His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2) (30 page)

"Do not belittle him," she said quietly. "He is doing what he thinks is best for me. Frankly, if it has kept you away, then I am grateful to him."

"Are you really?" he asked, raising a cynical brow. He forked some eggs and a small piece of steak. "I find that hard to believe. You could have removed me from your life—if my father had swallowed your story—yet you did not say a word about me being in your hotel suite that day. Why not, Katy? Why didn't you tell him who was with you before Logan Marshall got there?"

She wondered how Michael had found out about Logan. She certainly had not mentioned it. It was just the sort of thing he would twist to suit his own purposes. "My reasons aren't important," she said.

"I beg to differ."

"All right, Michael," she said wearily. "I had some foolish notion of not setting father and son against each other."

Michael shook his head slowly. "I think you were afraid that Father would think the worst of you, and you did not want to lose your position in this family."

"That's absurd."

"Is it? I don't think so. Did you know you were pregnant then?"

"No. How could I? Your father and I had been married only a short time."

Michael's fair brows rose a notch. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that you and my father never... my God!... it's true, isn't it? He never had you until you were married. That's how you got him! You held out for marriage! Madam, I applaud your enterprise."

"I have heard enough."

"Sit down, Katy," he said sharply. "That's better. You will leave when I've decided you will and not a moment before. Don't call my bluff because I can make things quite uncomfortable for you. There is no detective in here." He got up and locked the door. "Now we will not be disturbed."

"What do you want, Michael?" Her eyes glittered with gold, and her fingers pressed whitely against the tabletop.

"Your question bores me," he said, returning to his place and picking up his knife. He buttered a muffin. "I have answered it often enough. I want you."

"I am your father's wife!"

"So? You are not my mother." He took a bite of muffin and studied Katy consideringly. "It brings up an interesting point, though. Your child will be my child's uncle or aunt."

"I suppose so. I had not thought about it."

"Your child will be my half brother or sister."

"Yes." There was no other answer, not without admitting that Logan was the father of her baby. As long as Victor was willing to accept her child, then he was the father. "What is your point, Michael?"

His eyes narrowed, his mouth hardened. "My point is that your child will have the right to share in part of the Donovan fortune, Katy. And I don't think I like that."

"What are you talking about, sharing the fortune? You make it sound as if Victor already has one foot in the grave. I do not want to hear that kind of talk again."

"Katy... Katy... be realistic. My father will not live forever, and he is going to want to provide for you and the baby."

She put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. "Stop it, Michael. I don't want to hear any more."

Michael moved quickly. He grabbed her wrists, pulled them away from Katy's ears, and yanked her to her feet. "You damn well better listen to me," he said, shaking her. "You would be wise to do everything in your power to make certain Ria carries my child to term. No more talk about abortion with my wife." He saw Katy's shock. "Ria does not have any secrets from me. None that I cannot eventually find out."

Katy's mind wandered back to her conversation with Ria in the carriage. Perhaps their driver was not as deaf as he wanted Ria to believe.

"I am not going to let you and your baby take away what is rightfully mine," Michael continued. "I will do anything, anything to keep what belongs to me."

"What do you mean?" she asked shakily, her face pale.

He glanced at her abdomen. "Use your imagination."

"Let me go, Michael." She paused. "Please."

He dropped her hands but his arms circled her before she could back away. "I like it when you say 'please' in just that way. It's very intimate, did you know that? As if we were in bed together; as if we were making love."

"Michael... don't."

She turned her head to one side just as his lips lowered. They brushed her temple instead, and Katy closed her eyes in distaste. She pushed at Michael's chest. His breath was hot and moist against her cheek. He said her name in a low tone and she hated the sound of it on his lips; hated the way he made it seem dirty and ugly. Then she surrendered.

"Oh, Katy," he said as her mouth opened up beneath his. He kissed her deeply, tasting her lips and soft inside of her mouth with his tongue. They turned together, and Katy was backed against the table.

"Michael," she murmured. "Oh yes, please." One of his hands cupped the fullness of her breast, making the nipple rise. The other hand slid behind Katy and pressed her close. It was that hand she stabbed with the sharp tines of her fork.

Michael jumped away from her, swearing and nursing his wounded hand in the palm of the other. Droplets of blood beaded at four distinct points. "Damn you, bitch! You will be sorry you did that!"

Holding up the fork threateningly, Katy cautioned him as he stepped toward her. "I swear I will really hurt you with this if you come any closer." He hesitated. "I mean it, Michael. I'm not bluffing. I do not want you to touch me."

"You wanted me! I felt it."

"I am an actress, remember? I would not count myself much of a thespian if I could not fake passion—even for someone I despise." She skirted the table, putting it between them, and then went to the door without turning her back on Michael. "Do not ever threaten to harm my baby again. If you do, I will go to Victor. Neither of us will tolerate your threats." She opened the door behind her and backed out of the room, leaving Michael stunned and speechless. She did not realize she was still holding the fork until a servant passed her in the hallway and gave her an odd look. She handed it over. "Please tell Cook the steak was a little raw for my tastes," she said calmly.

* * *

The door to the library opened a crack, but Katy did not notice. She was standing on the ladder that was used to reach the upper volumes of Victor's extensive collection of books. Her position appeared precarious to the intruder. Only one of Katy's feet rested on a rung of the ladder; the other dangled below the hem of her pale blue day dress. She swung the foot back and forth lazily, just catching her kid slipper with her toes before it fell off. There was a large leather bound book lying open on the ladder rung at her eye level. She marked her place with one hand while the other held on loosely to the ladder.

It was clear she was not expecting visitors. She had not taken any time to dress her hair. It was plaited in a simple, girlish braid and she was chewing on one end of it, deep in thought. Unaware that she was being watched, she suddenly spit out the end, turned slightly on the ladder and began reciting lines from the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet.

Logan watched, fascinated by the lilting, youthful quality in her voice and the longing in her expression as she called out for her love. Unable to take his eyes from her or disturb her in any way, he moved quietly into the room. He was struck again by the enormity of her talent. She breathed life into the words and made him feel a mixture of despair and desire. For Juliet, he reminded himself. Not for Katy.

A movement off to the side caught Katy's attention. Startled, she lost her balance. The book landed with a solid thud, and she realized she was meant for a similar fate. She grabbed at the ladder, missed, and squeezed her eyes shut.

The impact she anticipated never happened. Logan caught her.

"I am sorry," he said, letting her slip down his body until her feet rested safely on the floor. "Katy? You can open your eyes now."

She didn't, not right away. She waited for him to release her and step back. When he did, she drew in a shaky breath, let it out slowly, then stared at him, anger tempered with relief that the intruder was not Michael. It had been a week since he had last bothered her, but Katy found herself still jumping at shadows.

Bending down, she picked up the book and held it in front of her like a shield. A moment later Logan hunkered down and picked up something as well. Katy gave the folder he carried a cursory glance before she raised her eyes to Logan's. It annoyed her further that he was not winded while her heart was still pumping like a captured bird's.

"Someone should have announced you," she said coolly. "Does Duncan know you're here?"

"If he is that formidable fellow with eyes like a dead fish, he does."

Katy refused to be amused. "Victor's at the store. He will be there the rest of the afternoon."

"I did not come to see Victor. I came to see you. I didn't know you would be rehearsing when I told Duncan I'd show myself in."

"I was not rehearsing," she said. "I was reciting. There is a difference, you know. Rehearsing is what you do when you are going to be appearing on stage. That is behind me now." Katy lowered the book fractionally, some of her anger ebbing. "I cannot imagine why you've come unless it's to cause problems between Victor and me. He will know you've been here. Even if I was not going to tell him, the detective would."

"The detective? Oh, you mean O'Shea. So Victor hired him."

"How do you know?"

"After that business at the hotel, Victor decided he wanted someone to watch you. He knew my brother had hired someone a few years back when Jenny was in trouble, and he asked me about it. I gave him O'Shea's name."

"Then Mr. O'Shea probably won't tell Victor you've been here."

"Liam's working for your husband, not me. I may have a word with him though and convince him to keep silent. I think that's probably him in the carriage across the street."

Katy went to the window and cautiously drew back the curtain. There was indeed a closed carriage on the opposite side of the avenue. She let the curtain fall back and turned to Logan. "There is no sense in speaking to him," she said. "I will tell Victor you've been here myself. I do not like to keep things from my husband."

"As you wish."

Katy set the book down. Uncomfortable with her hands at her sides, she crossed them in front of her. It suddenly occurred to her what she was trying to do. Logan could not know about her pregnancy, she thought. It was unnecessary to try to hide anything from him, especially when Victor had only told her that morning that except for the slight fullness in her breasts, she was not showing any signs of the baby. Birth was still six months away. Katy's hands dropped slowly back to her side. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked politely. "A brandy?"

"Tea would be fine," he said, noticing the silver service on the table near the fireplace.

"All right. I will ring for a second cup and some cakes."

A few minutes later they were seated opposite one another in deep leather armchairs. Logan's folder was lying beside the silver tea tray. He had served both of them and was now watching Katy over the rim of his teacup. "Before I came here today I considered it very likely that you would have me thrown out. Yet you haven't. Why not?"

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?" she asked. An honest answer to Logan's question meant that she would have to tell him how lonely she was. Ria's pregnancy confined her to her room. Victor was at the store all day, and Michael had to be avoided. That left the servants, and she was not certain they liked her. Certainly none of them struck up a conversation with her. She was not invited to join the same exclusive circles to which Ria belonged, and her friends from the theatre were uncomfortable coming around to her home. It was a solitary existence in too many ways. She had not realized how solitary until she found herself playing hostess to Logan Marshall. "I may still have you thrown out," she said. "What brings you here, Logan? I cannot imagine what could tear you away from the paper in the middle of the afternoon."

"My hours are my own. That is a publisher's prerogative. Today, anyway." He set down his cup. "You are looking very well, Katy. It seems that this marriage agrees with you."

She looked away briefly, uncertain of herself beneath Logan's thorough study. "You are not going to ruin it for me, are you?" she asked quietly.

"No. No, I swear I'm not. Look at me, Katy. I'm telling you the truth."

Looking at Logan was a mistake. His gray eyes were gentle now, faintly imploring. He made her believe him. Quite against her will she found herself wondering about the child they had made together. Would their baby have Logan's dark, copper-struck hair, his handsome patrician features? She could imagine holding a little boy to her breast with slumberous, heavy-lidded eyes or teasing a little girl who had a wonderfully warm smile when she wanted to be charming. It would be better if the baby resembled her. No one would ever think to question the parentage then.

"All right," she said. "I believe you. But you still have not answered my question. Why are you here?"

Picking up the folder, Logan leaned forward in his chair and handed it to her. "Here is your answer."

Katy took the folder and opened it. She stared at the photograph, her face paling alarmingly. "How did you get this?" Her throat was constricted, making it difficult to speak. Were all the Marshalls liars? she wondered. Jenny had promised her that Logan would not know about the photographs so soon, yet here he was. Logan promised he was not trying to ruin her marriage, yet he had something like this to use against her. "What will this cost me?"