At check-in, Logan took care of the details, with Diana clinging to his arm like a human limpet. A few steps behind them, Lucy allowed herself one last, indulgent, long, cool drink of Logan. Cleaned up and patched up though he was, he still showed signs of his ordeal, but he was a sight for sore eyes nonetheless.
It also gave her a chance to say a silent goodbye, especially when Diana staked her claim in the seating arrangements.
The business class section was arranged two abreast. Left on her own, Lucy chose the one remaining window seat, three rows back and on the opposite side of the plane from Logan and Diana.
One last implement of torture remained, and that was the executive lounge. With one eye on Logan and Diana, she drifted towards the windows, with their panoramic view of the runway, using the view as an excuse to avoid sharing a table with them.
“How are you doing?”
Logan’s quiet question was as unsettling as the electricity that crackled from the light touch of his hand on her arm. Why hadn’t he carried on following Diana?
“I’m fine, thanks.” The response was bland and automatic. “Just thought I’d watch the planes for a while.”
“Can I get you something to drink? Something to eat, maybe?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry. You’d better get back to Diana.” With the last of her courage, Lucy looked squarely at the man she loved. “I can take care of myself.”
He looked as if he were about to say something, but whatever it was, it remained unsaid—Diana called his name, and Lucy took that as her cue to turn back to the window. What she didn’t see couldn’t hurt her.
Before long, their flight was called for boarding. Lucy made her way to her allocated seat, and found herself next to an American businessman. They exchanged meaningless pleasantries, and she settled in for the duration.
While the remaining passengers boarded, she stared sightlessly out of the window. If she filled her mind with blank space, there’d be no room for the might-have-beens and if-onlys. She tried not to ask whether it would have made any difference to the outcome had she told Logan how she felt—Logan and Diana had history, and that was too great an obstacle for Lucy to overcome alone.
Once they were airborne and the seatbelt light had been switched off, Lucy dug out the blanket provided by the airline. For once, she was going to do her damnedest to sleep on an overnight flight. The more time she spent comatose, the better. She adjusted her seat to a semi-reclining position, angled herself towards the window, closed her eyes, and prayed for dreamless oblivion.
Almost immediately, rustling sounds behind her told her that her seat companion was on the move. He’d been fidgety during take-off, so it was no surprise he hadn’t settled immediately. They’d be serving dinner soon as well, but in truth, Lucy had no real appetite. Despite the dietary deprivations while in captivity, missing a meal now wouldn’t kill her.
More quiet rustling told her that her fellow passenger had returned… except, this time, the presence she sensed was different. And then she smelled it, the subtle, fresh scent of the aftershave Logan favoured. What was he doing here?
“Lucy?”
His voice was so low that, had she really been asleep, she doubted he would have woken her. Hardly daring to breathe, she waited, wondering what he’d say next, if he’d assume she was asleep and try to wake her, but all he did was drape the blanket over her bare shoulder, before leaving as unobtrusively as he’d arrived.
Lucy huddled more deeply under the soft material, clutching it to her in an attempt to assuage the aching in her heart. She wanted to cry, but the pain was too raw, too deep. A lingering flicker of rebellion urged her not to give up, to fight for what she wanted, but her tender heart held sway—she couldn’t complicate things for the man she loved. She closed her eyes, wondering if the grief would ever lessen enough to allow the tears to fall.
~~*~~
Diana was still in the bathroom when Logan returned to his seat. He glanced forward, taking in the short queue waiting to use the facilities, and gave an imperceptible shake of his head. How long did it take to repair makeup that was already flawless? The woman’s vanity never ceased to amaze him.
Lucy was so different. Guilt thudded into his chest—what kind of Dom left his sub alone like that? He’d known she was awake, but this was neither the time nor the place to challenge her, especially with Diana in the vicinity. His former girlfriend would only create a scene that would cause more harm to Lucy, and God knew she’d been through more than enough already. He wasn’t proud of the part he’d played in that.
“Logan?”
Deep in thought, he hadn’t registered Diana’s return. He did, however, register the snappy tone. Taking her at face value, no one could be blamed for thinking she was covering her grief for her boyfriend and the aftermath of her captivity pretty well.
Knowing her of old, and being too well acquainted with her self-centred nature, Logan didn’t share that opinion. She may have gone on vacation with the poor sod, but she hadn’t known him long enough for him to even make a dent in that narcissistic hide of hers.
Of course, the shopping spree in Miami had probably helped with that remarkable recovery. Logan hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, but he’d seen the entourage of hotel staff required to carry the multitude of designer shopping bags to her room, after she’d blown her share—and part of his—of the emergency funds provided by the Consulate General.
Lucy, on the other hand, had confined herself to the necessities, and a few unbranded items of clothing to see her through the couple of days they’d had to spend in Miami. A lightweight jacket, a pair of canvas shoes and a small bag had completed her purchases. She’d even kept all the receipts, muttering something about needing them to account for her expenses.
“Sorry.” He stood to let Diana return to her seat.
“God, I’ll be so glad to get back to civilisation. Look at those!”
“What?”
“My nails, Logan! Look at them!” She held out her hand, palm down, fingers splayed to emphasise the damage.
The barely restrained wail set his teeth on edge, as did so much about the woman who’d once been his trophy girlfriend. With the perspective of hindsight and additional maturity, he hadn’t done either of them any favours when he’d compounded his first monumental error by sleeping with her when his head was all over the place. That shallowness and stupidity had bitten him on the arse with a vengeance. Just a few more hours until they were back in the UK, then he could hand Diana off to whoever would be waiting to meet her, and set about mending his relationship with Lucy.
Assuming it wasn't damaged beyond repair—a possibility that sent the chill of the grave rolling like an avalanche through his body.
“I’m quite sure the manicurist’ll be able to fit you in when we get back to London.”
Platinum-blonde hair almost flicked in his face again as she passed him. “She’d better. I can’t possibly have my picture taken by the press with nails like these.”
Of course she couldn’t. Logan rubbed his eyes. This was the woman he’d dated, all right. And the manicure. He almost groaned at the memory of taking her to her appointment one time, only to find she’d also booked him in. Apparently, she’d wanted her trophy boyfriend all gussied up too for a society party that had been as boring as hell. It had taken him a long time to live that one down with his comrades.
“In that case, maybe you should have had them done in Miami.”
And now she was looking at him as if he had the brainpower of an intellectually challenged amoeba. “I tried, but the idiot woman on reception clearly had no idea who I am.”
Wasn’t she the lucky one. “After they serve dinner, try to get some sleep, Di.”
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
More than he wanted to remember. Logan reminded himself that the only reason he was allowing this to happen was so that Diana’s venom wouldn’t be directed towards Lucy. His wom
an had gone through enough—more than enough. If he allowed her to be hurt anymore, he’d forfeit all right to call himself a Dom, if he hadn’t already.
Logan pushed the button to change his seat to recline. “Diana. If you get some sleep, it’ll make the time go faster and you won’t have so long to worry about your manicure.”
Even saying the word made him want to vomit. Right then, he’d have sold his soul to have Lucy beside him. As soon as Diana was safely asleep, he’d head aft and check on her again.
~~*~~
Dinner was a cut above the usual standard for airline food. Smart and efficient, the cabin crew served the food and more drinks with the minimum of fuss. Not long after everyone had finished and the remains had been cleared away, the cabin lights dimmed, ready for the passengers to settle for the night. Most people had their seats turned into lie-flat beds, including Diana. Logan waited until she fell asleep, then eased out of his.
The passenger next to Lucy was out for the count, and snoring none too softly to prove it. Logan shoved down the urge to throttle the man while he slept, even though no one would discover the corpse until morning. The pool of potential suspects was too limited for him to avoid detection indefinitely.
His gaze shifted over to his woman. She was asleep too, but she’d changed position to face the aisle. The subdued lighting created an intimacy that made him want to take her in his arms and cradle her against him while she slept, to protect her the way he’d failed to do while on Nenufar.
“Are you all right, sir?”
The light touch on his arm, more than the quiet words, turned his attention to the flight attendant. “Yes, everything’s okay, thank you. I just wanted to check how she was doing. Did she have dinner?”
She shook her head. “She said she wasn’t hungry. Why don’t you get some sleep, sir? It can be a long night.”
Logan nodded, accepting the truth of the statement. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t use the rest—the last couple of weeks had been hell, his body was still protesting its treatment, and in some ways it wasn’t over yet.
He still had to run the gauntlet of the debrief and submitting his report to Sir Guy. Jesus, he’d be lucky if his CO didn’t string him up by the balls and, after they’d turned blue and dropped off, kick his worthless arse straight out of the unit for allowing Lucy to be abducted and exposed to so much danger.
And if that was all that happened, Logan knew he’d have got off lightly.
~~*~~
Somehow he managed to doze, but was awake with the approach of dawn. Diana remained dead to the world. She’d slept solidly until she eventually woke and sailed off to monopolise the bathroom before breakfast was served.
While she was away, Logan went to check on Lucy again. She was awake, and staring out of the window, apparently oblivious to his presence. Even if her rigid posture hadn’t warned him off, now was not the time for opening the can of worms their relationship had become.
Not long after breakfast was finished, the plane began its descent into Heathrow. The landing was smooth, and as the jet taxied towards the terminal, a member of the cabin crew approached Logan. She leaned down and spoke very quietly, so that only he and Diana would hear.
“Sir, we’ve received a message from security—if you and your party would kindly remain in your seats until the other passengers have disembarked, we have an escort waiting to expedite your progress through the formalities. I understand there are parties waiting for you in Arrivals.”
“Thank you. Would you please pass the message on to Miss Winter?”
He ignored the bratty tut and huff to his left. With luck, Diana’s role as the prize pain in his arse was now severely time-limited—given her father’s insistence on the investigation being carried out at the earliest opportunity, Logan could only hope that the man, or his representative, was one of the parties to whom the flight attendant had referred. No doubt the other would be Sir Guy, ready to drag Logan’s arse over the coals for allowing the mission to go to shit.
He wasn’t wrong—at least as far as identifying the mystery parties went. Not only was Diana’s father there, her mother was as well. After his relationship with Diana ended and with the benefit of hindsight, Logan had recognised that the fruit hadn’t fallen far from the maternal tree. While the two women hugged one another and exchanged a cheek-to-cheek air kiss, Sir Malcolm Carstairs extended his hand to Logan.
“Thank you for bringing her back. When the dust has settled, I’d like to invite you over for dinner.”
For all his faults, Logan had always found Sir Malcolm to be largely fair-minded—Diana was definitely more her mother’s daughter. “Thank you, sir, but that really isn’t necessary.”
“Then you and Diana…?”
Logan glanced in her direction. “I’m afraid not, sir. It didn’t work last time, and—”
“I understand. Shall we just say, Diana gave us a rather different impression during her last call before you left the US. I’ll take care of it. I believe Sir Guy and your colleague are waiting for you.”
His colleague. Hearing Lucy described in such an impersonal way sliced his heart to bloody ribbons. Logan took his leave of the Carstairs family and headed towards his boss and the woman who was his life. In spite of everything she’d been through, Lucy faced Sir Guy with the strength Logan had come to know, admire, and love.
“There you are, Simmonds. It’s good to have you back. Well done—you did a first-rate job, the pair of you. I was just telling Lucy that we’ll be taking her home, so she can rest up before coming into the office tomorrow for a debrief.”
“Thank you, Sir Guy.” Lucy’s mouth curved into a hesitant smile. “I’m looking forward to spending the night in my own bed—I hadn’t realised I could miss it quite so much.”
Her own bed. Not his. Logan looked at her, searching for some sign of the lively, vivacious woman who’d captured his heart, but what he saw… beneath the strength, there was a calm maturity that hadn’t been evident in the brat who’d come to his door what felt like a lifetime ago. More guilt washed over him—that brat had had a beguiling innocence about her, and thanks to him, that innocence was gone. She’d been exposed to a side of life she never should have seen, horrors she hadn’t known existed, and he should have protected her from them by never agreeing to let her accompany him in the first place.
“We’ll take Lucy home first, then back to HQ,” Sir Guy said. “I want a full report.”
“With all due respect, sir, Logan’s been through a lot, he really needs to—”
Dear God, she was actually trying to protect him. “It’s all right, Lucy. It’s standard operating procedure. It’s fine.”
“Sir, Logan took a terrible beating to protect us—”
“And I received excellent medical attention on the ship. I’m fine, sir.”
Sir Guy looked him up and down. “We’ll have the medic give him a once-over, Lucy. Now let’s get you home.”
Now it was Logan’s turn to flinch. Even though the gesture was purely paternal, he didn’t like the way Sir Guy put an arm around Lucy’s shoulders to comfort her. He was relegated to following on behind, with only the sickening feeling that each physical step was taking Lucy an emotional stride further away from him.
Chapter 21
Lucy hadn’t expected Sir Guy to see her to her front door, not with both Logan and his official driver in the car. She was glad Logan hadn’t volunteered. Oh, the weak, silly, desperately-in-love part of her wished he had, but for the sake of her self-respect, it was better this way.
Grateful that Sir Guy had confirmed he hadn’t told her parents anything about what had happened, she’d assured him she’d be fine on her own—but as soon as she was alone, sobs tore her apart. She collapsed to her knees and gave in to the tempest of emotion that had been brewing since she woke up on the plane a few hours earlier.
She had to move on from this. Whoever she was now, whatever she was turning into, this was her new normality—it was the life she�
��d wanted, and no one had promised it would be roses all the way.
On autopilot, she went through the motions of making tea. Without thinking, she went to the fridge, and found not only fresh milk, but eggs, fruit and vegetables, even a pack of bacon. A loaf of her favourite granary bread had also materialised in a cupboard.
Sir Guy must have been responsible for organising this. The kindness and thoughtfulness of the gesture made her eyes smart. Lucy managed a small smile. The man came across as something close to a tyrant at times, but then he went and did something like this.
A mug of tea and a bacon sandwich were marvellous, if temporary, medicine for what ailed her. That little touch of the familiar helped straighten out her scrambled thoughts, and enabled her to focus on her plan of action for the next day.
Right now, though, once she finished her tea, she was going to grab a shower and then get some sleep. Everything would look better after she’d rested. Then tomorrow she’d see the doctor, speak to Sir Guy, and set off for home. As for what came after that… That depended on her conversation with the boss.
He’d want to know exactly what happened. Lucy thought of all the statements that had crossed her desk over the last few months—that was what he’d want from her. Perhaps the shower could wait a little while longer. She had a report to type up first.
Her life was at a turning point now, and only one thing was certain—whichever direction she took, it wouldn’t be with Logan Simmonds at her side.
Nor would it be with the simple beauty and calming influence of submission, because no man was ever going to replace Logan as her Master.
~~*~~
Logan looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, twisting slowly to examine the extent of the bruising over his ribs. In places, black-and-blue was already turning to purple-and-yellow, but on the whole, it looked worse than it felt.
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