Maddie squirmed out from under him. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I know this is supposed to be physical. Impersonal. It's only that I keep thinking of lobsters." 
 He flipped onto his back and lay there, blinking up at the ceiling. "Until just now, I would have said there was nothing remaining that could surprise me in bed. I was wrong." 
 Whatever you do, do NOT read this book at work unless you want to be thought insane for bursting into laughter. Like all of the books in this series, this story is utterly adorable. Never has a tale starting in blackmail been so romantic. 
 Yeah, you heard me. Romantic. Blackmail. I solemnly proclaim myself sane, with a fierce hatred for assholes. The love interest in this book blackmails the heroine into marriage. I know that's a bad start for any tale, but believe me when I say that this story was so good. I assure you there is no abuse. I assure you that the love interest and his motives are noble (if questionable...I mean, it's still blackmail.) I am not a fan of assholes. I assure you, you will love this book. 
 16-year old Maddie is dreadfully shy. She has a stepmother that she wishes were an evil stepmother. Instead, lovely Anne wants to dress Maddie up and give her a season so Maddie can find her One Twoo Wuv. 
 An absolutely horrifying thought. 
 Maddie has what we would call today Social Anxiety Disorder. She is terrified of crowds. She is quite accomplished as an amateur artist, happiest in her own company, sketching nature...like the mating rituals of a pair of lobsters, lovingly named Fluffy and Rex. So in order to avoid coming out and facing people, Maddie invents an imaginary lover, Logan MacKenzie. A brave, brave soldier who has fallen in love with her at first sight. 
 Logan MacKenzie. Suddenly her not-real suitor had a name. By the end of the afternoon, he had hair (brown), eyes (blue), a voice (deep, with a Highland burr), a rank (captain), and a personality (firm, but intelligent and kind). 
 She writes letters to an imaginary lover and ships it off to god knows where. 
 My dear imaginary Captain MacKenzie, you are not real and never will be. I, however, am a true and eternal fool. 
 Here, have a drawing of a snail. 
 After 5 years, the guilt of constantly lying to her loved ones drew on her conscience, and thusly Maddie makes the sad decision of killing Captain Logan off. Nine years after her invention of Logan, 24-year old Maddie is living a happy life in an inherited Scottish castle when a zombie comes to the door. That is, Logan. What are the odds? The real Logan has been receiving and reading her letters all these years. The real Logan is nothing like what she imagined. 
 His hair was overlong (mostly brown, with hints of ginger), and his squared jaw sported several days' growth of whiskers (mostly ginger, with hints of brown). Broad shoulders tapered to a trim torso. A simple black sporran was slung low around his waist, and a sheathed dirk rode his hip. Below the fall of his kilt, muscled, hairy legs disappeared into white hose and scuffed black boots. 
 He's mad. He's Scottish. He's kilted. Was there ever a more terrifying combination? Logan didn't just show up for shits and giggles, he's got a mission in mind. Marriage to Maddie. He intends to take the castle and the lands surrounding it, lands so conveniently owned by Maddie. If she doesn't marry him, he will expose her letters, ridiculing her and her family. Maddie is unwilling to put herself and her family through that humiliation...and therefore agrees to a marriage of convenience. 
 But, naturally, all is not what it seems. Come on, this is a romance novel. Logan is not a nefarious asshole. He has only recently returned from the war, scarred, broken, with his similarly battle-worn band of men. They have lost their lands due to their evil English landlords. Logan is determined to protect his men at all cost. He is their captain. They've been through so much together; it is his responsibility to take care of them. 
 It wasn't supposed to be this way. When the regiment had landed at Dover last autumn, they'd been greeted as triumphant heroes in London. Then they'd marched north. Home, to the Highlands. And he'd watched his men's lives and dreams fall apart at the seams, one by one. 
 Callum wasn't the only one. The men gathered around him represented the last of his discharged soldiers, and the worst off: the homeless, the wounded, the left behind. 
 They'd fought bravely, survived battle, won the war for England on the promise of coming home to their families and sweethearts--only to find their families, homes, and sweethearts gone. Pushed off the lands they'd inhabited for centuries by the same greedy English landlords who'd asked them to fight. 
 And Logan couldn't do a damned thing about it. Until today. 
 Naturally, attraction grows between them, and Logan discovers that Maddie is not the spoiled English heiress he'd expected. She is kind, caring, loving to her tenants. A brilliant artist. A thoroughly intelligent young woman with a crippling fear of crowds. Which isn't to say she doesn't have her oddities. 
 Maddie had always been different from other girls, and she had always known it. For example, she was certain she was the only bride to ever write the following to-do list on her wedding day: 
 *	Bath 
 *	Coiffure 
 *	Dress 
 *	Lobsters 
 And Maddie realizes that---oddly enough, she now has a friend. 
 A realization struck her like a lightning bolt. She now had a confidant. A conspirator. Someone who knew everything. All her secrets. He didn't love her for them, but he hadn't run screaming from her, either. 
 This ruthless, kilted stranger she'd married might be the closest thing on earth Maddie had to a true friend. 
 Maddie is not without guile...she is not spineless, and if Logan expects her to play this charade, she will make him pay for it.Like making him read a love poem he allegedly wrote her. 
 "Were I a bird, I'd sing for thee. 
 Were I a bee, I'd sting for thee. 
 Were I a peak, I'd tower for thee. 
 Were I a tree, I'd flower for thee. 
 Were I a flute--" 
 The reading was interrupted as Callum began to cough with alarming violence. Rabbie slapped him on the back with vigor. 
 "Do I need to stop?" Logan asked. "Are you dying?" 
 Callum shook his head. 
 "Because I wouldna mind it if you were dying." 
 "No, no." At length Callum looked up with a reddened face and choked out, "Dinna mind me. Do go on." 
 "Were I a flute, I'd play for thee. 
 Were I a steed, I'd neigh for thee." 
 And against her will, Maddie finds himself falling for the man behind that steely exterior. 
 And now, despite all her best attempts to avoid it, here it came. 
 Her heart started telling her a dangerous, dangerous tale. The story of a decent, loyal man who'd treasured her letters, dreamed of her nightly, survived battles and marched across continents to come home--not to a castle or a glen but to her. And even now, when he held her in his arms, he lacked the words to explain all the emotion in his heart. 
 It was nothing but a silly fiction. 
 It had to be. 
 And like a gentleman, Logan doesn't immediately attempt to consummate his marriage. He waits. And waits. And waits. He waits so long that he has to endure the teasing of his men---who see fit to give him some advice about seducing his wife. 
 Rabbie hunched over to whisper. "She's got to see him with his kit off. Shirt, plaid, all of it." 
 A coarse whoop rose up from the men. 
 "No, I mean it," Rabbie said, standing up. "Here's how it goes. You rise early one morning, Captain. Choose a misty one, when the gloom's settled like a blanket over the valley." 
 He waved his flattened hand before them like an artist painting a landscape. "You strip down to your skin, and then you have a dip in the loch. Wait until she comes looking for you. Because she will. They always do. But pretend not to notice when she does. And then--just when she's close enough to see and she's been watching for a while, you rise up out of the water. Like a dolphin. Or a mermaid. Shooting up through the mist and pushing your hair back with both hands"--Rabbie thrust both hands through his hair to demonstrate--"with all the little beads of water trickling down over the ridges of your shoulders and chest." He danced his fingers down his belly. "Like so." 
 I can't tell you how many times this book made me laugh. It was so sweet. I've sang the praises of this series since the first book, and with good reason. Everyone, even a hardened, crude soul like me needs a little cuteness, and och, man, this was feckin' adorable.