Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rose blinked, caught between laughter and lingering tears. “A game?”
“Aye. A serious matter, if I recall.” His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest moment. “There was a wager.”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “I remember no such thing.”
“A terrible liar,” he said, releasing her hand only to gesture toward the chess table. “Come. Before ye try tae escape defeat by weeping over family letters.”
The laugh that left her was soft, startled, and entirely helpless. “Once more, a cruel accusation.”
She sat opposite him at the chess table with as much dignity as she could gather, though dignity became a difficult business when Logan looked at her as if every flicker of her lashes had become part of the game.
His expression was calm, almost mild, but there was a glint in his eyes that warned her he had no intention of playing fairly.
Rose made the first move.
Logan watched her fingers leave the pawn, then leaned back in his chair. “Bold.”
“Are you trying to make me nervous?”
“Is it working?”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “Move.”
He did, with infuriating ease, his large hand shifting a knight before settling back against the edge of the table. “Ye’re frowning, lass.”
“I am thinking.”
Logan looked entirely solemn, which would have been more convincing if not for the faint, wicked softness threatening the corner of his mouth.
“You are attempting to distract me,” she said.
His eyes lowered to the pieces, then lifted back to her face with unbearable calm. “Aye.”
Rose blinked. “You admit it?”
“I see nay use in lying when it is working so well.”
“It is not working.”
“Nay?” His gaze dropped pointedly to her hand.
Rose followed it.
Her fingers were hovering uselessly above the board, suspended between three pieces as though they had forgotten their purpose entirely. Heat rushed into her face. She drew her hand back at once and folded it in her lap. The movement only made the corner of Logan’s mouth curve a little more.
“That proves nothing,” she said.
“It proves ye were considering yer move very deeply.”
“Careful, my laird. You are beginning to sound afraid.”
His laugh came low and quiet, warm enough that the embarrassment in her chest turned into something dangerously sweet. He leaned forward then, bracing one forearm on the table, and the shift brought him close enough that the firelight caught the hazel in his eyes.
“Move, then,” he murmured. “Show me mercy.”
“I do not believe you deserve mercy.”
“Nay,” he agreed, voice softening. “But I enjoy hearing ye consider it.”
Rose bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling and reached for a bishop. She moved it quickly.
Logan’s brow lifted by the smallest degree.
“No,” she said at once, pointing at him. “Do not look at me like that.”
“I said naething.”
“You looked.”
“Am I forbidden from looking now?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, though her pulse had begun to behave terribly again. “If it is meant to unsettle me.”
His gaze moved over her face slowly, pausing at her mouth just long enough to make her breath catch.
“And if it isnae meant tae unsettle ye?” he asked.
Rose’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “Then you are doing it very poorly.”
His smile deepened, slow and devastating, before he reached for his next piece. His fingers closed around the knight, but he did not move it at once. Instead, he turned it idly between his thumb and forefinger, watching her over the top of it.
“Ye’re blushing,” he said.
“I am flushed from the fire.”
“Aye. The fire.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the hearth, then back to her.
Rose pressed her lips together, fighting the laugh that rose in her throat. “You are impossible.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
The game slipped from proper strategy into warfare of another kind after that. When she captured one of his pawns, he leaned back with a soft sound of injury and pressed a hand briefly to his chest.
“Merciless,” he murmured. “I give ye berries, and this is how ye repay me.”
“You offered the game.”
“I didnae offer tae be butchered by an Englishwoman with innocent eyes.”
She looked up sharply, but he was already studying the board again, his mouth hidden behind the curve of his knuckles.
When she made a genuinely clever move, the teasing vanished for a heartbeat. His gaze sharpened, as he looked from the board to her. Rose nearly lost her next turn simply because of the warmth in his expression.
“You are enjoying this far too much,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the board because looking at him had consequences.
“I enjoy watching ye try tae pretend ye dinnae want tae win.”
“I do want to win.”
“Nay.” He leaned forward, the table between them seeming to shrink as his voice dropped into that low, private register that moved over her skin like heat. “Ye want tae win without looking like ye want the prize.”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “The prize was your idea.”
“And yet ye agreed.”
“That was before I knew you intended to behave like a rogue.”
His smile deepened, and he rested his forearms on the table, unhurried, infuriatingly calm. “Rose, I have been behaving beautifully.”
She laughed despite herself, one quick, helpless sound that made his eyes soften. He moved while she was still recovering from it.
Only when she looked back down did she realize what had happened. Her eyes widened.
Logan’s expression shifted at once, that warm amusement fading into alertness. “What?”
Rose looked at the board, then at him, then back again. Slowly, a warmth opened in her chest, half triumph, half disbelief.
“You have lost,” she said.
His gaze dropped sharply to the board. For the first time since they had begun, Logan went still in true surprise.
Rose placed her final piece with careful grace. “Checkmate.”
Silence.
Then Logan exhaled a quiet laugh and dragged one hand over his jaw. “Well.”
Rose folded her hands in her lap. “A serious matter, I believe you called it.”
“So I did.”
“I believe there was also a wager.”
His eyes lifted to hers, dark now, amusement fading into something heavier. “Aye.”
Rose stood before courage could abandon her.
Logan rose as well, slower than she did. The table remained between them for one breath, then he stepped around it. He stopped close enough that her skirts nearly brushed his boots.
“The winner gets a kiss,” she said, and was proud that her voice trembled only a little.
His gaze held hers. “She does.”
Rose lifted onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
It was meant to be light. A sweet, teasing thing to seal the game and nothing more.
But the moment their lips touched, every fragile restraint between them shuddered.
Logan’s breath caught against her mouth. His hands hovered for the barest instant at her waist, and the tenderness of that hesitation undid her. Rose leaned into him, her fingers curling in the front of his tunic.
That was all the permission he needed.
His hands settled around her waist, firm and hot, drawing her closer until the line of his body met hers.
The kiss deepened slowly at first, then with a hunger that made her pulse scatter.
Rose kissed him back with a need that startled her, opening beneath his mouth, letting the world narrow to the rough sound he made low in his throat.
When he broke away, his forehead rested against hers.
“Rose,” he breathed.
Her eyes opened slowly. “Yes.”
For a moment, he looked at her as though those words had struck him somewhere deep enough to bruise. Then he took her hand and led her from the study.
The corridor stretched quiet and dim around them. Rose walked beside him, her fingers threaded through his, every step sending a tremor of anticipation through her body. She knew where they were going before they reached the stairs.
Logan did not rush her and it made the wanting worse.
When they reached her chamber, he opened the door and stepped aside, giving her every chance to refuse. Rose entered first. The basket of berries still waited near the hearth, dark and sweet in the firelight, and the sight of them made her chest ache again.
The door closed softly behind him.
For a heartbeat, they stood apart.
Rose turned.
Logan looked at her with his hands at his sides, his body held rigid, his restraint so fierce it seemed to tremble in the air between them.
This time, she was the one who reached for him.
The moment her hands touched his chest, Logan’s restraint broke. He caught her face between his large, calloused palms, his thumbs tilting her chin up as his mouth descended on hers. It was heavy, possessive.
His tongue entered between her lips, while his hands roamed down her body, mapping the curve of her waist through her gown, pressing her hips flush against his until she could feel the hard length of him straining against his trousers.
Breathing hard, Rose gripped his shoulders and began to guide him backward, toward the heavy frame of the bed.
Logan caught her before she could guide him farther, his breath rough against her neck, his control hanging by a thread. He spun her around in the middle of the room, pinning her back against his chest.
He grabbed her from behind, his large hands coming up to cup her breasts over the tight bodice of her skirt, his fingers squeezing until a helpless gasp broke from her lips.
Logan buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth biting lightly at the sensitive skin beneath her ear before his tongue swirled over the damp mark he left behind.
He kept her moving toward the bed, his lower body locked tight against her back. With every step they took, the thick, hot length of him rubbed hard against her. It had her thighs growing damp and heavy.
There was something dizzying in being wanted like this by a man who always tried so hard to master himself.
They reached the edge of the mattress.
His hands moved frantically to the fastens of her gown.
He stripped the dress away, tearing at the laces until the heavy fabric pooled at their feet, leaving her in nothing but her thin shift.
He pushed the linen down, exposing the bare, smooth line of her spine to the cool air of the chamber and the amber light of the hearth.
His mouth followed the path of the falling fabric. He pressed hard, wet kisses down her shoulder blades, his tongue tracing the dip of her spine while his hands reached around to slide between her thighs, his fingers dampening instantly as he found her slick and swollen for him.
Her breath fractured, but fear never came. That startled her most. She should have felt overpowered, perhaps, but all she felt was the heat of him surrounding her and the wild, secret thrill of knowing he was losing control because of her.
Rose’s knees buckled. The sheer friction of his fingers against her core dragged a loud, broken sob from her throat.
Logan caught her, hoisting her up and pushing her back into the mattress.
He didn't give her a moment to breathe. Standing by the bedside, his eyes dark and completely wild, he stripped out of his tunic and trousers in a few brutal motions, throwing them to the floor.
He climbed over her, his massive frame casting a shadow over her body as he settled between her knees. He gripped her hips, lifting her just enough to position the heavy, blunt head of his length right against her opening.
He didn't give her what she wanted. He began to drag the hot, wet tip slowly up and down, smearing her own moisture in a heavy, deliberate friction.
Rose gasped, her hips jerking upward instinctively to catch him, but Logan held her pinned, anchoring her thighs wide while he continued the torturous, sliding rub.
"Logan—" she choked out, her hands clawing at his corded forearms as the unbearable heat spiraled out of control.
"Not yet, lass," he rasped, his voice a dark, gravelly vibration as he shifted his angle, pressing firmly against her without sliding inside. "Tell me what ye need."
She writhed beneath him, completely unstrung by the teasing friction, her core pulsing against his skin. The sheer ache of him refusing to fill her was a sharp agony.
"Please," she cried into the quiet room, her head thrashing back against the pillows as she surrendered every scrap of her pride. "Please, Logan... I need you inside me."
The words should have embarrassed her. Instead, they freed her. They left her lips rough and broken, and still Logan looked at her as if she had given him something precious rather than shameful.
A low, dark growl tore from his chest at her words.
"Aye, lass," he grunted, and with one heavy, unyielding thrust, he drove deep inside her.
The blunt stretch of him filled her, stealing the air from her lungs. Her eyes closed, her fingers clutching wildly at the sheets as her body pulsed tightly around his thickness.
Logan laid his body down on top of her and buried his face in her neck, his chest heaving against her breasts.
He began to move, his thrusts hard, fast, and deep, the wood of the bed creaking rhythmically beneath the force of his hips. He slid his hands under her hips to tilt her up, taking every inch of himself out before driving back into her core, over and over.
Then, he leaned down, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear, his breath a scorching, ragged pulse against her skin.
"Aye, look at how wet ye are fer me," he rasped, his voice rougher than she had ever heard from him. "Let me feel ye.”
His voice vibrated straight through her chest to her core, making her clench around him.
The friction was blinding, a liquid burn that spiraled tighter and tighter with every deep stroke. Logan's pace grew frantic, his teeth scraping the column of her throat as he grunted in her ear.
"Ye feel so damn good," he panted, his chest heaving heavily against her breasts as he drove into her. "Ye're mine lass. Tell me ye're mine."
"Yours," she sobbed out, her head thrashing back against the mattress. "Logan, yes—yours."
The tension snapped.
Rose cried out his name, her vision darkening as the climax convulsed through her in violent, hard ripples.
Hearing her break, Logan let out a loud groan from the back of his throat.
His control shattered completely; he drove into her three more times, before shuddering violently as his own release broke.
Afterward, they lay tangled beneath the blankets, warm and quiet, his hand moving slowly through her loosened hair. The silence after felt almost more intimate than the act itself. His hand in her hair, his heartbeat beneath her cheek, the slow warmth of his body around hers.
Rose rested her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart begin to steady.
She thought of the letter, the road, and her mother’s arms waiting somewhere beyond the castle.
Then Logan’s lips brushed the crown of her head, and his arm tightened around her as though he had felt the fear stir inside her before she could name it.
“I’ll keep ye safe,” he murmured.
Rose closed her eyes, pressing closer to him. For that moment, she let herself believe him.