her out for a comfort walk. When she got back, the old dog began to snore almost as soon as she settled back in her wicker basket in front of the fire in Angus’s study a few doors away from the kitchen. There was a pet door in one of the back doors off the kitchen, but Flossie was too arthritic these days to get through it.
It was sad to see the old girl’s decline. Layla had only been at Bellbrae a couple of weeks when Angus McLaughlin had brought Flossie home as a playful and needle-toothed puppy. She had often wondered if he had bought the dog to help her settle in. She had asked him once but he’d dismissed the suggestion in his gruff and off-hand way.
Layla had spent many a happy time playing with Flossie, brushing her silky coat and taking her on walks about the estate, which had seemed so huge and terrifying when she had first arrived. But with the company of the ebullient puppy it had suddenly become a home. A home she could not imagine losing. Her happiest memories—the only happy memories she possessed—had been crafted and laid down here at Bellbrae.
Layla was putting the finishing touches to dinner shortly after when Logan strode into the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder and turned back to the pot she was stirring on the cooktop. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’
‘Where’s Elsie?’
Layla put the cooking spoon down on the ceramic spoon rest and turned and faced him, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I gave her the night off. She hasn’t been doing so much cooking now your grandfather’s no longer with us.’ She waited a beat and added, ‘She knew about the change to his will.’
Logan frowned. ‘Thoughtful of him to share it with the household help but not with me.’
Layla pursed her lips. ‘You might think of Aunt Elsie as little more than a humble housekeeper but she has supported your family through every high and low of the last three decades.’ She whipped off her apron and flung it on the benchtop.
‘When your mother left when you and Robbie were little, when your father died, when Robbie went off the rails that first time in his teens. And when your grandmother died when you were away at university. Aunt Elsie has cooked and cleaned and consoled everyone, working long hours and forsaking a normal life of her own. Don’t you dare refer to her as just the help.’ Her chest was heaving like she had just run up one of the Bellbrae turrets. Three turrets. Possibly all twelve of them.
He closed his eyes in a slow blink and sighed. ‘All I seem to do lately around you is open my mouth and change feet.’ He twisted his lips into a rueful grimace. ‘I meant no offence. My only excuse is that I’m still reeling from being so much in the dark about my grandfather’s intentions. I hate surprises at the best of times and this was one hell of a surprise.’
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