by Linda Ladd
The great room was filled to capacity with hundreds of formally dressed guests, laughing and chatting as they waited for the dancing to begin, but Elizabeth's eyes fell solely to Logan where he stood at the foot of the steps, his hands clasped behind his back as he scanned the gathering. He wore a superbly tailored coat of the purest white, and the color emphasized his deeply bronzed skin and blond hair. His waistcoat was silver-gray, his long legs encased in black breeches that fit snugly over his powerfully muscled thighs.
The orchestra leader saw Elizabeth, and as the musicians ended their song, Logan turned and looked up at her. His breath caught at the exquisite silver-and-white vision at the top of the stairs, and he realized in awe that the name Starfire had never fit Elizabeth as it now did, with the glow of hundreds of candles reflecting upon her white dress and silvery hair. Their gaze locked, the crowd becoming hushed as all eyes turned to watch the bride and groom. Her black-fringed eyes glowed their unique violet beauty, and Logan smiled as he slowly ascended the stairs to meet his love.
He took her hand, bowing low as he pressed it to his lips. Applause rippled over the crowd below, and Elizabeth tore her eyes from her husband, for the first time becoming totally aware of the people below. Her fingers tensed inside the warmth of Logan's lean fingers.
“There is nothing to fear,” he whispered softly. “I'll be with you the whole time.”
Elizabeth jerked startled eyes to him, her mind whirling in a vortex of flashing white lights as submerged memories fought to rise to the surface.
“You have said that to me before,” she said slowly. “I am certain of it.”
Logan's eyes became wary, almost watchful, but she had no time to ponder the strangeness of it as he smiled.
“You are right, but this time nothing will take you from me.”
Elizabeth allowed him to lead her down the steps, puzzling over his words. The wedding guests separated, and Logan led her to the middle of the floor.
“We must start the first dance,” he told her, smiling down at her from his great height as he took her in his arms. A slow waltz began, and Logan never once took his eyes off his wife as he expertly led her in a graceful circuit of the floor.
Neither noticed Brent Holloway and Isabel Whitcomb where they stood near one of the open doors that led to the veranda.
“Look at him fawning over her, as if she were some kind of goddess,” Isabel hissed furiously, and Brent looked at Elizabeth's small, graceful beauty in the exquisite gown, thinking Isabel's description of her most appropriate.
“I hope he does want her—then it will give me greater pleasure to take her away from him.”
“I don't give a damn what happens to her, as long as I get Logan back.”
Brent glanced briefly at his sister. She was so disgustingly enamored of Cord that she didn't even care that he'd ruined her family name. But when Elizabeth humiliated Logan by leaving him on his wedding night in front of most of Denver, the Holloway vengeance would be complete. Brent watched the way Logan held Elizabeth, his green eyes narrowing at the possessive pride Logan displayed as he escorted his bride to the end of the room where they would greet their guests.
Elizabeth barely reached her husband's shoulder as she stood beside him, waiting as the long line of people congratulated Logan and wished her well. She tried to smile, grateful for Logan's hand upon her waist. He stood very close, and she looked up when she felt his arm tense against her back.
Isabel Whitcomb stood before them in a stunning gown of green chiffon, the décolletage plunging to show an indecent amount of bare flesh. The scalloped amethyst lay upon the creamy bosom as a painful reminder to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth's eyes went to Logan's face, and her worst fears were confirmed. He stared at Isabel's low-cut gown with an expression that Elizabeth could not bear to watch, and Isabel smiled up at him, enjoying his fascination with her breasts almost as much as she did Elizabeth's obvious distress over his interest.
Logan's first shock at seeing his grandmother's necklace upon Isabel's throat faded quickly, and his jaw clamped tight with fury. It was the very one he'd given to Starfire long ago, and he had to forcibly restrain the urge to rip it from Isabel's neck.
Brent took Logan's unexpected interest in Isabel as a godsend and moved near Elizabeth.
“Can you see now that what we told you is true?” he whispered, encouraged by the hurt look in her eyes.
Elizabeth tore her eyes off Logan and his lover as Brent took her hand in his. Before he could lift it to his mouth, Logan had her small hand clasped tightly in his own, his eyes like frozen blue ice.
“Sorry, Holloway, I'm particular about who touches my wife.”
Brent's jaw clenched hard, his look as dark and ugly as Logan's.
“Elizabeth and I are old friends. Surely I'm allowed to wish her well.”
Logan looked into Brent's false smile, thinking that if it took him the rest of his life, he'd prove to Elizabeth just how low Brent really was.
“Oh? How long have you known my wife?”
The unexpected question caught all of them off-guard, but Brent's answer was as smooth as oil.
“I first met her years ago, but as you probably know, we became very close since she came to live in St. Louis.”
He ignored Logan then, looking steadily down at Elizabeth. “I hope you will honor me with a dance later tonight.”
Aware of Logan's black scowl, Elizabeth gave a barely perceptible nod as Brent escorted Isabel away. A terrible resignation settled over her, followed by a gradually rising anger as her husband's eyes continually sought out the flame-haired beauty in green, even as he greeted his guests beside his wife.
When Michael requested a dance, Logan gave his permission reluctantly, watching uneasily as Michael whirled away with Elizabeth in his arms. The dance floor was very crowded, and he frowned when he lost sight of them. When they reappeared at the far side of the room, the tension on his face lessened momentarily.
“You don't seem to mind your marriage as much as you once did,” said Isabel from close beside him, and Logan took his eyes from his wife, the warm, possessive look growing cold as it settled on the amethyst upon Isabel's heaving chest.
Isabel swelled with power as his eyes burned into her breasts again, thinking Brent had been wrong. Logan's little silver-haired wife had not completely won his heart. And she would not last long after Logan had sated his initial passion for her beauty. Even now, he looked down at Isabel as if he wanted to grab her. He had missed their wild and brutal lovemaking as much as she had.
“Your necklace is very unusual, Isabel. Where did you find it?”
Isabel tensed, wondering if Elizabeth had had the nerve to confront Logan about the story she and Brent had told her. She tried to read some meaning in Logan's words, but they remained totally inscrutable.
“Brent gave it to me. He bought it from his good friend Carl Rankin.” she said. “He was my houseguest for a time.”
Logan's face grew hard, and a muscle flexed, then relaxed in his lean cheek. So Brent knew Rankin. Pieces of the puzzle began to fall together as he realized Brent could very well have been the one who had engineered the plot to take Starfire away from him. He wondered if Isabel was involved as well. He lifted the heavy stone in his palm and looked into her eyes.
“I'd very much like to have this. It would look most lovely with my wife's eyes.”
Isabel gave a low snarl, inflamed by his words.
“Don't waste your time. She won't be around long enough to wear it.”
She realized at once that she'd said too much and tried to move away, but Logan's grip upon the necklace held her in place.
“And what do you mean by that, Isabel?”
Isabel shivered, having seen the cold, lethal anger in Logan's blue eyes before. She was suddenly more afraid of him than she was of facing Brent's wrath if she exposed his plans. Logan's grip tightened as he pulled her forward with the golden chain, and Isabel spoke breathlessly.
“Because she intends to run away with Brent this very night.”
Logan's face closed into a blank mask, and he gave a quick jerk, breaking the clasp at the back of her neck. He squeezed the necklace in his palm and went in search of Brent Holloway.
Across the room, Elizabeth moved mechanically, unaware of Michael or the music as she watched Isabel and her husband. She turned her head when Logan held the amethyst in his palm and looked deeply into Isabel's eyes. She fought back the angry tears, knowing she would never live with a man who humiliated his wife by flaunting his mistress in her face.
She made her decision with swift finality. She would go with Brent, home to Missouri, where Thomas could dissolve the marriage. Logan was an insensitive womanizer, just as Brent had said. When the music ended, she excused herself from Michael and rapidly made her way through the crowd. Logan was nowhere in sight, and she jumped when Brent suddenly appeared at her side. She didn't give him time to speak, but whispered urgently.
“I've decided to go with you, but we must hurry. I'll pack and meet you behind the house.”
Brent nodded once, then melted into the crowd again, and Elizabeth moved slowly through the milling people.
After Logan had left Isabel, he'd moved to a position near the front veranda, where he could scan the couples on the dance floor for Brent Holloway. The more he thought about it, the less inclined he was to believe Isabel had been telling the truth. It was more likely an attempt on her part to drive a wedge between Elizabeth and him. Elizabeth would not run away with another man, and in the last few weeks, he'd made progress with her. Her reticence with him the night before flashed into his mind, but he turned away from it. His eyes rested upon her as she danced with his father. She wouldn't leave him.
He searched for Brent again, wanting to confront him about Starfire's abduction. He was behind it, Logan had no doubt of that.
The music stopped, and Logan nodded at his guests as he slowly moved toward his wife, who had left Michael and was heading toward the back of the room. He stopped as Brent approached her, his jaw tightening as they whispered together a moment, then separated. He watched Elizabeth hurry away, then followed Brent.
Holloway left the room by the doors leading to the front veranda, and Logan stepped out into the cool night air moments later, his fists clenched, his eyes dark. Zack and Amanda stood at the banister near him, and both looked up, easily reading the coldly contained rage in his face. They looked at each other as Logan moved away without speaking to them, following Brent down the side porch.
The moon was full, and the bright light created stark black shadows as Logan stepped down to the grass and stood watching Brent pace impatiently in the back garden. Faraway music drifted on the air, but Logan concentrated on Brent Holloway. He was enraged enough at that moment to kill him with his bare hands.
Brent turned and looked up at the house, wishing Elizabeth would hurry. He wanted to get her as far away from Woodstone as he could before Logan learned of their plans. He didn't know what had convinced her to leave with him, but Logan's obvious fascination with Isabel probably had been a big part of it. Brent chuckled sardonically, thinking that Logan was a fool.
Someone moved behind him, and Brent smiled and turned, glad she'd finally come.
“Elizabeth?” he whispered, searching the shadows for her.
“Guess again, Holloway,” Logan said, his voice low and deadly as he stepped into the moonlight.
Brent stiffened in surprise, then stared at Logan's grim face an instant before he gave a low, mocking laugh.
“Hello, Cord. If you're looking for your wife, she's upstairs packing. She's leaving with me.”
Logan's face went white, but his voice remained deceptively calm. “Elizabeth isn't going anywhere tonight, or any other night.”
“I hope you'll try to stop us.”
Brent smiled coldly, his hand moving toward the small derringer in his vest. He knew Logan would not be armed, and since Brent was no match for Logan's strength, the pistol would even out the odds a bit.
“I wish I had time to give you the beating you deserve, Holloway,” Logan said tightly. “But it's my wedding night, and I have guests in my house. So you're going to get on your horse and leave quietly.”
He stepped toward Brent, and Brent went for his gun. Logan saw his intent, and he moved swiftly, hitting Brent's arm with enough force to send the gun flying out of his hand. Brent cursed and drew back, ready to slam his fist into Logan's jaw, but Logan caught his fist in midair, bending it backward with slow, relentless pressure until Brent was forced to his knees.
Logan stared down at him contemptuously, then leaned down and gritted into his face, “You're weak, Holloway, weak and cowardly. I ought to kill you now and have done with it. God knows I'd like to. But I won't ruin my own wedding, because you're not worth it. But be warned. Don't ever try to take what is mine. If you ever touch Elizabeth again, I'll kill you. I know you were involved in the abduction, you and Carl Rankin, and someday I'll take my pound of flesh for that. But not tonight, you bastard, not tonight.”
Logan still had a painful grip on Brent's fist, and he gave a violent push that sent Brent sprawling backward into the dirt. Brent held his aching wrist against his chest, his eyes burning hatred, as Logan leaned down and picked up the derringer. He emptied the chambers and tossed the pistol to the ground beside Holloway.
“Now get the hell off my land.”
Zack ran up behind them, leveling a rifle at Brent's chest. “I thought there might be some trouble out here,” he said, and Logan turned away without looking at Brent.
“Get him out of my sight,” he said, starting for the house. “And make sure he leaves the valley.”
It had taken Elizabeth an eternity to reach the kitchen, and she'd fled up the back stairs, her heart like a drum. The upper hall had been deserted, and she'd entered her room quickly, going straight to the armoire and lifting down a small valise. Now as she pulled a riding habit from the closet and stuffed it inside the bag, she hesitated, as doubts began to nag at her. It was still hard for her to believe Isabel's story, despite the way Logan had looked at her downstairs. Logan had been good to her during the past weeks, had acted as if he really cared about her. Even though he'd first seemed cruel and cold when they had met, he no longer appeared that way. She'd seen him with the Winstead boys, easy and relaxed, and Lily had told her how good he'd been to her family over the years.
Elizabeth stared into space, realizing she'd come to respect him for his strength and kindness during all the days when he'd treated her as a cherished wife. Some innate wisdom she could not explain made her sure he had not faked the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Perhaps Isabel's story wasn't all true, she thought. Perhaps she should ask Logan about the other woman. She looked down at the ring upon her finger, biting her lip. How could she leave him, now that she'd grown to care? But what if Isabel spoke the truth? What if he kept Isabel in Denver as his mistress? Elizabeth could not bear that. She would be better off far away, where she wouldn't know.
“Going somewhere?”
She whirled around at the sudden noise, her heavy skirt rustling in the quiet room, gasping when she saw Logan. She had not heard him enter, but something in the set of his face made her raise her chin.
“I intend to leave with Brent for St. Louis.”
Logan leaned against the door, his eyes unreadable.
“I'm afraid it's a little late for that. Brent's gone.”
Elizabeth stared blankly at him.
“I don't believe you. He wouldn't leave without me.”
Logan laughed without humor. “I'm afraid Zack and I were very persuasive.”
Elizabeth's hopes plummeted, but her fury surpassed her disappointment.
“And what of Isabel? Did you persuade her to leave as well? To await you in Denver again? Until you tire of me?”
Logan's eyebrows drew together slightly under her blazing words.
“I have no idea where Isabe
l is and don't really care,” he answered calmly, and Elizabeth's fury clicked up a notch.
“And I suppose you also deny having been her lover?”
“I don't deny it, but it happened long before I met you.”
“Then how did she get the necklace she wore tonight?”
“She got this"—Logan opened his fist to show her the amethyst, the long golden chain dangling from his fingers—"from a man named Carl Rankin, who stole it from me.”
“And you expect me to believe that?” she said coldly.
Logan didn't answer, and Elizabeth picked up the valise.
“Please stand aside and let me pass. I will find Brent and leave here this night.”
Logan's control slipped slightly, and he angrily sent the necklace scraping across a nearby table.
“Do you really expect me to stand by and let you run away with another man on our wedding night?”
“It makes no difference, because I will persuade Grandfather to annul this marriage, as I should have done long ago.”
Logan's eyes were steady, and his voice was very quiet.
“I'm afraid that will be impossible. Annulments are not legal if the marriage has been consummated.”
“I'll remind you,” she said icily, “that it has not been.”
“No, but it will be before you leave this room again.”
Elizabeth froze, then looked at him contemptuously.
“You are going to force me?”
“I hope I won't have to, but I intend to put all talk of an annulment to rest forever this very night.”
Elizabeth turned away, and Logan stepped toward her.
“We made a bargain three long weeks ago. I fulfilled my end of it, despite a good deal of difficulty, and now, my love, the time has come for you to pay the piper.”
Elizabeth's look was scathing, but she knew he was deadly serious.
“And if I ... pay the piper"—she emphasized it sarcastically—"will I finally be free of you?”
