Borrowed Wife (6 page)

‘You’re
beautiful,’ he said softly. His hands swept back her hair, his glance running
over the blade, shining strands. ‘You’re the sweetest girl in all the world and
if you were sophisticated, I would be bored senseless.’

He
watched her for a minute, seeing the hurt die away, and Abigail was unable to
speak. Her heart was pounding at the look in his eyes and he bent his head to
hers, his cool lips brushing lightly over her mouth.

‘Let’s
eat,’ he said quietly as he lifted his head. He was unsmiling, unnaturally
still and the same feeling was surging between them that had been there before
in the car. He just turned her towards the inn, his arm coming possessively
round her waist, and Abigail held herself stiffly, scared that she would turn
to him and wind her arms around him. Her feelings were too strong to be
controlled and all she could do was pretend not to be there at all.

‘Don’t be
afraid of me, Abigail,’ he murmured gently, turning her towards him.

‘I’m
not,’ she managed, even though it was not really the truth.

‘I’ll
never let anything hurt you,’ he said, his breath warm against her cheek as he
pulled her closer. ‘You’re precious. I need to care for you. You can come to me
with no fear.’

His hand
moved from her waist to touch her neck, his fingers gently caressing, and
Abigail gave in, against him as they walked, her arm sliding around his waist,
joy bursting inside her when he held her tightly against him.

During
the meal Logan managed to put her at case and by the time they took the boat
out she felt safe enough to show her enchantment with everything, moved slowly
down the Thames, always in quiet, sunlit waters, and she looked at the houses
by the river, some of them huge and impressive, their gardens running down to
the water’s edge. It seemed like paradise and by the time they were cruising
back to the mooring Abigail was tired and deliriously happy.

Logan
had been gentle all day. They had sat on deck;
drinking lemonade and talking all the time. Her skin was softly touched by the
sun and the dying rays caught the brilliant green glow of her eyes.

‘We’ll
tie up and then clear our things away.’ Logan announced as they touched the
bank. ‘After that, it’s home fast for you.’

Abigail
went into the little cabin to clear away but the glow had died. She didn’t want
to leave Logan. Every time she left him and went back home it got harder and
harder to say goodnight. When he jumped back on board she was standing in the
cabin just staring at nothing.

‘What is
it?’ He came up behind her quietly and Abigail hung her head, biting miserably
at her lip.

 ‘I—I don’t want to go,’
she whispered. ‘I don’t want to leave you.’

You’re
nineteen,’ Logan reminded her, ‘not one of my many sophisticated women.’

‘Don’t!’
She turned to him, her eyes filling with pain, and he swore softly under his
breath as he caught her in his arms.

‘There
are no sophisticated women,’ he muttered unevenly. ‘If there were, do you think
I would look at any of them when you were there? I’m trying to keep this light,
trying to protect you.’ When she just went on looking at him with swimming
green eyes he pulled her closer almost roughly, his fingers tangling in her
shining hair. ‘Dear God, Abbie!’ he said hoarsely. ‘I want you and you know
it!’

He began
to kiss her—hard, fast, hungry kisses that parted her lips and sent burning
feelings through her body. She swayed towards him, winding her arms around his
waist, and he pulled her head to his shoulder as she lifted her face, desperate
for his lips.

Logan’s
hand swept over her, caressing every curve, melting her inside, and she found
her legs giving way, making her sink down, trying to take him with her.

‘No!’ he
gasped unevenly. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ His voice was shaken but he kept his
arm around her as if he could no more endure being parted than she could, and
as they left the boat and walked along the bank Abigail was still shaking with
the intensity of feeling that had swept over them. It was dark by now, the
light almost gone, and she was glad that the darkness hid her hot face.

‘In
here,’ Logan said almost harshly. ‘You need a drink and so do I.’

He pushed
the door of the inn open and they were instantly surrounded by noise. There was
music from some bidden speakers, laughter, loud conversation, and the small
room was dimly lit and crowded.

‘Just
what we need,’ he muttered. Most people were at the bar and he found a small,
darkened corner where the red-covered benches almost hid them from sight, ‘sit
here,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll get our drinks.’

She was
glad to sink to the seat. Her trembling had by no means stopped and she was
glad, too, for the brief time by herself as Logan went to the bar. She had
always faced things. She had never been allowed to do otherwise and she faced
this squarely now. She was in love with Logan. She wanted him as much as he
wanted her. It was frightening and thrilling, something she had never known,
but she knew that she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. If he
didn’t feel the same she didn’t know what she would do.

He came
back and slid in beside her, handing her a brandy.

‘Drink
it. Dutch courage,’ he murmured ironically, and Abigail tried to sip the fiery
liquid. It made her choke and she felt once again unspeakably young, far
distant from Logan. Ha hands trembled on the table-top and she looked down at
them in despair, almost jumping when one of Logan’s strong hands covered both
hers.

‘Sweet,
sweet Abbie.’ he whispered. He leaned forward, his lips tracing her tender
jawline and then with a groan he put his drink down and moved closer, his arm
coming round her shoulders. ‘I give in,’ he breathed. His wrist tilted her chin
and as she looked into his burning eyes his mouth closed ova ha own in urgent
possession.

Nothing
could have stopped her kissing him back. Her head was against his shoulder, her
lips parted in surrender, and Logan’s mouth covered has with masterful
tenderness. She forgot the dimly lit room, the many people, and once again it
was Logan who stopped. ‘We have to go,’ he breathed, his lips tracing her ho
cheeks.

 ‘We seem
to choose the damnedest places,’

He took
her hand, helping her out from the bench, and then they were walking from the
place, Logan lifting hand to his lips as they went back to the car. In the dark
privacy of the Jaguar he pulled her to him, his hand smoothing her hair and
then cupping her cheek ‘What would you say if I asked you to come back  to my
flat with me?’ he asked huskily, looking deeply into her eyes. In the light
front the inn she could see the harshness of his face, the almost rueful twist
to his mouth.

And she had no doubt at all
about what he meant. ‘I would say yes,’ she whispered. ‘I love you, Logan. I
don’t want to be anywhere except with you.’

‘Why are
you so sweet, so beautiful?’ he groaned against her hair. He looked down at her
and kissed her very gently. ‘I never want to let you out of my sight,’ he
murmured against her lips. ‘Every time we’re together I try to be sensible but
parting from you is agonising. Don’t leave me ever again, Abigail.’

‘I
won’t,’ she whispered. He put her gently away and started the car and Abigail
rested her head against his shoulder. She had wanted to go with Logan the first time she had seen him. She had wanted to ran to him and be swept up into
his arms. It was no shock. It was fate—her fate—and she would stay with him as
he wanted her. No thought of home, or her father entered her mind. She was
where she was meant to be-with Logan.

In his flat she was
impressed by the taste and luxury a she looked around with wide-eyed interest.

‘Can I
explore?’ She didn’t look at him because that they were here she just could not
believe it. She was slightly afraid too—afraid of the unknown.

‘No,’ he
said quietly. ‘You can explore later.’ He took her into his arms, turning her
towards him. ‘Don’t afraid of me. I want you, my sweet darling, and I would
never hurt you.’

The way
he was looking at her was heavenly Abigail melted in his arms. She believed
him. Logan would never hurt her.

‘Don’t
ever send me away,’ she whispered, looking into his eyes, and he swept her up
against the hard of his chest, holding her tightly as he walked to bedroom.

‘Never in
my whole life,’ he promised thickly. ‘I couldn’t exist if you were not beside
me.’

He
undressed her gently and slowly and Abigail watched with dazed eyes as Logan undressed. She had never seen a man naked before and his burning eyes never left her
as he drank in the sight of her loveliness. Her black hair was spread across
the pillow, her silken limbs a temptation that brought fluting desire to her
face. When he came to her and drew ha close, Abigail gave a sigh of contentment
and Logan looked down at her.

 ‘What?’
he murmured, and she smiled, a siren look of enchantment about her face.

‘I just
belong here,’ she whispered. ‘It’s as if I’ve always been waiting, and now I
know what for.’

‘Abbie!’
His lips closed over hers with fierce demand — an explosive kiss that made her
cling to him, trembling. He caressed every part of her, his lips following the
path of his urgent hands as Abigail twisted beneath him, whispering his name in
a voice she hardly recognised.

Her hands
traced his skin, twisted in his dark hair, and when he finally moved to possess
her she gave a small sobbing cry, her limbs parting to accept him. His eyes
burned down at her, locking with her green gaze.

‘You’re
mine!’ His face tightened with urgent passion. ‘You belong to me—Forever, from
this moment on.’

‘Forever.’
Abigail closed her eyes, arching against him, and she believed it. Being with Logan was her life. She knew that. She had known it for days and days. She couldn’t think
beyond it.

It was only the next day
that the world had to be faced, and reality—the reality of her father. Logan insisted on taking her home early, before anyone had time to leave for work.

‘He’s not
going to like this,’ Abigail pointed out worriedly, and Logan caught her to
him, looking down at her seriously.

‘He has
no choice at all. You and I are going to be married. Nothing and nobody can
stop that. Like it or not, your father has to face it.’

Though it
was a little worrying, Abigail was too dreamy with happiness to resist when Logan put her into his car and drove her home in the early morning. She expected sharp
words from her father and even a slight amount of unpleasantness but she didn’t
anticipate the scene that would occur when Logan and her father faced each
other.

Since she
had first seen him, she had been so wrapped up in her feelings for Logan that any sort of common sense seemed to have fled. Now everything she had to face
was like a cold dash of water. Now she had to stand between two battling giants
with hatred sparkling in the air like while heat.

Her
father was just leaving his study as she came into the hall with Logan following and he seemed to freeze at the sight of them. Kent Madden didn’t even look
at Abigail. It didn’t seem to dawn on him that his daughter had been out all
night. She was unimportant. All that mattered was the hatred.

‘Get out of my house!’
Abigail hardly recognised her father’s voice as he ground out the words at Logan. ‘Daddy!’ Abigail tried to intervene but he ignored.

‘Get out!’ he repealed
savagely. His eyes seemed to focus slowly on Abigail and he frowned.’ Where the
hell have you been?’ he snarled.

‘She’s
with me,’ Logan said curtly. ‘We can work this out in a civilised manner or any
way you want, Abigail is with me.’

The announcement brought
even more rage to father’s face and he reached out to take her arm.

‘Go to
your room! I’ll deal with this,’ he snap but Logan’s arm swept round her,
pulling her to the shelter of his shoulder, tucking her close and holding I
tightly. ‘Abigail goes with me!’ Logan’s final words seemed at last to
penetrate through her father’s rage He looked at them both and it dawned on him
just what was happening.

‘So this
is how you intend to do it. You think you can get at me through Abigail. It’s
not a good move, Steele. My daughter doesn’t control anything at all yet.
You’ll get nothing there.’

‘All I
want is Abigail.’ Logan stated coldly. She doesn’t even need her clothes from
this house. Anything she wants I’ll get for her.’ 

‘She’s
nineteen!’ Her father’s face became bright with rage and Abigail made a move to
go to him, to stop the terrifying battle but Logan’s arm held her fast.

‘Old
enough to know her own mind,’ he pointed out with equal coldness. ‘Old enough
to marry me. You can come to the wedding. You can give her your blessing. It’s
up to you.’

‘You’ll get no blessing
from me!’ Kent Madden shouted hoarsely, and Logan turned away, taking Abigail
with him.