Page 14 of Finding Faith (Seduced in Scotland #2)

T he warm, slightly ticklish brush of a man’s leg against hers caused Faith’s eyes to open instantly, and though she did not move, her heart began to beat erratically. She knew exactly where she was and what had happened, but she didn’t know what time it was. She had fallen asleep, blast it.

Her eyes shifted up, to see the windows. Darkness. Thankfully, there was still time to go through with her plan.

As slowly as she could, Faith began to shift and slide her body away from Logan, freeing herself from his arm, which was still held her around the waist. All she could do was pray that he slept deeply.

Please let that be the case.

Faith slipped lower, and then rolled gently and painstaking slowly out of his reach. His sudden deep inhale caused her to freeze, but then his breathing evened out and he was once again sound asleep.

Finally at the edge of the bed, Faith stood up, naked. A shiver coursed down her spine as she walked toward the cloak that had been draped across the back of the high-backed chair that sat before the fireplace. The flames had died down and only the glowing embers lent any light to the room. Slipping her hand into the cloak’s pocket, the tip of the letter opener stabbed the palm of her hand, causing her to stifle a yelp.

She glanced back at Logan’s prone form, which lay undisturbed. Turning back, she carefully picked up the cloak and fished out the letter opener. Once grasped firmly in her hand, she faced the painting and took a step toward it.

This was it. All she had to do was stab it—once, twice, a dozen times, it did not matter. As long as the canvas was punctured, it would be ruined and she would be free. But the longer she stared at it, the more uncertain she became.

It really was a beautifully executed piece. If only Donovan had changed her hair color, or drawn her eyes closer or father apart, or even made her nose smaller, it would have been enough to disguise her identity and she wouldn’t have to destroy it.

But destroy it she must, she reminded herself as she took a deep breath.

Faith turned her head a fraction, gazing at Logan as he slept soundly with his face half buried in a pillow. A small part of her heart pinched. He seemed, for once, completely at rest. The constant shadow that haunted his waking eyes wasn’t visible in this dim light, and the peace he found in sleep smoothed out the lines of his brow. She wanted to touch his forehead. She wanted to place her lips in between his eyebrows, so that she might remember, many years from now, what it was like to kiss a man she lov—

Oh. No .

Faith squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. That was not what she’d meant to think.

Refocusing on the painting, Faith lifted the silver letter opener in front of her. She had to do this. If she didn’t, there would always be something out in the world that could control her.

But a voice in the back of her mind argued with her logic. Logan would never try to use it against her. And it seemed he only appreciated it as a splendid work of art, which it was.

A slight tremor stole over her clutched fingers. She covered them with her other hand as she took another step toward the painting. The tip of the blade scratched against the raised paint of a brushstroke, just at the subject’s mouth. She could do it. She had to do it.

But a moment passed. And then another. And soon a whole minute had gone by and Faith’s arm dropped to her side.

As much as she wanted to destroy it, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Whether it was because she couldn’t go through with betraying Logan, or whether it was because of her genuine love and adoration for art, Faith couldn’t bring herself to stab it. Which meant that she would absolutely have to go to London now, because she wouldn’t be able to bear living so close to this painting. It was too dangerous. Heaven forbid someone within her circle should come to Logan’s house and see it, even by accident—they would recognize her, and it would cause a scandal.

At least when it had been in Paris under Donovan’s protection there had been a small comfort believing that no one would ever be able to buy it. But Donovan had sold it, along with the last bit of her belief that he cared enough about her to keep it close to him.

Quietly, she replaced the letter opener in her cloak pocket and returned to bed. She would have to leave Scotland for good, and the thought felt suddenly painful. She didn’t want to leave her family, or friends, or even Jaco, but it was too much of a liability to stay.

Shaking slightly, Faith tucked herself beneath the covers. Unconsciously aware of her presence next to him, Logan rolled, scooping her into his arms as he pulled her against his chest, leaving her to lie awake in his arms and wonder when and how and why she had ever fallen for Sir Logan Harris.