Page 20 of Because You're Mine
Julia approached him in his office afterward, her brow knitted with consternation. “I heard about what happened between you and Maddy this morning,” she remarked. “Don’t you think you’re being rather hard on her?”
“You’re right,” he said sarcastically. “The next time she volunteers to put herself in danger, I won’t interfere.”
“It’s not that,” Julia said. “For heaven’s sake, Logan, I know how protective you are of your employees. I understand why you were cross with her earlier in the day. What Idon’tunderstand is your constant harshness with her. She’s always at your beck and call—in fact, she’s more your assistant than mine. The Capital is running far more smoothly because of her. You should be delighted with Madeline, and yet you act like a surly child whenever she’s near.”
Logan glared at her, infuriated. “That’s enough, Julia.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, immediately softening her tone. “It’s just that you haven’t been yourself lately. I’m concerned about you.”
“There would be no need for concern if you hadn’t hired the girl in the first place.”
Julia looked at him in dawning wonder. “I’m beginning to think you don’t dislike her at all. I wonder if the problem isn’t quite the opposite. Nearly every man at the Capital imagines himself in love with her. Is it possible that you’re afraid of falling for her yourself?”
Logan concealed a sudden flare of outrage behind a mocking glance. “Of all the cracked notions you’ve ever had—”
“I’m right,” Julia said, staring at him keenly. “You’re fighting an attraction to her. Why not admit it?”
“I don’t have time to discuss your addled theories,” Logan muttered. “If you wouldn’t mind leaving, I have work to do.”
Julia didn’t move. “I’m aware of your belief that you can turn your emotions on and off at will. You’re always the master of your heart, and never the other way around. But emotions are terribly inconvenient, Logan…they don’t always behave as one would wish.”
“Go to hell,” Logan said, and strode from the office.
After the rehearsal had concluded and everyone had left the stage, Madeline swept the floor vigorously, stirring up a cloud of dust that billowed around her knees. “Arrogant…ungrateful…tyrant…” she muttered, venting her anger with each stroke of the broom. As she worked her way to stage right, she stopped near a loosely wrapped canvas package filled with foils used earlier in the day.
Reaching down, Madeline extracted one of the swords and grasped the handle. It was light and well balanced, whistling as she swished it through the air. Enjoying herself, she tried to imitate some of the movements she had seen that morning, lunging and thrusting with the foil in her hand. “Take that…andthat…” she said, stabbing at an imaginary Mr. Scott.
“You look as though you’re swatting flies,” came a sardonic voice from nearby.
Startled, Madeline saw Mr. Scott emerging from backstage, and she wanted to sink through the floor. Why did he have to be the one to witness her making a fool of herself? She expected him to make some remark that would cause her eternal humiliation…but his blue eyes gleamed with amusement.
“Whom are you attempting to skewer?” he asked, smiling in a way that revealed he was well aware of her invisible opponent’s identity. When she didn’t reply, he surprised her by taking her wrist in a gentle grip. His hand was very warm on her skin. “Here, this is how to handle the thing properly. Loosen your grip.” He adjusted her hand, his fingers pressing over hers. Madeline tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy. He was standing so close, and her pulse was racing madly. “Imitate the way I’m standing,” he continued, “and keep your knees slightly flexed.”
Madeline risked a glance at him. His hair was rumpled, as if he had been tugging it distractedly, and she longed to smooth the thick locks. “You’re always directing, aren’t you?”
“You’re not the first woman to accuse me of that,” he said wryly, and nudged the sword to the proper angle. “Now lunge forward with your right foot, bend your knee and extend the sword…yes, exactly like that. A stageworthy move if I’ve ever seen one.”
He was so close that Madeline could see the fine texture of his skin, the dark stubble that roughened his jaw, the gleam of auburn in his long lashes. With his face relaxed and his lips curved in a smile, he seemed a little younger than usual, a little more approachable.
“I understand why you were so harsh with me before, Mr. Scott,” she said.
“Oh?” His brow arched sardonically.
“You were worried about my safety. That’s why you lost your temper. I forgive you.” Before he could react, she pressed her mouth to his chin, her lips tingling from the scrape of close-shaven bristle.
His entire body stiffened. Drawing back, Madeline waited apprehensively for his reaction. His face was a blank mask.
Awkwardly Madeline bent to set the sword on the floor and straightened to look at him. “Was that…stageworthy?” she asked.
Scott wore a strange expression. It took a long time for him to reply. “Not quite,” he finally said.
“Why not?”
“Your back is to the audience. If we were in a play…you would have to turn this way.” He began to reach for her, paused, then finally caught her arms in his hands. Lightly his fingers skimmed her shoulder and slid to her throat and jaw.
“You would show your emotions through your posture and the angle of your head…” Carefully he adjusted her chin a notch downward. His voice turned hoarse. “If you were ambivalent about the kiss, you would hold your head like this. And you might put your hands on my shoulders as if you were thinking of pushing me away.”
Madeline obeyed, her hands trembling a little as she pressed her palms against the hard surface of his upper body. He was so much taller than she, his shoulders looming high above her, his chin nearly brushing the top of her head.
