Lessons from a Scandalous Bride (Forgotten Princesses #2)(27)

“Thank you,” he murmured, although he doubted it was necessary. Roger wouldn’t attempt to leave the ship. He was nothing more than a bully. Spineless and desperate to feel in control, he wouldn’t dare return where Logan’s threat could become a reality. He’d stay on the ship and sail wherever she took him. He’d never return. Cleo and her family were free.

He turned and departed the ship, his boots thudding heavily on the ramp, his mind already moving ahead to when he might next see Cleo.

“This is rich!” Fiona crowed. “My brother, the darling of every lass within a league’s ride from McKinney, the very one likely to be found beneath a milkmaid’s skirts rather than about his chores, needs advice on wooing a lady?”

“Are you finished, Fiona?” Logan asked, already regretting asking Fiona for her input in winning over Cleo.

She waved a hand at him amid her riotous giggles.

“Fiona, dear, be kind,” Alexander chided. “Can’t you see he’s fond of this one?”

She gasped for breath. “Of course, of course. Forgive me, Logan.” She wiped tears of merriment from her eyes. “I’ll be serious. Especially as this one seems to have captured your fancy.”

He recalled the efforts he had taken to see that Cleo was happy . . . that her family was safe from her stepfather. Yes. She had more than captured his fancy. “I’d appreciate that.”

She nodded, adopting a more somber expression. “Yes, well . . . let me ask you, have you kissed her yet? Back home, every lass claimed your lips to be nectar of the gods.”

Tossing his napkin upon the table, he stood to leave the room.

“No, no, stop! Sit yourself back down.” She waved an imperious finger at his chair, again reminding him of their departed mother. “It’s a legitimate question.”

At her arched eyebrow, he admitted, “Aye, I’ve kissed her and she appeared to like it well enough, but she’s still determined to marry the old man.”

“Hmm.” Fiona tapped her lips. “If you can’t seduce her body, you’d best turn to her mind.”

He blinked. “Her mind?”

Fiona threw her toast in his direction. She always was a horrible aim. “Yes, you oaf. It’s that thing between your ears. Most women happen to possess one, too.”

“Oh, then just yours was left out at birth?” he returned.

Fiona continued blithely as if she hadn’t heard the barb. “Discover her interests, her hobbies, her favorite books . . . engage her on a different level.” Fiona’s gaze locked with his, all seriousness. “Persuade her. Convince her that she can’t have anyone else but you. Make the notion of any other man intolerable because no one but you will do. Make her believe no other man will care about her as you do.”

Leaning back in his chair, he brought his cup of steaming coffee to his lips, inhaling the chicory aroma and considering his sister’s words. He arched a brow at Alexander, silently inviting him to chime in.

“She’s right.” He smiled fondly at Fiona, plucking her hand off the table and kissing the back of it. “That’s the way it is between us.”

“Spare me,” Logan muttered, although the sight did twist something inside his gut. He was happy that his sister had found such contentment in her marriage, and he possibly wondered if he could find a measure of the same for himself.

And yet he was certain that Cleopatra Hadley was not a woman easily persuaded into anything. Especially now that he understood that fear for her family drove her. She’d settled on Thrumgoodie . . . believed him to be her salvation. It would not be easy to sway her from that notion . . . and he was not inclined to inform that he’d put her stepfather on a ship for South Africa. He didn’t want her coming to him out of gratitude. He wanted her to want him.

A groom arrived with a tray bearing several envelopes upon it. He set the tray down beside Fiona. With a smile, she took the envelopes and began perusing them, as she was accustomed to do during breakfast. In the years since she’d married, his sister seemed to have grown into herself. She actually appeared to enjoy her life here. Living in Town with all its diversions suited her.

“Ah, appears to be an invitation for you, Logan.” She tossed a letter in his direction. “You’re not a total pariah after all.”

Alexander chuckled and Fiona flashed him an approving smile.

With a grunt, Logan tore open the letter and scanned the elegantly worded missive.

“Well?” Fiona prompted.

“I’ve been invited to a house party.”

“My, my, you have made friends. I’ve underestimated you, Logan.”

“Mr. Hamilton requests the honor of my company . . .”

“And will you be going?”

“I think if a certain lady is in attendance . . . and I fully expect she will be . . . then I most certainly will be there.” Immediately he envisioned himself slipping into Cleo’s bedchamber in the dead of night and waking her with a heated kiss.

“Heaven help her,” Alexander murmured, shaking his head side to side. “If you’re anything like your sister, the chit doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Anything like me?” Fiona blinked. “Who do you think I learned it from?”

Logan gazed at the invitation in his hand, their voices fading to the background.