Logan's Land

by Serita Stevens

  “Now that’s how I like it,” he whispered and smiled at me.

  Suddenly, his arms went around my legs as he lifted me in the air.

  “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” I cried, fearful that my end had come before I could even discover anything to clear my brother’s name and put this monster behind bars.

  “I do believe it’s custom, ma’am, that the new bride is to be carried over the threshold of her new home.” He stepped up onto the porch.

  I stiffened and tried to fight but I knew it would do no good and so I fought with my words. “The custom, as I know it, Mr. James, is for the bride to be in love with her husband and to be duly courted by him before they are wed.”

  “Honey, I didn’t have time for a long courtship. As to love,” he shrugged, “you’ve got plenty of passion. So, I know love will follow.”

  I wanted to protest that my only passion for him was hatred. But I thought better of it. He kicked open the door of the house as the others followed behind us.

  “Put her bags in the master room, Dalton.” He instructed one of the men. “Then I want you and the men to leave us.

  “Should we light the fire, Logan?” The young man’s voice held such admiration for my husband that I couldn’t help but wonder how much of his life he kept secret from them. Certainly, they’d not admire him if they knew what a cold-blooded murderer he was.

  My husband merely nodded in response and finally placed me down on an overstuffed chair. With a quick bow to me, he smiled. “You’ll be comfortable there for the moment I trust.”

  I shrugged and watched as he turned away.

  His boots echoed heavily on the steps as I heard him move up the stairs and then walk down the long corridor of polished wood which I imagined composed the upper hall. The creaking of a door at the end of that hall made me wonder what he was up to now.

  I didn’t take long for me to know.

  Within minutes, Logan had come downstairs again. This time the bundle he carried was not so large as I had been. She had golden hair cascading over his arm and her father’s blue eyes. He put her down in front of me. A flannel nightgown edged with flounces reached nearly to the floor so that only her small toes peeked out.

  She stood in front of me now silently regarding me, her thumb still in her mouth. I judged her to be at least six, but it turned out I was wrong. The girl was nearly ten.

  “Elisa, this is Sara.” He paused, and it seemed strange to me to hear the tenderness in his voice as he paused to kiss her brow. “Sara, this is your new mother.”

  Chapter 15

  My daughter. How strange those words sounded. But it was true. This child was now my stepdaughter.

  I was caught off guard. Somehow, I had not expected to be introduced to the little girl this way. I looked at her and tried to smile but didn’t know what to say except, “Hello.”

  She continued to suck her thumb. There was another moment of silence before she smiled back at me.

  “You’ll talk with her tomorrow. Alright, Sara?”

  The girl nodded.

  Like a piece of fluffy cotton, he scooped her back up into his arms. And hugging her to him in a way that seemed quite incongruous with what I knew about him, Logan James carried his daughter up to her room.

  I watched them disappear, feeling odd about the scene which had just transpired. But I warned myself I could not let my feelings for this child get in the way. If Logan James had caused the death of my brother, then he would pay. And I supposed, as her stepmother, I would take care of the little girl. But I knew I would do so in any case.

  ~

  The moment of truth was at hand I knew. I had to avoid it – somehow. Pacing the wooden floor, I tried to think.

  The room he had put me in was starkly masculine, having only a simple four-poster bed, a rough-hewn dresser and a small dressing table/desk. A long mirror, which I assumed had been imported all the way from the east, also stood in the corner along with a rocking chair. The room had one bit of color in the rag rug on the floor. But other than those few items and the Wedgwood blue curtains, the room was barren.

  I began to think of where I would put my things, my books and my pictures and then I realized that nearly all my pictures contained Elliot.

  Distressed, I sat down on the bed. It was softer than the one at the hotel and no doubt in better condition. Slats of wood made for a firmer surface than the ropes which had held together the other bed. But the object itself was one of distaste to me for it meant I would soon be called upon to act as I’d never before acted.

  If I was lucky, he would be too exhausted from the day’s trip – as I knew I was – to force me into consummation of our marriage vows. But from the look I’d seen in his eyes, I did not think I’d escape so easily.

  I wet my lips as I wondered what I had to do and wondered if it would hurt much. I’d heard such reports both from my mother and my grandmother that I did not doubt my going to hell if I dared contemplate it before my wedding night. The idea that it would be sinful at one moment and blessed the next was puzzling to me. And while I would much prefer saving myself for the man that I would love, I knew that Logan James was legally my husband and love him or not, I was bound to him. I had agreed in all sobriety to be his wife and to faithfully obey him “till death do us part.” I only hoped that death would part us sooner rather than later and that it would be Logan’s death.

  I was still pondering my fate when the door opened, and my husband walked in.

  “You’re still dressed.”

  “Of course... I… I was waiting for you.”

  It had occurred to me that I might undress, crawl into bed and feign an early sleep, but that route was now closed to me.

  He came forth at my words, smiling slightly as if what I said was quite funny.

  Uneasy, I took a step back.

  “Since you waited for me, let me help you undo those confounded buttons.” His voice was low and meant to be soothing but instead I felt my insides churn like the buttermilk I had often helped Mother make.

  “Come.” He held his hand out to me.

  Petrified, I remained standing in my same spot. “Please.” The voice did not sound at all like my own. “I’m rather tired and I — ”

  He had reached me before I finished the sentence.

  I could see from the look in his eyes that he had not even heard me. Instead, he touched my face gently and tilted my head upward so that I was forced to meet his gaze.

  Not wishing him to know how frightened I truly was, I stared directly at him and saw him smile.

  “What a little paradox you are, Elisa. I shall have pleasure in getting to know you not once but many times.” He undid the bow on my bonnet and lifted it off my head. Then slowly, he began to remove the pins with which I had bound my hair.

  As the luxurious tresses cascaded down past my shoulders, he leaned forward, sniffing the lavender scent I had bathed with this morning.

  “Has anyone ever told you what a beautiful color your hair is? It’s so vibrant. So alive.”

  I could only stare at him.

  “It reminds me of someone I once knew.”

  I held my breath but said nothing. Was he purposely tormenting me?

  “You don’t want to know who?”

  “Who?” I asked, forcing my voice so that it came out scratchy.

  He smiled. “One of the women at the dance hall. Jessica was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.”

  “Oh.” Relief flooded through me, but it was only momentarily as he pulled me to him, his fingers caressing my scalp, sending strange feelings through me. I felt his lips touch my brow and shivered.

  “Do not fear me, Elisa,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ll not harm you.”

  In response to his words, two tears came to my eyes. He was promising not to hurt me and yet had he not already done so by murdering my brother and then forcing me to become his wife? I still did not understand why he had insisted on this marriage. Why
couldn’t he just let me leave town? But alas, it was my own fault, too, for I had refused to depart until it was too late.

  He kissed my eyelids and his lips trailed over the rest of my face before his mouth slanted over mine. The pressure of his lips on mine was more pleasurable than I had thought possible considering my trepidation and then I recalled how I had responded to him before.

  Once again, my arms went around his neck. There was nothing else I could do. I was his prisoner, at least for now.

  I was scarcely aware of his hands now roaming my body for I had closed my eyes, unable to look at his face, and had allowed myself to do whatever I deemed necessary to survive the moment. There was no other way, I said to myself, for to fight him off would only mean more trouble in the days to come. And since he was my husband now, it was only natural that he wanted his rights.

  Not until the cold touched my naked body, caressing me as he had, did I open my eyes and realize that my clothes had been removed. That, in fact, both of us stood naked in the dim light of the fire.

  “Come.” He took me by the hand as if to lead me to the bed.

  I stared at his muscular chest and my eyes followed the trail of matted hair as it arrowed downward. Never before had I seen a naked man and the gasp that came from me was involuntary. My eyes widened as I continued staring at him, unable to move.

  “Come, Elisa,” he said, gruffly. Did I detect a note of irritation in his voice?

  Unable to move, I shook my head. “Please. I cannot can we not wait for this?”

  He smiled slightly at me and encompassed me within the warmth of his arms once more, pressing his hard length against me. “Elisa, my dear, I grant that it’s to your credit that you’re not a woman of leisure as my friend Drucilla was. However, this is the time for your education to begin.”

  “But I — ”

  Logan shook his head and, sweeping me up into his muscular arms, carried me to the bed.

  Goosebumps chilled my flesh. Though earlier I had not thought it cold, I was now glad for the warmth of the thick feather cover and heat of his body as he crawled into the bed beside me.

  For the next few moments we lay there silently and for a brief second, I hoped he’d forgotten about me.

  But he had not.

  I jerked away as his hand touched my thigh.

  “Elisa.” He said my name in a way that made me shiver. His arm reached out to me once more and in the dim light I saw his eyes watching me. “I will be careful, my dear.”

  Once more his lips brushed against my brow and trailed down my face but this time I could not respond as I had before. I stiffened.

  I opened my eyes suddenly as I realized he was leaving the bed. Had I succeeded?

  “Where are you going?”

  “Don’t worry, Elisa. I shall be back.”

  That was not what I worried about. I could only watch as he donned his thick velvet dressing gown which seemed rather incongruous with the austere surroundings in the room. I rose on my elbows and saw by the dim light from the now dying embers that he was leaving me alone.

  I waited for what seemed an age and finally closed my eyes and lay back on the pillows. Perhaps he had indeed gotten tired of me and gone elsewhere to sleep. If that was true, I wondered how it would affect my future in this place.

  But just as I had conjured up the worst possible idea, the door to the bedroom opened again.

  Logan walked in carrying a tray of something.

  “You know, you ate little for dinner.”

  I shrugged. “I was not hungry.”

  “Are you now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He brought the tray closer for me to see.

  I looked at the fresh cheese and the bread he had brought in and then I looked at the dark glass bottle. It was brandy from France! Real brandy.

  “Would you care for some?” He held out a glass to me.

  I nodded.

  Slowly I sipped the drink and felt the liquor warm my chilled blood. When Logan touched me again there seemed to a glow about him so that instead of merely warming me, the feel of his hand on my skin, of his skin against my skin, made me think my whole body was afire.

  This time when he kissed me, I opened my mouth, ready to receive him, to taste him, to return his passion. After all, I told myself, I had to act the dutiful wife to gain his trust.

  Still, when his hand caressed my naked breast, pausing for a moment at the sensitive tip, I found myself inhaling sharply. My nipples hardened at his touch and he stroked his rough unshaven chin against that sensitive part of me making me gasp as shivers of pleasure coursed through me. I clung to him and flushed with the glow that flooded me. It was as if I had drunk four or five glasses of brandy, instead of only one.

  And as he bent his head and his lips touched me there, gently sucking; the sensation was so pleasurable that my body ached for him to do more. I found myself lifting my hips, urging him to enter me.

  As his mouth continued sucking me, and his other hand stroked and caressed me, I found myself inching towards him, pressing myself closer to him in a way that I had never thought I would. My hands were in his hair, much like his had been in mine earlier, massaging his scalp and touching his tender skin. I found, to my amazement, that I was willingly kissing him and enjoying it.

  But I should not want this!

  Yet my body was not listening to what my mind was telling it. Instead of pulling back, I was pushing closer, drawing him against my nakedness, holding him and touching him in places where I had never thought I would touch a man.

  As his hands continued to roam my naked flesh, I found myself craving the feel of him and wanting more and more of it. I was astonished to realize that I actually wanted him to take me as his wife!

  Quite suddenly his fingers found the center of my being and as he parted my legs to stroke me there, I quivered both with delight and with fear.

  “No. Please. I — ”

  My protest was silenced by his mouth as he kissed me. Rather than pushing him away, I found myself pressing closer to him.

  I returned his kiss once more as his mouth found mine and I clung to him, tasting him and letting him taste me.

  The flush of shame covered me as I told myself I should not like what this man was doing to me – and yet I did.

  I wanted to cry out for him to take me and be done with it, but my own breeding forced me to keep silent and withstand all the torturous moments as he continued to nuzzle me and kiss me, as his lips touched each and every one of my fingers, and his tongue trailed down my arm and once more delighted me by suckling at my nipples, making them hard with the contact of his mouth.

  I was not conscious of the cries that were coming from me and yet I knew that it was me, and him. As we locked in our embrace, his hands parted my legs once more. I knew that the final moment had come.

  He nudged my legs further apart and his mouth once more took mine. I felt my eyes widen momentarily as the sharp, searing pain came and went. I wanted to gasp but could not for his lips had stilled my voice.

  And as he plunged deeper into me, I found myself rocking along with him, and praying that it would soon be over, and praying that it would never be over. He pulled me along so that we both rode together, and I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me as he thrust and turned within me. I moved in rhythm with him. It was nothing I planned and yet my body had responded to the music he’d played and before I realized it, my fingers were digging in his scalp and my hips were arching toward him wanting more of him, wanting all of him.

  As wave after wave of pleasure continued to wash over me, I found my eyes growing wet with tears. I had enjoyed this encounter with him — with this man who now claimed me as his wife. And yet I was disgusted with myself of allowing my emotions to carry me away, for not having the control which I had deemed necessary.

  And now because of him, I would be forever soiled. Should I one day find the man I wished to love and honor, I’d not be able to give him a virgin’s innoc
ence.

  I hated Logan James because he should have known that I had married him only out of necessity; and I hated him for taking advantage of my weakened flesh. Most of all I hated him for awakening these feelings within me.

  Yet as he kissed my tears away, I found myself nestled against the matted hairs of his chest and was oddly comforted by his hand which now stroked my hair.

  “I trust I did not hurt you too much, Elisa.”

  I could scarcely believe how gentle his voice sounded – as if he almost cared what I thought and felt!

  His hand brushed my nipples. It embarrassed me to see how they hardened at his touch. How could my body respond as it did, in the way that it did?

  He leaned over to kiss me, and I forced myself to turn away.

  “Never mind, Elisa. It will get better with time. At least, that’s what I’m told.”

  I could not speak but at my side my fist tightened, and I vowed that there would not be another time for him. Husband or not, he would not touch me again in such a fashion.

  With that thought in mind, I promptly fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Sun streaming through the window the following morning woke me. I realized with a start that I was not safe and warm back in Chicago, but in a strange place and a strange bed. Flushing with shame, I recalled the events of the night before and how I had acted. What would he think of me this morning? How could I face anyone knowing how a wanton I had been?

  I was relieved to find that I was alone in the bedroom.

  I hastily washed in the water left in the basin on the dresser and chose a suitable gingham dress: I did not look at the bed as I hurried from the room in search of the coffee I smelled.

  Once in the hall I looked around. How different the place seemed in the light of day? But a gloomy silence still pervaded the house. There were definitely things I knew I could do to cheer it up.

  Immediately I corrected myself. I would be here only long enough to discover the connection between Elliot and Logan James and then I would be gone. I didn’t want to get myself involved in a project that would absorb my time or my thoughts or that would make me want to stay longer than I had to. It was bad enough I had already given in to him.