Logan (14 page)

“Well, we were in the kitchen and you said
us
.
Us
, and you have never said that. And now…”
 

She frowned at him. He wasn’t making any sense.  “Are you okay?”
 

“No, I’m bloody not.”
 

“Do you need to lay down?”
 

He said nothing in response. He stared at her as if trying to figure out some complex puzzle. Then, he let loose a frustrated growl and strode to the door. She waited, expecting him to go. He stood there for a long time, mumbling under his breath, then he turned and walked back to her. She watched as he came to her, his face made of stone, his eyes determined.
 

If she wasn’t worried before, she was now. He didn’t slow down as he prowled closer. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up against the wall. He gave her no time to react. Instead, he slammed his mouth down on hers. She didn’t have to think. She responded the only way she knew how. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he ravaged her mouth.
 

He pressed closer, holding her against the wall with his body, as he skimmed his hands down her sides. She slipped her hands through his hair. He clawed at her panties. The tearing of silk was one of the most erotic sounds she had ever heard.
 

She needed to be connected to him, to feel him thrust into her. Logan must have read her mind. He undid his zipper and was easing his cock into her within seconds. It was fast and furious. It didn’t take long before she was losing herself to pleasure. She was chanting his name over and over as her orgasm slammed through her. As she gave herself over to ecstasy, Logan joined her, her name on his lips.
 

Long moments later, they stumbled to the bed, falling onto the mattress. She sighed with contentment and snuggled closer, listening as his heartbeat lulled her to sleep.
 

*  *  *  *
 

Pierre Morin looked out over the city he loved and sipped champagne. It was the last place he would have expected to land all those years ago. Without a franc to his name or family he would want to claim, he had made his way through the world. And into being one of the richest men in Europe.
 

“Monsieur,” Armand said. He turned to face his head of security.
 

“What did you find out?”
 

“The Scots are legitimate. Angus is the head of their IT department—and newly married, like he said. Logan handles the creative side of their business. He handles most of their campaigns. His companion is bothersome.”
 

“Yes?”
 

“Meghan Campbell.”
 

The name wasn’t surprising. Not by much. He had felt a shift, something in the atmosphere, just like the last time she had appeared. He had been stupid then. Still, he could not fight the surge of anticipation that sped through his blood. It had always been like this around her. His baser instincts always seemed to take over. It was more of what she was, rather than who she was.
 

“And they are staying at her apartment?”
 

“Yes. Do you want me to alert the authorities?”
 

He shook his head. “No, they are up to something, but I do not want to tip them off.”
 

Armand nodded. “Is there anything else?”
 

Pierre shook his head. “No.”
 

When he was finally alone, he pulled out a cigar and lit it. This was definitely another crinkle in the plot. His mobile buzzed and he sighed. He knew who it was. The same person who called to tell him to buy the sapphire. The one person he owed most of his wealth to.
 

Instead of answering, for once, he ignored it and enjoyed his cigar.
 

Logan stepped into the shower and let the scalding hot water be his penance. He wanted more than anything to take back his actions earlier. Well, not all of them. Making love to Meg was getting to be as important to him as well…breathing.
 

But he shouldn’t have taken her so roughly. He had always been able to express his feelings through words or art. Now, though, he was overwhelmed by emotions. He couldn’t even come up with words to describe what was going on inside his head.
 

As he soaped up, he had to admit he was becoming somewhat obsessed with her. He had a job to do, but he was more interested in making love to Meg than actually doing the job. He had laid in bed for several minutes, watching her sleep, thinking how his life had changed in just a few days. For a man who had lived for two hundred plus years, Logan wasn’t easily surprised.
 

Meg had thrown him for a loop.
 

The door to the shower opened. He turned to find Meg standing there, completely naked. Surprising him once again.
 

“Sneaking off in the middle of the night, McLennan? Not very nice of you.”
 

“I didn’t want to wake you up.”
 

It was the truth. It had taken all his control to force him out of bed and away from her. He had wanted to do nothing more than to wake her up and make love again.
 

“Hmm,” she said, stepping into the shower. “Are you going to tell me what was going on earlier?”
 

She shifted her hair, and he saw bruises on her arms. He realized that he had left marks on her.
 

He lifted his hand and smoothed his finger over the delicate flesh. “I’m sorry.”
 

She looked up at him and smiled. “No worries.”
 

“I shouldn’t have taken you like that.”
 

“I’m not fragile, Logan. Far from it.”
 

“But you are.”
 

She frowned at him. “Hey, dammit, now you are making me mad,”
 

“You’re mad that I’m upset for hurting you?”
 

“It was glorious. And I give as good as I get. I’m pretty sure you have marks on you. I don’t want you to think that I am some kind of fragile little girl who wants to be taken care of.”
 

Anger surged again. It was nonsensical and stupid, but he couldn’ seem to fight it. “Why not?”
 

“Why don’t I want to be taken care of? Because I am a woman and not an invalid.” He wanted to argue with that, but true to her nature, she surprised him. “Here,” she said handing him a wash cloth. “Do my back.”
 

He stood there for a second, then he did as she ordered.
 

“Are you going to tell me what you were talking about earlier?
 

“What?”
 

“When you said something about us.”
 

“Oh,” he said, as he moved the cloth over her shoulders.
 

He had been sitting in the kitchen and she had referred to herself as part of the Clan. “You said
us
. When we were talking about the jewel and mission…you said
us
.”
 

“So?”
 

“You put yourself with us. You’ve always talked about it as if you were outside of the group, although you are part of us, just like Maggie and Phoebe.”
 

She seemed to freeze. “Like them, huh?”
 

There was no emotion in her voice, her tone as still as her body. He sensed something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Yes. You’re one of us.”
 

Was he pushing too hard? He wanted to tell her everything he was feeling, but this definitely wasn’t the time or the place. They had a lot in front of them, and he needed to make sure she wasn’t distracted.  
 

“And we are not a bad group to be part of, if you ask me.”
 

“Is that a fact?”
 

“Yes,” he said, turning her around to face him. With her hair slicked back and no makeup on she looked…just as he had always seen her. Or how he now saw her now that he could see beneath the surface. Innocent, stripped of the artifice she used to shield herself from the world.
 

And his. She might not realize it at this point, but she was his. She would just realize it at some point.
 

“I bet you have no idea all the interesting things I can do with soap.”
 

Her lips curved and her eyes twinkled. Bloody hell, he loved her.
 

As he grabbed the wet, giggling woman, he promised himself to make sure she knew it when they returned to Scotland.
 

*  *  *  *
 

Anice returned to the table holding two pints and slammed them down. She eyed her companion for the night and said, “Bloody hell, we should have never come out on a Friday night.”
 

Rena took the mug and sipped at it. “Then why are we here?”
 

“I needed out of the house. You followed me here.”
 

“I left for the same reason you did. Callum and Phoebe needed some alone time. Little Jack is spending man time with Fletcher—whatever that is. But there is something else bothering you.”
 

Bugger. The half-fae was too perceptive. “I feel out of sorts.”
 

“That is understandable.”
 

“It is?”
 

“You need sexual release.”
 

Anice choked on her drink.
 

“Why are you talking about sex?”
 

“Maybe because you avoid the subject. Humans.” Rena said the word with such disdain that Anice smiled.
 

“What about humans?”
 

“You are preoccupied with sex, but you are so puritanical when people want to talk about it. Well, except for your brother. He talks about it a lot.”
 

“Yes, he does.”
 

“That man is watching you,” Rena said.
 

“What man?” Anice asked, looking around. It only took a second to spot Gavin McWalton.
 

“He wants you.”
 

The breath seemed to back up into her lungs, and she felt her entire heat up as if it were on fire. “Oh, I don’t need this right now.”
 

“Him or me.”
 

She turned around and glared at Rena. “Both.”
 

“Good evening, Anice,” he said.
 

“I’ve told you not to use my first name.”
 

“My apologies.” He looked at Rena. “Gavin McWalton.”
 

Rena continued to study him. “Yes, Anice told me. I believe you should go away.”
 

 “Okay,” he said. He then turned his attention to Anice. “I’ll see you around, Ms. Lennon.”
 

As he walked away, she watched him. He wasn’t at all like the other lairds that had ruled the McWalton Clan. In fact, he seemed almost normal…which made him suspicious.
 

“Stop all the thoughts,” Rena said.
 

“What?”
 

“I told Meg we were going to have to work with all of you, but you especially.”
 

She studied the fae for a second or two, then said, “You heard what I was thinking?”
 

Rena nodded. “You are very shouty with your thoughts.”
 

Glancing back at Gavin, who had returned to his corner, she asked, “So, what about him?”
 

When Rena didn’t respond right away, Anice turned to face her. For the first time, Rena looked worried.
 

“What?”
 

“I am not sure. I could not read him.  It does not mean anything. Humans can hide their thoughts, and it would make sense that he would. They have dealt with witches before. ”
 

 “Nothing?”
 

Rena shook her head. “Except for his thoughts about you. You should really pay more attention to the man. He wants to do all sorts of things to you.”
 

Anice’s face flamed. “Yes. The McWalton Lairds always seem to have it out for me.”
 

Rena looked like she wanted to talk more about it, but Anice moved onto other subjects and tried to ignore the hulking presence of Gavin McWalton.
 

*  *  *  *
 

Gavin sensed the shift in the house when he entered it. It was no longer the pleasing flat he had found for himself and a handful of servants. There was something cold and angry there.
 

“I see that you have finally returned, boy.”
 

He looked at the man who had controlled him for most of his life and felt the same insane cold dread shifting through his blood. There was nothing even remotely human about the man anymore—if there had ever been.
 

“What are you doing here, sir?” Gavin asked, trying his best not to let the bastard know how much he despised him.
 

“You are not moving fast enough. You need to strike the McLennans and hard. Especially now that they have those witches with them.”
 

“Patience, sir. I promise you will be rewarded.”
 

“Why can they no’ be destroyed now? Now, I want it now!”
 

He sounded like a three-year-old prat. If the man could do it himself, he would, but, Gavin thought, looking at the wheelchair and his sunken eyes, breathing was too much for him almost. That’s what dark Magick did for you. It made you powerful, but little by little, it stole your soul, leaving nothing behind but a rotted core.
 

“Stopping them now will not be as rewarding, I promise you. Let them form attachments, it will be that more painful in the end.”
 

The older man studied him for a second or two, then nodded. “I will leave you now. I will be back, though.”