Page 11 of Finding Faith (Seduced in Scotland #2)

T he ballroom at Lismore Hall was not a large room. Indeed, it didn’t compare in size to the vast ballrooms of the Mayfair homes of London where Faith had spent time. But it had been decorated beyond compare for that evening’s festivities, and Faith was certain that she had never seen a more stunning room. The wood panel walls had been washed and waxed, causing them to shine, and with the chandeliers ablaze with dozens of candles above their heads against the barrel-vaulted ceiling, the room was filled with a golden glow.

Everyone for nearly fifty miles had been invited, some traveling from as far as Cumbria to attend. Nearly every member of the McTavish clan had come, which accounted for nearly half the attendees. The Earl of Clyde and his wife had also arrived, with their four daughters, as well as a dozen of professional men from Glasgow. Even old Miss Fletcher had been escorted by Dr. Barkley. Surprisingly enough, she looked nothing like a witch, and was dressed in a very simple, very stylish gray gown, with her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a tight, demure bun.

At least seventy people were mingling and carrying on as Aunt Belle entered the room, and a robust cheer echoed throughout the home upon her entrance. A single, twinkling tear rolled down the old woman’s cheek as she realized what was happening, understanding that they were all there for her. They had come from far and wide and on short notice, all in honor of Belle’s seventy-sixth birthday.

“What’s all this now?” she asked as she came into the ballroom.

She was dressed in an amethyst-colored gown adorned with diamonds and her beloved emeralds. Faith had insisted that she wear her emerald tiara, a gift she had received from the king himself over forty years ago. At that moment, she appeared ageless in the company of so many who loved her. She was flanked by Hope and Graham, both of whom were watching her, smiling.

“Happy birthday, Aunt Belle,” Hope said, kissing her cheek.

“Oh, my dear, did you plan this?” she asked.

“We all did. Graham, Faith, Grace, and I.”

Belle turned to see Faith, who had hurried away after helping her aunt pick out her jewels for the evening. Faith wore a simple, pale-lemon-colored tiered gown with white piping that came off the shoulders, as was the latest fashion. Grace was beside her, wearing a blue dress with intricate lace trim.

“Is that why you kept me locked away in my offices all afternoon?” she asked, bewildered.

“I’m afraid so,” Faith said, coming forward. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Of course, my darling girl.”

“And your letters weren’t lost,” Grace added. “They were sent out with the morning post.”

Belle’s mouth dropped slightly.

“What a rascally set of girls you all are,” she said with warmth before adding, as she turned to the crowd, “Let it be known that my grandnieces get their wits and their wiles from my side of the family. A warning to all of you.” Everyone laughed. “Well, don’t let me stop you. Let the dancing begin!”

The musicians took up their instruments with a raucous cheer, and a galop dance began. Graham escorted Hope to the center of the room as dozens of couples followed suit. Belle made her way slowly through the crowd, greeting all her guests with the utmost sincerity.

Their surprise had been a success, and while Faith was glad for it, the impending meeting with Logan would not leave her mind. Surely she should busy herself with something—anything, really—but she found that she could not. Instead, Grace came to stand next to her.

“I think this party is a rousing success, don’t you?” Grace asked, peering around the room. “Nearly everyone we invited came.”

“Which is a surprise in and of itself considering how late the invitations went out.”

Grace made a face.

“Do not be sour, Faith. The idea came to Hope and myself rather late, and while it may not have been a fully formulated plot when we explained it to you, the results speak for themselves,” she said, gesturing her hand about the room. “Don’t you agree?”

Although London etiquette required much more preparation for a party of this size, Faith had to admit that it had come off rather nicely. Rolling her eyes, she smiled as Grace gently elbowed her.

“Yes,” she admitted, joining Grace in her survey of the room. “It did turn out very well. Oh, and look.” Faith said as her eyes landed on the tall man with short-clipped hair standing near the glass doors that led out onto a small balcony. “Is that not Dr. Hall standing with Laird McTavish?”

Grace’s head whipped around, and after a moment, she spoke.

“It is! You know, I’ve been told by Dr. Barkley that Dr. Hall is quite the reformer when it comes to medicine. Dr. Barkley believes that if I can persuade Dr. Hall to write me a letter of recommendation, I might be able to gain entrance into the University of Glasgow.”

“Really?” Faith asked, stunned. “Dr. Barkley said that?”

Grace bobbed her head up and down quickly.

“Oh yes. In fact, I think I should attempt my pursuit right now.”

“Oh, but Grace,” Faith said, reaching for her sister’s hand to stop her.

Grace gave her a funny frown.

“Yes?”

It wasn’t any of Faith’s business, indeed, and her sister’s desire to study medicine at a university had been known and talked about for months, but a part of Faith worried for her. What if Dr. Hall refused her in a particularly harsh or cutting manner? What if he, like so many others, thought to make a joke or unkind comment about Grace, whose mind often neglected the tedious social decorum everyone else followed? With Grace’s hopes so high, that sort of blow would be devastating.

That was not to say Grace was fragile. In most cases, she took everyone’s prejudices gracefully and forgave them, believing that if they knew better, they might not be so judgmental of her. But when she truly set her heart on something, she could be deeply wounded when she was met with a lack of understanding.

Still, it was too much to convey now, and instead, she simply squeezed Grace’s hand.

“Good luck.”

Grace smiled and turned away, leaving Faith just as the pale-pink vision that was Arabella came toward her.

“Faith!” Arabella said. A quick glance told Faith that Mr. Harris senior was not nearby. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she answered with a smile. “How are you?”

Arabella took Faith’s hand and tucked it into the crook of her arm as she pulled her into a close walk.

“Very fine indeed, but I’m glad to hear that you are, as well. We were so worried about you after that incident with the horse in the village. I told Papa all about it when I returned home. How frightening it was and how heroic Logan was in his response.”

“Quite heroic,” Faith said softly. “Er, is your father in attendance?”

Arabella frowned, her blonde hair shimmying at the shake of her head.

“No, unfortunately. Papa wasn’t feeling very well, but he insisted that I come with Logan.”

“Oh. Well, I hope he is not under the weather?”

Arabella waved her free hand.

“Papa goes through spells where he cannot sleep. He’s terrible company during them, but I do worry. Perhaps you can come visit one day? He so enjoyed it when you came last.”

Faith swallowed, unsure what Logan would think about seeing her in Harris House again. But she had enjoyed Arabella’s father’s company when she had been there.

“Perhaps,” was all she said when a dark form crossed her path, causing her to look up.

Logan was dressed in gray-and-black tartan, with a vest and evening jacket against a starched white shirt. Faith was instantly frozen beneath his intent, hazel stare as all the air vanished from her lungs. While she hated to admit that she had missed him, especially since their last meeting was only a few days prior, it was worse to realize that the true torture was to be in his presence.

“Miss Sharpe,” he said, his deep voice wrapping around her like a warm length of plaid.

“Mr. Harris,” she said, her eyes trailing down to the glass he held.

“Arabella, if you insist on using me to play fetch, it’s unsporting of you to move,” he said, handing his sister the glass.

“Forgive me,” she said, playfully abashed as she took the glass from Logan. “I was just inquiring whether or not Faith has recovered from her horse ride in Glencoe.”

“I see. And have you?” he asked, his tone somewhat worried.

“I have, thank you,” she said as the music ended.

The crowd around them moved as a waltz began to play.

“Oh, a waltz! Your favorite, Faith,” Arabella said, turning to her brother. “Logan, you must dance with Faith. She loves waltzes.”

“Oh, no,” Faith said quickly. “That’s quite alright—”

But Logan didn’t ask. Instead, he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Though no one seemed particularly interested in the two, Faith was sure the entire world was staring at them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered harshly.

“If we don’t dance together, my sister will prattle on about it indefinitely.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s annoying.”

Faith squared her shoulders.

“She is not. And that’s not a very nice thing to say about your own sister.”

“Forgive me,” he said sarcastically. “But she’s been nattering on about you for days. It seems you are her favorite topic.”

“Whatever for?”

“Worried about your poor nerves, as she says, due to your pony ride.”

Faith scowled.

“It wasn’t a pony ride. And I’m perfectly fine. I was from the moment the horse stopped,” she said, lifting her chin. The knowing glance from Logan reminded her that the horse wouldn’t have stopped without him. She cleared her throat. “Thank you, for that.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said gruffly as they spun about the room.

For some reason, there was hostility between them again, and while Faith wasn’t sure why, she was grateful for it. This was the Logan she knew, the Logan she could handle, and even though their bodies swirled and danced together in perfect synchronicity, she couldn’t help but feel as if a barrier lay between them.

“What?” he asked abruptly as they came back together.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but your brow is creased, and whenever your brow is creased you tend to be deep in thought.”

The familiarity of his comment made Faith warm with glee and annoyance.

“It isn’t polite to comment on one’s appearance.”

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“And yet you still insist on insulting me?”

“I didn’t insult you.”

“You do every time you comment on my looks.”

“What about when it’s a compliment?”

“A creased brow is hardly a compliment.”

But then Logan’s eyes darkened, and he leaned forward. She was sure he would say something biting, but then he spoke, and her heart began to beat wildly.

“And what if I were to tell you that your creased brow causes me a great deal of consideration, hmm? That I can focus on little else whenever it appears because I’m besieged with the need to know what you’re thinking? To learn what has caught your attention and what I might do to procure whatever it is that you suddenly desire?” he paused as his voice lowered to a whisper. “What would you say to that?”

Faith’s throat became tight, her mouth dry. She could not fathom why such a statement should make her eager for things she did not understand. But the tone of his voice, both annoyed and seductive, made her heart constrict.

“I would not know what to say,” she answered breathlessly. “Except that it seems you have too much time on your hands.”

To her surprise, Logan let out a bark of a laugh. Though she didn’t believe what she’d said had been particularly amusing, the light in his hazel eyes gave her a significant amount of pleasure that pooled in her belly, even as she tried to appear indifferent.

“You’re a conundrum, you know,” he said as they danced. “I’m never sure where to place you.”

“You’re the first to say such a thing,” she said truthfully. “Everyone always just assumes I’m difficult, simply because I know my own mind.”

“That you do, but you seem to be a cacophony of conflicting traits. Cold and hot, rigid, and flexible.”

“How so?”

His brow lifted as he began to list off a number of observations.

“Well, for instance, you’ve made it clear that you don’t care for fairytales, but my sister tells me you accepted one of her good luck talismans. Why is that?”

“Because it was a gift. It would be rude not to accept.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t believe that. I did at first, but since becoming better acquainted with you, I think there’s a part of you that is very taken with the idea of magical realms and the like.”

She laughed, though not loudly.

“That’s preposterous.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I simply didn’t wish to be impolite.”

“That I don’t believe either. Since when have you been concerned with propriety? You’ve always made it a point to turn up your nose to everyone since arriving in Scotland.”

“That is false,” she argued. “On the contrary, I’ve acquired a healthy number of friends and acquaintances since coming here, including Arabella. I like her very much.” She paused, before adding, “Jeanne has also become a particularly trusted confidant.”

A strained look flashed in Logan’s eyes.

“Has she?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose I should not find that surprising. She is a fearsome sort.”

Faith laughed. “You say that as if it’s a bad quality to have. For my part, I’m quite taken with women who do not bat their eyelashes demurely, waiting for a man to tell them what they’re worth.”

He shook his head.

“No one would ever accuse you of that, to be sure, but then I cannot help but believe there is some other side of you.” Logan spun her away as the music reached a crescendo, only for her to come back into his arms. He leaned forward to speak softly into her ear. “The side that not even your closest friends or family knows about. How I wish to know more about that Faith. Who is she really and what does she desire most?”

She swallowed hard before remembering that this man was in possession of the one thing that could ruin her entire life. She tried to pull away, but he held her close.

“Let me go,” she whispered quietly so no one around them could hear.

“I wish to talk to you first.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“I beg to differ, but we shan’t discuss it here.”

“Will you destroy it?” she asked, her eyes not meeting his.

She had come to the conclusion that the painting needed to be destroyed. To have such an unmistakable likeness out in the world was dangerous, and the only way she would be free from it was if it were no longer about. When he didn’t answer right away, she eventually lifted her gaze to find his unreadable face.

“Destroy it? You mean the painting?”

“Yes. Will you?”

His head tilted a fraction, his brow creased.

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

“So, you won’t destroy it?”

“No.”

What good feeling she had felt for him dissipated.

“Then we shan’t discuss anything, Mr. Harris,” she said as the song finished. “Good bye.”

With that, she turned on her heel and hurried off the dance floor, worried he might try to follow her. Thankfully, she was alone by the time she reached her sisters, and for the next hour or so, she kept her distance from Logan.

Surely he could see why she was so desperate to have the piece of art destroyed. Not only was it evidence of a time in her life when she hadn’t any foresight, but it also reminded her of Donovan and the promise he broke to her. Of course Logan had no way of knowing about that. Faith had never explained it. But even without explaining it, he had to realize that for a lady of her status, having a nude painting of oneself out in the world would be dangerous. Even more so now because it wasn’t far away in Paris where she had no desire to go, but directly in the center of her current community.

Whenever she thought of it, she felt filled with shame. Not only because she had been so foolish as to trust Donovan with the painting’s creation in the first place, but also because his willingness to sell the painting served as proof that she hadn’t meant nearly as much to him as he had to her. It was a revelation that had stayed at the outer edges of her mind since she’d received his letter, but now that she focused on it, it was so blatantly obvious. Donovan had never truly loved her; worse, he had used her feelings for him against her by coaxing her into a sense of comfort to disrobe and pose for that damn portrait.

As the night’s celebration wore on, Faith’s mood sank further and further. Eventually, her sisters’ concerned stares and questions caused her to retreat from the ballroom, but she found the entire hall was packed with merrymakers.

Bitter, sad, and increasingly uncomfortable from the heat generated throughout the house due to the number of people, Faith thought to retreat to her room early, only to catch a glimpse of their cook and several footmen carrying a towering cake into the dining room. Knowing she would not be able to slip up the stairs without being noticed, she altered her route to Aunt Belle’s office instead hoping to find a reprieve there. But as she approached her aunt’s office, she suddenly saw Grace taking long, purposeful strides toward the room, entering it quickly and all but slamming the door behind her.

Then, from the opposite side of the hallway came Dr. Hall. He peered over the other guests, seemingly searching for someone with an apologetic look on his face, and Faith had the awful feeling that the doctor had crushed Grace’s hopes. Faith was sure Grace had locked the door to deter any followers. But then, Dr. Hall spotted Faith and started to walk toward her.

Oh no. Whatever had taken place between the doctor and Grace, Faith did not want to be a part of it. She turned, trying to leave, but was trapped by a pair of giggling ladies when she heard the doctor speak behind her.

“Miss Sharpe,” Dr. Hall said upon reaching her.

Faith winced before turning around.

“Dr. Hall,” Faith replied, making her voice icy.

The man’s brow dipped slightly at hearing her tone, but he seemed ready to ignore it.

“I was wondering if you had seen your sister come through this way?”

“Yes, I have,” Faith said, deciding to be purposefully obtuse. “Nearly every day.”

The doctor’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Apparently, she had confused him.

“Right,” he finally said after a moment. “And did you happen to see her this evening with Miss Fletcher?”

Faith frowned.

“I did not.”

“Well, if I could ask you a favor—”

“I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Hall, but I’m all out of favors tonight,” she said, noting the surprise in his eyes. “Good evening.”

Turning on her heel, Faith hurried away without looking back. She wasn’t sure what had transpired between him and her sister, but Faith wasn’t interested in hearing any apologies. She had long since tired of men apologizing to her sisters for this and that.

Deciding that she would find no peace inside, she concluded that some fresh air might be best for her. Borrowing one of the cloaks that hung from the rack in the corner of the foyer, she went outside and headed toward the walled garden that sat at the western side of Lismore Hall.

Making her way out the front doors and down the stone steps, Faith inhaled deeply as she walked around the front of the house, along the stone wall to an iron gate that separated the front landscape from the back. Unlatching the metal hook, she pushed the door open and passed through it.

There was a large pond covered in lily pads and beautiful white-and-pink blooms. Patches of lavender and mint had been planted together, giving the air a fresh, sweet scent. Along the wall that climbed the western border of Lismore grew a massive rose bush that produced hundreds of apple-sized white blooms.

It was an enchanting place, yet Faith could hardly appreciate it. She found an intricately carved stone bench that sat near the stream that fed the pond. Seating herself upon it, she brought her elbows to her knees and leaned forward with her chin in her hand.

As the muffled music from the ballroom mixed with the crickets and natterjack toads that croaked along the edge of the water, Faith sighed. If only she could figure out a way to get that painting. It was evident that she needed to take it back into her possession, but how? Perhaps she could sneak into his house and steal the blasted thing. But how could she leave with it? It was far too large for one person to carry.

As she was pondering the idea, a low, dark figure on all fours appeared to her right, scaring the life out of her.

“Oh!” she said, startled as she stood up. She was just about to flee when a familiar cold nose pressed into her hand. “Jaco? Oh, damned if you didn’t frighten me.”

Faith dropped to the ground without thinking about her gown and hugged the shaggy black animal around the neck.

“The charm of this garden always seems to catch me off guard,” Logan’s deep voice echoed behind her. “But hug a man’s dog and he’s liable to fall in love with you.”

Faith twirled around awkwardly from her crouched down position to find Logan leaning against the apple tree.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, standing. “And what’s Jaco doing here?”

“He’s rarely too far from me whenever I leave Harris House, even if I explicitly instruct that he be kept indoors while I’m away.” Logan bent down as he came forward, scratching the dog between the ears. “When he was still a pup, I would fish early in the morning, leaving him in the kitchens because I believed he was too young to follow me. But he always got loose and found me.”

“He followed you?”

“Yes. He has a hell of a nose, this one,” Logan said, tussling the dog’s head back and forth playfully before standing up.

“And what about you?” she asked. “What are you doing out here?”

“Trying to find a moment’s peace from the party,” he said, kicking an unseen stone down the water’s edge. “What are you doing out here?”

As he approached, the moonlight highlighted his silhouette, and Faith’s breath caught. He really was dashing in his kilt and evening clothes, and she vaguely remembered how she once loathed how beautifully proportioned his mouth was. He wasn’t frowning at her as he once did, though the knit in his brow made her curious.

“The same,” she said softly as he came around the bench. To her dissatisfaction, he sat next to her. “But I was not searching for any company. Particularly not yours.”

He shook his head and looked forward.

“I do not know how to redeem myself in your eyes. I did not seek out Odalisque Reclined knowing your connection to it. If I had, well…”

“If you had, you’d have paid doubly for it, I’ve no doubt.”

“Oh yes, because your half naked body is exactly what I want hanging about my home.”

The rumble of his voice as he mentioned her body made her dizzy, but she ignored the thunderous beating of her pulse.

“If it is so grievous to you, I think you should have no want for it.”

“And what should I do with it?”

“Burn it,” she said emphatically.

The offended expression that crossed his handsome face caused Faith’s stomach to clench.

“Out of the question.”

With her temper rising, Faith stood, eager to be out of his reach.

“I don’t see why not. You don’t even like me—”

“I like you.” She made a disbelieving sound, and he stood. “I do,” he insisted, “albeit not in the usual way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

His hand lifted to the back of his neck, and he rubbed it, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know. You’re combative, always have been since the moment we first met.”

“Me? You’re the one who has been rude from the start.”

“Regardless of all that, it doesn’t detract from my feelings toward you.”

“So what? You like sparring with me?”

“No. Well, yes, but…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what it is about you. At times I’m sure there is not another living creature on this earth who aggravates me so.”

“How very kind of you to say,” she said sarcastically as she turned to leave.

“But then other times…”

The drop in his voice made her stall. Waiting, she only heard his gentle breathing. Peering over her shoulder, she watched him.

“Other times what?”

“Other times, I feel like I’ll go mad if I don’t touch you.”

The raw honesty in his tone made Faith’s heart hurt. Yes, she knew that feeling. The feeling of wanting to drag him down to the ground and roll around, if only to feel his hands on her.

Faith swallowed, desperate to keep such emotions off her face.

“Well, I hope you will keep such thoughts to yourself, because I—” She tried to say that she didn’t feel the same, but the words stuck in her throat.

Before she could adequately answer, Logan’s hand touched her cheek and rocked her slightly back before pulling her into a searing kiss.

A dozen glass bowls breaking at once was the closest Faith could come to describing what it was like, being caught in Logan’s kiss. The pure exhilaration of doing something so reckless and downright dangerous, coupled with the simmering desperation that had simmered within her for weeks, caused a combustible reaction.

She stood on her tippy toes and pushed back against him viscerally, craving to be consumed by this man. There was no reason for her to be so infatuated with someone who aggravated her as he did, particularly when he owned something that could destroy her. Still, this limitless desire to be overwhelmed by him in every way made her shake with need.

He pulled away too soon, leaving her dazed and falling forward.

“Tell me,” he spoke, his breathless, ragged voice filled with yearning. “Tell me that there is not something between us.”

“There is n-nothing—”

But he kissed her again, almost as if he could banish her foolish words, and for a moment, she wished he could.

Despite everything that had happened between them—their arguments, and their circumstance regarding the painting—Faith was utterly enthralled with Logan’s kiss. She was a willing victim of his dominance, if only for the few moments they shared here and there.

But the painting did separate them, and as much as she longed to continue, she knew she could not give in. She pushed at his shoulders, tearing her mouth away from his as they both gasped for uneven breaths.

Focus , she scolded herself silently. She couldn’t let Logan’s kisses distract her from the fact that he refused to destroy the one thing that kept her in constant worry.

Logan’s full mouth pressed against her temple as they both breathed unevenly.

“What will it take?” he asked quietly after only a few moments. “Anything.”

Faith’s mind barely understood what he meant. What was he asking?

“Wha—”

“There is desire here, Faith. I can barely contain it. Every time you are in the room, I’m beyond myself. Tell me, what it will take to have you?”

As his meaning dawned on her, a cold, cutting drip touched the back of Faith’s neck while a distant rumble sounded. Grateful that her face was pressed against his shoulder, concealing her shock, Faith held onto him, unsure how to answer. Then he spoke again.

“I know Donovan hurt you. I know he betrayed your trust, but I promise, I would never treat you in such a cowardly manner,” he said. “Not if you chose me as you did him.”

Faith’s brow scrunched together as her mind reeled. Did he…did he think she had slept with Donovan? A shiver went through her as she began to understand.

“I—I don’t know,” she stuttered, still hiding her face as her mind reeled.

“I know Donovan’s disloyalty has burned you and I know it would be outrageous to ask you to trust anyone again, but the passion of painters, by your own admission, is exclusively to the canvas. Whatever transpired between you and he, I doubt very much your needs were met and I find the idea of seeing to said needs to be the most pressing matter in my life currently.”

Faith couldn’t believe what Logan was saying. He thought that she and Donovan had been lovers and, more, that she had been dissatisfied with him. It was overwhelming to hear. Did he really think she was so carefree with her virtue?

But perhaps that was hypocritical of her. She had wished to be Donovan’s lover. The fact that their relationship hadn’t reached that level was due to his circumspection, not hers. He had repeatedly rebuffed her, calling any physical relations between an artist and his muse tainted.

But this man—this solid, living, breathing man who was kissing up and down her neck at that very moment—wanted her. She knew she should pull away, that she should be wholly offended by his offer, but she kept her mouth shut. For nothing in the world had ever felt so wonderful as being held by this man.

“I would never betray you, Faith,” he whispered softly into her ear after another few moments, causing her to shiver. His mouth moved up to her temple. “I only wish to explore what lies between us.” He kissed her brow and her eyes closed. “Let me show what it can be like.”

Lord forgive her, she wanted to say yes, but to do so would be ludicrous. She couldn’t agree to have an affair with this man, or any man. It would ruin her.

But ruin her for what exactly? Marriage? Faith never had any desire to marry anyone. She surely didn’t have any prospects. Yet did he really believe her to be such a wanton?

She rolled her head back as Logan’s hands moved around her waist, pausing for a moment.

“Faith?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you… Are you without a corset?”

Faith’s eyes snapped open.

“Ah, yes,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “I’m under medical orders not to wear one while my lungs recover from the bout of pneumonia.”

He watched her for a moment before answering.

“Oh.”

Faith’s eyes closed tightly as her cheeks began to heat up. Could she behave any more promiscuously? If he found her naked in his bedroom, she doubted he’d be much surprised.

But an idea popped into her head at the thought of his bedroom. The painting. It was in his home—possibly even in his bedroom. And if she was his lover, she’d have access to it. She’d be able to destroy it. Yes . That was a good enough reason to accept his ludicrous proposal. That and the fact that she would be leaving for London in only a few months’ time anyway, which would give her some distance once she finally ruined Odalisque Reclined once and for all.

“Yes,” she whispered into his shoulder, fighting the pleasure she felt as his arms tightened around her.

“God, Faith,” he said roughly after a moment’s more of kissing her temple and then her cheek. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she said, although she’d never felt more uncertain of anything in her life.

It was outrageous, dangerous, and exceedingly satisfying to agree to his offer, and while she would be sure to regret it one day, tonight was not that day.

His mouth found hers once more, and the aching burn of shame that bubbled within her at the thought of becoming a man’s mistress melted away somewhat. As long as she was in his arms, there could be no wrong in the world.

But eventually, he pulled back, and she grieved for the loss of something she didn’t fully understand.

“When shall we met?”

Faith gazed up at him. Passion and something akin to joy shone in his eyes, and her stomach tumbled. What was she doing?

“I don’t know,” she said. They were interrupted by the distant sound of cheers from the hall. They both turned to face the building. “I think we should be getting back. The cake will be served soon.”

“Yes, I suppose we should part for now,” he said, holding her hand as he escorted her to the gate. When they reached it, he squeezed her fingers gently, then let her go. “I wish I could take you away this very minute.”

“To Harris House?” she asked, wondering if it would be as easy as that, but Logan shook his head.

“No. Not with my family there. It would be too hazardous.”

“I can be discreet.”

Faith could see the corner of his cheek pull up, even with the moon at his back.

“I’m eager too,” he said softly. “But I won’t risk your reputation.”

“It’s my reputation to risk,” she pressed, trying to convince him. “Harris House is the only place possible.”

“Easy, love. We’ll figure it out. I’ll send word in a few days.”

She tilted her head.

“Are you leaving?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said, the hint of a smile on his lips. “I don’t think it would be wise for me to be in your presence anymore tonight, lest I make a fool of myself somehow.”

Faith smiled.

“No more a fool than I,” she said softly, turning to leave, but he gripped her hand again.

Faith gazed into his eyes and her stomach flipped. Logan was staring at her with such intensity that she almost felt guilty for her secret motive for agreeing to this ridiculous affair. He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed his mouth to her knuckles.

“You are no one’s fool, Faith. No one’s.”

She knew that he meant to buoy her spirits regarding Donovan, but Faith realized in that moment that he would never forgive her for what she was planning to do.

Logan left swiftly, with Jaco close behind him. Faith stood there for a few minutes once she was alone, contemplating everything that had just happened. Logan would undoubtedly hate her once she ruined that damn painting, but she couldn’t just let it continue to exist. Such tangible evidence of her relationship with Donovan, and his disregard for her, was too much for her to bear. It needed to be destroyed.

Didn’t it?

Faith’s head dropped into her hands. She was about to head back into the house when a far away voice suddenly called out.

“Faodail…”

Faith froze. Was someone beyond the garden wall? Was it Logan? Frowning, she turned around, searching the garden. There was no movement, no hint of another living person, and nothing moved to save the plants as a blustering wind swept through the grounds.

Still, she had the uncanny feeling that she wasn’t alone.

“Hello?” she called out, but no one answered. Confused, she called out again. “Hello? Is someone there?”

But there was no sound except the music coming from the house behind her. Perhaps it had been the wind? After another moment, she turned to head inside, repeating the bizarre word she thought she had heard.