need to ask whether or not it was an original; she doubted Logan McKenzie would tolerate anything else in his home. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she opined as she turned back to face Logan.
He gave a brief nod of agreement. ‘It’s of my grandfather’s home. Can I get you a drink?’ He indicated the array of bottles on a side-table.
Darcy was still reeling from the fact that the mellow-stone castle in the painting, shimmering mysteriously in the mist, actually belonged to this man’s grandfather. Ex-actly what had she got herself into…?
‘A small whisky, if you don’t mind,’ she accepted.
‘My grandfather would certainly approve of that; he doesn’t believe you can trust a woman who doesn’t drink whisky!’ Logan gave a slight smile as he poured the liquid into two tumblers, handing Darcy the one with the least in it.
With a name like McKenzie, this man’s family must come from Scotland—which no doubt also accounted for Logan’s grandfather’s opinion about women and whisky!
Which was a pity—because normally Darcy couldn’t stand the stuff; she just felt in need of a restorative at the moment. The whisky certainly was doing that, initially taking her breath away, but then it quickly gave her an inner warmth.
‘Let’s sit down,’ Logan suggested, suiting his actions to his words, watching as Darcy moved to sit in an armchair across the room from his.
Her action was a bit obvious, perhaps, Darcy acknowledged, but the two of them were completely alone here in the privacy of Logan’s home, and she doubted that obsequious man downstairs would come running to her aid if she decided to call for help!
‘Now do you feel like telling me what all that was about earlier?’ Logan ventured.
She took another sip of the whisky at his reminder of earlier. ‘That woman!’ she exclaimed with returning anger.
‘Margaret Fraser?’
‘Yes.’ Darcy looked up sharply. ‘Did you see her?’
Logan raised dark brows. ‘One could hardly miss the entrance of an actress of Margaret Fraser’s fame,’ he drawled dryly. ‘But, I have to admit, I have no idea where she fits into the scheme of things.’
Darcy wrapped both hands around her glass of whisky, wishing it were a hot drink now, so that it could warm her outside as well as in. ‘She doesn’t,’ she replied with feeling. ‘That’s my whole point!’
Logan shook his head, smiling slightly. ‘As clear as mud,’ he responded.
Darcy gave a deep sigh. ‘It’s quite simple, really, my—Daniel Simon, Chef Simon—’
‘I know who Daniel Simon is, Darcy,’ Logan assured her.
‘He’s going to marry her!’
There, she had said it, actually had acknowledged it out loud. And it was no more acceptable now than it had been yesterday when she had first been told of the engagement.
‘Going to marry whom?’ Logan prompted, sitting forward in his chair now.
‘Margaret Fraser, of course!’ Darcy answered disgustedly.
‘You can’t be serious?’ Logan said disbelievingly.
‘Exactly what I said when he told me,’ she agreed determinedly. ‘But it seems that he is.’
‘But I—She’s—’
‘Incredible, isn’t it?’ Darcy went on, standing up to pace the room. ‘He only met her three weeks ago, and yet he’s decided he wants to marry her!’
‘Three weeks ago…’ Logan echoed, looking thoughtful now.
‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’ Darcy continued. ‘How can anyone decide, after only three weeks’ acquaintance, that they want to spend the rest of their life with one particular person?’
‘I believe it does happen sometimes,’ Logan observed distractedly. ‘Although I’m a little surprised—Darcy, are you absolutely sure of your facts?’ He watched her with narrowed eyes.
‘Positive,’ she said with feeling. ‘Why else do you think she’s at the restaurant this evening?’
‘The same reason as everyone else—to eat?’
‘And that’s another thing.’ Darcy kept on going. ‘The woman barely eats enough to keep a bird alive; a fine advertisement for a chef’s wife!’
Logan’s mouth twisted. ‘I suppose she has to maintain that wonderful figure somehow.’
Darcy gave him another sharp look. ‘Don’t tell me you find her attractive too?’ she said accusingly.
‘No,’ Logan answered. ‘I can honestly say I am probably one of the few men impervious to her charms, phys-ical or otherwise!’
‘Good,’ Darcy bit out flatly.
Logan stood up to pour himself another shot of whisky, holding up the decanter to Darcy, putting it down again when she shook her head in refusal. ‘Tell me, Darcy,’ he began gingerly, after sipping at his replenished glass. ‘If—and, I have to admit, I still find it incredible to believe!—Daniel Simon is going to marry Margaret Fraser, where does that leave you?’
She shuddered. ‘Out of there!’ she told him with feeling, putting down her empty glass. ‘There is no way I’m going to sit back and just accept all this.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I shall have to move out of the house, of course—’
‘You live with him?’ Logan interrupted harshly.
‘Only for the last couple of months or so,’ she replied. ‘Since I finished uni. It was never intended as a permanent arrangement, just somewhere for me to stay until I take up a permanent post in September.”
Logan frowned. ‘But I thought you worked for Chef Simon Catering?’
‘Again, only temporarily. I’m actually a trained kindergarten teacher.’ And until yesterday she had been looking forward to starting her first real job, as such. At the moment, everything looked too black to be able to look forward to anything!
Logan paused, then admitted, ‘I’m having trouble keeping up with all this…’
Darcy gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘The job with Chef Simon is only a holiday job for me,’ she explained. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I trained as a chef first, before I realised I liked working with children rather than feeding adults! I went back to uni to get the suitable qualifications.’
Logan’s frown deepened. ‘How old are you…?’
‘Twenty-five,’ she answered, knowing Logan, like many others, had placed her as much younger than that. She was sure as she got older that this was going to be an advantage, but at the moment it was only a hindrance to people actually taking her seriously.
He looked grave. ‘Old enough to know better, then. Darcy, I realise this can’t be
