Page 80 of Because You're Mine
A faint, wry smile came to her lips. “I’ve no doubt you would have.”
Her words seemed to inflame him. “Then how the hell can you stand there and claim you trust me, when you know I wouldn’t have done as much for you?”
“Why shouldn’t I trust you?” she asked calmly. “You’ve been nothing but honorable and generous to me.”
“Honorable?” Logan repeated, staring at her as if she had lost her wits. “I took your virginity, got you with child out of wedlock—”
“When I first started work at the Capital, you made every effort to avoid me, despite the way I threw myself at you. You made love to me only when it was clear that I was more than willing, and when I became pregnant, you married me in spite of your resentment. I deceived you, and in return you’ve been honest and fair—”
“That’s enough.” His face was taut with annoyance.“I’ve been a bastard to you, and I don’t intend to stop any time soon, so I’d advise you to dispense with the flattery and the doe-eyed glances, because they’re not going to work. Do you understand?” He didn’t realize he had seized her until he felt the tender skin of her upper arms beneath his hands, the tantalizing strip of bareness between the short sleeves of her grown and the top edge of her gloves.
“I understand,” Madeline said. Her soft mouth was close to his, and Logan longed violently to kiss the hint of a smile from her lips and plunge his hands into the velvet sheath of her bodice. All he wanted from her was physical pleasure. Not her trust. Not affection.
He reached over the back of her dress, found the outline of her buttocks, and pulled her hips hard against his. “I want you,” he muttered, staring into the valley of her cleavage, nuzzling his mouth and nose into the fragrant hollow at the base of her throat. “Come upstairs with me.”
“Now?” she asked, her breath catching as he urged his aroused loins against hers.
“Now.”
“But our guests…”
“Let them take care of themselves.”
Madeline laughed shakily. “Later,” she said. “They’ll notice we’re gone, and they’ll talk—”
“I want them to talk.” Every rational thought had left Logan’s head. He no longer cared about Andrew’s problems, his guests’ well-being, or social appearances. “I want them to know that I’m taking my pleasure of you upstairs while they’re all down here…that you’re mine.” Hungrily he crushed her mouth beneath his, drinking in her taste, driven wild by the scent and feel of her. His fingers tangled in her carefully arranged coiffure, beginning to pull the pins from the golden-brown curls, and Madeline pulled back with a gasp.
“All right,” she said unsteadily, her face pink and glowing. “I’ll be more than happy to…accommodate you…but the guests will stop us before we ever reach the stairs.”
Logan smiled and stole a short, hard kiss from her. “I pity anyone who gets in my way,” he said, and pulled her toward the door.
Fourteen
As thenext month progressed, Madeline’s condition became more obvious, making it necessary for her to limit her outings. When she went shopping or drove or walked through the park, she was always escorted by at least two servants, to whom Logan had given specific instructions. She was not to overtire herself, he had said, or venture into less than safe areas, and she was to eat regularly.
“I can’t stand being treated like a child,” Madeline told Logan one morning as she sat at her dressing table. She couldn’t help resenting her loss of freedom. Having once experienced what it was like to do as she pleased and go anywhere she liked, it was difficult to lead the sheltered life of the usual woman in her position. “No matter what I do, there’s always someone trying to help me or take care of me…orfeedme something.”
Rather than mock or belittle her, Logan listened with apparent seriousness. “You’re not being treated like a child,” he replied, “but as someone whose well-being I value above all else.”
“I feel as if I’m in prison,” she said sullenly. “I want to go somewhere, do something…”
“Such as?”
Madeline sighed and picked up a brush, dragging it vigorously through her long, loose hair. “Since the ball, no one has come to the house. I have no friends except for Julia, and she’s always busy at the theater, as you are. And even though we receive a dozen invitations every day, we never accept any of them.”
As Logan stared at her small, tense face, a frown settled on his own brow. He recognized that this was more or less what he had expected. His years of carefully maintained seclusion were coming to an end. Madeline was a young, vibrant woman who needed to be active in society, to have friends, to experience the varied amusements London offered.
“I understand,” he said, taking the brush from her and setting it aside. He sank to his haunches beside her, bringing their faces to the same level. “I’ve no desire to keep you like a bird in a golden cage, sweet. I’ll see what I can do to enliven your days a bit.” His mouth quirked with a teasing smile. “I assume you have no complaints about the nights.”
“No,” she said, blushing and returning his smile, lifting her mouth willingly for his kiss.
True to his word, Logan began to escort Madeline to art exhibitions, auctions, suppers, and musical evenings. When they attended plays at Drury Lane or the Royal Opera House, they sat in an elegant private box. To Madeline’s delight, they accepted invitations to weekend parties in the country, where she was able to meet other young matrons with whom she had much in common. She knew that Logan didn’t relish such occasions, as he was constantly an object of attention, speculation, and excitement. The fact that he was willing to sacrifice his treasured privacy for her sake was both puzzling and flattering.
Madeline knew that many women envied her having Logan as a husband. He was charming, intelligent, generous, and dashing in a way that other husbands were not. She enjoyed being married to him, took pleasure in his companionship, his ready sense of humor, and of course his skilled lovemaking.
However, no matter how close or comfortable their relationship seemed, Madeline was aware that it was a far cry from the way it could be. Logan never looked at her now as he had once before, never kissed her with feverish love and longing. He maintained a small, crucial distance between them. It was clear that he did not trust her, and he intended they would never be emotionally intimate. Madeline tried to contain her own feelings for him, knowing that her love would only be thrown back in her face, no matter how much he might have wanted it.
As Julia had predicted, Madeline’s appetite returned, and she gained back the weight she had lost, as well as a few more pounds. Any private anxiety she might have had about whether or not Logan approved of her altered figure was quickly allayed.
