Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following story
Author's note: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. I added 1 or 2 new characters to this chapter in hopes of broadening the storyline.
‘…’ Indicates thought
Chapter 8:
Intrusion
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She stared into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts, trying to discern the regrets, but in that moment he grinned, laughing at her attempts. She yanked at her hand, but it was an exercise in futility, for he held it fast.
“Release me,” she breathed.
He smiled. “I only wish to make certain you are unhurt.”
“Then maybe you should not have thrown me in prison with a pair of degenerate rapists.”
Something snapped in his eyes again. “Surely you’ve been worse places.”
His hand was easing up her arm toward her shoulder.
“Let go of me.”
“Does that hurt?” He squeezed her upper arm gently. She scowled.
“You are making a horrible mistake.”
He skimmed his hand over her shoulder. “All is well here?”
“You do not know who you are dealing with, Howlett.”
Turning his head slightly, he brushed his knuckles along her collarbone. “I believe you said your name was…Linnet Mulrooney.”
“Musgrave ,” she corrected, but his knuckles were inching downward, sapping her strength. They skimmed as low as her bodice, not detouring an inch as they slipped over her nipple.
“Nothing amiss here.”
She stilled a shiver. “Let me go, and I’ll not seek retribution.”
He smiled. Something knotted in her gut. “Tell me lass, who would do the retributing?” he asked and laying his hand flat, pressed it gently down her ribs.
“Retributing is not a proper word.”
His smile remained. “How would you seek revenge, wee Megs?”
“I have friends.”
“Any not wanted for murder and rape?
“You are not one to speak of rape.”
His eyes darkened, but finally he nodded. “You are right, I am surely not above a little rape. Still, I should have known better than to send a fragile thing into a den of…” he paused. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “…miscreants.”
“Miscreant is a pitiably weak word for the beasts I endured. His hand skimmed over her hip and onto her thigh.
“He who wastes not, wants not. I’m saving my best words.”
He was tugging at her skirts, lifting them up her legs, baring her shins, her knees. She stared at his progress, then raised an imperious brow. “If you hope to frighten me, Howlett, you will be sorely disappointed, for I fear I’ve endured far worse than you.”
“I’m flattered,” he said, and, wrapping his hands around her ankle, eased them up her leg. “But nay, sweet Megs, I do not wish to frighten you.”
She held her breath as his fingers squeezed up her knee.
“Any pain there?”
“What is your intent?” Ororo asked.
He smiled. “You may be a murderous thief Megs, but you are a bonny murderous thief, and I currently without a mistress.”
She felt her body go momentarily numb, and though she ordered herself to remain still, to withstand his ministrations, she could not. Instead, she jerked her knees up to her chest, slapping her skirts down bellow her feet as she did so.
“I’ll never lie with you!” she hissed.
He watched her in silence. “To me or with me?” Logan asked.
She glared and he laughed.
It may not be so hideous,” he assured her. “You may even enjoy it.” He reached for her, but she scrunched against the head of the massive bed.
“This I can promise you.” She raised her chin. I shall never enjoy it. Not with you, Logan.”
‘She had called him by his first name…this was proof enough that he was actually getting to her. He was wearing down that tough exterior. Her words still stung though, he would not let his pride be battered by a mere woman who was nothing but a…thief for Christ’s sake!”
“Not like you did with Creed,” he retorted.
She stared, her mind churning madly in her head.
A muscle ticked near his mouth. “Tell me what magic Creed possesses then. Perhaps I can learn from his expertise, and please you against all odds.”
She sat frozen in place. His eyes smoldered in anger, but when he lowered his gaze to her breasts, there was a new light ablaze in their depths.
“Tell me, Meg’s, do you cherish him so very much? Or do you give him all because of fear?”
“Let me go.” Her voice sounded deceptively calm.
“So that you can return to him? He shook his head. “I think I’ll keep you here, and maybe, if he cares half so much for you as you for him…” Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her throat. “Maybe he will come for you.”
“Howlett.” Her voiced wavered now. “Do not be a fool.” He kissed her again, in the hollow of her throat. She swallowed hard. Did a man’s touch always elicit such feeling? “Save yourself.”
“From Creed?” Logan asked.
“From me.”
He straightened slightly. They were inches apart, his gaze absolutely steady on hers. Her limbs felt weak.
“There are many things I should save myself from,” he breathed, and skimmed a finger along the edge of her collarbone, “but I don’t think I care to save myself from you.” He said and bent to kiss her neck.
Ororo jerked away and skittered off the bed. “Then you are a fool.”
He descended the mattress and stalked after her, like a beast hunting its prey. His strides were smooth. He resembled nothing more than a, wolverine, sleek, confident, and undeterred.
“Tell me Meg’s, are you worried of what Creed would say If he found you had shared my bed?”
She was nearing the door, perhaps if she could make it through, Remy would be there and…but in that moment Logan leapt, she shrieked and darted, but he caught her by the arm and spun her about. They were chest to chest, thigh to thigh. She could feel the tight expanse of her body against his, and there in the middle of his being, the hard evidence of his desire was impossible to mistake.
Fear choked her. She pushed on his chest. “No.” The word was weak, pathetic, her strength the same.
“You must pay your debts,” he said. “Here or in the dungeon. Surely one night in my bed would be preferable to a lifetime in Pikeshead.”
“You are making a mistake.”
My nether region disagrees,” he said, and, kissed the high flesh of her breast.
She gasped. He smiled. The door flew open.
“My Lord!” came an unfamiliar voice.
Her gaze darted across the room. A stranger stood there. He was immaculately dressed in a dark waistcoat and tight pantaloons. Logan did not turn, did not loosen his grip, but he spoke, nonetheless.
“Sir McCoy,” he said, but his tone was weary.
“My Lord,” he said again, his tone was tight with disapproval, “tell me ‘tis not so.”
Ororo felt his grip loosen the slightest degree. He turned with a scowl. “I thought you were in Paris.”
“I have returned, and just in the nick of time it seems.”
“That‘d be your opinion.”
Hank corrected, tight lipped. “If it can not be said correctly then it should not be said at all.”
“What do you want, Hank?”
“You cannot keep this…” his gaze skimmed her - “woman…” She had felt a host of emotions emanating toward her through the years, jealousy, avarice, hope. But never had she felt such utter disdain. “…in your chambers.”
“Aye,” Logan disagreed, but he had released her entirely now. “I disagree.”
“Then pray, my lord, what is my purpose here?”
“I’ve wondered that myself.”
“How would it look if word of this becomes loosened?”
She could almost feel Logan sigh. “How will what look?”
“The mighty Lord of Scotland with…” he indicated her with the sweep of his hand. “Her!” he couldn’t have sounded more disapproving of his master. “Really my lord!”
Logan rubbed his eyes, but perhaps there was a hint of humor quirking his lips now. “So you’ve heard of her, Hank?”
“Yes, Lieutenant Summers informed me of her presence.”
“Did he say he put her in Pikeshead?” There was something in his tone that she could not quite decipher.
“My Lord…” the man’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “You should not have gone there yourself.”
“To Pikeshead.”
“You must think about your reputation, your safety.”
He smiled. “Aye, I’ll have to do that.”
“You think I jest.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t.”
“Your father…”
“Was a true gentleman,” Logan finished.
“And not one to take in…” he paused as if he did not want to offend her, but his expression did that for him. “If one has…” he paused again, searching for the perfect words. “If one has needs then one should keep himself to himself.”
Logan’s smile widened. “I’m sure you are not saying what I think you are saying.”
“This is not a matter taken lightly.”
“I’ve rarely taken sex lightly.”
“If you hope to shock me, you will be sorely disappointed, my lord.”
Logan laughed out loud. “And if you hope to discourage me from bedding who I will, then you‘re barking up the wrong tree.”
“She is not the proper sort.”
“I’ve always liked the improper sort, Hank”
“So you have no wish for an heir my Lord?”
Logan scowled. “I hardly think bedding the girl will make a difference on that front.”
“You think a proper heiress would want you after you soiled yourself on her?”
“I think a proper heiress would want my money regardless.”
“So jaded my lord.” He sniffed sadly. “It pains me to hear it.”
“Damn, have you come here for a reason?” he growled.
“What of disease?”
“What?”
“Look at her. The wastrel of the streets. Might you believe that she keeps herself pure?”
Logan glanced at her, Ororo stared back. “I hope not.”
“It’s not a laughing matter, my lord. She might be comely enough to look at if you’ve a weakness for that sort…but is she worth the loss of an heir?”
Logan opened his mouth but Hank carried on.
“Tis said it falls off.”
“What?”
Sir McCoy’s face was beyond red now. “Your…” he cleared his throat. “Your most private parts.”
“They can fall off?”
“I have heard it said. Surely you do not wish for that?”
“No.” Logan shook his head slowly. “No I don’t.”
“Then think long and hard, my lord, of how much you have achieved and can achieve if you keep your head.
Perhaps there was something of a pun there for Logan smiled ruefully. “Aye, I’d like to keep my head.”
“Then send her back to the dungeon. It’s surely where she belongs. Forget this foolishness with Lord Creed. It can only cause you grief.”
Remy stepped in the doorway. “Hank,” he said, “you’re back from old Paree.”
Sir McCoy turned slowly. “Aye,” he bowed, a look of total disdain on his face.
“The monsieur there are a lively lot.”
The other man’s lips pursed. “Was it your idea to bring the chit here?”
“The chit?” asked Remy, then nodded. “You mean Magical megs here? No, it wasn’t my idea. The petite swooned all pretty at Logan’s feet. He thought of it by himself. You can hardly blame the man fro taking her to his bed.” He paused looking hank up and down. “Or maybe you can.”
The room fell silent.
“She should be returned to Pikeshead.”
“Pikeshead? The lady would be too clever to stay there long. Besides, the place is crawling wit’ murderers and sodomizers. Surely you wouldn’t wish dat on your worst enemy.” Remy’s gaze sharpened. “Maybe your best frien’.”
“You go too far!” Hank’s voice shook.
“Leave the peitite alone, she’s done you no harm.”
“If she harms my lord, then she harms…”
“What do you think she’s is likely to do? De tiny ‘lil thing, wrestle him to the groud and have her way with him?”
“I know her type.”
“I doubt it.”
“She deserves to be hanged.”
“Have you nothing better to worry about? Napoleon invades Russia. England’s regent is a fool, and trouble brews in Egypt. But you are worried that Monsieur Logan might find himself a bonny lass, dashing your hopes for…”
“You are a cretin and a degener…”
“Get out, the two of you!” Logan sounded wary.
“My Lord…”
“Shut up,” he ordered.
“Howle…”
“You too,” he said and strode toward the door. They turned to follow him. “Summers.” His voice was just short of a yell. The soldier appeared in less than an instant, his face strained, his eyes wide.
“Yes my lord.”
“I’ll be gone for some hours. I’m leaving the girl here. Can I trust you to keep her safe?”
“Yes, my lord. Without a doubt, my lord. I’ll not fail you again my Lord.”
Logan nodded curtly and continued through the door. Ororo heard his voice from the far side. “Get her a meal and a change of garments.”
“Yes my lord.”
“And a bath.”
“Yes my lord.”
“And do not let her escape.”
“No, my lord. Of course not, my lord. I’ll watch her every moment.”
“Every moment?” Logan’s tone was strange and suddenly clearer, as if he’s turned back.
“Well not…not when she is bathing my lord.”
“Very well.” She heard footsteps again, then, “and Summers, relax. She’s only a lass. I’m certain you can handle the job.”
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