The Marriage Command

by Susan Fox

  “Would you like to see how baths get taken, Uncle Logan? And I’ll bet someone would enjoy having you read the bedtime story.”

  The glimmer of surprise in Logan’s dark eyes made her glad she’d thought of it. It was a goodwill gesture more than anything, but then, sharing everyday things with Logan, particularly where Cody was concerned, had to be the right thing to do.

  And since she’d be sharing Logan’s bed in another hour or so, it might help her get over some of her own jitters about that if they spent a little time doing something normal and low-key together.

  “Might as well get started with those kind of things,” he said before he reached down to pick Cody up then lift him higher to settle the wiggly boy on his wide shoulders.

  Cody’s giggles lasted well into the hall and Claire trailed behind, her stomach beginning to knot in earnest as she faced the waning minutes between now and bedtime.

  Logan had allowed her to use the bathroom first, so she showered and dressed in the nightgown and robe she’d packed. The ivory-colored, thigh-length nightgown suddenly seemed daringly short, and the V of the neckline felt a little too deep and wide.

  She wanted badly to wear her light robe over it to sleep in, but she didn’t want to be ridiculous about this. She was twenty-four and an adult. She’d raised a child alone for the past two years, and she considered herself to be sensible and practical. She wasn’t normally the nervous type, and yet she couldn’t help feeling nervous now.

  The important thing was to behave matter-of-factly. Logan was, no doubt, quite experienced sexually, but it would be a mistake to show any trace of nerves or to be skittish about this. Though sleeping in the same bed was rife with sexual possibilities, it was important to behave as if she wasn’t even remotely expecting any of them to happen tonight.

  A woman who showed neither expectancy nor cowardice sent a strong “hands off” message, and was much more likely to project the warning that a firm boundary was in place.

  Claire had handled an occasional unwanted pass before, so the same principles should apply, though it was a fact that she’d never dealt with an unwanted pass while lying next to a man in bed.

  Since Logan wasn’t waiting nearby for his turn in the shower, Claire sat down on the edge of the mattress. Perhaps when it came right down to it tonight, Logan would let her off the hook. She was nervously toying with the ends of her robe belt as she considered stepping down the hall to check on Cody, when Logan walked into the bedroom.

  He must have taken his shower in one of the other guest bathrooms, and the sight of him was arresting. She’d never seen his kind of bare maleness up close, and it was as unsettling as it was somehow thrilling to look at him.

  The navy-blue pajama bottoms he wore barely registered because her gaze was fixed on the muscled expanse above them. His bare chest and torso, shoulder and arms looked as if they’d been carved from granite. It surprised her that his skin was tanned, but it was. His chest carried just the right amount of hair and she was glad of that because she didn’t care for men with furry chests.

  Her gaze drifted downward to his pajama bottoms, noted that the waist of them rested a little low on his hips, then traveled all the way down his long legs to feet that were big and almost perfectly sculpted. The man was a work of art, and she couldn’t keep her gaze from tracking all the way back up to his face.

  His expression was stony and solemn, as if he meant to be all business with her. But there was an intensity in his dark eyes that arrowed straight through her and made her incapable of moving.

  If she’d had to make a guess, she’d say that look was a no-nonsense warning of some kind, or maybe one that established dominance without speaking a word. But it was also sexy as all get out, and Claire couldn’t seem to help that her insides were quivering or that the heat that bloomed deep in her middle was suffusing her skin with warmth. It was a good thing she was sitting down because she wasn’t certain her legs would have held her up. Then he spoke and she felt the warmth wash through her and go scorching.

  “So you’re gonna to do it.”

  It wasn’t a question but a statement that told her plainly he’d expected otherwise. There was a spark of amusement in his gaze as he stared over at her. But he wasn’t only staring into her eyes, he was staring at everything else, lingering on her bare knees for a moment before his gaze dropped to her toes. Her robe and nightgown felt distinctly transparent, and though her mouth was dry, she decided to take the small opening he’d unknowingly given her.

  “I’d understood from you that Elsa does bed checks, that she’s a compulsive and fluent gossip, and that your male ego couldn’t survive the shame if everyone found out that your wife wouldn’t sleep with you.”

  Claire lifted her brows as if to prompt his confirmation, but went on too quickly for him to give one. “So that’s why I’m here, doing my humble best to uphold your reputation.”

  Something in his rugged face softened, as if he might have been bracing himself for some worse kind of resistance from her.

  “Might as well climb in,” he said, squashing her feeble hope that he’d change his mind.

  The moment she’d dreaded had come, and Claire had to force herself to appear calm. She stood and turned toward the bed, dropping her gaze to the mattress as she untied the belt of her robe, striving to do it as casually and unselfconsciously as if she’d been alone in her bedroom at home.

  Logan walked around the bed to his side and it was a little tougher to slip off her robe and drape it across the foot of the bed. Claire felt his dark gaze travel down her, and she braved the challenge to get into bed without making it look like she was desperate to keep the hem of her nightgown at a modest level. She almost couldn’t take in a full breath until she could pull up the comforter.

  The mattress dipped a little as Logan lay down beside her. She immediately felt the heat of his body and lay perfectly still, starting up at the ceiling as she gripped the edge of the covers.

  Logan rolled toward her and suddenly his stony face loomed over hers. His fist was braced on the mattress by her hip, effectively trapping her. Whatever aftershave he’d used was subtle and musky and a little sweet. And he had used aftershave because she could see that he’d shaved.

  He was so close that the heat pouring off his body made her skin prickle hotly, melting her insides, melting her bones, and he had yet to touch her at all.

  His dark gaze seemed to be memorizing every feature of her flushed face, and she was helpless to do anything but stare back. His voice was a low rasp.

  “I owe you an apology, Claire.”

  If he’d wanted to surprise her, he’d got the job done. She searched his gaze for a clue to what he was talking about and if he was sincere about the word “apology.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him which thing he was apologizing for, since she could think of several, but she didn’t.

  “An apology?”

  “When I said you needed more glamour. Something must have been wrong with my eyesight yesterday, because I can’t see anything about the way you look that I’d want to change. I apologize.”

  Claire was instantly suspicious, though she didn’t detect any insincerity. He wasn’t overly earnest and he sounded matter-of-fact. As if he was simply informing her that he’d corrected an errant opinion. But he was also letting her know that he wasn’t so upset about his error that he meant to grovel and beg for her forgiveness. Just that he’d been mistaken and was apologizing.

  “I appreciate that. Thank you.” Claire couldn’t help that she still felt suspicious of his motives. On the other hand, it would be a pretty shallow ploy—if it was a ploy—to get on her good side. She sensed he wasn’t the kind of man to resort to flattery or shallow ploys. As he’d already proved, he was too blunt and determined to get his way for such namby-pamby methods.

  She saw the glint in his dark eyes and knew right away that he was about to kiss her. Leery of that, she put up a hand as he started to lean down, and her fingers were sud
denly pressing against his mouth.

  Claire was surprised she’d actually done that, but she didn’t want a kiss like the one last night. Not here, not now. And certainly not until she felt more comfortable sharing a bed with him.

  “What if you just gave me a regular kiss good-night?” she asked, unable to keep the telling tremor out of her voice as she slipped her fingers from his lips. His rugged expression was going grim, and she felt the need to soften what his pride might take as a rejection. “S-something gentle and…sweet.” She made herself give him a wry smile as she added, “A kiss that doesn’t try to set the bed on fire.”

  It must have been the right thing to say because his expression gentled and his dark eyes glittered with interest. “You’re runnin’ scared, huh?” Claire’s gaze shifted awkwardly from his.

  “All of this has been so sudden, and I need time to adjust. You’d seemed to indicate that one of the reasons you chose me was because of my prudent lifestyle, so please understand that I can’t instantly give you everything you said you wanted in a wife.”

  She made herself look up at him and felt the hard blush that stung her cheeks. “Yes, you showed me last night that you could get me to lose control, but I don’t…want that so soon. At least not until we’re more…used to each other. And we’ve rushed so much. Please, let’s not rush everything.”

  Logan smiled faintly. “You talk a lot, Claire.”

  “But you’re listening, aren’t you,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

  Logan’s dark head descended slowly and Claire suddenly knew this kiss would be the gentle alternative she’d asked for. What she hadn’t anticipated was how deeply it would affect her.

  Tenderly, oh so very tenderly, Logan’s cool, hard lips touched hers. If this had been another carnal, dominating kiss like the one last night, it would have done nothing more than arouse her lust and her heart might have remained aloof.

  But the exquisite care he took with this one was breathtakingly sweet. She would never have imagined that Logan Pierce was capable of such a kiss, and Claire couldn’t seem to help that her heart simply opened up.

  Like the petals of a flower being coaxed by the warmth of the sun to open and unfurl, her heart trembled and began to grow warm and relax, and then to shyly reach out. Her fingers somehow imitated that trembling, shy reach for warmth, and she felt every tantalizing sensation as her fingertips touched his lean jaw, then pushed lightly and shakily into his hair.

  A sparkling delight she’d never suspected was possible seemed to invade her and slowly drench her with pleasure, and she couldn’t seem to help that her emotions were rising with something that felt a whole lot like joy.

  As if for the very first time her heart was encountering something rare and wonderful and unique, coming close to touching something it had craved for a very long time. Whatever that something was, it suddenly seemed essential to her as a woman, and it somehow promised to be as fulfilling as it was desirable.

  Too soon Logan’s lips eased away, though they didn’t go far. He trailed them lightly against her flushed cheek then on to her ear where he pressed a relaxed kiss before he pressed another just below her ear. His lips moved lazily down her neck before he stopped kissing her and his arms tightened fiercely around her for long, thundering moments.

  He pulled one arm away to reach out and switch off the lamp before he slid it beneath her again. And then he moved onto his side, taking her with him to settle them face-to-face.

  Claire rested snugly against him in the darkness, so deeply shaken and confused by that kiss that she couldn’t speak. She was grateful he couldn’t see her face, though she would have liked to see his and been able to read his reaction.

  It was suddenly one of the most satisfying pleasures of her life to rest her hands against his warm, hard chest, feeling the solid rhythm of his heart beneath her palms as she savored the safe, protected feeling of being wrapped in his arms.

  While she was luxuriating in every sensation and wondering what this all meant, Claire slowly drifted off to sleep, more at peace than she could ever remember being.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CLAIRE felt amazingly content that next morning. Until she realized Logan was lying on his back and that she was sprawled all over him. She cautiously lifted her head to see if he was still asleep, but held back her sigh of relief while she carefully moved off him and got out of bed. She quickly collected her clothes then rushed into the master bathroom to get dressed for the day.

  It was just after 5:00 a.m. Since she didn’t know how early Logan normally got up, she wanted to take care of her makeup and hair before he was awake. Finished in record time, she cleared her things from the counter, then quietly opened the door and tiptoed out into the bedroom. Logan’s rough voice startled her.

  “You won’t get away with that tomorrow,” he told her, and Claire glanced toward the big bed. Logan was sitting up with his back resting against the head-board.

  Her soft, “Good morning,” helped her avoid making a comeback. “Shall I bring your coffee?”

  “I’d appreciate that,” he said, then gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Just bring it right on into the bathroom when you get back.”

  Yikes! The man was more dedicated to his mission than ever, so Claire rushed out into the hall then on into the kitchen. Since she was just as dedicated to her mission—to put the brakes on things—she didn’t exactly rush back with his coffee like an obedient little wife.

  It was then that she realized how different she felt about Logan now. After that sweet kiss last night, he’d been a gentleman. Her skin still tingled at the memory of being wrapped in his strong arms all night. Heaven help her, her body had loved the feeling of lying against him, and now her heart was remarkably changed.

  Not rushing back to take his coffee to him quickly began to feel like a mistake. In the end, the odd excitement of wanting to please the strange and interesting creature she’d married lured her back to the master bedroom and across the carpet to the open door of the master bathroom.

  To her relief, Logan had dressed in his jeans and boots, though the jeans’ snap was open and he wore no shirt. He’d just lathered his face for a much-needed shave—his jaw had been rough with beard stubble—and he was about to lift the razor to make the first stroke. She saw the glitter in his eyes as his gaze met hers in the mirror.

  “I’d rather start my coffee before I shave,” he said, but it was more a comment than a criticism.

  Claire gave a small shrug. “If you’re a benevolent dictator today, my timing might improve tomorrow.” She walked over to set his coffee on the counter. He turned his head to look down at her.

  “How good are you with a razor?”

  The question startled her. It was an invitation she couldn’t have imagined him making, and she wasn’t sure how to take it. Except that her heart had accelerated a little.

  “I’ve never shaved a man before, but…” she hesitated to turn him down because there was something appealing about the way he was looking at her. Something almost playful, so she replied in kind.

  “If you’re willing to put your life in my hands, I won’t hesitate to make the most of the opportunity,” she said, then gave him an innocent smile.

  The glitter in his dark eyes intensified. “I can tell you’ll never be a dull wife.”

  “Was that what you thought you’d get?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His low drawl was as sexy as the faint smile that softened the hard slash of his mouth.

  Claire couldn’t help that her insides quivered a little, because he didn’t seem unhappy about that. Still, she hoped he’d make it a little plainer.

  “You must be so disappointed.”

  Logan held out the razor to her. “I’m anything but disappointed, Claire.”

  Leery of shaving him but liking this too much to refuse, Claire gamely took the handle. Fortunately for him, the razor was the safer kind with a disposable blade.

  “You’ll need to sit down or my a
rms will get too tired.”

  Logan moved over to close the lid on the commode and sit. Claire went along and tried to decide where to start.

  “Any advice or instructions?”

  He grinned a little. “You complain about being bossed around by a tyrant, but now you’re asking for advice?”

  “Ooops. Guilty.” Claire made herself go serious. “Don’t talk, and whatever you do, don’t move.”

  She carefully positioned the razor against his jaw and lightly drew it up, feeling the blade scrape away the lathered beard stubble.

  “Ah, this is easy,” she commented after she’d worked awhile, rinsing the foam from the razor periodically. “Just sit you down somewhere, order you not to talk and not to move, and then enjoy the novelty of having you at my mercy with a sharp object in my hand. I could get used to this.”

  Logan didn’t reply, but through the whole process, she could feel his gaze on her face and then down the front of her.

  Her knee often brushed his thigh, and she couldn’t help but be affected by that and by standing so close.

  And the fact that she had to use her free hand to angle his head this way and that while she worked, and that he’d responded to her so easily, was also affecting her. As if just her light touch alone was enough to control a very dangerous and powerful animal. The notion stirred some need for feminine power that she’d not realized she had.

  It was a surprising disappointment to finish the last stroke, and she moved away to rinse the razor before she wet a washcloth under the faucet and turned back to him. It took only a few moments to wipe away the last traces of shaving foam from his face, but the small task seemed even more intimate than shaving him had been.

  To distract them both, she commented, “Little boys’ faces, big boys’ faces. Both need a lot of maintenance. So what are your plans for the day, boss?”

  Logan took the washcloth from her fingers and tossed it toward the counter as he stood up. Claire took a prudent step back.