Logan stood by the kitchen counter, a hand on one hip. The night had passed uneventfully and Marcus Steele slept it through. Of course, it helped she slipped her own herbal concoction into his willow bark tea. She felt a little fatigued after her short plane trip from Sydney and her forty-five minute drive from the Halifax Airport to Deegan Black’s sprawling waterfront home in Bennington Bay on Nova Scotia’s South Shore. Logan did not like being out of her element. Glanced at the toaster, she tapped the granite countertop impatiently. She had arrived yesterday morning, and one of her first duties was to replace the gauze and bandages on his face. Marcus had been unconscious at the time. Oh, his ruined beauty. She shook her head in sadness. Gazing at the undamaged side of his face, she could see Marcus Steele had been one of the most astounding males to draw breath. The left side stood as an example of handsome perfection, which made the destruction all the more wretched. The toast sprang at last.
