Auctioned to the Gentle Dom [The Spectrum Auctions 5] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Doris O'Connor

  “I’m not going anywhere. Let go of Lindsey, and we’ll sort this out.”

  Montgomery smirked and spat another glob of blood-filled saliva onto the garden path.

  “Let’s ask her, shall we?” Letting go of her throat, he copped a good feel of her breast instead, and when she tried to shake him off, he backhanded her across the cheek.

  Logan saw his chance as he let go of Lindsey to do so, and, letting all of his anger loose, he tackled the man to the ground. Lindsey screamed and took off. Not that he had much time to take any of that in, because Montgomery got a punch in that winded him.

  Before he could retaliate, two burly guys in suits appeared out of nowhere and pulled him off the American. Georgina rushed to his side, and Maurice finally found his voice as Montgomery struggled to his feet and, head down, advanced on Logan.

  “For the love of god, we have guests. Stop this now.”

  Sure enough, the ball guests, no doubt alerted by Lindsey’s disheveled appearance rushing through them in her escape, had spilled into the garden and were watching the proceedings.

  “Boss.” Burly guy number one, who had Logan’s arm twisted up his back so that he couldn’t move for fear of breaking a bone, nodded toward the crowd, and Montgomery swore.

  “Fuck, let him go. I can’t afford a scene. The bitch ain’t worth it anyhow.”

  Logan breathed a sigh of relief as the feeling returned to his fingers, and, nodding toward Georgina, went after her daughter. Whatever Maurice and the asshole were discussing now, his first and only concern was Lindsey’s welfare.

  Chapter Six

  With tears obscuring her vision and terror driving her on, Lindsey only had one aim, to get as far away as she could before that vile man would stop her. She couldn’t do this. Inheritance, be fucked. If he treated her like that in front of her goddamn parents, then what would he do to her when they were on their own? When she was married to him, she would be, for all intents and purposes, his property.

  The gasps and murmurs she picked up over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears made her humiliation complete. She needed to get—

  The sign for the ladies’ refreshment room attached to the side of the ball room caught her attention, and she careened through the door. She caught a glimpse of her bloodstained dress, and the two women fixing their make-up in the mirror startled in surprise, before she locked herself in one of the stalls. Sticking her fingers in her ears so that she wouldn’t have to listen to their chatter, she brought her knees up to her chest and huddled on the toilet seat.

  Montgomery wouldn’t come looking for her in here, that’s for sure. How long she sat there huddled with silent tears of despair running down her face, she would never know, but the door opened and shut a few times, voices came and went, and when all seemed quiet, she finally ventured out of her stall.

  Only to freeze when she saw Logan lean against the sinks.

  He’d lost the jacket of his tux, and with the top buttons on his shirt undone and his cravat hanging loose around his neck, he looked dark and dangerously sexy. He flexed the hand grasping the side of the sink, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his bruised knuckles. Injuries he’d sustained in his defense of her. The thought made her eyes fill with fresh tears, and she was almost grateful for Montgomery’s earlier manhandling of her, because it meant her hair had come loose and she could hide behind it. Anything to avoid Logan’s searching gaze as he made an indiscriminate noise at the back of his throat. His hand on the sink tightened, and he shoved his other hand into his trouser pocket.

  “There you are. I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to break the door down, little bird.”

  Oh, that voice, especially when he put that possessive spin on his pet name for her, almost as though he meant it, almost as though she really was his.

  When Master Logan dropped his tone like that, Lindsey was just about ready to do anything. Not that they were at the club, or were even in the auction-bound agreement anymore, as twenty-four hours had passed since then. That thought made fresh misery well up inside her. He’d paid a large sum of money for her, after all, and what had he got out of the arrangement? Absolutely nothing but grief, and bruised knuckles to boot. He must hate her, surely, as though he hadn’t had enough of a low opinion of her before all this. Despite all of that, or maybe because of it—who knew anymore?—the submissive inside her wanted to sink to her knees, especially when he crooked his finger at her in an unspoken demand.

  Not trusting her voice to work, Lindsey shook her head, and Logan frowned.

  “Girl, that wasn’t a request. Let me see what that bastard did to you.”

  His harsh expression softened when she gasped and angrily swiped the tears away.

  “It’s nothing. You’re hurt far more than me. You didn’t have to do that. I’m not your concern anymore.”

  Logan sighed, and before she could draw another shuddering breath into her lungs, he was in front of her. His spicy, masculine scent enveloped her, and when he cupped her chin to gently nudge her head up, Lindsey gave up the fight to stop the useless tears.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re very much my concern, my sweet. Tell me, that wasn’t the first time, was it?”

  When she didn’t respond, his jaw tightened, and she swallowed hard at the intensity of his gaze.

  “Your silence speaks volumes. He’ll never touch you again, I promise.”

  Oh, how she wished to believe him, but this was useless. Before she could voice her opinion, however, he’d tucked her hair behind her ear and ran the tips of his fingers over the rapidly swelling bruise on her cheekbone.

  “I mean it, never again, little bird. This needs ice to bring the swelling down.” His voice had dropped further as he carefully examined her cheek, taking on a husky, dangerous quality that made her insides turn to mush. When he stepped back she immediately missed the contact, only to flinch when he held an icepack to her face. “Easy there. This is the best I could come up with on short notice, and it’ll help, trust me.”

  It was only then that she noticed the champagne bucket, minus its bottle of fizz in the sink. He’d wrapped the ice in what looked like a handkerchief—his, judging by the familiar and soothing scent that immediately filled her nostrils—and made her lean into him.

  “There, that’s better. Just lean on me and let me take care of you.”

  The throbbing in her cheek subsided, and Lindsey shut her eyes and allowed herself this moment of being simply held him. It was an illusion, but one she would hold onto and store in her mental memory box to take out and think back on when life got bleak.

  Eventually, her cheek went numb and she eased away.

  “I’m okay now.” Logan raised an eyebrow at her whispered statement, every inch of him the displeased Dom in that moment, as he pressed the impromptu ice pack back to her cheek.

  “Really, Sir, I am. I can’t even feel my cheek anymore, and you need that ice for your hand.”

  Something hot and intense flared in his eyes. It caused an answering heat to slowly uncurl from deep in her belly, spreading waves of awareness across her skin, and she didn’t even try to fight the resulting blush. This close to him, he wouldn’t be able to miss her body’s involuntary reaction to his presence. Her breathing sped up, and her breasts grew heavy, the nipples tight little nubs pressing against the confines of her bra. The contact hurt, almost. She was too aware of every slow inhale and exhale of the man in front of her, and to defuse the situation, she grasped the icepack and steered it down toward his bruised knuckles. A hiss escaped Logan, and she risked a quick glance up at his face only to find him studying her.

  Lindsey couldn’t read his expression, and turning slightly, she kept her attention focused on her task of taking down the swelling.

  “With all due respect, Sir, what were you thinking? You need your hands to work, not to injure them on…” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name, and a shudder went through her when Logan stepped up behind her. With th
e sink in front of her and his large frame behind her, she had nowhere to go, which should have freaked her out, especially after her earlier assault, but it had the opposite effect.

  “I would do it again in a heartbeat, and more. I’m just sorry you got hurt in the process.” With his free hand, he lifted her hair off her shoulder and twirled the long, tangled locks around and through his finger, until he could gently tug her head up.

  “Look at me, little bird.”

  She tried to shake her head, but with her scalp still sore from the earlier cruel treatment it had received, the action hurt. Logan immediately loosened his hold slightly, and goose bumps broke out across her exposed skin, when she felt his hot, firm lips slide across the sensitive skin of her neck, down toward the area where ugly fingerprint bruises were starting to form. A strangled sob escaped her, and Logan stopped in his exploration of her injuries. He shook the ice pack off his hand and, lifting his head, brought his injured hand up to her neck, where he grasped her throat in the lightest of touches.

  “I said, look at me, please.”

  It was the murmured “please” that did her in, and when she brought her gaze to meet his in the mirror, the myriad emotions she read on his face made the room spin. Grasping the edge of the sink for support, she locked her knees and pushed against him.

  His gaze intensified, held her spellbound, in fact, and when he smiled, she forgot to breathe altogether.

  “There, that’s better. I meant what I said. He’s never going to touch you again. No man is. Do you hear me?”

  Lindsey’s eyes widened at the possessive tone Logan adopted, even as she automatically denied it.

  “You can’t promise that. I need—”

  “To marry, I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to marry him.”

  He smiled again, and Lindsey knew she’d entered the twilight zone when he bent his head without once breaking eye contact with her and whispered the next words in her ear.

  “You will marry me instead.”

  Before she could do anymore but gasp in surprise at that astonishing statement, the door to the bathroom flew open, revealing her red faced father, followed by her teary eyed mother. Mama’s hand flew to her throat when she took in the scene before them, while Papa went even redder and bellowed at them both.

  “So this is where you’re hiding, and…for all that is holy, get your hands off my daughter, Logan. You’ve caused enough trouble this evening. I’ll be fucking ruined if he doesn’t marry her, and he says he won’t after that stunt you pulled.” Her mother tried to put a hand on Papa’s arm, but he shook her off and glared at her.

  “Stay out of this, woman. I never should have listened to you and allowed her this time to find someone else. She needs to marry Montgomery, damn it.” Papa finally ran out of steam, and, straightening up, Logan moved them both until she was resting against his chest and facing the room. With his arms around her waist, his warmth a reassuring presence at her back, facing her outraged father was a damn sight easier.

  “On that, Maurice, I can reassure you that Lindsey will not marry that bastard, and if you have any sense, you’d do well to disassociate yourself from any business dealings you have with him.” The intonation he put on that one word conjured up all sorts of frightening scenarios, especially as Papa paled and shook his head.

  She couldn’t be sure over the roaring in her ears, but she was pretty sure he whispered something along the lines of “being dead” if he did that.

  Sure enough, Mama looked so worried that it added to the nervous tension twisting her insides in half, and Logan hugged her tighter to him. There was strength to be found in that contact, and somehow she managed to carry on taking shallow breaths.

  “Trust me, little bird.” Words, whispered for her ears only, did little to restore any form of equilibrium she was desperately trying to get hold of. Her whole world was spiraling out of control and there was nothing she could do about it, bar hang onto the support, the very lifeline that was Logan’s warm presence at her back. The strength of his arms holding her up, his quiet fury on her behalf. The hard cock digging into her lower back….Hang on, what?

  Lindsey’s befuddled observations came to an abrupt stop when it became clear what exactly that hard object between them was. Just to be sure, she gave an experimental wiggle, and Logan exhaled sharply. His hold on her tightened and his erection grew bigger still. Her mouth went dry at the realization of how big he felt against her. Surely her mind was playing tricks on her. That had to be it. All the stresses of the evening were making her hear and see things. Because if she didn’t, then…

  * * * *

  Logan knew the minute Lindsey realized he had a boner to rival all hard-ons, because she went as still as a statue in his arms. He wished he could say the same for his unruly body part, but his cock seemed determined to get in on the act and let the world and his dog—or in this case, Lindsey and her parents—know exactly how much he wanted the woman in his arms. If she moved, he would fucking disgrace himself, and that hadn’t happened to him in a very long time indeed.

  He was only half listening to Maurice’s self-pitying prattle, as the man went on about duty, and how Lindsey had to do hers and so on. Ironic to the extreme, considering the man had brought the demise of the family fortunes on himself.

  “How much do you owe him, Maurice?” His softy spoken question at long last stopped Maurice’s theatrical hand-wringing act.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Logan barely suppressed a sarcastic snort.

  “Don’t play dumb now, man. You’re ready to sell your daughter to the devil himself and—”

  “That’s not fair,” Maurice interrupted him, and Logan let it pass for Lindsey’s sake. A tremble had started in her limbs, only slight for now, but he needed to end this charade and reassure her that all would indeed be well. She might not like being stuck with him for a husband, but she did need to marry to get into her inheritance. Maurice echoed those thoughts as he carried on speaking.

  “You know as well as I do, she needs to get married or she loses all her inheritance. Getting her the money she’s entitled to has always been my primary goal, and…” Maurice’s voice trailed off as Logan glared at him. He didn’t have to try very hard to adopt his intimidating stare because Lindsey’s trembles were getting more noticeable.

  “Spare me, Maurice. As you aptly pointed out, I know how this works.” The thought left a foul taste in Logan’s mouth. Elena, coming from old English stock, too, had come into her inheritance when they’d got married. Not that they’d married for those reasons. They’d loved each other, and he’d never touched a penny of that cash, which had grown exponentially over the years.

  Elena had died a very rich woman indeed, which meant that, combined with his own income, and family connections, Logan would never have to work again if he didn’t want to. Not that giving up work had ever been an option. It had become his lifeline after her passing. It would have been all too easy to fall into a pit of despair and to dull the pain by drinking, like Maurice had so clearly done over the last few years since Lindsey’s accident and the tragic loss of her unborn brother.

  “How much, Maurice? That’s all I want to know right now.”

  “Too much, even with her inheritance we couldn’t…”

  “Answer the damn question, Papa.” Lindsey’s clear voice carried a world of hurt, and Logan instinctively nuzzled into her neck. Despite the situation, he had to smile when she automatically angled her head sideways to give him easier access. Her pulse jumped under his lips, and closing his eyes briefly he inhaled of her sweet fragrance. His cock twitched against her back, and her god-awful trembling finally stopped.

  “I have a right to know how much you’re selling me for, don’t I?”

  Georgina looked horrified, and Maurice opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

  “Tell your daughter, Maurice, and then I can fix this mess.”

  Lindsey jerked in his arms, and half turned to look
up at him. Giving into the impulse he’d been fighting all night, he kissed her nose, and smiled at her gasp, and the way she went a little cross-eyed in her effort to focus on him.

  “This isn’t for you to fix…Sir.” The added Sir made him so hard it fucking hurt, and ignoring her parent’s presence, he spun her round in his arms until she faced him.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, little bird. I told you already you’re my concern now, and I look after what’s mine.”

  Lindsey’s eyes widening in shock was only surpassed by Georgina’s gasp and Maurice’s immediate bluster.

  “You have no right to say that to her. She’s—”

  “On the contrary, Maurice.” Logan shifted his attention to Lindsey’s father for the second it took him to interrupt the other guy. “We can talk figures later. For now, let me reassure you this is very much my concern, because Lindsey has agreed to marry me, haven’t you, sweet?”

  “Oh, thank the lord.” Georgina’s heartfelt cry made his grin deepen, as did Maurice’s breathless question.

  “She has?”

  Turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, he let his hands wander down to her ass. A moan escaped her slightly open lips when he lifted her up on her tiptoes and her hands curled into the fabric of her shirt. He took it as good sign that she didn’t push him away.

  “I have?” she whispered, and when he smiled and nodded, her breathing grew shallow. “But you don’t want me.”

  Bending his knees slightly he ground his raging erection into her lower belly, and a needy gasp escaped her this time.

  “Does that feel as though I don’t want you, baby?” The endearment took him by surprise as much as it seemed her, but it felt natural to call her this right now. This, right here, the sexual awareness that shimmered between them, intensified by the minute, it seemed. He was tired of fighting it. Besides, Lindsey needed to get married, and he was so freaking tired of waking up on his own every morning. This way, he could save the girl Elena had been so fond of, and…well, he wasn’t going to think about any other motive he might have for that. If he allowed himself to think about this too much, his conscience wouldn’t let him forget how young she was.