she live with herself if she gave in?
The sound of draining water told her his bath was finished. Emma yanked at the buttons, her pulse surging to a gallop. She was still struggling when the door opened and Logan stepped out into the room.
A white towel was securely tucked around his waist. His hair was slick with water, his torso glistening like flame in the lamplight. Emma knew she shouldn’t stare, but she couldn’t resist a few lingering glances. His body was like sculpted bronze, except where crisp black hair dusted his chest and formed a line down the center of his flat-muscled belly. No statue could look so masculine.
Her eyes traced the line to where it disappeared beneath the towel. Color flooded her face as she caught herself imagining where that trail led. Oh, why couldn’t she just walk out andend this farce of a marriage? Logan didn’t love her, and she certainly didn’t love him. Given time, their relationship would sour and ferment until it became unbearable.
But wasn’t that what she’d planned—to torment him until he struck out or left her? To send him back to prison?
“Let me do that.” He stepped behind her, lifting her hands away from the back of the gown. “I’m a fair hand with buttons.”
“I can imagine. You’ve probably had lots of practice.”
“No comment.” His chuckle was devilish, his gambler’s fingers deft and sure. The brush of his knuckle against her skin triggered a tingling current that raced like burning gunpowder through her body. The room seemed to be growing warmer.
“You looked like a queen tonight,” he said. “I was proud to have you on my arm.”
“Two disgraced souls.” Emma shook her head. “Whatever those people were saying about us, I’ll wager it wasn’t pretty.”
“But we showed them all that they can’t scare us away. After a while it won’t matter. You’ll see.” He finished undoing the last button and stepped away as the gown fell open down the back.
“Please turn around,” she said.
His laugh was raw-edged. “I’m your husband, Emma.”
“And you promised to treat me like a sixty-year-old nun.”
“So I did. But it’s getting harder and harder to pretend.” He strode toward the bed, picked up her nightgown and tossed it in her direction. “Let me know when I can look.”
Emma stepped out of the dress and hung it in the wardrobe. Then she unfastened the busk of her corset, stripped off her camisole and pulled the nightgown over her head. Only then did she slide her petticoat and drawers down her legs.
By the time she turned around, Logan had removed the towel and was clad in long drawers like the ones he’d worn the night before. The contours of his sculpted chest gleamed in the lamplight. Emma stood rooted to the floor as he walked toward her. He moved like a panther, a mysterious half smile on his face.
Reaching her, he laid his hands lightly on her shoulders. Emma felt herself drowning in the midnight depths of his eyes. “We’re two of a kind, Emma,” he said. “Proud, a little lost, a little scared, scrapping our way out of the dirt any way we can. One of these days you’ll come to see that.”
His thumb skimmed the edge of her jaw, lifting her face to his. His mouth came down on hers as gently as the fall of a snowflake, lips nibbling and searching with exquisite restraint.
Despite the softness of the kiss, Emma’s pulse slammed. She’d been half expecting him to kiss her, but not like this, with a tenderness that spiraled downward, triggering whorls of aching heat in the depths of her body. Driven by instinct, she strained upward. But even then, Logan didn’t deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed ever so lightly along her lower lip. Then, releasing her, he stepped away. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he spoke.
“Good night, my little nun.”
Walking away from her, he snuffed out the lamp and climbed into bed.
Chapter Six
E mma stood quivering in the dark. When she’d thought of what would
The sound of draining water told her his bath was finished. Emma yanked at the buttons, her pulse surging to a gallop. She was still struggling when the door opened and Logan stepped out into the room.
A white towel was securely tucked around his waist. His hair was slick with water, his torso glistening like flame in the lamplight. Emma knew she shouldn’t stare, but she couldn’t resist a few lingering glances. His body was like sculpted bronze, except where crisp black hair dusted his chest and formed a line down the center of his flat-muscled belly. No statue could look so masculine.
Her eyes traced the line to where it disappeared beneath the towel. Color flooded her face as she caught herself imagining where that trail led. Oh, why couldn’t she just walk out andend this farce of a marriage? Logan didn’t love her, and she certainly didn’t love him. Given time, their relationship would sour and ferment until it became unbearable.
But wasn’t that what she’d planned—to torment him until he struck out or left her? To send him back to prison?
“Let me do that.” He stepped behind her, lifting her hands away from the back of the gown. “I’m a fair hand with buttons.”
“I can imagine. You’ve probably had lots of practice.”
“No comment.” His chuckle was devilish, his gambler’s fingers deft and sure. The brush of his knuckle against her skin triggered a tingling current that raced like burning gunpowder through her body. The room seemed to be growing warmer.
“You looked like a queen tonight,” he said. “I was proud to have you on my arm.”
“Two disgraced souls.” Emma shook her head. “Whatever those people were saying about us, I’ll wager it wasn’t pretty.”
“But we showed them all that they can’t scare us away. After a while it won’t matter. You’ll see.” He finished undoing the last button and stepped away as the gown fell open down the back.
“Please turn around,” she said.
His laugh was raw-edged. “I’m your husband, Emma.”
“And you promised to treat me like a sixty-year-old nun.”
“So I did. But it’s getting harder and harder to pretend.” He strode toward the bed, picked up her nightgown and tossed it in her direction. “Let me know when I can look.”
Emma stepped out of the dress and hung it in the wardrobe. Then she unfastened the busk of her corset, stripped off her camisole and pulled the nightgown over her head. Only then did she slide her petticoat and drawers down her legs.
By the time she turned around, Logan had removed the towel and was clad in long drawers like the ones he’d worn the night before. The contours of his sculpted chest gleamed in the lamplight. Emma stood rooted to the floor as he walked toward her. He moved like a panther, a mysterious half smile on his face.
Reaching her, he laid his hands lightly on her shoulders. Emma felt herself drowning in the midnight depths of his eyes. “We’re two of a kind, Emma,” he said. “Proud, a little lost, a little scared, scrapping our way out of the dirt any way we can. One of these days you’ll come to see that.”
His thumb skimmed the edge of her jaw, lifting her face to his. His mouth came down on hers as gently as the fall of a snowflake, lips nibbling and searching with exquisite restraint.
Despite the softness of the kiss, Emma’s pulse slammed. She’d been half expecting him to kiss her, but not like this, with a tenderness that spiraled downward, triggering whorls of aching heat in the depths of her body. Driven by instinct, she strained upward. But even then, Logan didn’t deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed ever so lightly along her lower lip. Then, releasing her, he stepped away. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he spoke.
“Good night, my little nun.”
Walking away from her, he snuffed out the lamp and climbed into bed.
Chapter Six
E mma stood quivering in the dark. When she’d thought of what would
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