Authors: Patricia Wilson
It was
almost empty at this hour. Most of the chairs had been stacked ready for
closing time and she looked at her watch with surprise Almost ten. She had been
at the hospital for a long time without even knowing it. There would be hours
before any news came from the unit where her father was fighting for his life.
Would he
fight? Once, she would have been certain of his battle but now she was not too
sure. He seemed to have been crumbling before her eyes for a long time and she
had done nothing about it.
‘I knew
this was coming. I should have acted,’ she muttered to herself.
‘What?’ Logan had come back without her even knowing it and she glanced up at him with dazed eyes.
‘I was
thinking aloud,’ she confessed, and when he went on staring at her in his
devastating manner she dropped her head and continued, ‘I should have seen this
coming. I did see it coming but I didn’t act. I just Iet it happen.’
‘So now
you’re to blame for his heart attack?’ Logan queried harshly. ‘What would you
have done to prevent it?’
‘Kent
Madden was never a man to listen to reason. He only ever considered his own
reasons, his own greedy schemes.’
‘You
don’t know him! You never did!’ Abigail managed hotly, stung into life by the
harsh, condemning tone.
‘I know
every last thing about him,’ Logan growled. ‘I know every detail of his life up
to the present moment. When I turn my gaze on somebody they don’t have much
that remains hidden,’
CHAPTER FOUR
Abigail met the cold gaze
now, the icy glitter of eyes she had
once smiled at her. Had she ever really known this
man? Had she really been his wife in every sense of the word?
I wonder how much you found
out from me?’ she murmured shakily. ‘I suppose I told you plenty without even
knowing it. Now he’s dying—’
‘And once again you’re
taking the blame,’ Logan cut in impatiently. His mouth suddenly twisted coldly.
‘Or is the balance tilting? Is it getting round to my turn? He would never have
reached this stage if I hadn’t been intent on crushing him. Is that where we’re
settling now?’
‘Who knows what would have
happened?’ Abigail whispered her eyes intent on her own, trembling hands.
‘If any of us could see the
future how differently we would act.’ She looked up at him. ‘But not you,
Logan. You would never have acted differently, would you?’ His face seemed to
swim before her eyes and she blinked rapidly. This drink has gone straight to
my head.’ ‘You need food,’ Logan said curtly. It was served at that moment and
when she just looked at it blankly he handed her her knife and fork. ‘Eat,’ he
bit out. ‘You don’t move until I’ve seen you eat. You need sleep too but the
food comes first.’
I can’t
sleep,’ Abigail pointed out shakily, eating as ordered even though she didn’t
feel at all like it. ‘I’ll sit on the bench at the hospital and try to rest a
bit.’
‘You’ll get into bed
and sleep. When you’ve finished this you’re going to the flat.’
‘What
flat?’ Abigail looked up with startled eyes at him, and he stared back at her
grimly.
‘Our
flat. We’ve only ever had the one and it’s still there.’
‘It’s
yours. It has nothing to do with me.’ There was a faint trace of panic at the
back of her voice but if he heard it Logan gave no sign. Instead he regarded
her steadily, almost patiently.
‘When you
married me,’ he reminded her quietly, ‘half of everything I had, became yours.
That included the flat, the house and everything else. If you don’t want to sleep
in my half of the flat you can sleep in your half’
‘This
isn’t the time to be amusing,’ Abigail remonstrated chokily, and he eyed her
with a certain amount of disparagement.
‘I’m
telling you the facts, not trying to entertain you. If you had divorced me you
would by now be quite wealthy. If I die first you’ll be rolling in money.’
‘Stop
it!’ Abigail said sharply. ‘I want nothing of yours at all and you know that.’
‘But
you’ll get it, Abbie,’ he promised softly. ‘You’re probably old enough to
handle wealth by now.’
‘Get
married again!’ Abigail suggested rather desperately. She wanted this taunting
conversation to stop because she knew it was just that. Logan was taunting her
even though her father was lying in a stiff white bed and clinging onto life.
‘I have a
wife,’ he pointed out coldly, the derision leaving his eyes. ‘One catastrophic
marriage is enough for me. I don’t need any more loose ends to tie off.’ if my
father dies it will be one thing finished,’ Abigail muttered bitterly, and she
finished her food, and he stood with an impatient movement, drawing her sharply
to her feet.
‘This conversation is over,
Abigail. Now you sleep!’
‘l will not!’ For a second
she stood her ground but she could never have had any doubt about winning. She
was dazed, swaying, out on her feet. Stress, tiredness and then the unexpected
wine had all done their bit. She could have slept on the table with no
difficulty.
‘Walk to the car or I’ll
carry you,’ he warned, and she managed to get to the door, the sight of the
Jaguar like the light at the end of a tunnel. Wherever Logan was taking her she
was going to go because she could not stay upright for very much longer.
‘My
father...’ she began, and his hand came under her elbow, supporting her as she
moved uncertainly forward.
‘Leave
that to me. I’ll not let you down,’ he assured her. He never had actually. She
ran that thought hazily though her mind. Logan had never let her down. Except,
of course, with Fenella Mitchell. The thought of that kept her awake until they
were in the flat that had once been so thrillingly familiar.
How many
times since she had left him had Logan brought Fenella here? If Fenella wanted
a baby would he refuse her too? Of course, Fenella would not want children, but
she had wanted Logan’s child—wanted it so badly.
‘Why?’
she whispered. She stood swaying as Logan shut the door behind them. ‘Why
couldn’t I have a baby?’
He turned
swiftly at the pained sound of her voice, his gaze sharpening as he saw the few
tears on her cheeks. They were tears of regret. If there had been a baby she
would have had something, someone, some part of Logan.
‘You’re
tired, Abigail.’ His voice was curiously husky and she looked across at him
mournfully.
‘Why?’
she repeated in the same whisper, ‘I never did understand. I wanted a baby.
What harm could it have done, even though you never intended to stay married to
me, even though you were merely after my father?’ Logan’s face tightened and he
walked slowly towards her, taking her jacket and tossing it down on a chattel
‘You need some sleep. This is not the moment to discuss the past. Ask me again
at some other time,’ he suggested grimly. ‘For now, go to bed. You know the
way.’
‘I’ve
nothing to sleep in…’ she began, but he turned away and spoke over his
shoulder.
‘You left
everything when you fled, including your clothes. They’re all still there,
right where you abandoned them. As I recall, you had plenty of nighties.’
It was
too much trouble to move and when she stood there staring at him Logan came back and lifted her up taking her into the bedroom. He tossed her a nightie as
she sat on the bed in a lifeless manner and his looks were a stern warning as
he said. ‘You undress all by yourself, otherwise I might just change my mind
about that baby.’ As he walked out and closed the door firmly she still sat
there staring after him, too bemused and worn out to make any sense of him at
all. Sometimes it seemed that she had merely dreamed Logan, conjured him up in
her head, because this man was not the Logan she remembered. She managed to get
into the nightie and was asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. She was
too worn out to worry any more tonight.
Next day, Abigail awoke to
find herself in the flat. It was instantly familiar and frightening and she
washed and dressed as quickly as she could, only to find that she was alone in
the place.
There was
no sign of Logan and she dared to make herself some breakfast, gulping down a
few spoonfuls of cereal and then making for the phone. She had slept all night
and she dreaded hearing the report from the hospital about her father.
Logan
came in before she had even reached the telephone
and after one swift glance at her strained face he closed the door and turned
back to her. Your father is holding his own.’
‘How do
you know? Did you ring? Why didn’t you wake me?’
‘To what
purpose? In any case, they won’t let you see him.’
‘Of course they will! I’m
going there now, at once!’ Abigail turned on him with blazing eyes, sure that
he was once again trying to manoeuvre her for some dark end of his own.
‘Do so,’ he agreed
indifferently. ‘However, they’ll not let you see him.’
‘Oh? How do you know?’ She
snapped out the question, almost ready to fly into a rage, and he glanced at
her sceptically.
‘I’ve been there already.’
The brief statement left her
unable to rage at all. Logan had been there? He had tried to see her father? It
was inconceivable—unless he had gone to make more mischief.
‘You went to pester a man
who may well by dying?’ she choked. ‘You went to gloat?’
‘How
highly you regard me, Abigail.’ Logan spun round with sheer fury glittering in
his eyes. ‘How well trained you are. Every word your father speaks is true and
just but I’m every sort of villain. Why the hell did you marry me in the first
place?’
‘I loved
you.’ It was out before she could stop it, so simply said, and it did little to
calm him down.
‘Childish
fantasy, no doubt,’ he grunted, frowning at her darkly. The rage seemed to be
going and she was glad of it. She had never really seen Logan in a rage before
although she had heard him with other people.
‘I went
to have a word with him,’ Logan continued after staring at her bleakly. ‘I
thought it might help. You may not have registered the fact but nobody is after
Madden’s precious firm at the moment.’
She had
noticed yesterday—noticed and been scared more than ever. ‘The bank.’ she began
nervously. ‘They didn’t—’
‘I called
the dogs off,’ Logan informed her curtly, ‘After you came to see me I had a
rethink. I went to the hospital today to tell your father the latest news and
to make my offer. I thought it might just perk him up but unfortunately they
wouldn’t let me near him.’
‘What
offer?’ It was difficult to breathe, the whole situation terrifying because she
knew that Logan had not just stopped his vendetta. There was something else and
it could only be something worse.
‘Perhaps
you had better sit down,’ Logan suggested, sitting himself and indicating a
chair opposite, and she obeyed because by the look on his face she knew she was
going to need some support.
‘What
offer?’ she repeated, staring at him with wide green eyes that showed every one
of her tumbling emotions.
I’m
prepared to stop this whole thing.’ Logan stated coolly. ‘I’m prepared to make
an offer for the Madden Corporation and ease it into my own firm or, if he prefers
it. I’m willing to help put the Madden Corporation back on its feet.’
It was
impossible! He didn’t mean it. Abigail watched him intently, her mind searching
for snags, traps, but his face was impassive and she finally drew in a long,
shuddering breath.
‘Why?’
she asked. It was certainly not because she had been to see him, certainly not
pity for her father, but unless he was willing to tell her his reasons she had
no chance of finding out. Logan was cold and ruthless now. He probably had
always been like that but she had been too young and too entranced to notice it
before.
‘Not
generosity and not from the kindness of my heart.’ He leaned back, crossing one
elegantly clad leg over the other, his lips turned down in a smile of sceptical
amusement. ‘There is one proviso.’
There
would be and it would be horrifying. Abigail stared at him without speaking,
afraid to ask.
‘I would
be very grateful if you would stop looking at me like a scared rabbit,’ he
remarked, the sceptical amusement touching his eyes too. ‘The proviso is not
too worrying, all things being considered.’
‘What
things?’ Abigail asked breathlessly.
‘I’m
prepared to admit that my relentless pursuit of the firm has at least something
to do with your father’s present condition,’ Logan conceded. ‘I never wanted to
see him dead. I told you that before. However, even without my malevolent
interest, the Madden Corporation is finished, unless I help openly, unless I am
seen to be in some sort of charge for a while. Therefore, you need me and I’m
willing to help.’
‘But?’ Abigail
whispered, voicing the unspoken implication.
‘I wish
to barrow my wile for a few weeks. Nothing too arduous, no marital duties,
merely a front for a necessary trip I’m obliged to make.’