Читать книгу Modern Romance January 2020 Books 5-8 - Heidi Rice - Страница 21

LOGAN HAD MOSTLY travelled abroad during the month of November, so he could escape the all too often grey and dismal progression of the Highlands’ final month of autumn into winter. But spending the time with Layla at Bellbrae had turned the normally cold and bleak time into something else entirely. The shorter days and longer nights were no longer an inconvenience but an excellent excuse to relax over a drink in front of a roaring fire. Or to spend long hours in bed, making love, then snuggling up in a cocoon of cosy warmth. And with winter and plenty of snowbound days heading their way, instead of feeling trapped and contained, he felt…free.

More open, more relaxed. More human and less of an emotionless workhorse machine.

The days at Bellbrae belonged to Layla and him, no one else. Well, apart from Flossie but the old dog spent most of the time snoozing by the fire, only stirring for meals and comfort breaks. Aunt Elsie had extended her holiday and, apart from the occasional ground staff going about their business on the estate, Logan and Layla were entirely, blissfully alone.

They each juggled their work commitments but he was increasingly worried about monopolising her time. Her generous and giving nature often had her putting her needs aside for others’. Hadn’t her closing her Edinburgh office when his grandfather had gone into his final decline been proof of that? He knew he should be encouraging her to find another office off site but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was enjoying their time together too much. He had even put another delay on his visit to Tuscany to check the progress on his project. It was out of character for him but he had competent people working for him and knew they would call him instantly if there was anything that only he could fix.

Logan left Layla sleeping while he rose early to let Flossie out downstairs. He slipped on tracksuit bottoms and slip-on shoes in case the old dog went further into the garden and got disoriented in the darkness. It had happened before and it had taken him half an hour to find her—not ideal in only boxers or less and bare feet.

The sun wasn’t up yet and the frost was as thick as a carpet on the ground, the air so cold it burned his face. An owl hooted from a nearby tree and then Logan heard the swish of its wings as the bird flew off into the misty darkness. The distinctive call of a vixen looking for a mate would once have made Flossie’s ears prick and her tail rise, but the old dog barely seemed to notice. She squatted on a frosty patch of ground and sighed with relief and then came plodding back to where Logan was standing, her feathery tail wagging back and forth.

‘Good girl.’ He bent down and ruffled her ears. ‘Back to bed for you, hey?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Layla’s voice sounded from behind him. ‘Gosh, it’s freezing, isn’t it?’

Logan turned, saw her framed in the doorway and something in his chest slipped. Funny, but he didn’t feel cold at all. He felt warm. Hot. Hotter than hot—for her. She was dressed in his bathrobe, which was far too big for her. It swamped her petite frame and made her look like a child who had been playing with a dress-up box.

‘I was about to wake you up with a cup of tea,’ he said with a smile.

She rubbed her crossed-over hands up and down her arms and shivered but a smile played about her mouth. And her eyes contained a light that made his lower body sit up and take notice. ‘Stop spoiling me. I’ll be hell to live with if you keep treating me like a princess.’

‘I’ll take the risk.’ He came over to her and leaned down to drop a kiss to the end of her upturned nose and then led her back inside to the warmth of the castle kitchen.

Thing was, she wasn’t hell to live with. She was heaven. He had only lived with one other lover—his late fiancée—and it had definitely not been anything like this. His time with Layla worked so seamlessly, so easily, so naturally. He didn’t have to second-guess or play games or have games played on him. Layla was a complex person but not a difficult one. He could relax around her, be more open and share things he hadn’t shared with anyone before.

There was a growing part of him that didn’t want their ‘married fling’ to end, which was a deeply troubling thought. The locked no long-term-commitment vault inside his mind had somehow allowed a sliver of light in under the door. A beam of light he wasn’t sure he wanted illuminating the darkly shadowed corners of his mind.

One month had already passed on their one-year marriage. It was ticking away like a clock set on fast forward. Christmas would be here soon, then Hogmanay and then before he knew it, the year would be up.

Their marriage would come to its inevitable end. The end he had insisted on. That he still insisted on—didn’t he?

So why did that seem far more of a problem than it had before?

They were in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil on the stove, and Layla put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. ‘What do you have planned for today?’

He tipped up her face with his hand so she was looking up at him. ‘You mean apart from going back to bed and making mad passionate love to you and then serving you breakfast in bed, and after that showering together?’ His eyes were glinting and his lower body already stirring against her.

Layla lifted her hand to his stubbly jaw, tracing the line of his smiling mouth with her fingertip, her insides twisting and coiling with desire. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time in bed before, not even when I’ve been sick.’

‘Neither have I.’ His voice had a husky quality that made her feel weak at the knees.

He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his in a kiss that made the ache inside her body go to fever pitch. His hands went to the small of her back, drawing her closer to his body—closer to the potency of his erection. His tongue played with hers in an erotic dance that made something swoop and dive in her belly. His mouth moved from her lips to the side of her neck, his tongue leaving a hot trail along her sensitive flesh. He used his teeth to gently nip her earlobe and a shiver shot down her spine at rocket speed.

He pulled apart the dark blue bathrobe she was wearing and uncovered her naked breasts. He caressed each breast with his lips and tongue until her inner core was melting and flowing like scorching-hot lava. His teeth grazed her nipple, his tongue rolling over its tight point, and desire drummed a primitive beat between her legs.

‘Why didn’t I think to leave a supply of condoms in every room?’ he said, with a rueful grin.

Layla rummaged in the pocket of the bathrobe, which was hanging around her hips with just the waist tie keeping it in place. She took out a tiny foil packet and handed it to him.

He took the condom from her, his eyes darkening to a glittering blue-black. ‘I just love your organisational and planning skills. You really do think of everything.’

‘Glad to be of service.’

A shadow flickered across his face and he drew in a breath and pulled the edges of the bathrobe back around her shoulders, slipping the condom back in the pocket. ‘Layla.’ There was a guarded quality to his voice, his expression losing its earlier teasing playfulness and changing into a frown.

A cold ghost hand pressed against the back of her neck, sending a flow of ice over her scalp. ‘What’s wrong? What did I say to make you frown at me like that?’ It had been a flippant comment, sure, but why had it upset him so much?

Logan let out a long breath. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you’re just here to service my needs. It’s important to me that you feel equal in our relationship.’

Did she feel it was an equal relationship? In some ways, yes. In others, no. How could it be truly equal when he was the one who insisted their marriage end at a specific point? ‘It was just a throwaway line. I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘This past month has been good, better than good, but it’s not always going to be like this,’ he said, still frowning in a brooding manner. ‘We can’t live in a bubble at Bellbrae for ever. You have work commitments and so do I.’

Now it was Layla’s turn to frown, her mood soured by the sudden change in his. ‘Have I stopped you from doing your work? I haven’t exactly chained you to my side. You’re perfectly free to fly off to wherever you need to, whenever you need to.’ She spun away to lift the whistling kettle off the hob and place it on a heat protector, all but steaming herself. Why did he have to remind her this last month together wasn’t going to last? She didn’t need reminding. It was front and centre in her head every single day.

‘I don’t want to argue with—’ he began.

‘Then stop blaming me for you feeling guilty about taking time off,’ Layla shot back, turning to face him. ‘You’re a human being, Logan, not a flipping robot.’

He moved across the floor to place his hands on the tops of her shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. His eyes were troubled, his frown still in place. ‘But what about your work? I’m concerned you haven’t got an office away from here yet.’

Layla pulled out of his hold and folded her arms across her body, her glower hotter than the hotplate the kettle had just come off. ‘Oh, so that’s what this is about? You’re worried I’m going to get too comfortable working from here once the time is up on our marriage? Well, here’s some news for you. I’ve already been looking online at potential rentals in Edinburgh. There’s one in the Old Town that looks promising. It’s a bit expensive but I want the position to attract good clientele. It’s got a tiny bedsit upstairs so I can stay there if I don’t feel up to driving back here. And I can live there once our marriage ends.’

His frown deepened. ‘You’re surely not thinking of commuting between here and Edinburgh over the winter? The roads are treacherous with black ice and snow and—’

‘Make up your mind, Logan,’ Layla mock-laughed. ‘You either want me to prioritise my work over you or you don’t.’

He came back to her and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her back against him. ‘That’s the whole damn problem.’ His tone was a low rumbling growl, his expression still set in brooding lines. ‘I don’t want to share you with your work or with anyone and it scares the hell out of me.’ And then his mouth came down heavily, explosively on hers.

It was a kiss of lust and anger and frustration and scorching need racing out of control. But she relished every heart-stopping second of it. His mouth was a fire on hers, his tongue a flame teasing hers into a combative dance with bone-melting expertise.

Layla thought her legs were folding beneath her but he had picked her up and sat her on the kitchen bench in front of him. Her legs parted and he stepped between her open thighs, his mouth still locked on hers. The closeness of his erection, the molten heat building in her body, the escalating need communicated by their mouths was a potent combination.

Logan untied the waistband of the bathrobe and stripped it off her shoulders, leaving her naked and exposed to his smouldering gaze. His eyes travelled over her breasts, his hands cradling them before placing his mouth on each in turn, subjecting them to a spine-tingling array of licks and strokes and circles of his tongue. Darts of pleasure shot through her and she shuffled as close to him as she possibly could.

Logan rummaged in the pocket of her discarded bathrobe for the condom, swiftly tugging down his trousers and applying it. He surged into her with a primal groan of satisfaction, thrusting deeply and rhythmically, making her senses spin out of control. The delicious pressure built and built to bursting point and then, with the added caress of his fingers against her most sensitive female flesh, she was tossed into the maelstrom of a powerful orgasm. She cried, she gasped, she shook, she shuddered and quaked and still it went on in ripples and waves that were only intensified by his release, which coincided with hers.

Logan framed her face in his hands, his breathing still laboured. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that.’

Layla brushed his hair back from his forehead, gazing into his intensely blue eyes. ‘Do what? Kitchen bench sex?’

His mouth tilted in a crooked smile. ‘Yeah.’ He brushed her lips with his and added, ‘I was a kitchen bench sex virgin. You’re so damn hot I can barely keep control of myself no matter what room we’re in.’

His words thrilled her as much as his red-hot passion had moments earlier. She pressed her lips against his, once, twice, three times, pulling back to meet his gaze. ‘What you said before… About it scaring you how much you want to spend time with me? I feel like that too.’ Her voice was as soft as a whisper and for a moment she wondered if he’d even heard.

Flickers of deliberation passed through his gaze—thoughts and considerations, worries and balances being carefully weighed. ‘We don’t have to think too far ahead, sweetheart.’ His tone was as rusty as the lych-gate hinge in the garden. ‘We can just enjoy what we have for now.’

For now.

Layla wanted more than ‘for now’, but how could she be sure she would get it?

Later that evening, Logan put some more wood on the fire and then came back to sit with Layla on the sofa. She was dressed in a baby-blue cashmere sweater and black yoga pants that clung to her shapely legs like a velvet evening glove. Her hair was in a loosely tied knot at the back of her head, highlighting her finely boned features and elegant neck. He had always considered her beautiful, but lately he couldn’t look at her without his breathing catching and a warm flow of heat spreading in his chest.

Layla looked up from the magazine she was idly flicking through. ‘It will soon be time to put up the Christmas tree. Will you get a real one from the forest like before or a fake one?’

‘It wouldn’t be Christmas without the smell of pine needles,’ Logan said, playing with a loose curl dangling below her ear. But, then, it wouldn’t be Christmas without her bustling about the castle, helping her great-aunt get ready for the festive season. It wouldn’t be Christmas without the delicious cooking smells coming from the kitchen. So many of his memories had snapshots of Layla in them. She had become an essential part of Bellbrae and he couldn’t imagine the place without her. And—even more disturbing to his carefully guarded emotions—he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

‘True.’ Layla closed the magazine and leaned forward to put it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She sat back next to him, her gaze meeting his. ‘But will you invite anyone? Will Robbie come home for it, do you think?’

‘I have no idea what his plans are,’ Logan said with an all-too-familiar knot of tension in his stomach whenever his younger brother was mentioned. ‘You know what he’s like—he’ll just show up unannounced and expect everyone to dance around him like some overgrown overly indulged teenager.’ He leaned his head back against the back of the sofa and released a frustrated sigh. ‘I wish I could go back in time and do things differently. I thought I was doing the right thing by being easy on him but…’ He left the sentence hanging with all the unspoken things he wished now he had done.

‘You did what you thought was right at the time,’ Layla said. ‘We all have a PhD in hindsight. I think he’ll wake up to himself one day. He’s just taking a little longer than you hoped.’

Logan took her hand and brought it up to rest on his thigh. ‘I can’t help comparing you to him. Unlike Robbie, you weren’t born to privilege. You’ve had such a rough time of it and yet you’re a kind and compassionate person who is always giving your time and attention to others. I feel ashamed that Robbie hasn’t made the most of the opportunities he’s been given. Deeply ashamed and frustrated. He could have done so much more with his life but he’s throwing it away, along with the trust fund our father left him.’

He sighed again and added in a weighted tone, ‘I feel like I’ve failed Robbie and my father. That I’ve let them both down. And the guilt that comes with that churns my guts.’

Layla touched his face with the soft palm of her hand, her expression full of concern. ‘Oh, Logan, you really mustn’t blame yourself for how Robbie chooses to live his life. You and Robbie have had terrible tragedy in your lives. It must have been awful to have your mother walk out like that when you were both so young. But she didn’t just walk out on Robbie and your father. She abandoned you as well. But it seems like you’ve had to be strong for everyone else. And then when your dad died…well, you did the same. It’s in your nature to take control, to make sure everyone is okay before you see to your own needs. But your needs are important too. You can’t put them on hold for ever.’

Logan cradled one side of her face with his hand, his other hand still holding her hand anchored to his thigh. ‘How’d you get to be so wise and wonderful?’

Something passed through her gaze and she lowered her eyes to focus on the region of his collar. ‘I’m not that wonderful…’ She bit her lip and a frown pleated her smooth brow.

He lifted her chin so her gaze came back to his. ‘Hey. Why do you think that?’

Her expression faltered as if she was in two minds over answering. But then she gave a jagged sigh and spoke in a muted and flat tone. ‘When my parents died in the car crash… I didn’t grieve for them. Not the way other kids would have grieved. I pretended to grieve, because that’s what everyone expected. But I was a fraud because I was secretly relieved I didn’t have to live that chaotic life with them anymore.’

Her mouth tightened as if the memories were almost too painful to speak out loud.

‘The drugs, the drink binges, the violence—I hated my life and I hated being first-row witness to what my mother’s life had become. But I couldn’t do anything to make it better for her. But the “accident—”’ she did the air quote gesture with her fingers ‘—changed my life for ever and I was glad. I was actually more relieved I didn’t have to have my leg amputated than I grieved for my parents. How sick and screwed up is that? I think that makes me a bad person. A terrible person.’

Logan hugged her tightly against his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head. ‘You’re not any such thing, sweetheart. You were a neglected and maltreated little girl who deserved a much better start in life. My heart aches for what you went through. But you should be proud of how you’ve coped. For what you’ve done with your life.’ He eased back to blot the tears from beneath her eyes with his thumbs. ‘What you’re doing for others in your mother’s situation is a wonderful way of breaking the cycle. It’s your legacy for her memory and I’m sure she would be so very proud of you.’

Her lips flickered with a wry smile. ‘Gosh, this sofa has become confession central lately, hasn’t it? What is it about a roaring fire and a cosy atmosphere that gets under one’s guard?’

It hadn’t just lowered her guard—Logan had never been so open with anyone before. It was a strange feeling—a feeling he wasn’t sure he could or wanted to name. He framed her face in his hands and brought his lips within a breath of hers. ‘I don’t know but it sure feels pretty damn good.’ And he covered her mouth with his.