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the same.'
Darcy breathed hard in her frustrated anger towards this man. 'Logan, Meg
and my father have asked me to be one of their witnesses at the wedding—'
'How nice for you!'
'They would like it very much if you would agree to be the other one!' she
burst out.
'In their dreams!' Logan remained unmoved.
'I—you—'
Logan leant back in his chair, a half-smile curving his lips. 'So now you can
report back to both of them that their little ploy in getting you to be the one
to ask me didn't work,' he told her contemptuously.
Darcy saw red at that. Neither her father nor Margaret Fraser had so much as
suggested she should do that—she had done it because she'd thought Logan
might have been less insulting in his answer to her than he would either of
them. She had been wrong!
'You are the most unforgiving, pigheaded man I have ever had the
misfortune to meet!' Her voice shook with rage, her hands clenched into
fists at her sides.
Again, Logan looked unmoved by her outburst. 'And you, my dear Darcy,
are the most naively gullible young lady / have ever met,' he returned with
insulting coolness.
She didn't think, didn't reason, reacted purely on instinct, which told her to
pick up the bowl of recently whisked egg-whites—and put it over the top of
Logan's head!
Then, as he slowly removed the bowl and placed it carefully back on the
table-top, the fluffy egg-whites slowly congealing on his hair and face,
Logan's expression through the gooey mess one of stunned surprise, Darcy
could only stare at him in horror for what she had just done.
She had done some terrible things to him in the short time she had known
him, but Logan was never going to forgive her for this one.
Never!
CHAPTER TEN
'WILL you just get a grip, Fergus? It wasn't in the least bit funny!' Logan
glared across the restaurant table—not Chef Simon!—at his cousin, as the
other man seemed incapable of stopping his laughter.
'I'm sorry!' Fergus finally gasped. 'I can't help it! I just—my goodness, I bet
you looked a sight with all that uncooked egg-white all over you!' Fergus
went off into paroxysms of laughter once again.
Logan continued to scowl at the other man. Maybe one day he might be able
to see the funny side of this himself—although he wouldn't count on it! But
at this particular moment, only an hour or so after it had happened, he still
didn't find it in the least funny.
He had stared up at Darcy in complete disbelief at the time, sure he'd been in
the middle of one of those unbelievable nightmares one sometimes had. But
the slow descent of the gooey white mess down his face had given instant lie
to that hope; there was no way he could ever have imagined the cold
stickiness of those egg-whites against his skin and hair!
Darcy had looked stunned herself at what she had done, staring Sown at him
in horror. As well she might have done!
Logan wasn't a hundred per cent certain what his immediate intention had
been—probably he had been about to wring her pretty little neck! But
before he'd been able to do that, he'd heard the kitchen door swing open
behind them.
'I thought I heard raised voices—good grief!' Daniel Simon gasped as he
took in the scene, his gaze disbelieving on Logan's dishevelled appearance.
'What on earth happened?' He looked appalled as he moved further into the
room.
Logan turned to the other man with glacial eyes, knowing how utterly
ridiculous he must look. And exactly who was responsible for that? 'Your
daughter has been proving to me yet again the danger of antagonising an
unpredictable redhead,' he drawled hardly, his glacial gaze now taking in
Darcy too.
She swallowed hard. 'I just—'
'Save it,' Logan rasped, standing up abruptly. 'It's time I was leaving,
anyway—way past!' he added curtly, moving to pick up one of the towels
from the rack, wiping off the excess egg-whites before looking straight at
Daniel Simon. 'I would appreciate it if you could inform my mother there
will be no necessity to send me an invitation to the wedding.'
The older man eyed him warily. 'You'll attend as one of our witnesses?'
Logan gave a scathing snort before throwing down the towel he had been
using. 'I won't be attending at all. As I'm sure Darcy will be only too happy
to explain to you once I've gone!' He strode forcefully towards the door.
'Besides, going on past—and present!—history,' he stormed, 'Darcy is likely
to do something even more outrageous if we meet at the wedding—like
stabbing me with a knife at the reception!'
'Logan!'
He turned slowly at the sound of Darcy's anguished cry. 'Yes?' he prompted
icily.
She gave a self-conscious grimace. 'I'm sorry.'
'So am I,' Logan returned. 'So am I!' he repeated with pointed feeling.
