“Pretending to be all innocent and self-righteous when you’re nothing more than a—”
Fury like Faith had never known sprung up within her. How dare this man speak anything to her? Particularly things thatshe had only privately considered herself. He had no grounds to judge her.
“Say it,” she bit out through clenched teeth. “I dare you.”
But something seemed to stop him. He only gave her a single shake as if he couldn’t bring himself to do any more.
“Arrogant bastard,” she hissed after a long moment.
“Conceited harpy.”
How wrong she had been when it came to this man. This awful, plotting man. But as her breathing became difficult, his hand approached the side of her face. She pulled back only slightly before mirroring his advance. Her hands came up to his face, and in an instant of madness, she kissed him.
A burst of color, sound, and taste enveloped her senses as Logan stood, stunned into stone. For a moment, she thought he might not kiss her back, but then suddenly, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her—and after that, she was lost. Whatever possessed her at that moment to do such a brazen thing as to kiss him, she did not know, only that it felt as if it were imperative, necessary even. There was an overwhelming need to dominate and demonstrate her autonomy, as though to say her body was her own and no painting or prose created in her image could take any part of her away.
But Logan’s mouth possessed her in such a devastating way. Never had she experienced such a torrent of fevered excitement, as if every inch of her had been made to experience every inch of him. It was as if kissing him had unlocked some secret compartment within her, and she was desperate to explore it.
But before her thoughts could even form, Logan’s strong arms loosened, and he held her shoulders, pulling away the warmth of his body.
“Wait, wait,” he said in a rough whisper, his eyes meeting hers.
They stared at one another, shocked for a moment, before Faith stepped back. Her hands covered her face as if the intensity of his stare burned her.
“Oh God,” she said to herself. “What is wrong with me?”
“Faith—”
“No. Do not speak. Please, just go,” she begged, moving around him. “Please.”
Thankfully, he didn’t speak, and when the door opened and closed behind her, she rushed to lock it. Turning, she pressed her back against the carved wood and slid to the ground, shame filling every part of her being.
What on earth was she going to do now?
Chapter Seven
It had beenthree days since Faith and her sister had left Harris House, and Logan was still reeling from what had happened between him and Faith as he walked the northern path along Loch Fyne with Jaco. Both Sharpe sisters had thanked him the morning after his kiss with Faith. He had tried to make eye contact with Faith as she said her goodbye, but she had refused to even look at him.
Though he couldn’t speak to her in front of everyone, he had hoped to reassure her. A comforting nod or an understanding glance would have sufficed. Some hint to let her know that while she may not be pleased that her painting was in his custody, it was at least safe from being seen by anyone else. But she would not meet his eye, so he was unable to make any signal.
He wished he could have discussed what had transpired between them. All good sense had vanished from his mind the moment she had called him a coward. If there was one thing he could not abide, it was being called a coward. He hadn’t meant to handle her as he did, and he certainly hadn’t meant to insinuate that she was any less in his eyes for having posed for the painting. But he feared that she believed he would say something unkind when all he had wanted to tell her was how infuriatingly perfect she was.
It galled him, even now, to realize how close he had come to admitting that, and while a part of him couldn’t help but seethe with jealous fervor toward Donovan, a man who had beenpermitted to see Faith in all her natural splendor, another part of him was in awe of her reckless bravery.
He only wished she knew that the painting was safe within his possession.
Indeed, Logan had found that he had become rather ogre-like when it came toOdalisque Reclined. He had little wish to share it with anyone and even covered it with a sheet when he left his room, hoping to keep the servants’ curious eyes off it lest they recognize Faith. Thankfully, no one had said anything, and he meant to keep it that way.
Why he should feel so defensive of her, however, he did not know. She had all but molted back into her banshee-like self when he confessed to owning the painting. But the moment he held her in his arms, he had lost all logic.
There was something shockingly perfect in the way she fit into his arms.
He hadn’t even meant to hold her. He’d only wanted to move her aside so he could leave, but when they’d touched, something had seemed to zap between them. Something dangerous and exquisite. Something he had never experienced before. He had caressed her cheek out of sheer need, and she had done the same to him. Then his mind had turned hazy as the desire to touch her consumed him and he had kissed her.
He let out a shaky breath. He needed to get a better handle on himself.
Bending to the ground, Logan picked up a dead pine stick and tossed it ahead. Instantly, Jaco ran away ahead to retrieve it, only to be distracted by some trailing scent as Logan pondered his reaction to Faith. Their kiss had been electric, and though he knew it was ridiculous, he wanted very much to do it again.
Of course, that was something he desperately needed to not think about, for it stirred too many uncomfortable emotions. Bedding women had never been an issue for Logan, butnothing ever ventured past a physical sort of arrangement, and there couldn’t be anything like that with Faith. And yet, while the chances of Logan and Faith having an affair were nearly nonexistent, he couldn’t help but imagine it. Their brief kiss had consumed his every thought and every moment he wasn’t distracted by conversation, he was thinking about it.
