugh grinned down at her appreciatively as the music came to an end on the

stroke of midnight, looking very much like his grandson at that moment.

'You're a refreshing addition to this family, lassie, and no mistake.' He bent

down to kiss her warmly on the cheek. 'I look forward to seeing you again

soon.'

At the wedding, of course. In two weeks' time. She hadn't been looking

forward to it anyway, the way things were between Logan and herself, but

after tonight—! Definitely not an occasion for her to look forward to!

Unfortunately, the first person she saw as she turned to leave the

dance-floor was Logan, standing just inside the French doors. A glowering

Logan, who stared at her with glitteringly angry blue eyes.

He was angry? He wasn't the one who had been propositioned, with his

partner for the evening—night?—just on the other side of those doors!

'Isn't my father wonderful?' Meg was the one to distract her attention as she

reached out and squeezed Darcy's arm affectionately, thrilled with the

success the evening had obviously been.

'Wonderful,' Darcy echoed sincerely, relieved to be able to look away from

that accusing blue gaze as she turned to smile at Meg and her father.

'Daniel and I are just going to have a brandy in the library before retiring.

Join us,' Meg invited warmly.

Darcy shook her head. 'It's been a wonderful evening, but, like Hugh, I'm

rather tired.' She moved to kiss them both warmly on the cheek. 'Why don't

you ask Logan?' she suggested. 'He looks in need of a brandy.'

She didn't linger to see whether they took up her suggestion, hurrying from

the room, just wanting to get away now, desperately in need of the privacy

of her bedroom. It had been a wonderful—awful, ecstatic,

heartbreaking!—evening. One she hoped never to repeat.

She hesitated once out in the main hallway, presented with four sets of

stairs, one presumably to each tower. Which was the one to the North

Tower? That was the question.

'Are you lingering here looking helpless in the hope that Brice might turn up

and offer to escort you back to your bedroom?' a hard voice scorned softly

so that the other guests moving noisily past them as they left shouldn't

overhear the conversation.

Darcy stiffened, steeling herself before turning to face Logan. A stony-faced

Logan, his eyes glittering coldly!

What did this man want from her? More to the point, just what did he think

she was? Had he really thought her capable of sneaking off with him when

his girlfriend was waiting for him downstairs?

She shook her head sadly. 'I'm merely trying to decide which staircase leads

to the North Tower,' she told him flatly, too tired to even attempt to deny the

other accusation in his question. Brice had been kind to her, nothing more,

and she wouldn't insult that kindness by trying to defend either Brice, or

herself.

Logan seemed unimpressed. 'Points of the compass, Darcy,' he said

tauntingly. 'East,' he pointed to one staircase. 'West.' He pointed to the one

opposite. 'South—'

'Okay, Logan, I get the point,' she interrupted wearily. 'Excuse me for not

being a boy scout!' Her voice broke slightly on the latter, and she turned

quickly away before Logan could see the tears that had welled so quickly in

her eyes, logically making her way to the staircase opposite the one that lay

to the south.

'Darcy—'

'Logan, I'm so glad I found you; I've been looking for you everywhere!'