Logan (12 page)

“Watch it, witch.”
 

She looked up at him and blinked innocently. “What?”
 

“Like you didn’t do that.”
 

She shrugged. “Maybe you’re just clumsy.”
 

“Yeah?”
 

She laughed. “I couldn’t help it. You cannot look at me like that, Logan.”
 

“Like what?”
 

“Like a predator.”
 

His eyebrow rose. “Is that a fact?”
 

She smacked him on the chest with her hand.
 

“Seriously, we have to go out, look like we are a normal couple.”
 

“We are far from normal.”
 

She snorted. “You know what I mean. We need to look like we are on vacation. Do things humans do when they are in Paris.”
 

“Well, Ms. Meghan, I have a couple of ideas about that.”
 

He leaned down and started to nibble on her ear. The graze of his teeth against her tender skin sent heat rushing through her.
 

“Is that a fact?” she asked, leaning her head to give him better access.
 

“Hmm.”
 

His lips vibrated against her flesh. She closed her eyes as he slipped his hand down to her breast. She was only wearing a nightgown and robe. His large hand covered her breast as his talented artist’s fingers teased her nipple.
 

Then, he was gone. One moment he was turning her into mush, then he was pulling away. She opened her eyes and frowned at him, but he gestured with his head to the doorway.
 

“What?” she asked grumpily. Her body craved his touch.
 

“Wait for it.” He handed her the coffee cup.
 

In the next instant, Maggie and Angus appeared in the doorway.
 

“Oh.”
 

His lips twitched, “Yeah, oh.”
 

“We’re off. Got the phone. Text us the address to the restaurant.”
 

Angus waved at them, as he followed his wife out of the apartment.
 

“Well, we’re all alone in this big, fancy apartment,” Logan said with a smile, as he started walking toward her. Before she could respond, he took the coffee cup from her hands and put it on the counter.
 

“Hey, I need caffeine.”
 

“I have a jolt for your system,” he said, grabbing her by the waist and turning to plop her down on the counter. He started to kiss his way down her body, and she decided she liked Logan’s jolt better than any cup of coffee.
 

They made it up to the bedroom at some point. She wasn’t sure exactly when or how. The man had put her into some kind of sexual haze. It made her lose track of all sense and time.
 

She sat up and looked around her bedroom. Clothes from the night before, along with the clothes from today, were strewn all over the place. Her bed looked like World War III had been conducted on top of it. The man was going to be the death of her.
 

Speaking of which, she was wondering where he was. She was about to call for him, but he stepped into the room. He’d pulled on his pants, and that was it. He held a tray with food in his hands and was carrying something beneath his arm.
 

“About time you woke, Meghan. I had to forage for food all by myself.”
 

She smiled, as he set the tray down on the mattress beside her. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers.
 

“Well, you are the man, so I think that’s part of the job.”
 

“I thought with your abilities, you would have been able to blink a feast up.”
 

She frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
 

He set a sketch pad down and crossed his arms. He blinked. “Like that.”
 

“I am not a genie. What do you expect, me to dress up like Barbara Eden and live in a bottle?”
 

“I don’t care about the bottle, but the outfit…now that might be nice.”
 

She laughed. “Logan McLennan, you are horrible. Besides, as often as you take my clothes off me, I assumed you could care less what I’m wearing.”
 

He chuckled and sat down in the chair by her bed.
 

“What are you doing over there?” she asked, pulling a grape free of the stem.
 

Logan grabbed the sketch pad and settled back against the chair. “I want a little space.”
 

She frowned at him. “I didn’t give you permission.”
 

“I didn’t ask,” he said, his concentration on whatever he was working on.
 

“That’s rude.”
 

He grunted, but continued working. She ate the selection of fruit and cheese he’d brought her. The man did have taste, and he knew exactly what she liked. He paid attention…and took care. Meg wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t get close enough to the men in her life for them to know too much about her.
 

Or take care of her.
 

“Don’t look like that.”
 

Logan practically barked the order.
 

“Like what?”
 

“Like you’ve sucked on a lemon.”
 

She shook her head and went back to eating. The only sound in the room was his pencil moving over the paper.
 

“Why don’t you use your Magick like you did this morning?”
 

She shrugged. “I was always taught not to show off talent.”
 

“Why?”
 

“Daddy taught me to be careful. We didn’t always travel in the best circles. His worry was that people would see what I could do, and that would put me in danger.”
 

“What was he like?”
 

She glanced at him, and he was still working. “My daddy?”
 

He nodded, but kept drawing.
 

“He was a good father. Not the best, but good. It was just the two of us for most my life.”
 

“What happened to your mother?”
 

“Died in a wreck, drunk driver.”
 

“I’m sorry.”
 

“I was so young, I barely remember her. I do remember her abilities though.”
 

“Singing. A siren like you?”
 

She nodded. “Yep. I remember hearing her sing, watching men just melt when she did. But, Daddy didn’t want me to do that. He didn’t want me to draw attention to myself. So, we went on our way for years. We mainly stayed in the south. Daddy came from a long line of con men, and he carried on the tradition.”
 

When she stopped talking, she looked at him. He was watching her now, done with his piece of work.
 

“Lemme see that,” she said. She’d expected him to hide it, but he easily offered it to her.
 

When she looked down at it, the breath tangled in her throat. It was her, but not her.  She recognized the shape of her face and her eyes, but there was something else there. Soon, the picture wavered and she realized she had teared up.
 

She looked…Magickal. She also looked innocent. It was a simple pencil drawing, but somehow he had created something beautiful in just a few minutes.
 

“What do you think of it?” he asked.
 

She raised her head.
 

“Meg?”
 

She shook her head, and that’s when she realized she was crying. “It’s not me.”
 

He slipped out of the chair and sat on the bed beside her. “That’s how I see you.”
 

“No, this is too…”
 

She couldn’t say the words, so she turned away. She needed to get away, to hide. Showing Logan her tender underbelly wasn’t something she could stand. He didn’t let her go, the stubborn Scot. Instead, he grabbed her arm and held her in place.
 

“Let me go, Logan.”
 

“No.”
 

“Please.”
 

“Not until you hear this.”
 

When he didn’t continue, she looked at him. His gaze was steady and his expression was serious.
 

“I’m waiting,” she said.
 

His lips did that little twitch that told her she’d amused him again.
 

“This is how I see you.”
 

The simple words sent warmth to her heart. She wanted to believe he did see her that way, but it was too much to hope for. She pushed those thoughts away. Hoping for things that would never happen ended in heartache.
 

“Are you on crack?”
 

He shook his head. “I see you as you truly are.”
 

Meg twisted her hand trying to release her wrist, but she couldn’t get him to let go.
 

“Yeah and you think of me as some kind of innocent fairy sent here to save you?”
 

“No. But, I think you’re not as tough as you think you are.”
 

“Don’t be fooled because we slept together.”
 

Something she couldn’t discern came and went in his eyes. He let her go.
 

“I think we should go out, play the role.”
 

He nodded. Disappointed that he didn’t at least try harder to fight her, she scooted out of the bed.
 

“I’ll freshen up and get dressed.”
 

He nodded, still not saying anything. Just before she stepped into the bathroom, he said, “You can’t run forever, Meg.”
 

She said nothing and closed the door. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against it and prayed he wasn’t right.
 

*  *  *  *
 

 Callum didn’t mean to snoop. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. That was a lie. He had meant to snoop, but he didn’t think he needed to justify it. Phoebe had something on her mind since yesterday, and it had nothing to do with the others in Paris. That seemed to be going off without a glitch.
 

She was up in their room napping, so he casually looked through the papers on her desk and found her journal.
 

“Mum says looking at personal things without permission is bad,” Jack said from behind him. Callum almost dropped the book, then turned to face the boy.
 

“Tis different with married couples.”
 

The boy looked unfazed by that argument.
 

“Something’s bothering her.”
 

Jack nodded and sat on the couch. “She’s so tired. And she feels the weight of carrying secrets.”
 

Callum sighed. “Yes.”
 

“Still isn’t right that you’re going through her things.”
 

Bloody hell, the kid was like a dog with a bone about things like this. And he was going to have a long talk with Maggie when she got back. He was Laird and Lairds ruled.
 

“You do not run a real Clan anymore, Sir Callum.”
 

He shook his head and couldn’t fight the smile. “No, not really. But…”
 

Wait, why was he explaining himself to the child? Because he mattered. It was that simple. He was part of his Clan now, and he needed to let him know why it was important.
 

“She’s worried, and I believe she’s keeping something from me, trying to protect me.”
 

Jack nodded. “And you want to ease that.”
 

It was hard to believe he was just a boy. He spoke with more sense than most adults.
 

“What the devil is going on here?”
 

Phoebe stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. She was smiling until her gaze came to rest on the journal.
 

“I didn’t read it,” Callum said.
 

The color seemed to drain from her face, and he rushed forward to help her.
 

“I’m okay,” she said, somewhat breathlessly. He helped her to the sofa. Jack popped up immediately, so that she could lay down. Once she was settled, he leaned over her, his face within inches of hers.
 

“You must tell him. Holding secrets will be bad for you and the next laird. Be brave.”
 

Then, he nodded at Callum and left them alone.
 

He sat on the table in front of the sofa and waited. She’d closed her eyes and when he saw the tears, his worry turned into panic.
 

“Phoebe, love, tell me. It can’t be all that bad.”
 

She opened her eyes. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. “Oh, but it is Callum. I didn’t want to tell you. Any of you.”
 

“Is it the baby?”
 

“No. Here, let me have the journal.”
 

He did as she requested, and she opened it to a page. Without a word, she handed him the book back. He read the passage and everything in him went cold.
 

He looked at her. The tears were now streaming down her face. “You see. I could not tell you. You have so much to bear, and I couldn’t add to that.”
 

“Oh, love, you are never a burden. And this…well, what were you planning on doing? Just not telling us?”
 

“What good would it do? Will it actually make anything change?”
 

He shook his head. “No, but we have a right.”
 

She sat up and grasped his arms. “Don’t you see, though? Everyone must have a helper, a mate. Or that’s what I am thinking. There is no going back, but we would be damning anyone if we do not succeed. Do you think Logan, Fletcher or Anice would do that?”