Page 13 of Finding Faith (Seduced in Scotland #2)
A fter nearly a week of sabotaging their rendezvous, Faith was finally on her way to Harris House.
Arranging for interruptions to keep them apart hadn’t been easy or pleasant, but it had had to be done. The first had been easy enough to arrange. Hope, and her husband visited the hunting lodge weekly, as a way to spend some uninterrupted quality time together. Everyone in Lismore Hall knew about it, and Faith had used that knowledge to her advantage. She knew Hope and Graham would be there to interrupt Logan and herself and it had worked.
The second meeting had been even easier to sabotage than the first. Grace went out every other morning to harvest her medicinal plants. Faith and simply suggested the right time and escorted her sister out, causing Logan more frustration. It was the only way she could think of to get him to bring her to Harris House.
But when Logan had shown up unexpectedly at Lismore Hall, that had jarred her. To see him without warning had affected her most embarrassingly, and she had all but thrown herself at him the moment they were left alone.
That had not been part of her plan. What was wrong with her? Blessedly, he had shown more sense than she had in that moment and had pushed her way before anyone walked in on them.
But her plan had finally worked. Faith had made Logan desperate enough to finally bring her to Harris House. And once she was inside, she would ruin Odalisque Reclined . Then she would flee to London with Aunt Belle and hopefully never think about Logan Harris again.
But that was more easily said than done. Faith couldn’t explain it, but the idea of never seeing Logan again hurt her heart. There was an honesty to their dialogue that she had never experienced with anyone else. While she knew she was lying to him about her reasons for seeking an affair, it still felt as though she could tell him anything and he would simply accept it.
Except her wish for the painting to be burned. For some reason, he wouldn’t give her that. And for that reason alone, she had to go through with her plan.
Looking up at the dimly lit Harris House, she felt a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, excitement, resentment, lust, and, to her surprise, regret. There was something undeniable between her and Logan. Something real and tender. Had they not met the way they had, perhaps if he hadn’t come to own Odalisque Reclined , they might have been able to explore a more honest connection. But fate had dealt them this hand, and Faith could not change it.
Taking a deep breath, she walked at a fast pace, eager to be out of the woods. Though she had never been the sort to be afraid of the dark, she could swear that during her walk from around the loch, she heard someone call out that word again.
“Faodail!”
It had stopped her in her tracks at first, but then she had picked up her skirts and hurried as fast as she could. Why she was being haunted by that word, she didn’t know, but she felt as though a ghost of sorts was after her. Faodail . It was certainly not English. Thankfully, Harris House was in her sight.
She dug her hand into the pocket of her cloak and wrapped her fingers tightly around the small, circular amber Arabella had given her. Even though Faith didn’t believe in silly things like luck, she wasn’t so arrogant as to not hedge her bets.
Also in her pocket was a letter opener that she had borrowed from her aunt’s desk. It wasn’t very sharp, but it was pointy and Faith only needed something that could pierce the canvas.
Yet with each step toward Harris House, Faith’s confidence in her plan faltered. Logan would likely be in a rage when he realized her deception, but what did it matter? As long as she eliminated the damn painting, she would be free.
So why did she feel so unsure?
She headed toward the northwest corner of the house, where she had told him in her letter she would meet him. He had countered, stating that he wouldn’t let her sneak around the forests at night, but Faith was never one to do as she was told. She had feigned a headache, asking not to be disturbed, and then left two hours before she told him she would. Admittedly, she felt like a burglar, sneaking around in the dark.
“Psst…”
Faith halted in her tracks. She searched the night for a silhouette, a shadow, anything that might show her who was there, but the darkness was too great.
“Hello?” she whispered, only to be suddenly seized upon.
She nearly shrieked when a hand came over her mouth. A solid, hard body pressed against her, and a familiar, deep voice sounded in her ear.
“How did you get here?”
“I walked, of course.”
“Walked?”
“Yes, all by myself.”
“Impudent little fool,” he said, humor and annoyance mingled in his tone. “I was just leaving to get you.”
“Well, there’s no need to now,” she said, looking around. “Where’s Jaco?”
“Locked away in the kitchens with a slab of beef. I won’t have him distracting us.”
“Oh, the poor dear.”
“‘Poor dear’ nothing. He was gnawing on a bone when I left him, happy as can be.”
“Still, I hate to think of him locked away.”
Logan gave her a sardonic look.
“For someone who doesn’t like big dogs, you’ve become awfully attached to that mutt.”
Faith smirked, amused by Logan’s jealousy. It wasn’t her fault that the pup was so attached to her.
“Shall we, then?” She moved toward the back entrance into the house, but he redirected her with his strong hand. Surely they weren’t going to walk through the front door? “What are you doing?”
“Taking you inside.”
“But what about the servants?”
“They’ve all been given the evening off. And after a grueling argument with my father, he and my sister have gone to Glasgow for several days. We are quite alone.”
“Are we?” Faith asked, surprised at how delighted she felt at that sentiment.
“Aye.”
She was sure that her cheeks were turning several shades of pink. Faith ducked her chin as Logan escorted her across the lawn to the front of the house.
It was sheer madness to consider doing something like this. She would be discarding her chastity for the sake of saving her reputation by ruining the painting. But Faith had concluded that ruining herself with Logan would be the lesser of the two evils. If that painting could see the light of day, she wouldn’t be able to deny her involvement, and no amount of talk could get her out of it.
Besides, Faith had also decided that once she and Belle left for London, she would make a point to explain to her aunt that she had no desire to marry, instead choosing to live her life like Belle. An independent, if sometimes eccentric, spinster. It only made sense. The idea of marriage had never held much promise to Faith, especially since leaving London. After her failed romance with Donovan and her half-hearted attempt at a relationship with Renee’s brother, which had really only been an attempt to overcome her heartbreak after Donovan, Faith didn’t think she would ever be inclined to marry. Not when it was so obvious that she lacked the confidence a woman needed to manage a relationship.
Once they finally crossed the threshold, Faith shifted from one foot to the other lost in her thoughts. She jumped when Logan reached out and touched her shoulder. Whipping around, Faith let out a frantic little huff of breath, and Logan’s charming smirk faltered slightly. He went to remove her cloak, but she clutched it tightly to her throat, causing him to pause.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” she said almost instantly.
“No,” he replied, his hand coming to her cheek. “I doubt there’s anything in this world that could scare you.”
“I’m sure there is something, I’ve only not found out what yet.”
The gentle rumble of laughter that came from Logan sent a shiver down Faith’s spine. His hand touched her back, and she swallowed as he led her up the stairs.
This was it. They would retire to his room, undress, and lay together, and afterward, while he slept, Faith would find the painting, destroy it, and flee. All she had to do was keep her wits about her.
The walk down the hallways was perhaps the fastest and slowest she had ever experienced. Though this entire plot had been her idea, she wasn’t sure how she should feel. Frightened, of course, because she had never done anything like this and wouldn’t be able to take it back once executed. But she had also anticipated what it might be like, particularly with someone like Logan.
Donovan had always been so kind and soft-spoken. He’d always ensured that she was comfortable in his studio and had never once allowed her to pursue her desires for physical intimacy with him because her reputation was too important.
On the other hand, Logan believed that her reputation was already decimated. Would he think that she was experienced? All Faith had ever witnessed of coupling were a handful of farm animals during her time in Cornwall. It had seemed natural enough, and it was why Faith continued to rationalize that virginity wasn’t so important. Animals and people did this sort of thing every day, had been doing it every day for thousands of years. Which was what she kept repeating to herself. It wasn’t important.
But it is necessary , Faith noted as they reached his room. As much as she didn’t want it to be, she knew it would likely be the only time in her life that she would be with someone, and that alone emboldened her. If she would be a spinster for the rest of her life, at least she would know what she was missing out on.
Of course, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t like it. What a blessing that would be.
“Faith?”
Looking up at him, Faith realized that he had asked her something. Shaking her head, she spoke.
“Forgive me. My mind was somewhere else.”
Logan’s gaze became thoughtful, and he tilted his head.
“Where was it?”
“Oh, who knows?” she lied, looking at the bedroom door. Fear was creeping up her spine, and for an instant, she thought of delaying their encounter. She opened her mouth and blurted out the first thing she could think of. “Faodail?”
Logan stared at her, seemingly half surprised and half charmed.
“What?”
“Faodail,” she tried again, changing the pronunciation slightly. “Or fao-dail?”
“You said it correctly the first time,” he said, the corner of his mouth hitching up. “Where did you learn that?”
“I haven’t, actually. I’ve only heard it.”
“I see.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means, ‘lucky find.’ Though it’s sometimes used as an endearment, as well.”
“Oh.” Faith’s mouth quirked, confused. Upon glancing up at Logan, however, she hurriedly shook her head. “Oh no, I’m not disappointed.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “It’s just, I’ve heard it twice now and I don’t know why I keep hearing it.”
“Perhaps the fae are calling out to you.”
Faith gave him a biting glare.
“Do not torment me with fairytales, Logan. I’ve no room for such frivolities in my life.”
“Nor do I,” he said before peering at the door. He looked back at her. “I wanted to caution you. The painting is here.”
“Is it?” she asked breathlessly as he opened the door, and they walked in.
Parisian green walls adorned with gold leaf trim surrounded them. A crown canopy hung over a large bed. The furniture was dark wood and heavily carved. Zodiac symbols had been painted around the room, with the ceiling done to mimic a night sky.
It was oddly fanciful and artistic. The corner of Faith’s mouth quirked. What strange decor for a bedroom.
Looking around, she noticed a large, rectangular shape covered by a white sheet sat leaning in the corner of the room. A wooden chair stood close to it as if someone had sat there, inspecting whatever was hidden beneath the cloth.
Faith’s heart began to thud agonizingly in her chest. It had been at least two years since she had seen it. The last time she had laid eyes on it, she had been in love and so sure of things. She had been very proud of Donovan upon its completion, even though she thought he had painted her far too flatteringly. Still, she turned to face Logan, whose face was carefully blank.
“Is that it?” she asked, and he nodded. “Why is it covered?”
“I’ve not permitted anyone to see it,” he said, moving around her. “That’s why it’s not hung up. And also, why it’s in my bed chambers.”
Faith removed her cloak and placed it gingerly on one of two high-backed chairs before facing the painting once more.
“Why haven’t you allowed anyone to see it?” she asked, unsure.
But Logan didn’t answer. Faith realized that he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d kept it to himself.
“Logan,” she said, causing him to look at her. “Why have you kept it away from everyone?”
A moment passed between them, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Faith felt her heart pinch.
“When I first saw it, I knew it was you almost instantly,” he said, moving slowly across the room toward it. “I was shocked, to say the least, and tried to rationalize that it must just be a coincidence, with a model who merely happened to look like you. I mean, what are the chances that I would come to own such a piece of work?”
“I can’t figure that out either,” Faith said, standing behind the wooden chair. “It seems impossible.”
“It shouldn’t have even happened, honestly,” he said. “I was interested in a pair of paintings by Marchelies. You know him, don’t you? The French artist?”
Faith nodded. “Yes, I’m aware of his work. Weren’t Faustus in the Garden and Faust in his Study recently on display in the Salon?”
Logan smirked at her knowledge.
“Yes. I had every intention of acquiring those exact works, but when I mentioned my intentions for those pieces, your aunt actually instructed me to buy something from Donovan.”
Faith’s head snapped around, her wide eyes on him.
“She did?”
“Yes. Was she aware of Donovan and who he was to you?”
That was a loaded question, but Faith answered it anyway.
“No. No one ever knew what Donovan meant to me.”
A heavy silence settled between them. Faith felt like a fool for admitting such a thing to Logan. But then, he had no way of knowing that Faith’s feelings for Donovan, as strong as they had been, had all been one-sided.
“May I ask you something?” he asked, and Faith nodded.
“Yes, of course.”
“Were you in love with him? Donovan, I mean.”
An outrageously personal question, and yet, what they were about to do was perhaps the most intimate thing two people could do. In light of that, maybe it was silly of her to think that anything would be out of bounds. To her surprise, she shook her head.
“I thought I was.”
“What did it feel like?” he asked, and she turned to face him. He shrugged. “I’m curious.”
“What being in love feels like?” she asked, and he nodded. “I don’t think I ever had a good understanding of it,” she admitted.
She looked back at the sheet-covered painting. Would it look like she remembered?
“Can I see it?” she asked suddenly, annoyed with herself for becoming maudlin.
Logan nodded, pulling away the white fabric, revealing a sight that had haunted Faith for two years. Laid out on a bed of pillows, her waist wrapped in yellow velvet, was Faith. Turned at the waist, she stared seductively over her shoulder at the viewer. Faith bit her lip at the sight of her uncovered breast and felt her cheeks warm.
Of course Logan thought she had slept with Donovan. This was a painting of a siren, a woman who had known a man’s touch, and she was, well…She was not this woman.
“The velvet was actually blue,” she said softly. “But he changed it to yellow, at my request.”
“Yellow is a better contrast for the background. It was a good choice,” Logan said. “You are fond of yellow, aren’t you?”
“I am,” she said, pointing to the peacock feather. “And that was actually a goose feather. He had to paint the peacock from memory.”
“Is that so?” Logan asked, turning his focus away from the painting. She looked at him as well. “You know, I’ve studied this piece for longer than I’d like to admit.”
“Have you?”
He nodded. “I have and while initially, I believed it to be a true masterpiece, I’ve experienced a growing dissatisfaction with it.”
Faith’s brow scrunched.
“Why is that?”
“Well, if I’m honest,” he said, stepping toward her, “I think I find it lacking because the subject isn’t quite right.”
Faith frowned, looking back at the painting and then at him.
“What is lacking?”
The corner of Logan’s mouth pulled up slightly.
“It cannot speak.”
Faith blinked.
“What?”
“It cannot speak, or argue. It has never once even attempted to insult me.” He faced it once more. “It has done your physical likeness justice, that is true, but I’m afraid that it does not capture your soul. It does not—cannot—speak to your virtues, or your vices.”
Faith squinted at him.
“What vices?”
Logan smirked.
“Your inability to be proven wrong, for instance.”
“If I were ever wrong, I might see your point.”
“But you were wrong.”
“About what?”
“About me,” he said. “About why I won’t destroy this painting.”
She turned back to stare at him.
“You mean you don’t like having something which to blackmail me with?”
The air between them turned thick, and Logan watched her with a seriousness that hadn’t been there before.
“I would never use this painting against you,” he said. For a moment, Faith wanted very much to believe him. “I don’t like the idea of it having such power over you.”
“Power over me?” she repeated with a humorless chuckle. “You believe this has power over me?”
“I do,” he said intently as he took another step toward her, practically touching now. “I think this Donovan fellow must have used your feelings for him against you. I think, perhaps, you were far softer before he betrayed you. I hate to think that the hurt he caused you somehow molded you into what you are now.”
Faith’s words caught in her throat. Donovan had hurt her, but not quite in the way Logan believed. She knew he thought the artist had used her and thrown her to the side once he had had his way with her, but the truth was more innocent and somehow more pathetic.
“And what am I now?”
“Frightened.”
“Ha,” she said, the word shaky as she spoke.
For a devastating moment, she wanted to explain everything to Logan—that she’d never given Donovan her body but that she’d thought she’d given him her heart…only to discover later that she hadn’t even known what love was. That she had been too young and too proud to listen to reason. But she was too cowardly to confess all that to him, and her head dropped.
Seeming to mistake her quietness for shame, Logan’s hand came up, curving beneath her jaw as he tilted her face back.
“Let me help you forget him,” he said softly as he leaned forward.
In all honesty, Donovan’s vague memory could barely compare to Logan.
Donovan had been dark haired and pretty, with soft hands and a youthfulness that had played to her young heart. He had been gentle but in a delicate way that had made Faith feel uncomfortably like a porcelain doll. On the other hand, Logan was entirely and unmistakably a man in his prime, and he treated her like a woman—one who had strength and vitality and passions of her own. The hard lines of his face, the strength of his hands, and the rawness of his being both unnerved and delighted Faith in the worst way.
Logan may have challenged her, but his challenges were never condescending as Donovan’s reprimands had been. And best of all, he seemed just as eager to touch her as she did him, as opposed to Donovan, who had eagerly and earnestly run from her advances.
“Can you?” she asked softly, playing into this game that she didn’t understand.
“Will you let me try?”
She nodded absentmindedly as she pressed her cheek into his hand. He exhaled with a satisfied growl before his mouth landed on hers.
The magnetism between them was instant. Faith’s hands instantly went up to his neck, fingers snaking through his hair as she held him to her. His hands were bruising and powerful and everything that Faith had ever imagined.
There was no reason for hesitation. Faith had expected to feel scared at this moment, but she only found herself thinking one thing.
Finally.
Yes, it was outrageous to think, and it certainly didn’t speak to her being a lady, but Faith wasn’t in a drawing room surrounded by society. She was in Logan’s arms, and all she wanted to do, all she was going to do, was exactly what she wanted.
Even if she didn’t know quite what that was.
Clawing at his coat, she continued to kiss him as his hands fell to the front of her dress, working to free the six large, black buttons. He was efficient, untying her overskirt and continuing to kiss her. Soon, she was standing in only her chemise, petticoats, and corset.
Shocked at the speed with which he’d undressed her, Faith ignored the growing panic she felt in her heart.
“Turn around,” he said, lifting his mouth to her ear as he gently twisted her about.
His hands moved up the tight lacings of the back of her corset. If she had any idea what to expect, it certainly wasn’t the gentleness with which Logan seemed to handle her. He didn’t treat her as if she was fragile but rather as if she was precious, and it warmed her heart to be handled so.
With the same speed as before, he loosened the strings of her corset, removing it in a matter of moments. Turning her in his arms, Faith couldn’t help but feel they were moving too fast. She lay her hands on his chest, and he thankfully paused in his actions. To her surprise, a faint color broke over the bridge of his nose.
“Ah, I’m rushing, aren’t I?” he asked, his tone unsure. “I’m sorry. I’ve not done this in a while.”
Faith watched him, amazed that he would confess that. The tenseness displayed in his hazel eyes made her empathetic. It seemed he was nervous too.
Slowly, Faith raised her hand to his cheek.
“Truly?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“Why not?”
His muscular shoulders shrugged, and a cloud came over his face.
“It’s not been particularly important to me recently, I guess.”
“But isn’t it always important to men?”
His gaze caught hers.
“Lumping us all together, are you?” He gave her a teasing smile. “Tsk, tsk. That’s bad form, isn’t it?”
Faith felt embarrassment swelling within her.
“How was I to know that, well…”
“Different men felt different things?” he chided, and she playfully slapped his chest. “My, for such a forward, independent sort of woman, you really are a conformist.”
“I am not,” she argued.
“Then perhaps you’ll let me show you how different men can be?” he asked, dropping a kiss on her nose.
Heat crawled up the back of her neck.
“Yes. But slowly, if you don’t mind?”
“Slowly is just how I like it.”
“Is it?”
He gave her a slight nod, and she pulled him toward her until their lips touched once more. Kissing Logan was the most stunning activity Faith had ever experienced. It was as if all her desires melted together to create a combustible yearning.
Logan’s mouth slowly moved across hers, and Faith melted into him. Her eyes closed as he dragged his mouth across her skin, licking and nipping along her cheek until reaching her ear, where he teased her, eliciting a gasp.
He turned her again, his arm coming across the top of her chest as his other hand moved over her stomach and further down. Faith’s eyes flickered open, and she saw the painting staring back at her with an almost curious gaze.
“Do you know how often I’ve thought about this?” he murmured into her ear, moving his hand to hers.
Gripping her fingers gently with his, he tugged them toward the top of her legs.
She felt both of their hands on her most intimate parts, causing her to flinch.
“Easy,” he whispered, stroking her with his fingertips. “I had a dream just like this—of me using your own hands against you.”
She bucked beneath his caresses as he continued to lay a string of kisses along her neck. His other arm pulled back across her chest, his fingers softly kneading at her breasts. Faith felt like her bones had disappeared, and she fell against him wholly as his grip tightened.
“Sweet Faith,” he said as his hands reached down the side of her thigh, gathering her chemise in his fist, pulling it up over the swell of her backside.
He pressed his hips forward, and though he still was dressed, Faith could feel the substantial weight of his manhood pressed against her. Instinctively, she arched backward, but an uneven chuckle escaped him as he again turned her in his arms.
“Not yet, love,” he said, though his voice was husky.
She nodded, pretending to know his meaning, and allowed him to move her back against the bed. As her head fell back against the pillow, Logan knelt in front of her. Confused, Faith tried to sit up, but his long arm held her beneath the sternum, not letting her up.
“But what…” she asked when his mouth kissed the top of one knee and the other in lieu of answering.
It was strange, but she fell back to support herself on her elbows as his mouth moved slowly along each leg.
“Logan,” she said, growing more worried the higher he went.
“Let me, love,” he asked.
Faith wasn’t sure what he was asking, but then he kissed the inside of her hip bone, his tongue dragging across the hot skin before reaching the center of her.
Faith bucked, trying to sit up as a wave of euphoria and humiliation washed over her.
“Logan, y-you can’t.”
He picked up his head, lust hazy in his gaze.
“I’ve wanted to taste you since the day you pushed me into the loch.”
Faith’s mouth dropped open.
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I have a theory,” he said, returning to his work. “Now let me test it.”
Faith’s brow arched with a question, but the next moment his tongue was… good God, it was inside her, and she was shaking. It was unfair at how easily she obeyed him, but then her body seemed to be grappling with some building feeling that overpowered everything else. It was as though her soul was expanding, and the longer he tasted her, the closer she came to exploding.
“Logan,” she breathed, her hands going to his hair to try and push him away. “I can’t…I can’t…”
But he only continued, holding her hands down to her sides as a torrent of rapture fell over her. Her hips bucked, but he wouldn’t be removed, and Faith was sure she might die.
“Logan!”
He stood before her momentarily, looking down at her with fascinated longing. He tore off his shirt, revealing a surprisingly muscular torso scattered with the white scars of former injuries. His muscles, tightly knotted bulges from his arms down, gave her the idea that he must lead a far more active life than she had previously assumed.
However, Faith’s courage drained when he went to undo his pants. She turned her head hastily to look up at the star-studded ceiling. When he came over to her, he seemed aware of her hesitation.
“Do not fear, love.”
Fear? Was that what she felt? Perhaps, but more than that, she thought she might expire from need, particularly when he brushed against her swollen flesh. Her eyes shut tightly as he pressed into her.
“Here. Give me your hand, Faith.”
She lifted her left hand, and he took it, pressing it against his torso and dragging it down his stomach until she felt the warm pillar of his erection. Startled, she nearly pulled away when she heard him gasp at her touch, but he kept hold of her hand, and for that, she was grateful. She needed to lean into his instruction if he was to believe that she was experienced.
But her tightly shut eyes were probably giving her away.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of, love,” he whispered, though his breath was ragged, matching her own. “Please don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“Faith,” he said, his voice strained. “Look at me.”
Her eyes flickered open, and she gazed up into his intense stare. She would never forget the look in his eyes when he pressed into her. A pained gasp escaped her, and he paused, confusion written over his face.
“Faith?”
She nodded swiftly, needing desperately to be filled by him, regardless of the pain.
“Yes,” she said. “Please, Logan.”
He sank all the way into her, and with a blistering gasp, she absorbed his invasion. He withdrew after a moment, only to push in once more. While the invasion was undoubtedly aching, it was also fiercely satisfying in a way that was unfamiliar and new.
“Faith,” he moaned, making her name sound almost like blasphemy. “How can you be so…”
But thankfully, he didn’t finish his words, instead focusing on his movement.
Faith noted with gratitude that the pain had subsided. His mouth fell to her breast, and the gentle grazing of his teeth caused her to arch. He licked at the tip of her breast, drawing one into his mouth, awakening a new euphoric feeling emerging from beneath the pain, Faith focused on it as Logan continued to move within her, and soon she was lifting her buttocks up, trying to take as much of his as possible.
“Logan,” she whispered, her eyes on his. “I think… It’s happening again.”
“Yes, love,” he whispered, his mouth dropping to her ear. “Come around me.”
She couldn’t say whether or not his soft command triggered it, but Faith’s entire body seized. All too soon, Logan withdrew from her, leaving her yearning and empty. Warm liquid fell like droplets against her stomach before Logan fell bodily on the bed beside her.
Faith watched him as both her and his erratic breathing subsided. He lay on his stomach, his face turned to see her, and for the briefest of moments, Faith wondered how lovely it might be to be in the man’s bed for years to come.
She swallowed then, blinking away the thought as she looked back up to the starry night–painted ceiling. It was a foolish and dangerous thought, because she had no intention of staying in Scotland, let alone this house. Nor would she be welcome here once she did what she’d come to do.
Logan’s hand reached for hers, fingers intertwining in such a supportive, intimate way that Faith nearly pulled away. A sweet, seductive smile crossed his mouth.
“My God, Faith. How are you so perfect?”
Lost for words, Faith shook her head.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m being honest,” he said, reaching for her. She curled her legs up as his arm wrapped around her.
It was early yet, but weighted drowsiness fell over Faith as the warmth from Logan’s body sunk into her bones. She closed her eyes, letting herself fall into a peaceful rest for a moment—just a moment.
But soon darkness engulfed her, and she was fast asleep.