Page 15 of Finding Faith (Seduced in Scotland #2)

A deep, almost paralyzing slumber had fallen over Logan after laying with Faith. It had been years since he had slept so soundly, and when he finally woke, he was resistant to open his eyes. He must have reached over to cover them in a blanket at some time during the night, for Faith’s naked body was pressed against his beneath a length of warm wool.

Faith’s golden-brown curls were spread out along the red counterpane. Logan could smell the heather in her hair as he inhaled. She turned, rolling onto her back as she slept. A small crease between her dark brows told him she was having some sort of difficult dream. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, then her jaw, and pulled back to see the crease disappear.

God, she was perfection. Their coupling had felt so easy and natural, as if they had been made strictly for one another and no one else. He wanted to kiss her awake and retake her, but remembering that he had fallen asleep before cleaning them up last time, he guiltily pushed the blanket off himself and got up.

Dipping a towel length into a ceramic bowl holding water near his shaving table, he wrung it out and returned it to the bed. Lifting the covers, he felt a moment’s remorse at the idea of having to disturb her sleep. She had rolled onto her back and stretched her legs straight, enticing him, when Logan noticed something.

Like strokes from a paintbrush, dark rust stains covered parts of her legs. Frowning, he bent closer. Had she been bleeding? It certainly seemed so, though she wasn’t any longer. Perhaps her monthlies had started , he thought as he brought the cloth to her thighs. She shivered slightly at the coldness of the fabric, but as he cleaned away the marks, another more unsettling idea came to mind.

Had Faith lied about being Donovan’s lover?

No. She hadn’t. She couldn’t have. It would be preposterous to lie about something so important. Why would she even agree to start an affair with him if she was still innocent? It wouldn’t be because she was in love with him, that was for sure. The animosity between them had been palpable from the start.

But why wouldn’t this nagging feeling let him go?

He cleaned the washcloth and then returned to the bed, where he resumed washing Faith’s legs. The coolness from the cloth caused her to stir, and she rolled from side to side, seemingly trying to fend off waking up. Pulling her legs up to curl beneath her body, her eyes blinked. The tiny crease between her brows appeared once again as her eyes adjusted, and then, in a swift moment of panic, she sat up, her face strained with worry.

“Oh God, what time is it?” she asked, staring at Logan as he sat in the wooden chair. Her eyes dipped to the cloth in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning. I passed out before I could do so earlier.”

A deep blush covered Faith’s cheeks as she avoided eye contact.

“You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable—”

“It’s no worry. I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Logan let out a frustrated puff of air as he stood up. She was a conundrum, but he had started to believe that they could be at least civil to one another. Watching her wrap her arms around her bent knees, he saw a range of emotions displayed on her face, and he wondered what he had done to upset her. Had he been too rough? He didn’t think so. Bumbling maybe, but he hadn’t done this in a while. She either, he supposed, for the pain that crossed her face had been…

The pain. It had been painful, yet he hadn’t stopped, too consumed with his desire, he supposed.

The realization of it all dawned on him as he stared at her. She avoided his gaze as she huddled herself into a ball.

“Faith,” he said as gently as possible, even as a ball of exasperation mounted within him. She refused to look at him. “Darling, look at me.”

A pause, and then.

“I don’t think can,” she said so softly that his heart nearly broke.

He was apprehensive about reaching for her, worried that any physicality might frighten her, but he did long to comfort her, even if a part of him was furious. But he couldn’t react with fury. She was obviously worried, and he rarely saw his Faith shaken. Why had she lied to him?

Tentatively, Logan’s hand reached out, stroking her exposed ankle. She flinched slightly but did not pull away.

“Love,” he began, thumbing the base of her ankle. “Tell me. Tell me that wasn’t your first time.”

Her eyes lifted at that moment, locking with his, and he felt his heart swell and break all at once.

“Would it be so terrible if it was?” she asked meekly.

Logan’s eyes closed as he groaned. He let go of her ankle and rubbed his face with his hands, desperate to try and understand her actions. He couldn’t quite accept the idea that she had been so taken with him that she thought to ruin herself this way, so why would she have done it?

“Why, Faith? How could you have done this?”

“Me?” she said instantly, pulling her legs beneath her to kneel on his bed. “You’re the one who approached me, lest you forget.”

“Yes, and you said—”

“I didn’t say anything. You assumed I slept with Donovan.”

“And you didn’t correct me,” he said, his tone agitated. When she didn’t reply, he continued. “What the devil were you thinking?”

“What does it matter?” she snapped, holding the blankets to her neck, covering her naked body. “It happened. There’s no changing it.”

“Yes, but it didn’t happen the proper way,” he said, leaning over the bed. “You should have told me.”

“Why? Then you would have backed out of our affair,” she said, her tone peevish. “And I wanted it.”

Pride shot through his chest at her words, but he tried to push it away. He was glad she had wanted him so, but it didn’t change that he had now taken her innocence. And he intended to do right by her. But she spoke first.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? We both got what we wanted,” she said, her tone brittle as her green eyes fell to the canvas behind him. “And now I can go to London with an education that other spinsters lack. At least I’ll know what I’m giving up.”

Faith began to move off the bed as her words sank in. London? Spinster? What the devil was she going on about?

Turning on her as she gathered her clothing, he moved behind her.

“What are you talking about? Why would you go to London?”

Faith straightened up after grabbing her petticoat, standing at her full height before him.

“I’m going to London with Aunt Belle in a few weeks. We will be staying in her townhouse, the one where I lived with my sisters before coming to Scotland.”

“For how long?”

“Indefinitely,” Faith said as she picked up her overskirt hanging on a wingback chair before the fireplace.

Logan’s temper began to rise.

“What the blasted hell do you mean ‘indefinitely’?”

“Just that,” she quipped as she began to dress.

“Then what was all this about?”

“It was… It was what it was,” she said unevenly. “I don’t see a reason to name it. There’s no need to, as I’ve no intention of staying in Scotland.”

Her eyes shifted to the bed, and Logan’s anger began to bubble dangerously high.

“Like hell you aren’t staying here,” he said viciously through gritted teeth. “You can’t leave. Not after what we just did.”

“Why?” she asked coolly, though her voice seemed frail. “It was a simple affair and they never last, do they?”

“It wasn’t an affair. I took your innocence,” he said, reaching for her as she buttoned up her dress.

“Oh Lord, do not call it that,” she said shakily, but her eyes would not meet his. “I only wanted… I don’t know what I wanted anymore. Except to go home and think, I suppose.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, coming up behind her. “Not until we settle this.”

She turned, her body mere inches away from his.

“It’s already settled. I will go home, and you will never mention this to anyone. Nor will I and perhaps we will see one another in twenty years and have a good laugh—”

That was it. His hands gripped her upper arms and shook her slightly.

“I don’t know what’s come over you, but that is not the way any of this is going to go.” Faith opened her mouth to speak but apparently thought better of it and shut her mouth tightly. “Now, I want you to sit there,” he said, nodding to the wingback chair. “And just relax. I’m going to draw you a bath—”

“Oh, you really shouldn’t—”

“And you’re going to take as long as you like, do you understand? In the meantime, I’ll figure out how to break this to everyone.”

Faith’s eyes snapped to him.

“Are you mad? We’re not telling anyone that you bedded me.”

“Well, of course not,” he said as she visibly relaxed. “But still, we need to come up with an explanation of some sort—otherwise, there will be too much confusion when we announce our intent to marry.”

The expression on Faith’s face was almost comical if it weren’t for the fact that she was already shaking her head.

“No. No. Absolutely not, no,” she said, trying to break free of his arms even as he held her still. “Let go.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, yielding to her wish. “You couldn’t possibly think that I wouldn’t offer for you after all this.”

“All what?” she asked frantically. “You assumed I had slept with Donovan. Would you be offering if that had been true?”

“Well, no—”

“So, there is no reason for you to do so now.”

“I disagree.”

“Then we are at an impasse,” she said, finally managing to pull away. She got back to work finishing with her dressing. “I will leave, right now, and if you’d like, we will never say another word to one another ever again. I think that seems a fair trade.”

Logan’s brow scrunched incredulously as she sat in the wingback chair and reached for one of her shoes.

“Are you suggesting that our coupling can be payment for silence?”

She stood up from tying one of her boots.

“When you say it like that, it does sound rather… Anyway… Um, yes?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re being unfair.”

“And you’re being ridiculous.”

“Look, Logan,” she said after finishing her task. “Obviously this isn’t what either of us expected and while I appreciate the…chivalrous offer, I must decline.”

“I’m not being chivalrous, Faith,” he growled, reaching for her again. He held her against him and inhaled. “I want you.”

The words fell from his lips almost in a whisper, and Faith’s shaky disposition seemed to settle. She looked into his eyes, and Logan’s breath hitched. She really was breathtaking.

“You do?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“But… why?”

The tone of her question nearly broke Logan’s heart. Didn’t she realize who she was? Yes, she was feisty, prickly, and argumentative, but that was just a fraction of her. She was brilliant and beautiful, caring and kind, fiery and formidable. Why, there wasn’t anyone in the world that he should like better to marry. And while he’d never intended to marry anyone, the circumstance being what it was, it was the only thing to do.

“What a thing to ask,” he said as he bent to press his mouth to hers. “I want you, Faith. Because you are witty and wicked. Because you are argumentative and strong. Because when I think of any part of you, whether it be your eyes or hands or heart, I can’t seem to function.” He paused, fearing that he had exposed too much. He swallowed. “I just… I want all of you.”

He kissed her, and her eyes closed as she turned pliable in his arms. He was already planning what to do with her after her bath when she pulled back slightly and spoke.

“But marriage…”

“I’m not some villain, Faith, despite what you’ve thought of me.”

“I never…” she started but bit her lip, unwilling to finish her thought.

“Now granted, I hadn’t considered marriage as situation I would ever find myself in.”

“You needn’t still—”

“But as I’m not some bastard who uses people, I must propose it.” He found her hands and squeezed them. “I’m not a blackguard, Faith, and I can’t have taken this from you without doing my duty.”

“Your duty?” she repeated, almost as if she were offended. “As what? A solider?”

“As a man.”

“You needn’t feel obligated.”

“I don’t feel obligated,” he pressed, getting annoyed. “I mean, yes, I suppose I do in some ways, but did you not just hear all that I said? I want you, Faith. I want you and I want to continue having you.”

Her throat worked up and down, and Logan’s mind wandered back to the bed. God, how he wanted her. But she was probably too tender to try again tonight. His hands moved up her wrists, gently rubbing her arms. There were so many other ways he might bring her to ecstasy if only she’d let him demonstrate.

“And if I told you that you could have me as much as you liked without marriage, what would you say?”

Logan paused in his actions, drawing back to stare at her. He wasn’t sure why she was being so difficult. All he’d offered was marriage, and she was acting like he was trying to take her right arm. He might be offended if he weren’t so damn wild about her, but then a small, forgotten part of his past seemed to call out to him.

Don’t beg her to stay.

He had unwittingly fallen into the same situation his father had been in. Pursuing a woman who wanted nothing to do with him or Scotland. But this felt different. Faith wanted him; he knew it. He could feel it in how she reacted to him. But then why was she being so difficult?

Slowly and painstakingly, Logan let her go and took a step back. He would not beg her to stay.

“I would say that is generous. But no.”

A flash of shame and fury flickered in Faith’s eyes.

“Very well,” she said as she gathered her things. “Then I suppose this is goodbye.”

“I should escort you—”

“No,” she said, seemingly unable to meet his eyes. “No.”

Without another word, without even a nod, Faith gave one last, piteous look at the painting that sat behind him and left. Logan let her go, bitter about long-ago injuries from his past. He wouldn’t beg her to stay, not like his father had begged his mother.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring at the doorway through which she disappeared, but he was sure it was a long time.

At some point, he got dressed and began his usual haunting of the painting gallery. The longer he walked, the more annoyed he became with the situation. Why had she kept the truth from him? And why was she so determined to leave for London? He couldn’t imagine that her sisters were pleased with her plans. As different as the three of them were, Logan knew they shared a deep love for one another, and he doubted they were happy with Faith’s desire to go to London.

And why London? He supposed she probably had some friends there, but hadn’t she fled that city when she and her sisters had become the subject of some scandal? She might be ostracized upon her return, and what friends she thought she had might refuse to see her. And then what would she do? Go about a solitary life, shunned by polite society? She would grow old all alone, miles away from everyone who loved her.

It was contemptible, and what’s more, it made no blasted sense.

The idea of Faith leaving forever made him unreasonably livid, and by the time the servants returned to their duties around noon, he had all but decided to go to Lismore Hall and force her to marry him.

But, of course, that would be impossible. He had always sworn never to want a woman who didn’t want him, and now he found himself in that exact predicament. But this situation was different from his father’s—or at least that’s what he told himself as he readied his horse to venture over to Lismore.

Faith wanted him, he knew it. She felt what he felt. He dared not say what it was, but it was, at the very least worth investigating.

Taking the main road instead of the path around Loch Fyne, Logan began reciting what he would say to her in his head. She would argue, he was sure, but it didn’t matter. He would simply present the situation to her in a way that would—

BANG!

Logan dropped his head instinctively as a shot rang out around him, a flock of blackbirds scattering from the trees. His horse neighed at the loud sound, breaking into a gallop when Logan reined up, turning back.

A hunter, no doubt, who had drifted too far south. But as he searched the dark woods that lined the northern edge of the road, Logan felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

BANG!

A bullet whizzed past his ear, and his horse started once more. This was no accidental misfire. Someone was shooting at him on purpose.

Turning quickly, Logan kicked his horse. They took off just as another loud bang sounded behind them. The horse’s hooves must have kicked up some rocks, for Logan felt a spatter of weight against his leg as another shot let loose.

Heart racing as he rode at a breakneck speed, Logan’s mind went completely blank, his entire focus trained on a single resolution: Get away. He might have gone after the culprit if he had been able to spot him, but the thicket had been impenetrable, and he had no doubt that whoever was trying to kill him had been nestled in the thick bramble.

Who would want to kill him? His mind reeled with possibilities, but he was sure he had never wronged anyone so much that it would inspire someone to commit murder.

He raced away as fast as he could, soon realizing that the shooter must not be on horseback, because no one followed in pursuit. But that didn’t stop him. He rode fast and hard to Lismore Hall, arriving just as Graham exited the house.

His friend gave him a questioning expression as he came down the steps. A footman appeared, taking Logan’s reins.

“Logan,” Graham said, concerned. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone’s shot at me.”

Graham’s gait stalled.

“Excuse me?”

Logan came off his horse swiftly, fixing his jacket as he did.

“I was shot at. Three times on my way here. On purpose.”

“Are you sure?” Graham asked. “It could have been a lost hunter, or a—”

“No. It was intentional. I swear it.”

“Come in and tell me more,” Graham said, twisting around. “I was just on my way to Glencoe, but it can wait.”

“I don’t wish to disrupt your day,” Logan said. “Besides, the magistrate needs to be informed there’s a mad man loose. I would appreciate it if you saw to it that the proper authorities be informed.”

Graham nodded.

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Now to attend to what I had planned to do today.”

“What is that?”

“I’ve come for an audience with Faith.”

Graham, who had been walking side by side with Logan, paused as he entered the house. Graham didn’t follow him in, Logan was sure he heard a “Good God, why?” come from him.

The foyer of Lismore Hall was open and ancient. The dark paneled walls and flagstone floors harkened to an older time, unlike Harris House. Faith was undoubtedly in her room, but Logan wasn’t so forward as to knock down her bedroom door, so he went directly to Lady Belle’s study. The old woman was there, of course, sat at her desk with her faithful Andrews standing guard behind her.

She looked up and blinked, evidently flabbergasted to see him.

“Goodness, Mr. Harris, you’re here so much I wonder if you’ve moved in,” she said, sitting back. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?”

“I demand a word with your niece.”

“Ah, very good. Which one?” He gave her a tight-lipped stare as she bloody well knew which one. Lady Belle nodded, seeming to intuit that he wasn’t in the mood for games. “Oh yes. That one. I’m sorry to inform you that Faith is not feeling well. From what I’m told, she had breakfast in her room this morning and barely ate.”

“I want to see her. Now.”

The tips of Belle’s silver brows notched up at his command.

“My, you seem rather hostile this morning. I hope you are not unwell?”

“One tends to be hostile when one is shot it.”

“Shot at?” she repeated, genuine concern on her face. “By whom?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here. Now will you summon her or do I have to march up those stairs and bang on every door until I find her?”

“Goodness, Mr. Harris, it was not I who shot at you, so I would please ask that you remember your manners.” She turned to her manservant. “Andrews, go fetch my niece. Tell her Mr. Harris is here and he’s in a frightful mood.”

Andrews nodded and left, leaving Belle and Logan alone. A question that had been nagging at him since the previous night burned within him, and he needed to ask her before Faith arrived.

“Lady Belle, something has been bothering me for some time and I wish you would truthfully answer a question for me.”

The old woman’s expression shuttered.

“Of course,” she said evenly, in a tone that made him think she would say anything but the truth. “Ask away, my boy.”

“The painting that you suggested I buy from Donovan. Odalisque Reclined. You were aware that that artist was a friend of your niece’s, were you not?”

Belle did her very best to appear surprised.

“Was he?” she asked, her tone too high to suggest honesty. “Why, what are the chances.”

Logan nodded, not believing a word she said.

“So, you didn’t know that Faith had painting lessons with him before she and her sisters moved to Scotland?”

“I knew she had circle of friends in the art world in London, but I could hardly tell you their names,” Belle said, her chin rising.

“I see.”

Believing that to be the end of it, Logan turned to wait for Faith. But after a pregnant pause, Belle spoke once more.

“I don’t think you do,” Belle said. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t think you do see. Because if any of those friends were to write to me, saying, oh something along the line of how they had a painting that would ruin my darling Faith, unless a certain amount of money was offered to compensate them, I would be most upset, you understand.”

Logan watched the old woman with fascination as she stood up and walked around her desk.

“Is that what happened?”

“Of course not,” she said, smiling too brightly. “But if it had, I might have had to do something about it, you understand.”

Logan considered her confession. That anyone would try and blackmail Faith made his stomach turn; evidently, Lady Belle had felt similarly. She had played the game to save her niece from humiliation, and Logan couldn’t fault her for that. But why she had chosen him to be her instrument in safeguarding the painting baffled him.

“But why me?” he asked after a moment.

“You love art, do you not, Mr. Harris?”

“Yes, but Faith and I—”

“You and Faith remind me of another couple that never got their chance to try for something lasting and real.” Belle’s stare turned wistful.

Logan nearly asked her who she was referring to when Faith’s footsteps sounded behind him.

“What the devil do you… I mean, Mr. Harris,” Faith said upon seeing her aunt. Coming fully into the room, he turned to see her. She wore a simple, blue-floral-pattern gown and a stare they could freeze fire. “Hello.”

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Belle said, moving toward the door.

“Ah, Aunt Belle, you really needn’t leave,” Faith said, turning to follow her.

“Yes, she does,” Logan said firmly.

Faith whipped her head around to face Logan as her aunt closed the door behind her.

“What do you—”

She stopped abruptly; her eyes focused on the ground. He waited for her to finish her sentence, but she didn’t. Instead, she bent forward slightly, completely distracted. Confused, Logan looked down as well and saw nothing. Except… Was that a puddle beneath his foot?

She came over to him at once. She touched his leg forcefully and painfully, startling him. “What happened to your leg?”

“Damn it.” He cursed under his breath as she stood up. “It must have been that second shot.”

“Shot?” she repeated, her tone anxious. “What shot?”

“It seems someone is trying to kill me.”