Page 67 of Because You're Mine
Madeline took a deep breath and relaxed a little. Strange, that the two were able to give her the comfort that her own mother and sister hadn’t even attempted to offer. Impulsively her hand sought Mrs. Florence’s. “Thank you for coming to my wedding, ma’am. Your presence has made the day easier for me.”
“I must say, I wouldn’t have missed your wedding to Mr. Scott for all the world. You’ve opened many doors for me, child, ones I’m certain you can’t even begin to guess.” Mrs. Florence seemed pleased by the younger women’s puzzled expressions.
“What doors?” Julia asked, and laughed as she shook an admonishing finger at her friend. “You look like a cat who found the cream-pot. I must know why.”
“Perhaps someday,” came the placid reply. Mrs. Florence would say no more after that; she only drank a cup of tea and continued to glance around the room with obvious satisfaction.
Madeline wasn’t conscious of when the guests departed, only that they seemed to drift away until there was no one left but servants efficiently whisking away all traces of the wedding…and Logan, who was disturbingly matter-of-fact about her presence in his home. Leisurely he sat at the dining table and finished a cigar, stretching out his legs. Madeline occupied a chair nearby, still dressed in her wedding attire, a pale pink gown adorned at the throat and waist with roses of a deeper shade.
Were it not for her strained nerves, she would have enjoyed sitting there with the earthy scent of his cigar drifting to her. The house was blessedly quiet now, and the ordeal of making small talk was over. However, there was another ordeal yet to come, and when or if it would happen was completely up to Logan.
His gaze moved over her with detached interest, in the same way he might regard a painting or sculpture. Madeline felt certain that Julia’s assurance that he still loved her was completely untrue. No man could look at a woman he loved as if she were merely a belonging that he could pick up or set aside at will. She thought up a hundred different conversational openings and discarded each one. How odd, that the silences between them had once been so comfortable, when now they were so stiff and strained.
“A room has been prepared for you,” Logan finally said, flicking the tip of the cigar into a molded bronze dish. “Have one of the servants show you upstairs.”
“Then we won’t be sharing—”
“No. We’ll occupy separate rooms. As you know, I tend to come and go at unconventional hours. I won’t disturb your rest if we sleep in different beds.”
And I won’t disturb your privacy, Madeline thought, but held her tongue. “That is very considerate,” she murmured, standing up. Logan stood as well, every inch the courteous host.
“Naturally I reserve the right to visit you from time to time,” he remarked.
Madeline nodded with hard-won composure. “What about tonight?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.
His blue eyes held no expression as they gleamed through a thin haze of smoke. “Come to my room when you’re ready for bed.”
Madeline swallowed hard. “Very well.”
Logan occupied his chair again as soon as she reached the threshold. Madeline felt his gaze on her even after she was out of sight, as if the heat of it had left a brand on the middle of her back.
The extra bedroom in Logan’s private suite had been enlarged, one wall having been removed to double its size. Gleaming white and gold brocade covered the walls, while oil paintings framed in gold had been hung in artful groupings. There was a scene of children at play, and several others of women and children in domestic settings.
Taking pleasure in the feminine decor, Madeline wandered about the room, noting every change, including the gold clock on the fireplace mantel, the intricate lace on the cream silk counterpane, and the sewing workbox in the corner, inlaid with mother of pearl.
Although she hadn’t yet rung for a maid, one appeared to help her change out of her wedding gown. Madeline sat before the dressing table in her high-necked nightgown, lost in her thoughts as the servant brushed her long golden-brown locks.
The maid said something, and Madeline looked up with a flustered smile. “What?” she asked. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I asked if there was anything else you needed, Mrs. Scott.”
“Mrs. Scott,” Madeline repeated with a faltering smile. “You’re the first one who’s called me that.”
The housemaid returned her smile and bobbed a curtsy before leaving the room.
Madeline stared at her own ashen complexion and automatically pinched and patted her cheeks to bring color to them. Surely there was no reason to be afraid of Logan. He wouldn’t harm her, if for no other reason than her carrying his child. On the other hand, he could make things very unpleasant for her. He was her husband now, and she was completely at his mercy. No one would intervene on her behalf, whether he chose to be cruel or kind.
Madeline stood and checked the long row of buttons that fastened the front of her white linen robe. Lifting her chin resolutely, she left her room.
Logan’s room was only a few doors away, filled with the flickering light from the fireplace. He was half-reclining on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his hands clasped behind his dark head. He was naked beneath the sheet, every angle of his aroused body clearly defined. The fireglow made his face gleam like freshly cast metal. Approaching the bed, Madeline stopped a few yards away as she heard the deep rumble of his voice.
“Take off your robe.”
She looked at him in confusion.
“Go on,” he murmured, his eyes glittering like those of a stalking beast.
Understanding what he wanted, Madeline tried to comply, but her fingers were stiff. Logan waited with unnatural patience, silent and watchful. Madeline fumbled with the long row of tiny buttons, freeing them from the silk loops. When the task was completed, she drew her arms from the long sleeves and let the robe drop to the floor. She was dressed only in her thin gown. Her skin seemed to burn as she realized that the light from the fire shone through the garment, illuminating every detail of her body.
