Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(64)

Madeline blinked in confusion. He wanted to marry her in just a fortnight. But it was all wrong…it was clear from his expression that he was revolted by the idea. “There's no need for that,” she said. “I have no intention of entrapping you into marriage.”

“Don't you?” he asked calmly. “Then why are you in London?”

“I…I wished to talk with Mrs. Florence.”

“And you never thought she would come to me,” he said with stinging skepticism.

“No, I didn't. She shouldn't have told you anything.”

His mouth twisted derisively, and he let go of her. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he watched as she drew a sheet over her body. “I wish you'd given someone else the good fortune of bedding you,” he jeered. “But since you picked me for that particular honor, and we're in this damnable mess, I have no choice but to marry you. If there is a child, it's the only way I can be certain of his welfare.”

“I can manage on my own. You won't have to worry about me or the baby—”

“You don't seem to understand, my sweet. I don't give a damn about what happens to you, but I do want the child. I'll go to hell before I cast him on the mercy of your family.”

“I don't want to marry you,” she said thickly. “I could never live with a man who hates me.”

“We won't be living together. I have several residences. After the babe is born, you may have your choice of them. In the meanwhile, I'll spend most of my time at the theater, as usual.”

Madeline tried to envision the businesslike arrangement he was describing. She was chilled by the realization that he was going to exact his revenge for the hurt she had given him. There would be no tenderness, no closeness or shared joy in the baby's birth. And if he knew that she still loved him, he would use it against her without mercy.

“The answer is no,” she said. “You don't have to marry someone you don't love merely to ensure the baby's welfare. I'll take good care of him, and I would never deny you the right to see him whenever—”

“I'm not asking you for anything, Maddy.” He was chillingly matter-of-fact. “I'm telling you what's going to happen. I'm going to have every right imaginable over you and the child—because I'm going to own you body and soul.”

“Nothing will change my mind,” she said, knowing that it would destroy her to live with his contempt. “You can't force me to become your wife—” She stopped with a gasp as he shoved her back onto the mattress and swung a muscled thigh over her, crouching astride her helpless body.

“Can't I?” he asked, looming over her. He let her feel the hard pressure of his arousal, while his fingers dug into her shoulders until she winced in pain. “You have no idea what I can do, my sweet. I'll get what I want no matter what it takes. You may as well make things easier for yourself and give in without a struggle.”

Outraged, Madeline twisted beneath him, but he was at least double her weight, his muscles as hard as iron. With each movement of her body, she felt the heavy ridge of his sex press deeper against her, until she relaxed with a defeated gasp.

“You may as well know that you're going to pay for the trouble you've caused me,” Logan said. “You're going to make free with your body whenever I want you. And don't expect it to be anything like before. You won't find it nearly as pleasant.”

Madeline kept silent, while all manner of wild schemes went through her mind. She would find a way to disappear before the wedding ever took place.

Logan read her thoughts easily, his mouth curving with a thin smile. “Don't even think about running from me. Because I'll find you, and when I do, you'll be sorry you were ever born.”

Her lashes lowered to hide her eyes. It was agony to face the prospect of a marriage that would be a mockery of what they could have had. “Everyone will know you were forced into it,” she said, hoping to change his mind.

“Yes, I've no doubt the gossips will flay us alive.”

And he would punish her for that as well, she thought bleakly. It was proof of his determination, the fact that a man who was so conscious of his public image was willing to look the fool in order to marry her.

He was gripping her shoulders, making them ache. She lifted her hands to push him away, her palms flattening against his chest. “You're too heavy,” she said, arching beneath him. “Please…let me go.”

Logan made a muffled sound as the movement of her h*ps set him on fire. He rolled to his side, intending to release her, but somehow his arms caught at her slender body, bringing her with him. One of his thighs nestled between hers, and the pulsing length of his arousal thrust along her stomach. Her breast was close to his mouth, and he could almost feel its delicate weight against his cheek, the velvety tip of it on his tongue.

His senses swam with pleasure. Now…now…his pulse was like a drumbeat, urging him to take her. The sweet elixir of her scent drove him insane. He wanted to taste and touch her everywhere. His hand trembled as it cupped her breast, so plump and firm, yielding deliriously to the pressure of his fingers.

He heard the sound of protest she made, felt the slight jerk of her body, and suddenly the temptation was too powerful to resist. He caught at her nipple with his lips and teeth, wet it through the thin fabric of her gown, sucked greedily as he savored the sweetness of her flesh. His fingers fanned over the side of her breast and slid over her ribs. She twisted and gave a soft cry, first trying to push his head away, then curling her fingers into his hair. They strained together hungrily, writhing in a wild search for satisfaction.