by Naomi Boom
“Shouldn’t you be more prepared if you expected me?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
He smirked. “I think you know. Or maybe I am just so irresistible you responded to me without thought.”
He held much too high of an opinion of himself. “You are hardly irresistible.”
“Then why did you gasp?” His green eyes gleamed with wicked enjoyment, and his lips curled into a smile.
Physical attraction meant very little, not when there was no chance of an actual relationship developing. She raised her eyes heavenward and sighed. “I am currently making physical contact with you, yet it has not affected me in the slightest.”
“I beg to differ.” Raising her hand, he pressed a fairy-light kiss to the back of it while keeping his eyes glued to hers. Heat suffused her cheeks, and she tugged at her hand. She did not like to be proven wrong, but the blush had risen unbidden and she could not deny its presence.
He raised a disbelieving brow and held onto her hand. Despite her best ladylike efforts to dissuade him, he guided it to the crook of his arm. “I thought you might enjoy a tour of the manor you wish to be mistress of.”
The extended contact with Logan destroyed her ability to employ reason. Instead of thinking on the matter at hand, she was forced to appreciate the little details about him. The ones she should forget. More importantly, the ones she couldn’t forget. For twice now, she had betrayed her response to him, and twice, he had not teased her or made sport of her when he could have. Instead, he changed topics by offering to do something nice for her. The first was to invite her here, to meet His Grace, and the second, to tour the manor.
He guided her along, and her thoughts returned to the present. Even now, he opened the door which led to a foreign section of the impressive manor. An internal warning went off as she stepped in from the sunshine. This tour would lead to danger, but the rewards of Logan’s touch far outweighed the risk.
She continued to follow without raising a single objection. She would go with him, but why not take this opportunity to see if his jealousy was an aberration last night? She gazed up at him and asked, “Wouldn’t the duke be better suited to act as my tour guide?”
****
Logan almost laughed. His current predicament was his own making, but he was hard pressed to keep a straight face when she asked questions like that. He could not keep the grin from surfacing, however, and had to hide it behind a cough. “Do you truly believe he would do a better job? I will have you know I have spent almost as much time here as he has.”
She scoffed in disbelief. “Now that I cannot believe.” When he failed to respond, she slowed her steps and said, “I suppose you are just as familiar with Lord Gammon’s estate.”
He chuckled, checking his pace to match hers and guiding her past an alcove filled with suits of armor glinting almost black in the lackluster light. “If you recall, I ran into you while riding, not even aware I had left his estate.”
She giggled as a splash of color appeared on her face. The way she laughed just then was carefree and unguarded and just how he wanted her. It was a thrilling feeling to find a woman who felt an honest attraction for him, without her awareness of his cumbersome title and deep pockets.
He felt so relaxed when she was with him, and he grew more confident of his success with each smile she offered. He would pay any amount of money to know what she was thinking behind those startling blue eyes, but he knew he needed more time before she ever admitted any desire for him.
They ambled down the long hallway, bypassing several unimportant rooms before he halted at their first destination. “After you, my lady,” he said as he pulled the door open and offered her a slight bow. The room contained few articles of furniture, and every wall was filled with portraits. He swept his unhampered arm in a dramatic arch as her eyes rounded to take in the vast number of pictures on the walls. “The portrait room, my lady.”
She disengaged from him and spun around in a slow circle. Nothing in the room could hold his attention as she did in that moment. Without bothering to mask her expression, she appeared enchanted and carefree, and he felt an almost physical shift in his heart.
She ceased her spinning and smiled up at him. “Oh! Maybe the duke has a portrait. What a grand idea to bring me here.” She clasped her hands together in excitement. She started forward to the long row of paintings, and Logan rushed to intercept her. He had completely forgotten his father’s portrait hung in the hall, and his father looked much too similar to Logan.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he stepped in front of her.
“He does not have a portrait. I do not want you to waste your time searching.” He should have had the foresight to remove the blasted thing before she arrived at Waking Hall.
She jerked her arm away as all traces of excitement were replaced by annoyance. “Well, maybe he has acquired one since you were last here.” She stepped around him and resumed her walk down the long line of portraits, glancing up at the noble faces of past dukes and duchesses.
Logan kept pace with her, hoping she would listen to reason but knowing she would not. After all, she had almost reached the end of the room where his father’s portrait hung, and what could deter her? “I will give you one last warning to stop on your own before I make you.”
“Oh, do be serious. This will take but a moment.”
She showed no signs of complying, so Logan pulled her into his arms, stifling her feeble protests with his lips. The instant their lips connected, she ceased her struggles, properly entrancing him with her softness and willingness. Every time he touched her, a spark of magic erupted, and a kiss was like a little explosion, leaving him reeling and unable to function.
She moaned and held onto him in a tight embrace, her slim hands clutching his lapels. A tingle raced down his spine as she brought one hand to his hair, lacing it there and jerking him to her. He growled at the sensation her actions evoked. Her kissing lacked technique, but she more than made up for it in her eagerness.
Yes, she was a novice, and that knowledge, in that moment, astounded him. If possible, he would have pulled away then and whispered endearments in her ear, but alas, such a dream would never materialize. Instead, images of Ellie in dishabille flashed across his mind, and he deepened the kiss, unable to pull free.
In the past, there had been times where he longed for the comfort of a woman. Not necessarily in terms of bed sport, but to fill the void of loneliness he so often experienced. Today, with Ellie in his arms, his quest had reached its end. So long as she remained at his side, he would never feel that haunting feeling of loneliness again.
Whispering her name against her lips, Logan began to back her up against the wall when suddenly he heard a thud and the distinct sound of crockery breaking. He cursed as he broke off the kiss to find he had maneuvered Ellie into a very large, priceless Grecian urn. He couldn’t care less about the ruined urn, but Ellie and the lost heated moment were another matter.
“Are you unharmed?” he asked as worry overtook his senses. She stepped away from him, running a hand down her skirt but failing to fix her off-kilter bodice and tousled hair. Her eyes held a look of dismay at the abrupt end of their kiss, which nearly caused him to pull her back into his arms and continue the embrace.
He stopped himself when the life sprang back to her eyes. “Of course I am, but look at this urn! His Grace will never understand what happened here, not that we can tell him the exact details.” She wrung her hands and trembled from the shock of it all, continuing to speak and only pausing to draw breath.
Logan grinned as she rambled on about their predicament. They had a knack for breaking pottery, but at least this one was in his house. He took her hand in his and interrupted whatever bit of nonsense she imparted by saying, “Do not worry, it was an ugly thing to begin with. I cannot imagine it will be missed.”
“Did you not see it? The thing was breathtaking.” She groaned. She appeared distraught and very near to tears, which m
eant his grin was inappropriate.
He erased all signs of mirth and gave her a dour look, pulling her to him and stroking her back in a calming manner. “I would think it obvious I didn’t see it; otherwise, we would not have stumbled into it in the first place.” When she didn’t respond to his joke, he tried another tactic. “His Grace will understand. There is no reason to get so upset.” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head and savored the scent of the sunshine that still lingered from her time outdoors.
She stepped from his embrace and shook her head. Her eyes appeared almost frantic as she said, “Don’t you understand? His Grace will never want to marry a clumsy lady who cannot navigate an empty portrait room. If men cannot make allowances for a lady who does not like horses, how could they possibly forgive this? My dowry may not even cover the cost of that urn.” She groaned and shut her eyes.
“Who has filled your head with such ideas? We discussed this before. You should not worry so much about others’ perceptions of you. If the duke does not wish to marry you because of this incident, then you are much better off without him.”
Ellie thrust her hands on her hips and asked in a raised voice, “So your suggestion is I stop caring and end up alone? Maybe I can end up like Mrs. Westfield, always at the mercy of whatever kind relation decides to support me. I thought we decided you live in a dream world, because I must abide by certain rules of society in order to obtain a husband.”
Logan ran a hand through his hair. She was so frustrating. “Obviously there are certain rules one must abide by, but perfection is not one of them.” His expression softened as he said, “I, for one, would not care if you destroyed every priceless object in my house, provided it was unintentional.”
Her breath hitched as she inhaled, and for one fleeting moment, a look of longing flickered in those eyes. She shook her head and whispered, “You do not mean that.” She turned from him, still shaking her head as if she needed to convince herself of her words, not him. “I suppose you must. I am a good enough catch for you to make any number of sacrifices for.”
“I mean precisely what I say, whether you are a good catch or not.” Her jaw did not budge from its stubborn tilt, and he scowled as he turned from her. “You know how to ruin a moment.” He extended his arm. “Shall we? The servants must be notified so they may clean up our mess before someone wanders down here and injures himself.”
“I suppose.” Ellie accepted his arm, although her body remained stiff. They departed the room and strolled along the dimly lit corridor in tense silence. After several moments, she sent him a wry smile and said, “You probably told me I could break every priceless thing in your house because you do not own any.”
He quirked an eyebrow as he relished in the irony of the situation. “I have plenty of money, at least enough to own some precious items. Maybe not as many as your duke, but enough.”
“Hmm.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Well, it appears you are rather jealous of His Grace. You tend to act barbarically when I speak of him, and you would not even allow me to look for his picture.”
He tensed, and she smiled.
He continued to stroll without response. If she wished to believe he acted out of jealousy, then he would allow her to, although it irked him when she put the duke on a pedestal without having met the man. “I will admit I have a soft spot for you, although if you were to compare me to any other man than the duke I would not care.”
“Hmm. He must be quite the specimen then.” She arched an eyebrow and looked up at him, batting her lashes in a masterful example of coquetry.
Logan could see she teased and attempted to elicit his jealousy once more. Fortunately for her, he would play along. He tugged her to him and spoke in a low growl as he trailed kisses down her neck. “You play a dangerous game, my lady. Are you sure you wish to speak of him in my presence?”
She giggled, arching her spine to bring herself nearer to him. “I do not believe the duke would waste time talking right now.”
Logan’s eyes widened with surprised approval, and then he wisely chose to stop talking and kiss her. With a melting sigh, Eleanor’s lips parted to allow Logan’s entrance. He growled his desire. Her agile wit only heightened his desire for her. No matter what others said of her, she had many good qualities, and he enjoyed discovering each and every one of them.
And he would. After all, he had made startling progress with her, this lady that would be his wife. She may act as if she preferred some unknown duke, but she behaved much more welcoming toward him with each encounter.
His hand drifted to her hair and intertwined in its soft confines. He was enraptured by the spell she wove around him. No matter how hard she fought him, her kisses betrayed her feelings, and he himself grew more attached with every candid moment they shared. Logan began to back her up into the wall, wanting nothing more than to give her pleasure but realizing it was too soon to do anything drastic. He trailed hot kisses down her throat once more and paused to nip gently at her collarbone while his hands trailed down to her shapely bottom.
Eleanor arched her back in response to his touches, allowing him an appreciable view down her bodice. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his mouth back to hers. He smiled, pulling away despite her grumble of protest. The physical aspect of their relationship was progressing too quickly. He wanted her heart much more than he wanted a simple dalliance. After all, he could have her endlessly once she fell for him.
He smirked as he regarded her. “How does your duke compare in that?”
Ellie’s dreamy expression vanished. “You ass. I would not know.” She stomped past him and said in passing, “If you had half a brain, you would not have asked that.”
“My lady.”
She turned back to him and raised a haughty brow. “Yes?”
“Did you plan to repair your hair before or after everyone sees you so disheveled?”
Eleanor’s hand flew to her coiffure as a blush suffused her face. She mumbled a polite, albeit reluctant, thank-you and set her hair to rights. Once she looked presentable again, she turned her attention back to Logan. “Oh, do not look so smug. You have proven nothing except you are an acceptable kisser. Besides, it is hardly commendable to lure me on this tour just to accost me.”
“Now, now, my dear, do not turn spiteful after everything we shared together. Besides, I had wanted nothing more than to talk to you on our adventure.”
Ellie threw her head back and laughed. “I doubt that.”
He had hoped they might kiss but never dared dream of a kiss that left him reeling and in want of much, much more. “What must I do to prove myself to you?”
She considered him for a moment, and then a devious smile appeared on her face. “You may join my chaperone and me for afternoon tea.” She did not bother to wait for a reply before she stomped away. Logan was left with a knowing smile and the view of her delectable backside.
Chapter 7
Eleanor and Mrs. Westfield chatted in the little parlor granted them for their afternoon tea. A tray laden with tea and biscuits awaited their attentions, but neither touched it. Instead, they focused on discussing the décor of the room. The green brocade upholstery and faded yellow walls left nothing to remark against. Even the seating offered substantial padding, but there was one thing Mrs. Westfield did not approve of, which was the addition of a third party.
“I cannot comprehend why he must take tea with us.”
Eleanor exhaled a frustrated breath and leaned forward in her solitary chair toward Mrs. Westfield, who was seated on a couch. “Sir Logan has an agile mind, and you will enjoy discourse with him.”
“You say that, but I am unconvinced.”
Shaking her head, she sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. She could hardly disinvite the gentleman now, even though she wished she could do precisely that. Oh, why had she invited him for tea? At the time, it seemed a logical punishment, yet now, the retribution was not for him. Rather it was f
or her. With even the slightest mishap, Mrs. Westfield would see through her icy façade of indifference and realize Eleanor liked the gentleman. And that would not do.
The parlor door swung open, and Eleanor’s mind hastened to the present. Logan stood framed in the doorway, looking handsome and unfazed by the day’s events. She sighed as she drank in his masculine physique, but when his eyes met hers, she snapped her mouth shut. Could she get any more obvious about her attraction for him? She darted a glance at Mrs. Westfield, who appeared to have missed Eleanor’s slip. Exhaling her relief, she smiled a welcoming smile to Logan.
“Ladies.” He bowed as he entered the room and took a seat across from Eleanor on a dainty chair.
Eleanor poured the tea into three porcelain cups as he said, “Have you broken anything else today, Miss Ashford?”
Eleanor set the teapot down with a loud clatter. Logan did not make her task of keeping Mrs. Westfield unaware any easier. If anything, his little question had the exact opposite effect, for such a direct inquiry was sure to raise suspicion.
She pasted a polite smile on her face and said, “Why no, Sir Logan.”
“And you have not caused anyone else to break anything?”
Eleanor arched an eyebrow and shot a coy smile at him. “As if I would tell you if I had.” Now that she had discovered his jealous side, she might as well use it to her advantage. His hooded eyes watched her and betrayed no trace of emotion, even though she could feel a hum of tension between them.
Mrs. Westfield appeared near to experiencing an apoplectic fit. “What manner of conversation is this? No one had better break anything of His Grace’s.”
Eleanor laughed and patted her aunt’s hand. “Do not worry, we jest.” She turned her gaze to Logan and smiled. “I would never dream of breaking anything of His Grace’s.”