Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(48)

Before he could reply, Madeline walked away quickly, pressing a hand to her hot cheek. She knew it was far too late for any kind of intimacy between them. She loved him too much to use him that way.

The only thing left to do now was go back to her former life and assume her position as the Honourable Madeline Matthews. Honourable, she reflected with shame, and sighed. She had failed everyone by embarking on this escapade. Worse, all she wanted was to stay with Logan forever and live as a fallen woman. She was certain that her sisters would never have entertained such wicked thoughts. On the other hand, they had probably never met a man like Logan Scott.

Through bullying persistence, Logan finally had his sickroom fare changed back to his usual fine cuisine. Furthermore, he insisted that Madeline share the evening meal in his suite. It was the first night that he felt well enough to keep his usual hours, instead of falling asleep early as he had done the previous two weeks. Madeline agreed reluctantly, deciding that sometime during the private dinner, she would bring herself to tell him that she was going to leave his estate the next day.

She dressed in her blue cashmere gown, the twilled fabric clinging to her body and making her skin look translucent. Her hair was pulled into a simple knot at the back of her neck, with loose strands curling at her cheeks and nape.

At eight o'clock Madeline entered Logan's bedroom. He waited for her beside a table laden with candles and silver dishes. Wearing another of his luxurious collection of robes and a pair of fawn-colored trousers, he seemed like a lion at rest in his den. The air was filled with a silken mixture of aromas: soup swirling with leeks and pepper, salmon simmered in wine, poultry dressed with herbs, truffles, and champagne.

Logan's attentive gaze swept over her as she stood in the pool of candlelight. “I hope you're hungry,” he said, seating her expertly.

The French dishes prepared by Logan's private chef were vastly different from the plain English fare Madeline had eaten all her life. She indulged in one heady flavor after another as the staff served them á la russe. In spite of Logan's amused warnings, Madeline overate during the first two courses, filling herself with the delicious offerings until she was unable to take more than a bite of the salads and desserts that came later in the meal.

“Slowly,” he advised her, his eyes twinkling as he watched her drink thirstily from a glass of French wine. “A hedonist would savor every drop.”

“Hedonist?” Madeline repeated curiously.

“A person devoted entirely to self-indulgence,” Logan said, refilling her glass. “Someone who regards pleasure as a way of life.”

“Is that what you are?” Madeline asked.

“I try to be.”

“But you work so much of the time.”

“For me that's a pleasure as well.”

Her brow wrinkled. “It seems an odd idea, life being centered around pleasure.”

“What is life supposed to be, then?”

“It's about duty, and sacrificing for others. And if we've been good, our pleasure comes later when we're rewarded in the hereafter.”

“I'll take my rewards now.”

“That's sacrilegious,” Madeline replied, frowning at him.

“Hedonists don't hold stock in religion. Suffering, self-sacrifice, humility…none of those things would have helped me in my career.”

She remained silent and puzzled, unable to find the flaw in his logic.

“Maddy,” he said softly, and an irresistible laugh was pulled from him as he stared at her. “You're so damned young.”

“You're laughing at me,” she chided.

“I'm not. It's just that you're a pleasant change from the crowd of degenerates I usually associate with. All your ideals are intact.”

“So are yours.”

“I never had ideals to begin with, sweet. I've never believed in pure honesty and kindness—I'd never seen it in anyone. Until you.”

Sickening guilt made Madeline's stomach turn over. She hadn't been honest in her dealings with him, and her every act of kindness had sprung from ulterior motives, until the moment she had recognized that she had fallen in love with him. And even then she would have carried out her original plans, except that she was afraid of hurting him and making him even more cynical than he already was.

“What is it?” Logan asked, staring at her keenly, and she realized that her misery was easy for him to read.

“I'm not a kind person, or a good one,” she said in a low voice. “It would be wrong of me to allow you to think otherwise.”

“I have my own opinions on the matter,” he replied, his gaze caressing.

Dessert was brought in, a dish of pears poached in a sauce of red wine and topped with English cream. In between spoonfuls of the sweet, tart confection, Madeline drank from a tiny glass of liqueur. Feeling drowsy from the alcohol, she blinked as she stared at Logan through the veil of candlelight.

“It's late,” Logan said. “Would you like to retire now?”

Madeline shook her head. She was filled with the bittersweet awareness that this was their last night together.

“What do you want, then?” There was a teasing edge to Logan's voice. He was relaxed and handsome with the golden light playing over his dark hair, bringing out the rich glints of fire.