Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(52)

A violent tremor shook Logan, and he held himself within her, releasing a groan from between his clenched teeth. For a moment his embrace was unbearably tight, and then he relaxed, his passion spent. Breathing hard, he held Madeline's slim body in the circle of his arms and rolled to the side to keep from crushing her.

The storm passed and quietness descended, broken only by the crackle of the small fire. They remained locked together, while Logan stroked Madeline's hair and touched his lips to her damp forehead. He had never felt so contented. For years he had guarded his heart so carefully—perhaps he was a fool for giving it to her so easily. He didn't care. Madeline was different from all the others…she was innocent, loving, honest. Feeling drunk with love, he lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes glittered with tears, as if from some secret grief.

“Regrets?” Logan asked quietly, guessing that many women experienced sadness when they passed from innocence to experience. He stroked her cheek with his fingertips, wanting to give her the reassurance she needed.

“No.”

“Sweet love…I'm going to make you happy. I'll give you whatever you want, whatever you need—”

“There's only one thing I want,” Madeline choked, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Tell me,” he insisted, but nothing would make her answer. Finally he lifted her na**d body in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, settling her on the cold linen sheets. She shivered and bit her lip as he pressed a damp cloth between her thighs. Realizing that she was sore, he experienced a mixture of regret and elation. She had been a virgin—and she would never know another man's touch but his.

“Would you like a bath?” he asked, gathering her in his arms once more. “A glass of wine?”

“My nightgown…”

“Not tonight.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

Madeline hesitated and then nodded, her head settling against his shoulder as they lay back together. “I didn't mean for this to happen,” she said, her hand resting on his stomach. “I planned to leave tomorrow without ever—” She stopped, her fingers curling into a small, hard fist.

“It's all right,” he soothed. “Sleep now.” He cuddled her and murmured softly until her breathing turned slow and regular, and her body became limp against his.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Madeline awakened in a fog of guilt and misery, wondering how she could have been so careless…so weak. She began to move away from the long body next to hers, and Logan murmured quietly, his hand curving over her hip. She could barely see him in the darkness, only the outline of his head and shoulders as he rose above her. Gently he touched her breast, and her traitorous body responded at once, the nipple contracting in anticipation. She felt the caress of his breath against her skin and his lips closing over the aching peak…the swirling pass of his tongue.

“You're everything a man could want,” Logan murmured. His hand slid between her thighs. “And you're mine.”

Madeline moaned softly as she felt his mouth moving to her other breast.

“I need you, Maddy.” He pressed her thighs open. “I would do anything for you.”

She tried to beg him not to say such things, but as he made love to her, all thought vanished. There was only Logan…his body possessing hers, his soft groan as he pushed himself within her. “I love you,” she whispered against his cheek, her arms wrapped around him. Desperately she wished that the moment would never end, and that morning would never come.

Eight

Logan blinked as a shaft of sunlight moved across his eyes, rousing him from the depths of sleep. Stirring and stretching, he found himself alone in his bed. The relaxed smile left his face as he wondered for an instant if he had dreamed the previous night. No, there were faint rust-colored smudges on the sheet…traces of Madeline's blood. A wave of tenderness went through him, and he was suddenly eager to hold her, tell her what pleasure she had given him, how much he loved her.

After rolling from the bed, he pulled on a robe and dragged his hands through his rumpled hair. “Maddy?” he said aloud, striding through the suite. Her discarded gown was gone from the private sitting room. Even the pins from her hair had been gathered from the carpet. Logan reacted with a puzzled smile. Perhaps Maddy had been embarrassed by the signs of their night together and hadn't wanted to cause gossip among the servants. But there was no need for such modesty…and furthermore, she wasn't to go about straightening up rooms like a housemaid. She was never to lift a finger again; from now on she would live like a queen.

Logan entered the room she had been using. It was oddly bare and pristine, as if she had never been there at all. Frowning, he went to the armoire and opened it. A few of her gowns were missing, as well as her shoes and bonnet.

He didn't like the suspicions that formed in his mind. Striding from the suite, he went barefoot to the great staircase. To his relief, he saw Madeline's small form in the hallway. She had paused to exchange a few words with the housekeeper. Mrs. Beecham wore a disturbed expression as she evidently tried to detain Maddy.

Maddy was dressed in her wool cloak and carrying a bag that must contain her belongings. She was trying to leave him.

Soundlessly he descended the stairs and approached Maddy from behind. Mrs. Beecham's perturbed gaze flew to his face. Sensing his presence, Maddy turned toward him.