Page 73 of Duke of Iron
She whirled, nearly dropping the baby.
Logan stood in the doorway, arms crossed, shirt open at the throat, hair in just enough disarray to look rakish even at three in the morning.
“Do continue,” he said. “I am eager to learn how the story ends.”
May scowled. “It ends with the duchess committing murder.” She raised her voice to a fussy soprano to mimic the scandal sheets. “We fear the Duke of Irondale has been found smothered in a cheese shop…”
Logan’s lips quirked. “With a wedge of Devonshire, I hope. Wouldn’t want to skimp on the quality.”
He entered, looked around, and found a chair. He sat, leaning back with the easy grace of a man who owned the ground beneath him. “Are you aware it is the middle of the night?”
“I am. Are you aware you have the stealth of a burglar?” May shot back.
Logan shrugged. “I heard a noise. Thought it was an intruder. Was hoping it was only you.”
“Disappointment, then,” May said, too tired to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
He glanced at Rydal, who had quieted at the sound of Logan’s voice and now stared at the Duke with open fascination. “What is the villain plotting?” Logan asked.
“He refuses to eat,” May said, “and resists all forms of culinary persuasion.”
Logan stood, approached, and looked down at the baby. “Perhaps you are not persuasive enough.”
“By all means, you try,” May replied.
He extended one finger, and Rydal latched on with surprising strength. “He is clearly a mastermind,” Logan observed.
May could not help but smile at the tableau—the Iron Duke and the six-month-old, locked in a contest of wills.
She checked the pan. The potatoes were soft. She mashed them with a spoon, added a dollop of cheese, and let it cool. She scooped up a little and offered it to the baby. Rydal sniffed, then, with great reluctance, opened his mouth and accepted the offering.
May’s heart leapt. “Success!”
Logan grinned. “I suppose we must call you a genius.”
She blushed, then pretended not to care. “If you like.”
They took turns feeding the baby, Logan holding him steady while May spooned the mixture. With every bite, Rydal’s mood improved. By the end, he was dozing, mouth smeared with the evidence of his defeat.
They stood in silence, watching him drift off.
Logan cleared his throat. “You are very good with him.”
May shrugged. “It is not difficult. He has simple needs.”
“Most people do,” Logan said.
She studied his face, half in shadow, and wondered what needs he would confess to, if given the chance.
“Why are you awake?” she asked, changing the subject.
He looked at her, a long and measuring gaze. “I checked the nursery. You were not there. I checked your rooms. Also empty. I thought you might have run away.”
May blinked. “And you would have cared?”
He smirked. “I would have cared about the scandal. Two runaways in one household is very bad for business.”
She tried to be annoyed, but the edge was gone.
