Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(96)

“If never expected to feel such things,” Madeline whispered to him one evening. “I didn't know I would find such pleasure in the marriage bed.”

Logan laughed quietly, smoothing his large hand over her body. “Neither did I. With my former penchant for women of experience, I never expected to be so captivated by an innocent.”

“I'm not an innocent,” Madeline said, her breath catching as he settled between her thighs. “After all we've done—”

“There's much more you have to learn, sweet,” he said, positioning himself and sliding gently inside her.

“There couldn't be,” she protested, gasping as he filled her completely.

“Then we'll continue with your next lesson,” Logan murmured with a smile, proceeding to make love to her until she was consumed in a blaze of passion.

Visiting the theater after the day's rehearsal had concluded, Madeline found Logan alone onstage, making notes as he paced through some blocking that had been arranged earlier. At first he was too absorbed to notice her standing in the wings, but soon he turned to look at her. A smile flickered in his blue eyes. “Come here,” he said, and Madeline complied gladly.

Logan set his notes aside on a nearby set piece. His hands slid to Madeline's thickening waist, and his gaze traveled over her soft amber-hued gown. “You look like a drop of honey,” he murmured, urging her up to her toes. “Give me a taste.”

Madeline blushed and glanced around the empty stage, wondering if their embrace would be witnessed by a stray employee or two.

Logan laughed. “No one is going to object, madam,” he mocked, and lowered his head. He stole a kiss from her, and then another, his mouth warm and searching.

Smiling and breathless, Madeline drew away from him. “Are you almost finished here?”

“Yes.” Logan pulled her back against him and fondled her hips. “I'll require only five more minutes. Why don't you wait for me in my office? We'll have a private meeting there—with the door closed.”

“I don't feel like working,” she said provocatively, making him grin.

“You won't be, madam.” Patting her familiarly on the bu**ocks, he gave her a gentle push toward the wing.

As Madeline departed, Logan picked up his notes and returned his attention to the final points of choreography. A rueful smile pulled at his lips as he found it difficult to pick up his former train of thought. The only thing on his mind was to get to his office as quickly as possible and seduce his wife. Forcing himself to concentrate, he scribbled a few sentences, using the set piece as a makeshift table.

As he worked, he was aware of a shadowy figure moving through the rows of seats along the side of the theater, gradually approaching the proscenium. “Who is that?” he asked, squinting in the stage light, unable to recognize the intruder. There was no reply. Suspecting that the stranger was a curiosity-seeker who had barged into the theater, Logan sighed shortly. “The Capital is closed to the public. There will be a performance tonight if you wish to return later.”

The visitor moved closer, seeming hesitant to leave the shadows.

Logan straightened and continued to stare at the stranger's dark outline. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded abruptly.

The man answered in a drunken, familiar voice that sent Logan's world reeling. “Don't say you've already forgotten me…brother.”

Andrew emerged from the shadows, his face bloated and brilliant with hatred, cheeks burning with a high flush. Logan stared at him uncomprehendingly. He wasn't aware of moving until he felt the edge of the set piece pressing hard against his spine and realized he had staggered backward a step or two. His lips formed Andrew's name, and for an insane moment he thought he was seeing a ghost…until he saw the pistol in Andrew's hand.

“I thought you were dead,” Logan said hoarsely, trying to gather his wits.

“You must be disappointed,” Andrew replied. “All set to take my place, were you?”

“No, I…” Logan shook his head, inhaling a few deep breaths to restore himself. “Damn you, Andrew, what in God's name happened? Everyone thinks you drowned during that bloody water-party—”

“That's what I wanted them to think. I had to do something. I had sharks from a gambling-hell following my every footstep, with every intention of ending my miserable life if I couldn't repay my debts. I had to have some time…had to fool them, until I could get my hands on some money.”

“You put me through hell,” Logan snapped, his shock fading.

“It didn't last long, did it?” Andrew asked softly. “You recovered sufficiently to announce to the world that you're my half brother. A fact that no one bothered to tell me.”

“I didn't know about it until recently.” Logan's gaze fell to the gun in Andrew's wavering hand. “You're drunk, Andrew. Put that damn thing aside, and we'll talk.”

“I intend to use it,” came the unsteady reply. “On you, or myself…perhaps both of us. My life isn't worth a shilling. And only think how your career would benefit. You would become the greatest legend in theater history.”

Logan showed no reaction, but his heart beat unpleasantly fast. Andrew had always been an unpredictable drunk. He could very well carry out his threat.