“Come.” From years of this same occurrence—the arrival of his butler--he knew his deep voice easily penetrated the thick oak.
Without further ado, Connors bustled in.
“What is it?” Logan turned away for his chance at escaping to make his way back to the desk.
“Mr. Hughes has come calling.”
Logan smiled. “Why does that fox even bother allowing you to announce his arrival? He might as well live here.”
As he spoke, his friend made his way into the room, a smile emblazoned on his familiar face.
“I delight in being announced.” Harold Hughes, known to his bosom fellows as Harry, plunked down in the chair opposite Logan, and continued to smile.
Logan turned, dismissing Connors with a nod. “Harry, not that I don’t enjoy your company, but why have you come to visit me at this hour?”
He wanted to get on with his ride.
“Well, I am more than curious about whether you’ve been back to the encampment.”
That question, unexpected and strangely unwelcomed, brought Logan’s brows together in a stormy line.
“Not as of yet, not that it would do any good if I did,” Logan answered, frustration in his tone.
Four months earlier, the land steward, Fletcher Rhodes, discovered the head count of his flocks in the southern pasture was off and decreasing steadily. He didn’t think anything of it because a few sheep here or there wandering off was expected. After two weeks of continually dwindling numbers, Fletcher shared his suspicions that someone was taking them. Soon after that, rumors about a Romany camp in the area sent them scrambling to find more information.
When questioning the Rom squatters didn’t work, Logan and Rhodes set traps for the thief, but despite their well-laid plans, the thief made away with twelve more sheep.
Certainly, Caspire Manor and his other estates had more than enough wealth and other assets to cover the loss, but he feared if the bandit continued to get away without consequence,he would turn to more lucrative pursuits, like robbing the house blind while they slept.
The late-night capers in the southern pasture were just another reason Logan wanted to ride. Maybe, just maybe, he could catch the filthy rogue red-handed. The thought brought a dark smile to his lips.
He growled and ran his fingers through his once perfectly styled, slightly over long, dark blond hair.
“Good news, eh?” Harry teased, smirking.
Logan grunted, leaning back in his chair.
“Absolutely not. It seems no matter what we do, the sheep continue to disappear.” He let his head fall to the side, and the weight of the universe settled on his shoulders.
Harry’s smile diminished as he furrowed his brow, adopting an expression of concern. “Still having trouble sleeping, eh?”
Logan straightened in his chair, his fingers flicking a button on his vest. “Yes.”
Not trouble, exactly; he would get to sleep without issue. It was the dreaming that brought trouble. When he closed his eyes, entrancing visions of a jade gaze teased his mind, and he would pray to never wake again. Those prayers, however, went unanswered, night after night. The morning always came, and he’d find his covers in disarray, his body covered in a sheen of thick sweat, and his cock as hard as Irish granite.
His frustration simmering, he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Is your question the only reason for your visit?”
“Yes,” Harry answered with a grin. “Besides, I had to have some excuse to call. My mother is driving me mad, and my sister is following a close second. They never cease in their idle prattle about soirees and bachelors and marriage.” Casting Logan a miserable glance, Harry stood and strode to Logan’s side, leaning a hip against the edge of the desk. “So, may I take refuge beneath the rafters of this blessedly quiet place?”
Laughing, Logan slapped his friend on the back. “You know you are welcome here whenever you have need of it.”
Harry smiled, and stood, bowing elegantly. “You, sir, are most gracious to extend sanctuary to a much-abused man.”
His theatrics brought a smile to Logan’s face, and the dark anxiousness in his heart lessened, if only for a second.
“Well, now that I have been granted a well-earned reprieve from my delightful ninnies, I will leave you to your ledgers and liquor and make my way to the larder. Perhaps Chef has left a few of his lemon tarts lying about.” Harry raised his hand in salute and left.
When his friend had gone, Logan made his way through the back door and into the stables where the stableman made quick work of saddling his horse, Gehenna.
