The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4 (33 page)

How appropriate since that is what Logan wanted for tonight. Time alone, with his wife, without talk of her sister or the upcoming confrontation. Without talk of plots, without doubts and fears.

Yet, based upon Arabella’s silence, those thoughts hung heavy in the room. Each was probably thinking the same thing, though neither wanted to admit the words aloud.

“You have been quiet this evening,” Bella observed, lacing her fingers with Logan’s. Her cheek rested on his arm as he kissed the nape of her neck.

“I am enjoying lying here with my two favorite people,” Logan’s mouth skimmed her bare flesh, kissing his wife’s shoulder next.

Who knew kisses could feel so intimate?

Arabella slid her leg over his. “Don’t let Adolphus hear you say that. He will be quite jealous.”

“I said people, not canines,” Logan kissed her back, causing an immediate giggle to escape his wife’s throat.

“Adolphus considers himself a human, or have you failed to notice the way he prowls the halls, protecting his home and family?” Bella leaned against Logan, her honey-colored curls tickling his chest as the amber shapes lingered on the walls. “Adolphus is family.”

His wife was correct, of course.

Their hound was protective of her, of their home. As much as Logan. The canine was family, though Logan failed to see it until now. Just one of the many ordinary, daily occurrences that now seemed novel to him.

He saw life, his life, through a different lens because of Bella. He learned something new every day that his bride was beside him.

Like the fact that he was capable of such an abundance of love that he was certain his life began and ended with his bride and their family. Their baby who was nestled safe within Arabella’s cocoon of protection, their hound, their friends, servants and home. It was as if none of it held much importance until Bella freed his heart, until Logan loved her – completely and unashamedly.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Arabella rolled onto her side until she faced her husband. “Not only have I won over our dog, but our butler, Thornton, is coming around.”

Logan scoffed. “Thornton likes no one.”

“Except me,” Arabella’s tone was animated as she teased. “He brought me tea earlier and the room thawed at least one degree, perhaps two since I last spoke with him.”

“Two degrees? I do not believe it.” Logan arched his brow. He tried unsuccessfully to suppress his grin.

Arabella shrugged. “It is true. As is the fact that my maid no longer narrates those dreadfully depressing tales. Instead, she actually smiles whilst in my presence. Speaking of those stories she recounted during my recovery – were they your idea? Perhaps you were secretly hoping I would jump from your roof to free myself from her monotone voice and boring accounts?”

“Never,” Logan kissed her forehead. “That was all Marigold. I dare say no one’s personality has ever been the complete opposite of the sights and vibrant colors her name evokes than that woman … until your influence, of course. Now she smiles. Soon, she shall be beaming with happiness.”

“Let us not get delusional, Mr. Ambrose.” Resting her cheek on her pillow, Arabella paused before adding, “Besides, we must discuss a much more serious topic.”

Bella studied her husband’s strong, tanned features as she rested her palm against his chest.

His heartbeat had quickened, she noted. But that wasn’t his only reaction. No, her statement had caused Logan’s face to turn ashen.

“We will soon be welcoming a child to Winterthorne. We must prepare our fortress, make it a bit more … child friendly.” Arabella was quick to clarify with a teasing cadence.

Her intent was to keep this evening light, with jovial banter and intimacy. Not wallow in anxiety or dread. It had begun to work, she noted with a surge of happiness as Logan’s pallor lifted.

“Meaning?” Logan’s gaze brightened, silver specks illuminating his dark eyes like twinkling constellations dotting the horizon at midnight.

A sure sign her plan was working.

“Meaning your cache of weapons hidden around Winterthorne must go,” Arabella wrapped her leg around his.

His dark brow furrowed. “Cache? What cache?”

“Feigning innocence doesn’t suit you, my love,” Arabella traced the cleft of his chin with her thumb. “Besides, there are other ways to arm ourselves. Perhaps Fiona can knit a shawl with a musket in it or Eve can concoct a dress that conceals your rifle? Stranger things have occurred, you know.”

“Indeed I do,” her husband smiled. “Thank you. For granting us one night free of—”

“Shush,” Arabella placed her forefinger over his full lips. “Just love me tonight. We can face everything else on the morrow.”

Logan kissed his wife, his tongue brushing against hers, causing her very core to throb. His kisses were sinful, awakening a hunger that never abated.

Threading her hands through Logan’s thick mane, Arabella rolled onto her back. His kisses grew more sensual, heightening her increasing craving for him, for his lips, for his hands.

His mouth skimmed a hot path to her neck, down to her breasts, where he nipped one of her taut buds with his teeth. A sigh hitched in Arabella’s throat, her core radiating an intense heat, an insatiable desire for more.

Her husband proceeded to the other breast, giving it his complete attention as flames of desire lapped within her core, like frothy ocean waves rushing against the rocks. The powerful current that was Logan, drawing her to him, causing her to grasp his hair and pull him to her. “Please, Logan, make love to me.”

He shot her a wry grin before proceeding lower, his hands trailing over her breasts, her ribcage, her hips. Gently, he pressed his lips against her stomach.

His mouth lingered, offering a father’s love to his unborn child. The gesture, so sweet, so intimate, so unequivocally Logan caused her heart to skip a beat, possibly two.

How she loved this man.

Her skin quivered under his hands, under his lips, as his warm breath fanned her abdomen. Then his mouth trailed lower, until Arabella arched her back, her pulse quickening as she bunched the bedding into tight fists.

“Oh, Logan,” Arabella had never experienced the sensations he now stirred within her. The trembling, the yearning, the desperate desire for release. As she reached for her climax, she closed her eyes, bright blasts of colors exploding in a limitless abyss, showering her in a mist of vibrant reds and purples in time with the rain that had begun lashing against the windows once again and the booms of thunder that rattled the windows.

Only after the last spasm rocked her body, did Logan kiss a path over her abdomen, her breasts, then to the nape of her neck.

Breathless, her pulse hammering in her temples, Bella uttered, “I had no idea.”

Logan wrapped the bedding over them, then encircled Bella in his strong embrace. “One of the many firsts we shall continue to share.”

“Are they all so …” Arabella failed to find the words.

Somehow, he knew. “Yes. With you, they are.”

Wrapped in her husband’s warmth and devotion, Bella knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was blessed.

This man was everything she had dreamt of and more. He was half of her. She remembered thinking of her parents growing up, the way they finished each other’s sentences, the way they smiled at one another, how they could communicate with a simple glance …

They completed each other.

Two halves of a whole.

She had once wished for such a love and thought she had found it with Logan. Nevertheless, this was different. Their love had evolved with the passing of time.

Though it had taken them far too long to reunite, it was worth it. The pain, the emptiness … she wouldn’t trade it for the world if it meant that she and Logan would wind up here, now, in this place. With such a strong bond, one that no one could destroy.

She had longed for a love that withstood the test of time. After all these years, Arabella’s dearest wish had been fulfilled.

“I love you,” she whispered as her eyes grew heavy, her heart sated and content.

Logan kissed the nape of her neck. “I love you.”

Now and always.

Nothing would tear them apart.

T
heir party gathered in the main dining hall over breakfast. Victoria’s mural, a depiction of Winterthorne and its tunnels, had taken shape on the far wall.

“This marks Tristan and Arthur’s progress yesterday,” Victoria handed out sheets of paper, with handwritten notes to everyone.

All jaws dropped while Colin and Logan stared at her.

She paused mid-step. “Am I the only one who prepares? Honestly, what would you do without me?”

“Lead a very lonely and clearly disorganized existence,” Tristan offered her a smile. “I get credit for helping.”

She winked at her husband, before returning to her seat. “Yes, you do. As you can see based upon the mural, we need to fully explore the tunnels today. Logan, you should employ your guards to assist since I have a project for Eve and Arabella. Unfortunately, since I must map our terrain, I will be unable to help them.”

Arabella placed her notes on the table. “I am intrigued.”

“Your ball requires some revisions to our initial plan,” Victoria turned from Bella to Logan. “Do you still have the various stages of sewing machines that you and Colin invested in? I am assuming, of course, that you received prototypes just as Colin and Eve did.”

Victoria spoke in a quick staccato, Logan noted, changing the subject as opposed to pausing, which would allow Arabella time to ask what had changed specifically between yesterday and today.

Logan was certain his wife would be furious once she discovered that Victoria would be switching places with her. Hence, Logan had asked Eve to speak with Arabella in the hopes of helping her see reason.

“Yes. I have all the prototypes,” Logan nodded. “My maids use them in the servants’ wing.”

“Good, because we will need your guards to be dressed as footmen, so they can have better access to all that is happening. Eye and ears in the trenches, so to speak.”

“Excellent, that was my consensus as well.” Logan was relieved that the plan was coming to fruition.

Relief.

Who would have thought …?

“What you failed to consider is that your guards are far too brawny to fit in an average footman’s livery. They must have their garments sewn for them—“

“That is where Arabella and I come in,” Eve studied the sheet of paper Victoria had handed her. “Along with your maids, at least as many as can be spared. It is numbered
two
, if anyone else is following the sheets provided.”

Colin laughed, clearly finding his wife’s tone – that resembling a head mistress, schooling her unruly class – amusing.

“I have only sewn by hand but I am happy to learn,” Arabella chimed in. “What about number three? Why the necessity for two crimson cloaks?”

Exchanging glances with Eve, Logan suggested. “Eve can explain once you are both situated.”

Eve grinned. She had agreed with Logan that this upcoming discussion would be best coming from her. She would be able to place Bella at ease.

“Remember number four,” Victoria winked at Eve.

Number four, Logan noted, involved two identical gowns, though that was written in an abbreviation he barely discerned. It was clear that Victoria and Eve had spoken prior to breakfast, as well.

“Explain number five,” Colin pointed to his page.

“Guests will require a place to stay and we do not want them in the main residence,” Tristan answered. “Victoria and I surveyed Winterthorne’s manor house this morning. Though it may not be as large as the main residence, it is large enough to accommodate your guests and appears quite opulent. It simply requires a good cleaning. We require additional servants who can spruce it up, therefore we sent for reinforcements in the form of our servants and yours. Victoria sent word to Fiona, though she has no use for them while she resides at Kellington Manor with the children and her maid.”

“Good,” Logan interjected. “This room must remain locked – we do not want anyone seeing this mural.”

Everyone nodded their agreement as breakfast was served.