Because You're Mine Read Online Free PDF Page B

theater! Come with me.” He took her upper arm in a punishing grip.
    Stumbling, gasping, Madeline was pulled toward his dressing room. Her ears were assaulted by his muttered curses. “Sir…I would appreciate it if you wouldn't use such words in my presence.”
    “You come to my theater uninvited, cause an accident in the wings, go behind my back to plead for a job…and now give me a lecture on my manners?”
    The door slammed shut, and they stood staring at each other—he with palpable fury, she with quiet stubbornness. She would not let him send her away from the Capital.
    “I would have thought such language beneath a man like you,” Madeline said with extreme dignity.
    Mr. Scott opened his mouth to reply, then muttered something under his breath.
    In the small, brilliantly lit room, every detail of Mr. Scott's face was vivid. The bronze of his complexion made stage paint unnecessary. His gaze was so piercing that it almost hurt to look at him, and his wide jaw was granite-hard. “You've made a mistake, Miss Ridley. There's no room for you here.”
    “Mr. Scott, if you're still offended by my clumsiness earlier, I'm sorry for that. I'll be quite careful from now on. Won't you give me another chance?”
    Logan was infuriated by his own reaction to her. The memory of her had distracted him all day. The girl's appealing speech would have melted a glacier, but it only strengthened Logan's resolve. “It has nothing to do with this morning,” he said brusquely. “The fact is, you're not needed here.”
    “But the duchess said there were many things I could help with…the costumes, the theater library—”
    “Julia has a soft heart,” he interrupted. “You managed to take advantage of her. I'm not so easily manipulated.”
    “I haven't manipulated anyone,” she protested.
    A manservant arrived to help Logan change for the second act, bearing in his arms a fresh white linen shirt and vest. “George,” Logan acknowledged him curtly and began to unfasten his damp shirt. There were only a few minutes left before the second act commenced.
    Madeline had never seen a man undressing before. As each button was released, more gleaming muscle was revealed. Shocked, she edged toward the door. “Mr. Scott, I…believe I should go now.…”
    “You're going to leave the Capital?” he inquired coldly, shrugging out of the limp garment.
    Hastily Madeline lowered her eyes, but the image of his broad, naked chest was permanently seared into her brain. “I will stay if the duchess allows it.”
    “Then stay if you choose, but you'll pay for it. I'm going to make your life hell. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Mr. Scott,” she whispered, fleeing the dressing room as he began to unfasten his trousers.
    Logan paused as the door closed, willing his fierce arousal to recede. Tactfully George averted his eyes, scooping up the discarded shirt. “Will there be anything else you require, sir?” he murmured.
    A bucket of ice-cold water would have been useful, not to mention a drink. But Logan shook his head and turned away, continuing to undress. The manservant straightened a few articles in the dressing room and left quietly.
    Facing the mirror, Logan sighed, trying to bring his thoughts to the work ahead…but his mind was filled with the girl. Madeline.
    Who was she, and why in God's name did she want to work at the Capital? She was obviously too well-bred for such a place—she had no business associating with the rough theater crowd. What had Julia been thinking to hire her? He dearly wished he could corner his comanager and wring an explanation from her, but there was no time. He had a performance to finish, and nothing was more important than giving the audience at the Capital exactly what it wanted.
     
    Somehow Madeline made her way back to her vantage place in the wings. She put her hands to her hot cheeks, certain they had been branded a permanent scarlet. Had she been wrong to insist on remaining at the Capital in