Lessons from a Scandalous Bride (Forgotten Princesses #2)(65)

His expression twisted bitterly. “And if there’s a child?”

Her chest tightened at the notion. “I’ll inform you.”

He nodded. “How very civil.” He pushed off from the bed, his motions jerky as he straightened his clothing. “Have a good life, Cleo,” he declared, striding away from the bed, from her, with a suddenness that left her blinking after him.

“Oh. One more thing.” He faced her. “Whether you want to hear it or not, I’m going to explain. Mary and I grew up here together. Nothing ever happened.” He shrugged. “She looked up to me, may have fancied herself in love with me.” His gaze fastened on her. “I never bedded her . . . there was only ever one kiss. Five years ago. At Christmas, under the mistletoe.”

A breath shuddered painfully from her lips. This time when he opened the door he didn’t look back. He left. He was gone.

And she was all alone.

Precisely what she had asked for—what she wanted from him. Dropping facedown on the bed, she lost herself to ugly, wet sobs that were quite beyond her understanding. Have a good life. At this moment, feeling as she did, her heart a twisting, painful mass in her too-tight chest, she didn’t see how that was possible.





Chapter Twenty-eight

Logan stormed from the room, his steps hard and jarring. Part of him still wanted to turn around, go back and shake Cleo . . . or kiss her. But that only worked for the duration. He might be able to seduce her, but the moment it was over, she’d still be the same distrustful female—a hard shell he couldn’t penetrate.

He passed the spot where he’d stood with Mary and resisted the urge to slam his fist into the wall. They’d been children together. He had no idea she still harbored a yen for him after all these years. Even if he hadn’t married Cleo, there would be no future for them. He’d been explaining that to Mary when Cleo stumbled upon them. Hellfire.

What he felt for Cleo . . . damn, he didn’t know what he felt. He only knew it was real. Frightening and exhilarating and like nothing he’d ever felt for another woman. He didn’t want to lose that.

Now what was he going to do? He was married to a woman fully imprisoned by her own demons. He had no doubt she was packing her bag this very moment.

“Logan!” Simon strode down the corridor toward him. “Wasn’t sure if you were going to sleep the day away. I thought we were going to work on the north wing with the men, but if you’d like to idle the day away with your bride—”

“No chance of that,” he grumbled beneath his breath.

“What? Trouble in paradise already?”

At Logan’s look, some of Simon’s levity slipped away. “Sorry. I know you’re fond of her.”

“How do you know that?” he bit out.

His brother blinked. “Aside of the fact that you married her, any fool can see you’re enamored with one look.”

“I had to marry someone,” he replied, even as he knew Cleo was the only female he had ever wanted to wed.

Simon lifted an eyebrow. “Right. I’m supposed to believe she’s of no account to you.”

Logan strode past his brother, in no mood to discuss his feelings for Cleo with him. “Believe whatever you like.”

“Och.” Simon followed in his steps doggedly. “You’re behaving like a lion with the proverbial thorn in his paw.”

He stopped and whirled around. “She’s leaving, Simon.”

His brother stared at him for a moment before asking haltingly, “What do you mean?”

Turning, he continued down the corridor. “She will be returning to Town with her family.”

“Why?”

Why. The word reverberated through him. He swung around. “Because she doesn’t love me, Simon. I couldn’t make her love me.”

Logan turned swiftly back around, unable to stomach Simon’s astonished expression. His brother was young, but he still recalled their parents’ loving marriage. He likely thought every union should be like that. A few moments passed and his brother’s footsteps sounded behind him.

“Logan, wait! Where are you going?”

“We’ve work to do,” he called over his shoulder. “This castle won’t repair itself.”

“Are you certain you know what you’re doing, Cleo?”

Cleo walked briskly down the corridor, Marguerite doggedly following in her wake. She worked her gloves onto each finger with an air of efficiency even though inside she felt a wreck. “I’m quite certain of my actions.”

Marguerite grasped her shoulder and pulled her around to face her. “Are you really? Because once done, some things are difficult to undo.” She angled her head and stared at her intently. “I just don’t want you to regret this later.”

Cleo moistened her lips, hating that her sister’s words held such power over her. She already felt nauseated and heartsick. She had ever since Logan left her this morning. She didn’t need Marguerite making her feel any worse. “I already feel regret. What’s a little more down the road?”

Cleo slid free of her sister’s hold and continued down the corridor until she reached the main foyer. The sound of hammers and men at work grew louder once she stepped outside. The tarp had been removed and several men worked on the west side of the castle. A scaffolding had been erected, along with several ladders. Even across the distance of the front yard, she could make out Logan’s shape. He worked alongside other men, without a jacket. Wearing a simple wool shirt and trousers, he looked like any other laborer. Except for his aura of command. His noble bearing. And the way he turned to stare in her direction—with all the alertness of a beast of the woods. It was like he scented her from afar. There was no doubt in her mind that he was staring at her. Another man spoke to him, but he didn’t turn to acknowledge him.