Because You're Mine (23 page)

As Justine urged her to hurry, Madeline inserted the last pin in her hair and pinched her cheeks to impart some color. By the time they went downstairs, Logan had already been shown to the parlor, where Agnes had received him with a minimum of cordiality.

Logan stood as the two young women entered the room. He looked exceptionally large in the confines of the parlor, his shoulders broad beneath a perfectly cut black coat, his body lean and taut in a gray brocade waistcoat and charcoal trousers. His hair had been freshly cut, and a subtle glitter of mahogany showed in the dark locks.

“Mr. Scott,” Madeline said, uncertain whether or not to approach him. Logan solved the dilemma immediately, coming to her in a few strides and taking her hand. Rather than kiss the back of it, he turned her palm upward and pressed his lips into the soft hollow, making the gesture tender and intimate. It was done for the benefit of her mother and sister, of course. Even so, Madeline felt her heart jolt at the warmth of his mouth on her skin.

Logan straightened and looked down at her, surveying every detail of her appearance. A frown worked between his thick brows. “You haven't been eating,” he muttered, too softly for the others to hear.

“Neither have you,” Madeline replied. It wasn't lost on her that his body had been honed to a new spareness, with no trace of softness to conceal its raw power.

Logan smiled wryly at her comment, and turned for an introduction to Justine, who waited close by. Dutifully Madeline presented him to her older sister and waited for the look of awestruck admiration that would appear on his face. Men always reacted to Justine that way. Strangely, Justine's incandescent beauty seemed to make little impression on Logan.

“A pleasure,” he murmured indifferently.

A touch of pique flashed in Justine's luminous gaze. “Welcome to the family, Mr. Scott. I do hope you'll be kind to my dear little sister.”

“I intend to, Lady Bagworth.” Logan regarded Justine with a sardonic quirk of his left brow. Obviously the chit expected him to be taken with her. She was attractive, although Madeline was actually the more beautiful of the two, her features more refined, her eyes filled with a warmth and intelligence that her sister lacked.

His attention switched to Madeline's mother, Agnes, who sat at the other side of the room. “Lady Matthews, I'm afraid I won't be able to stay long. I'd hoped that you would allow me a few minutes alone with Madeline.”

Agnes looked affronted at the request. “As you must know, Mr. Scott, it is unseemly for the two of you to speak without a chaperone present.”

“At this point, it hardly matters, does it?” he asked softly, making Madeline flush and Justine giggle.

Agnes frowned at the shameless comment. “While you are under my roof, Mr. Scott, I insist that you abide by my standards of decency—even if you do find them too exacting. You may indeed speak with Madeline, but Justine will serve as chaperone.” Calmly she swept from the room, giving a meaningful look to her eldest daughter.

The three of them were left in silence. Justine made a face and threw them both a rueful grin as she retreated to the far side of the room. She stood at the window and feigned interest in the view outside, while Logan pulled Madeline to the corner.

“I'm sorry—” Madeline began unhappily, wanting to apologize for her mother's coldness, but Logan held a finger to her lips. Madeline fell silent, spellbound by his nearness. His scent was exquisitely familiar, a masculine blend of linen, wool, and skin, laced with tobacco.

“How do you feel?” he asked, glancing down at her prim, high-necked dress and back to her face.

Madeline colored slightly. “Very well, thank you.”

“Still having morning sickness?”

“Yes.”

“It should last only another month or two. In the meantime, try to keep something in your stomach.”

“Why are you so well-informed on the subject?” she dared to whisper.

Logan smiled at the flash of impudence. “My comanager was often absent because of the same malady.”

“Then you haven't ever…” Madeline asked, unable to conceal her worry.

“No,” Logan said, his voice suddenly gentle. “You're the first woman I've ever gotten with child.” He reached into his pocket and extracted a small object. “Give me your hand.”

She felt him slide a cool, heavy ring over the fourth finger of her left hand, and her gaze fell to the object. It was a canary-yellow diamond at least five carats in weight, surrounded by a row of round white diamonds that glittered with brilliant fire. Stunned by the extravagance of the ring, Madeline looked up at Logan with wide eyes.

“Good heavens,” came Justine's exclamation from across the room. “It's as big as an egg!”

“Thank you,” Madeline said to Logan with a catch in her voice. “I've never had anything so beautiful.”

Logan's shoulders moved in an indifferent shrug. “If you wish, we'll exchange it for something else.”

“Oh, no…it's perfect.” She stared at the sparkling diamond, searching for the right words to thank him, but nothing seemed appropriate.

Unable to suppress her curiosity, Justine hurried over to them. “Do let me see it, Madeline! Dear heavens, what a magnificent stone. May I try it on?” Before the request had even passed her lips, she had tugged the ring from Madeline's finger and was inspecting it with an admiring gaze. “Flawless, and such a spectacular color!” She threw the two of them a sly glance. “I should think a gift like this deserves more than a paltry ‘thank-you,’ Madeline. Shouldn't you reward Mr. Scott with a kiss? Mama's not here, after all…and I would never tell.”

Madeline glanced at Logan in consternation, unable to read his expression. “Mr. Scott is very private—” she said, but Logan interrupted with a roguish smile.

“Not
that
private, sweet.” His hands slid gently over her cheeks, holding her still as his lips descended to hers. She quivered at the light brush of his mouth, the way he tasted her as if she were a delicacy to be savored. It was merely a display, she reminded herself, to convince Justine that they were in love…but she couldn't prevent the glow of pleasure that spread through her. Her knees wobbled, and she swayed against him, disoriented by the sheer delight of his mouth on hers.

Logan finished the kiss with a soft nudge of his lips and drew back to stare at her.

“Well,” came Justine's speculative voice, “you seem quite taken with my little sister, Mr. Scott. One can't help but wonder what a man of your sophistication sees in a girl like her.”

Logan's mouth twisted sardonically. It was clear that Justine harbored more than a touch of jealousy. “Madeline has the qualities I've always desired in a wife,” he replied evenly.

“She's willful,” Justine said. “One can only hope you'll have better luck than my parents at restraining her.”

“Justine,” Madeline said, glaring at her sister from beneath her lashes, “you needn't talk about me as if I were a disobedient household pet.”

Logan laughed suddenly, and there was a flash of approval in his gaze as he guided Madeline to the settee. “Save your squabbling for later,” he murmured. “I don't have much time, and there are details about the wedding that I'd like to discuss.”

“Won't you stay for dinner?” Madeline asked.

He shook his head immediately. “I have no desire to put anyone—least of all myself—through the trial of making small talk at the Matthews table.”

“That's probably wise,” Justine remarked with sly amusement. “Our mother's disapproval of you is hardly a secret. It's a pity, though…I've a feeling you would be a most entertaining dinner companion, Mr. Scott.”

“That's for your sister to say,” Logan replied, looking at Madeline in a way that reminded her of the last time they had shared dinner together…and the night of passion that had followed. He seemed to take grim enjoyment in her discomfort.

Thankfully the conversation turned to more mundane matters, but Madeline couldn't keep her mind focused on the subject of their wedding. Thoughts swarmed in her head. One week from now she would become Logan's wife, and if he desired her, they would share a bed again. He had warned her that it wouldn't be as pleasant as before. She supposed that meant he would no longer care about her pleasure. Or perhaps he would even cause her pain—although she couldn't quite believe that of him. Logan was not a cruel man, despite his temper.

Agnes returned to participate in the discussion of wedding details, offering few objections to Logan's plans except when it came to her daughter's attire. There was no way on God's earth, she assured him, that she would allow Madeline to wear white. “It would be the height of hypocrisy,” Agnes said firmly. “Madeline has forfeited that right.”

Logan met her gaze without blinking. “Madeline was innocent when I met her. She's entitled to wear white during our wedding.”

“Not when you take your vows before God, with Madeline dressed in the color of purity. It would be blasphemous. I wouldn't be surprised if a bolt of lightning pierced the roof!”

Logan's mouth twisted sardonically. “Although I don't claim to be a religious man, I suspect that the Lord has other things to worry about besides the color of Maddy's gown.”

“Maddy,” Agnes repeated, shaking her head in distaste at the nickname. “I'll thank you not to call my daughter by a name that sounds appropriate for a barmaid—”

“Mother,” Justine interrupted, placing a restraining hand on Agnes's narrow shoulder. Agnes subsided, her expression as dark as a thundercloud.

Madeline gathered her nerve and touched Logan's shoulder lightly. “Please,” she said, her voice soft. “Mother is right…I shouldn't wear white.”

Although it was clear that Logan would have liked to argue, he scowled and made no reply, letting his silence serve as assent.

“Thank you,” Madeline said, relief washing over her.

“I don't give a damn if you go through the ceremony stark naked,” he muttered. “I'd like the damned thing to be over with, so I can get on with my work.”

Overhearing the comment, Agnes stiffened and glared at Logan, while Justine sought to calm her yet again.

Madeline's gaze fell to her lap. She understood Logan's impatience, knowing that the Capital would always take precedence over everything else in his life. No mere person would ever surpass his beloved theater.

With the matter of the wedding attire agreed upon, the conversation was quickly resolved, and Logan took his leave. After his departure, the mixture of nerves and exhilaration that had seized Madeline began to fade. Feeling slightly depressed, she returned to her room to continue packing, and Justine accompanied her.

“What an extraordinary man!” Justine exclaimed as soon as the bedroom door was closed. “Such a presence—and those blue eyes! However, it's the voice that I find most remarkable. I think he could seduce any woman with that voice—even if he were reciting mathematical equations!”

As she listened to her sister's admiring comments, Madeline was aware of an inward flicker of pride. Justine had always treated her with a mixture of affection and condescension. Now, for the first time, there was an envious tone in Justine's voice.

“What a little minx you turned out to be,” Justine said. “Neither Althea nor I could believe it when we heard that you'd run away from school and had an affair with Logan Scott. I think it's delicious. Of course, it is a pity that you're marrying a man so far beneath you.”

Madeline stiffened. “I don't consider him beneath me in any way.”

“That's the right spirit. You must go on as if you're not even aware of his low birth.” Justine leaned forward, her eyes filled with keen interest. “Scott seems a very virile man. I suppose he was very masterful? Do tell me what it was like, Madeline!”

“I couldn't,” Madeline protested, startled by the request. “That's private.”

“But I'm your sister—you can confide anything in me. Now tell me about Mr. Scott, and in return I'll tell you anything you wish to know about Lord Bagworth.”

Madeline pictured Justine's short, round-faced husband and began to smile. “Justine…forgive me, but that's hardly an inducement.”

“Well.” Her older sister sat back and gave her a look of annoyance. “Lord Bagworth may not be as dashing as Mr. Scott, but he has entrees in society that far surpass your husband's.”

“I'm sure you're right,” Madeline replied, suppressing a laugh. She had not expected such a reaction from her sister. Justine had always been so satisfied, even smug, about landing a titled husband with an expansive country estate, a fine London home, and a score of servants to attend her. But Logan Scott had even greater wealth—and as Justine had admitted, he was very dashing. Madeline didn't care that he hadn't even a drop of blue blood in his veins. Logan was the most fascinating and accomplished man she had ever met, and she could ask for no worthier husband. In fact, she only hoped that she could become worthy of him.

They were married a week later in Logan's drawing room, with its richly colored paintings and shining parquet floor. Madeline was vaguely conscious of her family standing behind them: her parents, her sister Justine, and Lord Bagworth.

The only people Logan had invited to the ceremony were the Duke and Duchess of Leeds, and, strangely, Mrs. Florence. It puzzled Madeline that Logan had desired the elderly woman's presence at his wedding, when he had never met her until recently. They treated each other with polite wariness, but Madeline sensed that they shared some secret that no one else was privileged to know. Perhaps she would find out later what confidence had occurred between them, and why they each seemed to have some greater knowledge of the situation than anyone else present.

In response to the clergyman's inquiries, Logan spoke in monosyllables. His face was hard, yet composed—the look of an actor expertly masking his emotions. Madeline was certain that Logan's pride was revolted by the entire situation. He had never dreamed that he would someday be compelled to marry a woman he actively resented—but she had inadvertently forced him to this. Truly, she had intended to bear the responsibility for the baby alone…but in some part of her heart, she had known that Logan wouldn't be able to ignore his child's existence, once he found out. Regret and shame made her eyes sting with unshed tears.