happen if he touched her, she’d imagined herself nobly fighting off Logan’s advances. Instead the man had made a fool of her, gently lighting her aflame, then dousing her with cold water.
He had played her like a card sharp would play a greenhorn sucker.
In the dark silence of the room, she could hear the droning tick of the clock and the slow cadence of Logan’s breathing. The wretch was probably laughing through his teeth as he pretended to sleep.
What now? Should she yank the covers off and give him the hiding he deserved? Spend another miserable night in the chair? Sneak into bed like the coward she was?
A chilly draft, creeping under the door from the hallway, reminded her that the fire was going out and the room would soon be frigid. Given that, the third choice made the most sense.
Tiptoeing around the bed to the far side, she lifted a corner of the eiderdown and slid beneath it. The sheets were clammy. She lay rigid, teeth chattering as she waited for her body to take off the chill.
“It’s warmer over here.” Logan’s voice was like dark honey flowing over warm buttered flapjacks.
“I don’t trust you.”
“Now, that stings, Mrs. Devereaux. Have I been anything less than a perfect gentleman?”
“Will you stop that ‘Mrs. Devereaux’ talk? I know why you married me, and you know why I married you. Let’s just call this what it is and try not to get on each other’s nerves.”
“Suits me.” He punctuated the last word with a yawn. “But it’s still warmer on my side of the bed.” He shifted toward his edge to clear a place for her. “Come here, little nun. I won’t bite you.”
The bed
was
awfully cold. Still shivering, she edged closer, until he reached out and pulled her gently into the curve of his body.“That’s it,” he murmured. “We’re as innocent as two lambs. Now go to sleep, Emma.”
His arms tightened comfortably around her. Little by little Emma felt herself sinking into his protective heat. As a very small girl, she’d loved to sneak into her parents’ bed before dawn, snuggling into the furrow between their bodies, wrapping herself in their familiar, earthy odors and the sounds of their sleep. The memory flickered as she curled against Logan. But something was different, and she knew at once what it was.
A man could say anything with his mouth. But one part of his body always told the truth.
With a gasp, she scrambled away from him and jerked bolt upright. Last night when the same thing had happened he’d been asleep. But not now.
“What is it?” Logan rolled onto his back and gazed up at her in the darkness.
She cast a glare toward his crotch. “Two lambs indeed! You lied.”
“No.” He sat up, facing her. The nipples on his broad chest caught glints of light through the lace curtain. “I made it clear at the outset that I wanted you, Emma. You’re looking at proof of that. But I also promised I wouldn’t force you. Have I broken that promise?”
She shook her head.
“Then what’s wrong? Don’t you trust me?”
“Why should I? The room, the clothes, the meals—it’s as if I’ve been bought and paid for. It’s as if I owe you and you’re scheming to collect.”
“The judge ordered me to provide for you. Would you have been happier in a shanty, wearing rags and living on beans and mutton?”
His unspoken meaning was clear. If Billy John had lived to marry her, that shanty, and the life that went with it, would have been her lot. Emma’s temper boiled over.
“How dare you? I
loved
Billy John, and he loved me. I’d have been happy living anywhere with him!”
“You can’t eat love or wear it, Emma. And it won’t keep out the wind and rain. I understand that you loved the boy, but he’s gone for good. You need to move on and make the best of things as they are.”
“I need to move on? With
you?
You killed him, you heartless bastard!” Emma’s frayed control snapped. She flew at him, fists flailing in a storm of helpless
He had played her like a card sharp would play a greenhorn sucker.
In the dark silence of the room, she could hear the droning tick of the clock and the slow cadence of Logan’s breathing. The wretch was probably laughing through his teeth as he pretended to sleep.
What now? Should she yank the covers off and give him the hiding he deserved? Spend another miserable night in the chair? Sneak into bed like the coward she was?
A chilly draft, creeping under the door from the hallway, reminded her that the fire was going out and the room would soon be frigid. Given that, the third choice made the most sense.
Tiptoeing around the bed to the far side, she lifted a corner of the eiderdown and slid beneath it. The sheets were clammy. She lay rigid, teeth chattering as she waited for her body to take off the chill.
“It’s warmer over here.” Logan’s voice was like dark honey flowing over warm buttered flapjacks.
“I don’t trust you.”
“Now, that stings, Mrs. Devereaux. Have I been anything less than a perfect gentleman?”
“Will you stop that ‘Mrs. Devereaux’ talk? I know why you married me, and you know why I married you. Let’s just call this what it is and try not to get on each other’s nerves.”
“Suits me.” He punctuated the last word with a yawn. “But it’s still warmer on my side of the bed.” He shifted toward his edge to clear a place for her. “Come here, little nun. I won’t bite you.”
The bed
was
awfully cold. Still shivering, she edged closer, until he reached out and pulled her gently into the curve of his body.“That’s it,” he murmured. “We’re as innocent as two lambs. Now go to sleep, Emma.”
His arms tightened comfortably around her. Little by little Emma felt herself sinking into his protective heat. As a very small girl, she’d loved to sneak into her parents’ bed before dawn, snuggling into the furrow between their bodies, wrapping herself in their familiar, earthy odors and the sounds of their sleep. The memory flickered as she curled against Logan. But something was different, and she knew at once what it was.
A man could say anything with his mouth. But one part of his body always told the truth.
With a gasp, she scrambled away from him and jerked bolt upright. Last night when the same thing had happened he’d been asleep. But not now.
“What is it?” Logan rolled onto his back and gazed up at her in the darkness.
She cast a glare toward his crotch. “Two lambs indeed! You lied.”
“No.” He sat up, facing her. The nipples on his broad chest caught glints of light through the lace curtain. “I made it clear at the outset that I wanted you, Emma. You’re looking at proof of that. But I also promised I wouldn’t force you. Have I broken that promise?”
She shook her head.
“Then what’s wrong? Don’t you trust me?”
“Why should I? The room, the clothes, the meals—it’s as if I’ve been bought and paid for. It’s as if I owe you and you’re scheming to collect.”
“The judge ordered me to provide for you. Would you have been happier in a shanty, wearing rags and living on beans and mutton?”
His unspoken meaning was clear. If Billy John had lived to marry her, that shanty, and the life that went with it, would have been her lot. Emma’s temper boiled over.
“How dare you? I
loved
Billy John, and he loved me. I’d have been happy living anywhere with him!”
“You can’t eat love or wear it, Emma. And it won’t keep out the wind and rain. I understand that you loved the boy, but he’s gone for good. You need to move on and make the best of things as they are.”
“I need to move on? With
you?
You killed him, you heartless bastard!” Emma’s frayed control snapped. She flew at him, fists flailing in a storm of helpless
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