Page 1 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
Chapter One
London, 1892
“The man istrouble, I tell you. I have it on good authority—Logan MacLain is an outlaw.”
“On good authority?” Amelia Stewart scoffed at her friend’s breathless pronouncement. Glancing up from cataloguing a recent addition to her lending library’s collection, she met Beatrice’s wide-eyed gaze. “I learned long ago to pay no heed to rumors.”
After all, she’d inspired many a tongue-wagging biddy herself.
“What I’ve heard is not idle gossip. It’s a warning.” Beatrice lowered her voice as if she had revealed a solemn secret. “The man is a devil, I tell you. A born rogue.”
“So, which is it, Bea?” Amelia bit back a grin. “Outlaw? Devil? Or rogue?”
“Well...” Beatrice nibbled her bottom lip. “I suppose it may be more accurate to say he’s a gambler. But he’s up to no good. There’s no doubt about that. Heaven only knows how he filled his coffers.”
Amelia cocked a skeptical brow. “Honestly, Bea, it’s not like you to be drawn into empty-headed tales. Mr. MacLain is a tavern keeper, not a train robber fresh from a spree of pillaging.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I have heard talk of what goes on in his pub, tales not fit to be shared with a proper lady. The Rogue’sLair, indeed.” The excitement in Beatrice’s voice betrayed her eagerness to repeat what she’d heard, indecent or not.
“I am not so very proper.” Amelia gave a little shrug. “Surely you recallthe scandal.”
“Not a scandal. Not really. Mere gossip, naught but hot air.” Beatrice glanced away, a telltale sign she did not fully believe her own words. “Besides, that was a long time ago. At least the scoundrel had the good graces to make you a widow. Not a divorcee.”
Widow.
The word echoed hollow in Amelia’s thoughts. Somehow, it didn’t quite fit. Even now, years after she’d cast aside her black mourning dress and ended what had seemed a hopeless charade, pinched-face shrews with little better to do twittered about her, their innuendo-laden whispers spoken in tones meant to reach her ears. Their cruel chatter no longer cut deeply, as it had in those days when she’d been torn between despair and relief. She had broken into sobs after the accident that ended her husband’s life, but she had never admitted the bitter truth that her tears had not been born solely of grief. Blended with her sorrow, an elemental sense of solace had swept over her.
She no longer needed to fear the man she’d once loved.
Amelia sighed. “It seems a lifetime ago.”
“I pray you know better than to let a man’s handsome face blind you to his cold heart.”
“That goes without saying.”
Amelia glanced away, unwilling to reveal the unexpected ache in her chest to Beatrice’s observant gaze. Her marriage had proven a bitter lesson, indeed. She’d seen the icy hardness in Edward’s eyes from the start, but she’d believed her love could change him. How naive she had been. The man she’d wed had shown her no tenderness. No affection. If anything, he hadlooked upon her with a cynical contempt, his striking blue eyes viewing her innocent devotion to him as a fool’s game.
He’d tried to break her spirit. It was as if Edward had wanted to leave her jaded. But she had known better than to give in. Known better than to surrender her hope.
Genuine love existed. Of that, she had no doubt. She’d seen the adoration in her mother’s eyes whenever Mama had looked upon her father. And she’d heard the pure devotion in her father’s voice whenever he’d uttered her mother’s name, even in the moments before he took his last breath.
She wanted that kind of love.
She would not settle for less.
Never again.
“You’re wiser now,” Bea went on, pulling Amelia back from her thoughts. “But I do worry.”
“Whatever about?” Amelia forced a lightness into her tone she didn’t truly feel.
“You were a wedded woman, but you’ve no experience with the ways of rogues and seducers. With no want of a wife, they’re the most dangerous of them all.”
“And you believe Mr. MacLain is such a man—a scoundrel who would happily lure a woman like me into his bed?”
Beatrice nodded solemnly. “He’s a wicked one, I tell you.”
“How very exciting! I rather fancy the prospect of being ravished by a rogue, wicked or otherwise,” Amelia teased, eager to watch Beatrice’s face scrunch up into a little scowl.
