His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2) (41 page)

"I'll go with you."

Katy decided against arguing with him. The staircase was narrow, bare of a runner, and so frequently used during the house's long history that each step sloped gently toward the middle. Passing Katy's room, Logan saw an ancient tester bed littered with script pages. The cream-colored walls were freshly painted, but the room was sparsely furnished and the hardwood floor would have been better served with a rug to hide its deep scratches.

In contrast, Victoria's room was bright and cheerful. The wallpaper was patterned with tiny periwinkle blue flowers and the woodwork was painted white. There were several braided area rugs and the polished floor was littered with a variety of toys, most of them too big for a five-month-old infant. Katy's friends at the theatre again, Logan thought. Liam had told him that Katy and her daughter had been adopted by the other actors. Logan picked up one of the toys, a sturdy puppet hand-carved from balsa wood. The puppet had painted yellow hair and wore a red and white gingham dress, a pinafore, and oversized red patent leather shoes.

"This looks a little like you did at twelve," he told Katy.

Katy covered Victoria with a light blanket and turned to see what Logan was talking about. In spite of herself, she smiled. "Yes, I thought it did, too. The red shoes..." Her smile faltered. Colonel Allen had given her the shoes for keeping the secret. "I was very proud of my red shoes then," she said with a trace of sadness.

Logan set the puppet down. "Katy..."

Her eyes shone with false brightness. "Let's go back downstairs. Victoria needs to—" Just as she reached the doorway, he stopped her, touching her elbow with infinite tenderness. She raised her face to him, a question in her large, exotically slanted eyes.

"Is Victoria my daughter, Katy?"

She had often imagined Logan asking that very question. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she would wake up, damp with perspiration because he had posed that question to her. In the waking part of her mind, Katy truly believed she would never see Logan again, yet in her dreams she heard his voice as clearly as she heard it now. "Please, Logan, can we go down—"

"Is she my daughter?"

"Yes." She tore herself away from his light touch and hurried downstairs.

Logan stood over Victoria's sleeping basket for several minutes. A bubble of saliva formed at the corner of her tiny pink mouth. He watched it break on her next breath, making her lips soft and dewy. She was a miracle to him.

He found Katy in the kitchen, sitting at the small square table, holding a cup of coffee as if to warm her hands. She was staring beyond the screen door and into the garden. He pulled out a chair and sat down, taking care not to block her view.

"How long have you suspected?" she asked dully.

"Not as long as you might think. A week only."

Logan told her everything: how he had looked at her patient file in Scott's office, how he had learned more about Victor's illness than she had told him, and how finally he had turned everything at the paper over to others so he could leave New York and come to truth firsthand. "Even when I first understood you were pregnant it did not occur to me that your child might be mine. I assumed it was Victor's." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the tabletop. "Did Victor know?"

"Yes."

Logan sighed heavily. "Is that why there was nothing in his will for you? Is that why you left New York? Katy, you could have come to me. I would have—"

Katy set down her coffee cup so hard the table shook. "Victor was not so small-minded as you seem to think," she said angrily. "He was a kind, decent man. Generous to a fault. He knew about the baby, and he was willing to accept it as his own. He loved me that much. My husband provided for me and my child."

Logan glanced pointedly around the kitchen. "You have made a decent home for yourself here, but it's obvious that you haven't money to spare."

"Are you calling me a liar, Logan? Victor willed half of his estate to me—and I refused it. Refused, Logan. Turned it down. I left New York with the things Victor gave me during his life. I did not want anything from him beyond that. As for coming to you—why would I want to do that? I have managed quite well without any help from you. My home may not be as grand as yours, but it is more than adequate for my needs. More importantly, Victoria has everything she could want here. If Mr. O'Shea had been doing his job properly, he would have told you that."

"He did," Logan said. "There was never any doubt that you were managing on your own. More than managing, really. You started another career for yourself, surrounded yourself with a family of friends, and made certain that Victoria wanted for nothing. If it were not for Victoria—I don't know—perhaps... perhaps I would have never come."

It was a brutally honest confession and nothing Katy had not already suspected. What shocked her was that hearing it hurt so badly.

"I am perfectly aware that you're here because of Victoria."

"I made a promise to you that I wouldn't interfere—and I meant to keep it. You obviously wanted nothing more to do with me. You kept your pregnancy a secret even..."—Logan held Katy's gaze—"...even when you stayed with me after Victor's funeral."

Memories washed over Katy and brought a transparent flush of color to her cheeks. It should have been my child, he had said while he thought she slept. Then there would be no question of giving you up. Katy stared at her hands. "I do not want to talk about that night."

He shook his head. "You could have told me then, and you didn't. You could have told me any time after, and you didn't. What were you afraid I might do, Katy?"

"The same thing I am afraid of now," she said, facing him squarely. "That when you leave here today, you'll try to take Victoria with you. I couldn't let you do that, Logan. I won't let you take my baby."

Her brown eyes glittered with splinters of gold and he could feel the strength of her conviction. She would be as fierce as a lioness protecting her cub, he thought. No, she wouldn't let him take Victoria. "I want my child, Katy," he said softly. "I also want her mother."

The air between them was still, thick with silence. "I'm not going to be your mistress," she said finally.

"I am asking you to be my wife."

"Your wife? You would marry me to get Victoria?"

"No, I would marry you to get you. I would fight you in court to get Victoria."

"Is that what you will do if I say no?"

"I am hoping I will not have to make that decision." Reaching across the scarred kitchen table, Logan pushed aside Katy's cup and saucer. He took her hand in his. "Will you marry me, Katy?"

She slipped her hand out of his. Her chair scraped the floor, making a grating sound as she pushed away from the table. Katy stood and walked to the other side of the kitchen and leaned back against the china cupboard, hugging herself. She was unaware of how wary she appeared to Logan, how her eyes regarded him like a cornered fawn's. "Do I have to give you an answer right now?"

His chest felt very tight. Patience was not a virtue to which he aspired. "No," he said. "Not right now."

"How long do I have?"

"I will tell you when the time comes."

"But—"

"I will tell you," he repeated. "Until then, perhaps you'd better show me where I can put my things. I noticed there are only the two bedrooms upstairs. I suppose I can sleep on that settee in the parlor. It might be a trifle short, but I think I can manage. You might want to think about giving Mrs. Castle more time off. I am more than willing to take up her responsibilities while you are working."

As if it were the most important consideration, Katy heard herself say, "Mrs. Castle needs this position. I cannot ask her to take time off."

Logan waved her concern aside. "I will pay her salary. But I'd rather not have her underfoot while I am getting to know my daughter."

"That won't be a problem," Katy said sweetly, "because you will not be staying here."

"Yes, I will be."

"Oh no. This is my home, and I can have you thrown out on your backside if I want."

Logan stood up. His mouth flattened momentarily, and his eyes were the cool color of nickel, revealing little. "You can," he said. "But I hope you will think twice before doing it." His glance was meaningful now. "I have said I would give you time. Give me some time as well."

She heard the implied threat. If she made him leave, she could expect to see him in court right away. What chance did she have there? An actress against a powerful newspaper publisher. "All right," she said ungraciously. "You can stay."

"And Mrs. Castle?"

"She will not be back until tomorrow afternoon when I have to go to the theatre. If you still want her to leave, I will talk to her—provided you will truly pay her wage."

"I will."

"You are not doing this so you can take Victoria away, are you?"

Logan swore softly under his breath. He crossed the kitchen in three long strides, slipped his arm around the small of Katy's back, and slanted a hard, hungry kiss across her mouth. He broke the kiss as suddenly as he began it. Katy's lips were parted, moist. Her eyes were wide and startled. "I told you what I wanted, Katy," he said. "Now, where should I put my bags?"

Somehow she managed to show him without tripping over her feet or her tongue. There was a wardrobe in Victoria's room he could use, and she pointed out the linen closet for pillows, sheets, blankets, and towels. After he brought in his valises from where he had left them on the front stoop, Katy shut herself in her room and worked on her lines, letting Logan unpack.

Victoria began to cry an hour later, and Katy quelled her first instinct to go immediately to her daughter's bedside. Let Logan cope with his daughter, she thought. He would soon realize that a baby made incredible demands on time and personal freedom. He might not be so anxious to let Mrs. Castle go. He might even change his mind about wanting Victoria altogether.

She was not surprised when he knocked on her bedroom door. She went to the doorway rather than let Logan in her room. "Yes?" she asked, her voice dripping with honey. Victoria was squalling loudly, but Logan looked completely unperturbed by the noise. The baby had on a fresh diaper and a clean cotton gown.

"She's hungry" he said. His eyes dropped briefly to Katy's breasts.

"I have started to wean her," she said to be contrary. "I give her a bottle for the noon feeding. Everything you need is in the kitchen." She started to shut the door. "Call me if you need help." She thought she heard him muttering something like, "over my dead body" as he walked away, but she was not sure. She went back to her reading, and the deep ache in her breasts eventually passed.

The next time there was a knock at her door it was Logan announcing lunch. Surprised, Katy interrupted her work with the intention of joining him downstairs. Instead there was a tray outside her room and Logan and Victoria had already retreated to the parlor. Standing at the top of the stairs, her ears straining, Katy could hear Logan talking to his daughter in a language only a baby could appreciate or hope to understand. Bemused, Katy picked up the tray and slowly returned to her room.

Dinner did not come on a tray. Katy was escorted to the dining room and served up the delicious stew that had been tantalizing her sense of smell for hours. "You did not have to go to this trouble, Logan. I would have cooked. I meant to actually, I just got lost in what I was doing and forgot the time."

"I saw the script on your bed. I know you're busy. That's why I didn't bother you." He passed her the breadbasket after taking a slice himself. "Is it a new play?"

"Hmmm. Seven Deadly Sins. Do you know it?"

"No, but it sounds lurid enough to enjoy a long run. What part do you have?"

"I am one of the sins." She paused buttering her bread and smiled a smile that was at once cool, reserved, and haughty. "Pride."

He noted her expression. "I see you've been practicing."

She nodded. "Donna Mae came to help me with Victoria and my lines. Rehearsals start in earnest tomorrow." Katy speared a carrot with her fork. "I am supposing my daughter's asleep again."

"Our daughter," Logan corrected. "Yes, she's sleeping." He hesitated, dipping one corner of his bread in his stew. "I could help you with your lines."

"You don't have—"

"I know I don't. I want to. Unless you don't think it would do any good. I could only read things. I have no pretensions of being an actor."

"All right," she said quietly. "I would like that. Perhaps after Victoria is down for the night."

"When is that?"

"Usually just after ten."

"Ten? So late?"

"It has to be or she will not sleep past six. After a late night at the theatre, I appreciate sleeping in a little in the morning."

"You work too hard," he said bluntly. "O'Shea says you've taken one role after another with only a short break after Victoria's birth. You should not have to—"

"Very dangerous ground you're traveling," she warned him. "I was enjoying this meal, too."

Katy watched Logan mentally swallow whatever he had been about to say. Relieved, she smiled, thanked him, and changed the subject. "Where did you learn to cook like this? You may not aspire to acting, but you have some talent in the kitchen."