Peering through the open doors, she noted one was a changing room while the other was a sitting area with more books lining the walls. It resembled the library downstairs though it was smaller, offering a cozy appeal.
In the bedchamber, the drapes were open, allowing light to cascade past a rather tall pine. It cast shadows along the walls, forcing a portion of the room into a muted hue, like that at dusk.
Dark and mysterious.
Much like the man who resided within.
“Now that you’ve led me here, pray tell, how shall I make my escape afterwards, without anyone being the wiser?” She leaned against one of the sturdy four posters in the center of the room.
Logan placed his palms on her waist. “I left a note on my desk in the library explaining that we had taken a walk,” he slid his fingers up her ribcage, past her bodice, proceeding up to the curve of her neck, heightening her yearning for him until it reached a crescendo.
She leaned against his length, “When you caress me like that, I forget everything else.”
Capturing her lips, Logan looped his forefinger under the silken fabric at her neck, then traced a path to her bodice. Arabella’s breath hitched in her throat.
What was rapture for her, was divine torture for him.
Logan’s hunger for her had reached the painful stage, but he made the conscious decision to escort Bella to his bedchamber, to treat her like a respectable lady … like his wife. To make love to her with devotion and respect.
Arabella was no trollop.
He would ensure this time, she would experience the slow, sensual, love that was brimming in his heart. She would feel it in his every kiss, his every caress. Yes, there would be no doubt in her mind that he cherished her.
It would sustain them through the danger that lurked in the shadows, hunting them, threatening their future.
“You are so beautiful,” he had told her so on many occasions. She remembered none of them, of course. Hence, he would voice everything he felt for so long, repeat the promises he had once made, utter the adoration he had suppressed for so many years. “I will love you until the end of time if you allow me.”
“Now and always,” her voice was raspy, her breathing labored. “I love you, Logan.”
After unbuttoning his shirt, Arabella left it open as she explored his chest with her fingertips, causing his manhood to throb for her.
Still, Logan remained steadfast.
He would proceed with gentle kisses and soft caresses. It was his solemn vow as Arabella’s tongue trailed down his neck to his chest.
A violent shudder wracked his body.
Arabella met his gaze, “You once promised to give me anything I desired. You cited a poem, if I recall correctly. For you, my love, I shall hang the moon. For you, my love, I shall paint the brightest sunset …”
“Our vows.” He cleared his throat, swallowing hard against the lump of emotion that formed there. “You promised the same to me.”
What is this feeling?
The ache that surged from his very core every time she remembered their vows. Where did it come from? The fact that he never thought he would hear the words again? The fact that he’d believed for years that she never meant the words in the first place?
“I don’t need moons, or sunsets. I don’t need jewels. All I desire is you.” Arabella turned, pulling her honeyed waves and curls over her shoulder before holding on to a massive four-poster in front of her. “Grant me my dearest wish, and undress me, please.”
Logan’s fingers fumbled with the buttons at the back of her gown. Once the garment was open, he pressed his lips against the back of her neck. He placed his cheek against her soft flesh, inhaling a ragged breath.
Was love supposed to do this? Cause him to … what? Slice through the armor that had sheltered him from anguish and heartache for so long? Cause his guard to fall? Cause him pain, because for the first time in years he allowed himself to feel what he had been missing.
To love.
To feel loved in return.
Arabella leaned against his length, threading her fingers with his, pulling his hands around her waist.
“Loving me isn’t supposed to hurt,” her voice was shaky. “If you don’t want—”
“No. I do. That is why it is so painful.” He bent down, resting his cheek against her hair. Inhaling her scent. The intimate act causing his body to stiffen. “I am so fearful you will change your mind.”
“I never changed my mind,” she turned, tears staining her rosy cheeks. “We lost so much time. And why? Not because I changed my mind. I know that. So do you.”
Logan kissed her tears, the salt lingering on his tongue. Yes, I do. Yet, feelings I haven’t allowed myself are surfacing …”
“Love me,” Arabella whispered. “Just love me, as I love you.”
“Now and always?” tipping his head to the side, Logan studied Bella’s reaction. It was another vow, one they pledged to one another years prior.
Her eyes, amber in the muted sunlight, shone bright with understanding. “Then, now, and always.” She kissed him, her heartfelt admission, filling his heart with joy.
Joy.
He had no idea that he was capable of such an emotion, but Bella brought it out in him, infused him with it.
As he made love to her, he swore to always love her and always protect her. Yes, no matter the danger, he would guard this woman until the end of time.
Because she tamed the restlessness within him.
The appropriate question was no longer to ask what he was feeling. No, the more suitable question would be what am I not feeling? He no longer felt like an outcast, was no longer weighted with guilt, was no longer burdened with a disquiet that caused him to walk the grounds at night, to prowl the halls at all hours.
Arabella shattered the barriers he had erected, fulfilling him. He had found what he had been missing for so long …
Arabella.
God help Sybil or anyone else who threatened harm to Bella, for Logan wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.
No one would prevent their happiness this time. It was his oath, fortified with all the love in his heart, as Bella fell asleep, sated and safe in his arms. Listening to her gentle, rhythmic breathing, Logan considered their options.
Two choices.
Both were precarious, though one was guaranteed to ensure that Sybil made her grand re-entry into society. The other offered no such guarantee.
No matter the choice, both depended upon the same stipulations: that Sybil loved wealth and Logan possessed it in abundance.
Yes, Sybil’s greed would be her downfall.
As soon as Bella awakened, she and Logan would discuss their options. Of course, Colin must be summoned since news from his investigation would play a large part in their future plans. As would Victoria’s knowledge of Arabella and her most recent life, before Sybil’s dangerous game of deception.
Games …
Arabella said her sister enjoyed amusing diversions, concocting schemes and plotting misdeeds.
Good.
Logan itched to turn the tables on her. Yes, he planned to concoct the ruse of a lifetime and ensure that this would be the last game Sybil ever played with their lives.
Logan despised intrigues, after all. Though he played them well, he preferred strategy over pretend, preferred outfoxing his opponent with skill and cunning.
He would use Sybil’s hubris against her. Allow her to think she had won. Allow her to revel in her victory over Arabella.
This would permit them to tackle any unforeseen events. After all, Arabella had only regained a small portion of her memories. Sybil’s game may have evolved; her intent may be something of which they remain unaware.
Regardless, Logan would draw it from Sybil … cause her to reveal her true intentions.
Then he would strike.
The problem with amusements such as those that Sybil enjoyed is that they can be turned against you when one least expects it.
&nbs
p; If all went as planned, Arabella and he would share their lives together as husband and wife while her sister suffered the ramifications of her actions.
Games can be deadly, after all.
Sybil counted on it. Though she didn’t realize that it would be her life that would wind up in jeopardy. She didn’t know that Logan was fated to find Arabella on his grounds during an unseasonably cold night.
Logan’s chest constricted.
If he hadn’t been roaming the grounds, Arabella would have frozen to death or may have been caught, perhaps even tortured.
Rage rumbled through his veins, like thunder rolling during a violent downpour.
Damn Sybil Sutton.
If Logan’s plan succeeded, Arabella would be safe and Sybil … well, she would be the one fighting for her life.
Perhaps Sybil’s new role would be that of victim?
Turnabout is fair play in fickle games.
It was past time Sybil learned that lesson.
He would ensure that she would never forget it.
Arabella’s eyes fluttered open, her cheek resting upon a soft pillow. Stretching, she turned to meet Logan’s intense stare. “You have been watching me?”
“I had a beautiful view therefore you cannot fault me.”
She smiled. “You sound besotted, Mr. Ambrose.”
“I am,” he winked at her, sliding his arm around her abdomen then to her back. “Hopelessly so, in fact.”
“Good. I like that,” Arabella snuggled closer to his warmth. “Especially since I am equally besotted.”
“Anyone I know?” he murmured.
“You and he are well acquainted, though I believe I know you both best.”
Logan kissed her hair. It had become a habit. One that caused her lips to curl into a grin every time.
“Of that, I have no doubt, my love.”
“My love?” she toyed with a springy curl of his chest hair. “I like the sound of that. So much so that I wish we could lie here forever.”
Logan splayed his palm against her lower back, tugging her until their bodies melded together, his warmth radiating against hers. “What if I suggested that we can?”
“I would insist that you are mad,” her teasing tone belied her statement. “You have an estate complete with guests and staff, my darling. We cannot hide forever, no matter how tempted I may be.”
“Victoria won’t dare say a word, Fiona will pretend to be blind, and my staff is discreet. Besides, you and I are marrying posthaste.” Logan announced, as if it had been decided.
For her, it was a foregone conclusion years ago.
“I thought we already were.” Bella smiled.
Logan caressed her cheek. “In my heart, we are. However, we must make this official. It is the only way for our scheme to succeed.” His fingertips trailed down her neck, to her shoulder then to her arm.
His eyes followed the path he traced, memorizing every birthmark, every smooth patch of flesh. Her skin was softer than silk, like nothing he could have imagined.
Logan couldn’t explore Bella enough.
“I assumed there were two choices open for us – me to reassume my identity or to pretend to be Sybil. Am I to understand that we are proceeding with the first option?” Arabella wrapped her leg around his. The intimate gesture caused his core to radiate with desire.
Focus.
Logan reminded himself to focus as his blood rushed to his manhood. “We must establish your true identity. Victoria is a witness as to who you are, as am I. Our marriage license will serve as proof also.”
“So why is your brow furrowed?” Arabella smoothed it with the pads of her fingers.
“Because we must convince whoever Sybil wronged and we must offer her to them instead.”
Studying Arabella, Logan wondered if she was capable of hurting her sister if such an act was necessary.
Not without guilt, of that he was certain.
“Can’t we have her arrested?” Arabella quizzed.
“That would be my first choice, as well,” Logan recognized that this was a long shot. “There is one concern. Once we are seen in public, once it is announced that you are married to one of the wealthiest men in Northamptonshire, Sybil will want what you have.”
Arabella released a jagged sigh. “You believe she will attempt to switch places with me?”
“It is a strong possibility,” Logan sighed into her soft honey-colored curls as he traced her shoulder with his forefinger, his idle fingertip trailing to the back of her arm. He noted a line of jagged flesh spanning her arm just above her elbow. “How did you acquire this scar?”
“I—” Arabella bolted upright.
“Bella?” Logan leaned against his elbow, his pulse racing with alarm.
Arabella rounded on him, clutching the sheets against her bosom. “Sybil doesn’t know about the scar. It occurred at Ainsley. I fell climbing a tree – one of our students was frightened and required assistance getting down. A branch cut me. I was under the care of a physician … a Dr. Mayberry? No, that isn’t it. Dr. Dan – Danbury. Yes, I am certain of it.”
“If Sybil was intimate with her predator, he would know she doesn’t possess such a scar.” Logan was thinking aloud. “It is further proof as to your identity. Not much, but it may bide us some time, some goodwill. We must first discover who is hunting your sister and why.”
Bella studied him.
She recognized that Logan remained deep in thought by his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Contemplating what they must do next, she presumed.
However, she had a say, as well.
In addition, Bella recognized that Logan had been correct in his earlier assessments.
“We must marry,” Bella laced her fingers with his. “Based upon what I know, what I have remembered, nothing will draw my sister out like the promise of prosperity. A fortune is all she has ever wanted.”
Sybil’s greed …
There it was, that spark of light before Arabella’s eyes, whenever a memory was coming to the forefront.
Like looking into the sun for too long, the truth was blinding, causing spots of recognition.
A blur, that of the moon, opaque and muted filled Bella’s mind. She was viewing it through narrowed eyes, after pretending to be unconscious once her sister’s attack had subsided.
Sybil was muttering to herself, her back to Arabella. “I had no choice. It is her or me and I will always choose myself.”
She grunted and Arabella discerned the scraping of something dragging along the ground. She managed to focus her sight long enough to see her sister dragging a large, dark case down the alley.
“The currency was in his mattress. As were the jewels.” Sybil groaned. “Why did he awaken at that precise moment? With a damn knife, of all things. And why must this case be so bloody heavy?”
“My sister stole from someone, a man. I heard her speaking to herself; at least I think she was alone. I don’t recall hearing anyone else as she dragged a large case behind her when she left me for dead.” Arabella studied Logan. “She has resources. From the way it appeared, quite a bit. She may not require yours.”
“No, but she will need your identity. It all rests upon that, doesn’t it?” Logan bolted upright. “As long as we ensure she can’t hide as you, Sybil won’t be safe. She knows it as much as we do.”
If their assumptions as to Sybil’s motives were correct, of course. “What is our next move?”
“We reclaim your identity and we move our party to London, make as much of a grand spectacle as possible. Logan Ambrose, master of Winterthorne, and his new bride.” Logan kissed her hair. “We will be the talk of the haut ton and, in doing so, garner your sister’s attention.”
Arabella grimaced. “In addition to those who are tracking Sybil Sutton.”
“Yes,” Logan straightened his shoulders, as if preparing to do battle. “Do you think the man she stole the money from is still alive?”
“Sybil mentioned that he had a knife in his matt
ress,” Arabella closed her eyes. “That’s all I remember. The knife was bloody. Though Sybil had blood on her hands, I don’t recall seeing a wound on her.”
“That could be something in our favor.”
A quizzical expression swept across Arabella’s features.
Logan clarified, “Your sister was within close proximity to his bed. The man was trusting enough that she had access to the contents of the mattress. Odds are that they were intimate.”
“No scar,” Arabella smiled. “You are brilliant.”
“I’m not known for my good looks,” Logan arched a black brow.
Crushing her lips against his, Arabella kissed him with all the adoration in her heart. “To me, you are both brilliant and handsome. We stand a chance, Logan. We could make this work.”
By the grace of God, they could survive the evil that infected them because of Sybil’s machinations.
If not, they could hide. Together. It wasn’t Arabella’s first choice, but she would do anything to ensure that she and Logan both survived.
Tucking that last-ditch option in the back of her mind, she allowed herself one more moment in Logan’s arms.
Lying in his embrace, she dared not imagine a lifetime of these moments. To do so would be sheer torture.
Instead, she would concentrate on their survival.
Fight for their lives.
Yes, Arabella was strong. She survived her sister and God only knows what else. Logan was also a survivor.
His friend’s journal proved it.
There was a passage Arabella did not mention to Logan. His general made a realization upon his death – that the cause he once considered just was anything but.
His words, his choppy script, were seared upon her brain:
Survival is of vital importance – the good must survive. Logan saved my life, Colin saved his. They both saved me. It is the repetitive nature of survival until … someone doesn’t persevere. But the good, those who risk everything to save others, must live.
Yes, she and Logan must live. Arabella would do anything to ensure Logan’s safety and her own.
People evolve. She was proof of it for she was no longer the same person she once was. Even her sister wouldn’t keep Arabella from safeguarding Logan’s survival and their future together.
The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4 Page 15