Page 41 of Because You're Mine
“He’s been asking about you every five minutes,” the housekeeper replied. “In fact, I’ve come to tell you that he requires your presence immediately.”
Madeline smiled. “It sounds as if he’s nearly back to his old self.”
“It won’t be long,” the housekeeper agreed.
Madeline followed Mrs. Beecham to the suite’s main bedroom. As they approached, there was a stream of clearly audible complaints.
“…I don’t want any more broth,” Logan said, lecturing a hapless servant who had brought him a tray from the kitchen. “I want meat, bread, coffee—how the hell am I supposed to live on paste and broth? And if you bring me anything else with milk in it, I’m going to—”
He stopped abruptly as his gaze fell on Madeline. “Maddy,” he said, his voice still raspy.
Like her, he had bathed recently. His hair was still damp, his face gleaming from a precise shave. He was dressed in white flannels that had been buttoned up to the neck, but the memory of what was beneath them, every inch of smooth skin and hard muscle, was forever imprinted in her mind. Now, seeing him fully alert and commanding, it already seemed impossible that she had seen and touched him so intimately.
Discreetly Mrs. Beecham and the servant departed, leaving them alone together.
“You’re not a very accommodating patient,” Madeline said, coming to the bedside.
“I’m going mad,” he said. “I want you to find out from Bennett what the hell is going on at my theater, and bring me something to do—”
“You’re supposed to rest,” she replied, enjoying his enforced helplessness as well as the signs of his returning temper. “I’m certain the doctor must have told you not to strain yourself.”
“It’s a strain to sit here and be treated like a bloody invalid.”
Smiling, Madeline leaned over until their noses were nearly touching. She stared directly into his eyes, her own gleaming with challenge. “Youarean invalid, Mr. Scott.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and time seemed to stop for a moment. “I won’t be for long,” he said softly.
There was something new between them, a flow of awareness and intimacy that made Madeline breathless. “For now you must stay in bed.”
He glanced at the valley of her cleavage, the curves of her breasts barely contained in yellow silk. When his gaze returned to her face, blue flame danced in his eyes. “Make me.”
Madeline backed away hastily. “I’ll fetch some books and papers, a-and I’ll read Mr. Bennett’s report to you.”
“That’s a start,” he said. “You can also bring me some decent food.”
“I can’t do that. Dr. Brooks wouldn’t approve. You wouldn’t be able to keep it down anyway.”
“Food, Maddy,” he said imperiously, watching as she left the room. “And come back quickly. I’ve never been so bloody bored in my life.”
Madeline remained at the mansion for two weeks, aware that she would always regard this time as the happiest of her life. Each day she considered leaving but decided to stay just a little longer. She knew her behavior was irresponsible, but it didn’t matter. The knowledge that her time with Logan was limited made it even more precious. She had not forgotten her vow to God to return home and marry Lord Clifton. Her bargain had been made in good faith, and God had fulfilled His part. She intended to keep her half of it.
Even confined to a sickroom, Logan seemed to live at twice the pace of other people. He badgered Madeline and the rest of the staff until they relented and allowed him four hours a day to conduct his business. From his bed or a nearby chair, he dictated letters addressed to Mr. Bennett regarding the management of the Capital, and sent missives to stewards and estate agents regarding his properties. In between, he corresponded with aristocrats, artists, and public figures…proposing projects, reminding them of promised sponsorships and donations, and accepting or rejecting social invitations.
“You must be the busiest man in England,” Madeline exclaimed after a particularly long session. She set down the pen and flexed her aching fingers.
“I have been for a while,” Logan admitted, fitting his hands behind his head as he leaned back against the headboard. He was dressed in a robe of luxurious burgundy-and-brown-striped silk. A narrow Frenchdéjeunertable had been placed by the bed to hold books and other articles he wanted close at hand. “Having a full schedule has helped me keep my mind off other things.”
“What things?” Madeline asked without thinking.
His lips curved with a smile that flustered her. “Lack of a personal life, mostly. It’s not easy to find balance, especially when you’re as involved in a profession as I am.”
“It would be easy for you to find a partner,” Madeline said, switching her gaze to the desk. She occupied herself with arranging the blotter, paper, and silver inkstand, aligning them precisely. “I’m certain any woman would have you.”
“But I wouldn’t have just any woman.”
“Of course…” She fiddled with a sheet of paper, repeatedly folding it until it was a small, thick square. “You want a woman of experience. Someone mature and sophisticated.”
“That’s what I wanted in the past,” he said, and waited until she glanced at him. His blue eyes were piratical as he added, “Now I’m not so certain.”
