To Marry McKenzie

Francesca Darwin's voice was easily recognisable to Darcy as she hurried

away up the wide staircase, her legs shaking so badly she wasn't sure she

was going to make it.

'I've been right here,' Logan answered the other woman hardly.

Darcy managed to get to the top of the stairs before her legs gave way,

turning the corner to lean weakly back against the wall, her tears starting to

fall now.

She should move, she knew she should, before anyone else came up the

stairs and saw her there, but her legs didn't feel capable of moving just yet.

Logan hated her! There was simply no mistaking that glitter in his eyes a

few minutes ago...

'I simply wanted to say how nice it's been to meet you.' Francesca was

talking again now, her voice bubbling with excitement. 'It's been a

wonderful evening.'

'I'm glad you enjoyed it,' Logan returned noncommittally.

Darcy was far less composed. What did the other woman mean, it had been

nice meeting him...?

'Perhaps we'll meet again,' Francesca suggested.

'Perhaps,' Logan returned with clear impatience.

Darcy didn't stop to listen to any more of the conversation, moving away

from the wall to stumble down the corridor to the bedroom she had been

allocated on her arrival, switching on the light to close the door thankfully

behind her.

She didn't understand. She had thought Francesca Darwin came here with

Logan, had seen the two of them together earlier when she'd entered the

salon, and had realised this had to be the woman in Logan's life. But from the

conversation she had just overheard, obviously she was wrong. And if he

hadn't come here with Francesca, then it would seem he hadn't come here

with anyone...

So where was the woman in his life?

If there was one, a little voice in her head reasoned. Hadn't she just assumed

there had to be one? Logan had been out to lunch with someone that day ten

days ago, changed his mind about being a witness at their parents' wedding,

and hadn't she, Darcy, decided it had to be because of a woman's influence?

But if not another woman, what—or who!—had changed his mind?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WHY didn't this prattling woman just stop talking and go? Logan fumed

inwardly as Francesca Darwin carried on gushing. Didn't she realise he just

wasn't interested?

The only thing he was interested in was that Darcy had looked upset when

she'd left him a few minutes ago, and he knew it was because of his nastiness

to her. But he just couldn't seem to help himself.

Because he was in love with her...

Love. He had realised, when she'd walked away from him on the terrace

earlier, that he was in love with her, that love for Darcy was the reason all

the meaning had gone out of the rest of his life. It was an emotion he had

thought he would never feel for any woman.

It terrified the life out of him!

Love was everything he had thought it would be: frightening, debilitating in

the knowledge that all of your life's happiness was wrapped up in a single

person.

But it was also many other things: exhilarating, a feeling of gladness just in

that person's presence, pleasure in every movement, every word spoken, a

driving need to protect, but most of all an overwhelming feeling of

completeness. For the first time in his life Logan felt whole, as if he had

found the other half of himself. Darcy was that other half.

It wasn't something he could choose to feel, or not, was an emotion that

existed entirely of its own volition. He had never known a feeling like it,

ached with love for her, for just one of those heart-stopping smiles to come

his way, wanted to tell Darcy how he felt. But those feelings of terror held

him back. Because she didn't love him.

He had known that outside on the terrace too. She had wanted to get away

from him, couldn't wait to escape.

What was he going to do now?

'I'll walk you to the door, Francesca.' Brice stepped neatly into the one-sided

conversation, shooting Logan a concerned glance before taking a firm grasp

of Francesca's arm, chatting to her amiably as they walked away.

'Logan...?'

He turned dazedly to look at his mother. Had she loved his father in the way

he now loved Darcy? Did she now love Daniel in the same way? If she did,

then he knew the least he owed her was an apology for the way he had

treated her. Not just for months, but for years...

Meg smiled at him gently. 'Daniel and I are going to have a brandy in the

library; come and join us.' She didn't wait for an answer, slipping her hand

into the crook of his arm as the three of them strolled to the privacy of the

library.

A fire had been lit in there, giving off a warm glow of heat, but it was a heat

that didn't touch Logan. Neither did the glass of brandy that Daniel had

pushed into his hand and which Logan sipped distractedly.

Realising he loved Darcy, and that love wasn't returned, was bad enough,