Inwardly frowning, he couldn’t help but wonder if keeping her with him-and so knowing she was safe, thus relieving his anxiety on that score-was the best arrangement for her-or only the best arrangement for him.
He was still inwardly frowning when, dinner concluded, he rose with the other two men and followed their ladies to the drawing room.
They all retired relatively early. Their plans for the morrow called for a departure before dawn, at least for the three men and Linnet. Penny and Phoebe would be up and about, too, to fuss over their husbands, then wave them all on their way.
Linnet stood by the window in her bedchamber, consciously seizing the moments before Logan joined her to take stock-to fix in her mind just where he and she stood before they embarked on a journey that would be, she suspected, akin to running a gauntlet. They would run, and the cult would attack; from all she’d heard of the men’s assumptions, that was how they expected the next days to unfold.
No time, not the right time, to make any decisions about him and her, yet she didn’t want to fetch up at journey’s end with no clear idea of where they were, what questions still loomed, what next she needed to do.
He’d declared he wanted to marry her, that that was his adamant intent. Her initial reaction had been that she could never be the sort of wife he needed, yet after spending time with Penny and Phoebe and watching Charles and Deverell, seeing and sensing how such marriages worked, she’d jettisoned that stance. She could, if he wished and she wished, be a suitable wife for him.
Assuming she could meet his ultimate expectations, his specific requirements; that was an issue they hadn’t discussed, but would have no time to address now.
Staring out at the night, she pulled a face. Indecision wasn’t a state she appreciated, but she couldn’t decide if she could fill a position without knowing what the specifications were, before she understood what said position entailed, yet any such discussion would have to wait until his mission was concluded.
Aside from that caveat, as far as she could see there was only one hurdle remaining, and while it was a major one, on multiple levels, addressing it before deciding to accept his suit was pointless.
The one thing she could no longer do was refuse to seriously entertain his suit. Not after today, not now that she knew-to her bones and her soul finally appreciated-all he would offer her.
Quite aside from the virgin queen no longer having to remain an all but virgin into her old age.
Children. She had never considered having children with any other man. Still couldn’t imagine it. Only with Logan. With Logan… she could, and if she married him, God willing would, fill that aching, empty hollow that resided below her heart.
She heard his footsteps outside the door, swiftly reviewed her thoughts. Inwardly nodded. As far as she was able, she knew where she stood.
Reaching up, she drew the curtains across the window. Turning, she waited while he came in, saw her, closed the door, then crossed the room to her. She’d left a candle burning on the dressing table; in the soft light, she saw he was… not exactly frowning, yet the expression was there in his eyes. “What is it?”
He looked surprised that she’d asked, then allowed his frown to materialize. “I was just thinking…” Halting before her, he grimaced, then slipped both hands into his breeches’ pockets and looked down. “I was thinking perhaps you would be safer going with the other ladies.”
She blinked. She might well be safer going with Penny and Phoebe-but what about him? “No.” Lips setting in what she’d been told often enough was a mulish line, she caught his gaze as he looked up, and shook her head. Decisively. “Absolutely not. I’m going with you.”
His lips thinned. “But-”
“No.” Turning, she stalked toward the bed. “No, no, no.” Swinging around, she pinned him with her gaze. “
He studied her for a long moment, then his brows rose. Drawing his hands from his pockets, he walked slowly toward her.
Halting before her, he looked into her face.
His eyes were still troubled.
“You’re absolutely certain that’s what you want-to face whatever risks we might have to run?”
She searched his eyes, hearing inside the resonance between his mission and their lives-their putative future that yet lay unresolved.
Was her answer the same?
She didn’t know, but she knew her right answer here and now.
“Yes. I’m absolutely sure.”
Slowly, he nodded. “All right.”
His expression didn’t ease.
In a flash of insight, she understood his problem. “Stop worrying.” Reaching up, she wound her arms about his neck, stepped closer. “This is my decision, and you’ll be there, by my side all the way, in case I need rescuing.”
Stretching up against him, feeling his arms instinctively rise and close about her, she looked at his lips, let her own curve, then, looking up through her lashes, met his eyes. “Just remind yourself of how grateful I might have to be if you do indeed rescue me.”
He sighed, gave in. Bent his head. Whispered across her lips in the instant before his brushed them, “As long as you’re safe.”
“I will be,” she whispered back. “You’ll be there.”
She kissed him on the words, and he let her, let her for once lead the way. Let her please herself by pleasing him, then he gently took the reins and returned the pleasure.
In full measure.
Reiterated, not in words but in deeds, in devotion, with passion and desire fueled by hunger and need, the truth of all he’d told her, that she was the woman he wanted, the one above all he coveted, that she was, to him, all.
All he wanted, all he would ever need.
Much later, when she lay sated and boneless beneath him, her fingers idly riffling his black hair, she saw deep inside a truth she had until then overlooked.
He was everything she had ever wanted, and all she would ever need.
Thirteen
They encountered the first ambush five miles from Paignton Hall. Thick fog blanketed the coast. The carriage’s sudden appearance out of the murk surprised eight sleepy cultists camped beyond the ditch; they scrambled to form up across the road, a human barrier waving short swords.
The coachman, David, whom Linnet concluded Deverell and Charles had chosen for his reckless enthusiasm, whipped up his horses and drove straight for them. Yelling, screeching, the cultists scattered, leaping and tumbling back into the muddy ditch.
Linnet saw open mouths and stunned faces as the carriage rocketed past.
“Well, that was uneventful.” Charles resheathed his sword, settled back into his corner, and closed his eyes.
