Billionaire's Wife On Paper / Their Royal Wedding Bargain. Michelle Conder

out with me earlier. Sorry to worry you.’ He turned back to look at the lumbering Border collie. ‘She’s slowed down a lot, hasn’t she?’

      Layla bent down to ruffle the dog’s ears just where his hand had been moments earlier, her hair tumbling from behind her shoulders. He suddenly had an urge to run his fingers through her hair—to see if it was as soft and silky as it looked.

      He curled his hands into tight fists and gave his willpower a pep talk. No touching. Hands off. Paper relationship only.

      ‘Yes, I noticed a big change after your grandfather passed,’ she said. ‘She misses him, don’t you, sweetie?’ She addressed the dog affectionately and was rewarded by an enthusiastic tail wag. Layla straightened and met his gaze. ‘We all miss him.’

      For a moment, Logan wondered if his grandfather had planned this all along—a marriage between him and Layla. The old man had spent a lot of time with her over the last months of his life. And his grandfather had given her that loan she’d mentioned. After all, she had been the one to suggest he enter a marriage of convenience when they’d spoken in his grandfather’s suite in the north tower. Had that been deliberate on her part or just a throwaway line borne out of her love for Bellbrae?

      And why the hell was he suddenly so cynical about her? She was part of the family—or close enough to being so. He couldn’t imagine Bellbrae without her.

      Logan had taken it a step further by suggesting she offer herself as his paper bride. He still didn’t quite believe he had done that, but it had seemed a solution he could live with at the time. The only solution he could live with. ‘Did you ever speak to my grandfather about his intentions regarding the will?’

      Her grey-green eyes widened in affront and her chin came up at a proud angle. ‘What are you suggesting? That I somehow put him up to changing his original will?’

      Logan shrugged one shoulder with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. ‘You stand to gain quite a lot if you marry me. You said it yourself—the upstairs-downstairs thing.’

      She coughed out a derisive laugh. ‘Newsflash, Logan. I’m not going to marry you. It would be beneath my dignity to marry someone who’s such an appalling snob.’ She swung away to walk back the way she had come but Logan caught up in one or two strides and clasped her by the wrist and turned her to face him.

      ‘No, wait,’ he said, suddenly aware of how tiny her wrist was, tiny enough for his fingers to overlap. Aware too, of the bergamot and geranium fragrance of her hair. Her eyes sparked with chips of ice, her rose-pink lips tightly pursed. It was a mistake to look too closely at her mouth. For years he had avoided doing so. It was soft and plump with her top lip shaped in a perfect cupid’s bow, with dimples either side when she smiled, which she was not currently doing.

      ‘I’m sorry, Layla. That was crass of me.’ He sighed and released her wrist, his fingers feeling strangely restless and empty when she stepped back.

      She rubbed at her wrist as if he had given her a Chinese burn, her eyes still flashing. ‘I find your accusation deeply insulting. The last thing I want is for you to lose Bellbrae but I refuse to marry a man who is so deeply distrustful of my motives.’

      Logan had always secretly admired her stubborn streak of pride. She hadn’t had the easiest start in life but she had made the most of the opportunities that had come her way after coming to live on the estate. She was a hard worker—too hard, he thought, given her leg—but it was a brave person indeed who took it upon themselves to tell her to slow down.

      ‘I can only apologise again. It was a stupid thing to say.’ He held her gaze, watching for any softening of her expression.

      She appeared to be slightly mollified. Slightly, not fully. Her lips were still tightly compressed but the daggers in her eyes had been sheathed. For now. ‘Apology accepted.’ Her voice sounded a little gruff and she delicately cleared her throat and added, ‘But there’s another thing I find annoying. You’re assuming I don’t already have a partner.’

      An invisible punch hit him in the chest and for a moment he couldn’t take a breath. He’d heard nothing about her love life recently…in fact, he couldn’t remember hearing anything about a boyfriend for years. But she spent heaps of time in Edinburgh these days with her cleaning business. She could have any number of lovers. And why shouldn’t she?

      ‘Do you?’ he asked, not sure he really wanted to know. But a current partner would be a problem. A big problem in more ways than he wanted to think about.

      Her eyes fell away from his and twin spots of colour darkened on her cheeks. ‘Not at the moment.’

      There was a small silence broken only by the rustling of the leaves at their feet as a cool breeze passed through the copse of trees. Some remaining leaves fell from the craggy branches overhead, floating down like over-sized confetti. What was it with the wedding imagery? Weddings were something he never thought of. He never even attended them, not if he could help it.

      Layla’s gaze went to the elderly dog who was now lying down at Logan’s feet. ‘What do you think will happen to Flossie if Robbie inherits Bellbrae?’ Her tone contained a chord of disquiet, the same disquiet he felt about his ruthless younger brother’s intentions. ‘Would you take her to live with you?’

      ‘She’s too old to travel and I’m on the road too much in any case.’ He exhaled a long breath. ‘He’ll probably have her put down.’

      She gave an audible swallow and her wide eyes met his. ‘We can’t let that happen. She might be old and mostly blind but she still enjoys life. Your grandfather would spin in his grave if—’

      ‘If my grandfather was so concerned about Flossie, then why the hell did he write his will like that?’ Logan couldn’t strip back the frustration in his voice. His grandfather’s will had put him in an impossible situation. He felt cornered, compromised, blackmailed.

      Layla’s teeth sank into her lower lip. ‘If I were to marry you, what would we tell people about us? I mean, are we going to pretend it’s a real marriage, or—?’

      Logan rubbed a hand along the side of his jaw before dropping his hand back by his side. ‘I would prefer people to think it’s a genuine love match. I’m not sure who’s going to buy it, but still.’

      Her chin came back up and the daggers were back glinting in her eyes. ‘Thank you.’ Her tone was distinctly wry.

      Logan could have thumped himself for being so insensitive. ‘That came out wrong. I was thinking more about in terms of myself.’

      A small frown appeared on her smooth-as-cream forehead. ‘Because of what you felt for Susannah?’ She paused for a beat and added, ‘What you still feel for her?’

      Logan had never discussed with anyone the complicated relationship he’d had with Susannah. He didn’t even like thinking about how badly he had handled things. It was better to let people think he was still grieving the loss of his fiancée, but in truth he felt guilt rather than grief. Gut-shredding guilt that gnawed and clawed at him with savage teeth and talons.

      So many mistakes he had made, costly mistakes that had ended in tragedy.

      ‘It’s pretty common knowledge I never intended to settle down with anyone after Susannah’s death,’ he said. ‘I guess my grandfather decided to take the matter into his own hands and force me to face my responsibilities as the eldest McLaughlin heir.’

      The frown on her brow deepened. ‘So, who will your heir be? Or will you eventually leave Bellbrae to a nephew or niece if Robbie has children at some point?’

      Logan hadn’t got to thinking that far ahead. His sole goal had been rescuing Bellbrae from being auctioned off to settle his brother’s gambling debts. Marrying to save the estate was a big enough step, siring an heir was a giant leap he wasn’t sure he was ready to even consider. Yet. He gave one of his carefully rationed smiles. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to help me with that?’

      Her