The rising sun warmed Logan where he sat alone behind his desk.
He hadn't slept well the night before, lying awake under his covers, thinking about the strange woman, his heart racing as he recalled his gallop across the pasture, and his launch onto her back.
When memories of her softness brought an unwelcomed hardness between his thighs, he groaned. He needed to uncover what she knew, and get her out of his house, his life, and his head. He frowned into the mocking sunshine, rang for the footman, commanding him to fetch the woman, and gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. Straightening, he paced the floor, fighting the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. Stopping midstride, he turned and gazed at the door, grit his teeth, and waited.
The clock on the mantel in
