There were surprises and there were surprises. Layla could only imagine the surprises Logan had received over the course of his life were not the pleasant type. His mother abandoning him and his brother as small children to go and live with her lover abroad, the sudden death of his father from pancreatic cancer, the terrible shock of his fiancée’s suicide and now his grandfather’s odd conditions on his will. She could hardly blame him for wanting a little more predictability in his life. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I told Aunt Elsie about your proposal.’
Logan’s gaze was steady and watchful. ‘And?’
‘She told me I’d be a fool not to accept.’
‘And have you accepted?’
‘Just to be clear—I don’t want you to lose Bellbrae much more than I want to be your wife. Think of my acceptance as an act of charity, if you will.’
If he was relieved by her answer he gave no sign of it on his features. They might as well have been discussing the weather. ‘I appreciate your honesty. Neither of us want this but we have a common goal in saving Bellbrae.’
Layla kept her chin high, her gaze level, her pride on active duty. ‘She also thinks it won’t be a paper marriage for very long.’
One side of his mouth came up in a vestige of a smile. It took years off his face and made something in her stomach slip sideways. It had been years, seven years at least, since she had seen him give anything close to a smile.
He approached the island bench on the opposite side from where she was standing.
‘Why would she think that?’ His voice had gone down to a rough deep burr.
Her gaze flicked away from his, her cheeks warming like she’d been standing too close to the oven. She gave a little shrug. ‘Who knows? Perhaps she thinks you’ll be overcome with uncontrollable lust and won’t be able to resist me.’
There was a loaded silence. A silence with an undercurrent of unusual energy vibrating through every particle of air. Energy that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck and along her arms tingle at the roots.
Layla sneaked a glance at him and found him looking at her with a contemplative frown.
After a moment, he appeared to give himself a mental shake and then raked his splayed fingers through his hair, dropping his hand back by his side. ‘I would hope you know me well enough to be reassured I am a man of my word. If I say our marriage will not be consummated, then you can count on it that it won’t be.’
Why? Because she was so undesirable? So repugnant to him as she had been to her first and only boyfriend when she was sixteen? So unlike the gorgeous supermodel types Logan had occasional casual flings with?
‘Right now, I don’t know whether I should be reassured or insulted.’ The words slipped out before her wounded ego could check in with her brain.
Logan’s gaze dipped to her mouth, lingering there a fraction longer than was necessary. His eyes came back to mesh with hers and her heart gave an odd little thumpity-thump. She had to summon every bit of willpower she possessed and then some not to glance at his mouth. She wondered if he kissed hard or soft or somewhere in between. Her mind suddenly filled with images of them making love, her limbs entangled with his, her senses singing from his touch, his mouth clamped to hers in passion. A passion she could only imagine because she had never experienced it herself.
‘It would only complicate things if we were to have a normal relationship.’ His voice had a rough edge as if something was clogging his throat. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to you.’
Layla turned and went back to the pot simmering on the cooktop behind her. Her body was simmering too. Smouldering with new sensations and longings she had no idea how to control. Had his ‘proposal’ unlocked something in her? Made her aware of herself in a way she hadn’t been before? Aware of her needs, the needs she had ignored and denied, always telling herself no one would ever want to marry her.
She took the lid off the pot, picked up the spoon and gave the casserole a couple of stirs. ‘Will you continue to have casual lovers during our marriage?’
‘No. That’s something else that wouldn’t be fair to you. And I would hope you would refrain from any dalliances yourself.’
Layla put the spoon down again and placed the lid back on the pot with a clang. ‘You don’t have to worry on that score. I haven’t had a casual lover my entire adult life.’
Why did you tell him that?
There was another pulsing silence.
Logan came to her side of the island bench and stood next to her near the cooktop. Her body went on high alert, every nerve and cell aware of his closeness. Not touching, but close enough to do so if either of them moved half a step.
‘But you’ve had lovers, right?’
Layla turned her head to glance at him, hoping he would put her flaming cheeks down to her proximity to the simmering pot in front of her. ‘Not as many as you might think.’ No way was she going to announce she was a twenty-six-year-old virgin. She moved from the cooktop to gather the serving utensils. ‘I haven’t opened any wine for dinner. Do you want to grab a bottle? We’ll be eating in the small green dining room since it’s just the two of us.’
‘I’ll bring something up from the cellar.’
Just the two of us.
How cosy and intimate that sounded, but it wasn’t true. He would never have asked her to marry him if it hadn’t been for the strange conditions on his grandfather’s will. She had to remember that at all costs. This was a business deal. Nothing personal. Nothing lasting.
Nothing.
Logan spent longer than he needed to choosing a wine from the well-stocked Bellbrae cellar. He remembered the bottle of vintage champagne he’d selected when he’d got engaged to Susannah. How excited he’d felt, how ready he’d felt for the commitment he’d made. How he had imagined himself to be in love and Susannah in love with him. He had been Layla’s age—twenty-six. Susannah had been two years younger with a host of issues he had been completely oblivious to until it was too late.
Losing his father after a devastatingly brief battle with cancer had compelled him to settle down as soon as he could. With hindsight, he could see now how many signs he’d missed about the suitability of Susannah, even his own readiness for such a permanent commitment. He’d had no way of knowing how that night of celebrating his engagement would end less than a year later in Susannah’s death. How could he have been so ignorant of the demons she’d battled on a daily basis?
What did that say about him?
It said he wasn’t relationship material, that’s what it said. Or at least, not that sort of relationship. Promising to love someone no matter what, making a long-term commitment were things he could no longer do. Would never do.
But a paper marriage to save his beloved home was something he could do and do it willingly.
Logan selected a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge in the cellar next to the racks of vintage wine. His upcoming marriage to Layla might not be a real one in every sense of the word but it was surely worth celebrating their joint commitment to save Bellbrae.
Layla wheeled the serving trolley into the green dining room rather than risk carrying plates and dishes. Because of the muscle grafts performed to keep her leg functioning as best as it could, it was often weaker and more painful