“Ye think this is some sort of game, do ye nae?” he said quietly.
“Youset the rules. Separate lives. No expectations.Youwalked out as if the morning after our wedding was no different from any other day. I simply played by what you told me.”
He caught her arm again. This time, he did not drag her anywhere. His fingers just closed below her elbow and held.
“I told ye why I had to go. The clan needs money and influence. I need to find that.”
“That is not the only reason, and you know it. You left because you do not know how to stay in a room where someone expects you back. That part frightens you.”
His eyes flashed. “Watch what ye say next…wife.”
“Or what?” she taunted in a low voice. “You are going to leave again? The people here like you, but they are afraid. I wanted something different for myself.”
“What?” he asked. “A goat for a best friend?”
Her throat thickened. “Something that ismine,” she said. “You left me with an empty chair and rules.”
His hand slid from her arm to her waist, almost without thought, settling on the small of her back. Her body leaned in before she could stop it, and heat spread out from his palm.
“If ye keep speaking like that,” he murmured, “I might have to find a way to shut ye up.”
He was close enough that she could smell the sea on his clothes. It made her want to press her nose to his shoulder and breathe him in and shove him away at the same time.
“You left,” she said. “You came back because you could not stand the idea that I could manage well enough without you.”
His jaw worked. His gaze dropped to her mouth and then came back up.
“Is that what ye think?”
“It is what it is.”
He moved first.
His lips caught hers hard, clashing more than kissing. A sound tore from her, half protest, half relief. She rose on her tiptoes, fingers still tight around the ball of yarn, and kissed him back, taking in the salt, the travel, and the temper.With his lips still locked in hers, he moved her slowly to the edge of the desk.
19
His mouth left hers, and the room came back into focus. Emma dragged in air, her chest tight and her back pressed against the edge of his desk. Her fingers were knotted in the front of his shirt, and for a breath, she stayed like that, caught between one moment and the next. Then she realized what she was doing.
Her hands were on him.Holdinghim.
She snatched them away as if he had burned her.
Logan did not step back. His gaze stayed on her mouth, dark and intent, as if he had not yet decided whether to kiss her again or to start an argument. When he spoke, his voice was rough, but there was a thread of humour under it.
“Were ye so impatient to become fully mine, lass? Could ye nae wait till we were in bed?”
The words should have felt light.
They did not.
Emma let out a sound that was meant to be a laugh, but it cracked halfway. “Do not flatter yourself. It was not impatience.”
His eyes lifted to hers, and his lips twitched, as if he had caught that crack and approved of it. He moved a half step, not touching her, but close enough that the desk dug into the back of her thighs when she tried to lean away.
The study felt smaller than before. The fire had burned low, and shadows darkened the walls. The locked door behind him might as well have been part of the wall. Heat still ran under her skin from the kiss. Her body felt as if someone had shaken it awake. At the same time, an older feeling pushed up under it, cold and steady, one she knew too well.
“I am not impatient,” she snapped. “And this is not a game.”
