Page 100 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
Ah, her heart had been stubborn. So wistful. And so foolish. But now she knew the truth. She knew better.
She would make a new life for herself. And in time, Logan MacLain would be nothing more than a memory. A tempting, infuriating, confounding memory at that.
Chapter Thirty
Two miserable weekspassed before Logan received the message he’d dreaded, the message he’d known would come. A blasted fortnight wasted in a haze of drink and denial, and all the while, he’d struggled to convince himself that he had not made the biggest mistake of his life.
Amelia had not wanted riches. Nor jewels.
She’d wanted the one thing he did not think he could give.
Blasted fool that he was, he’d walked away. He’d turned his back and closed the door behind him.
She’d bared her soul to him. And like a harebrained dolt, he’d left her there, her lower lip quivering as she valiantly fought back tears she was too proud to shed.
All because he couldn’t find the courage to speak the words she needed to hear.
Even though he knew the truth. He’d thought he could wall off his heart. But it was too damned late. He loved Amelia. More than he’d ever loved anything or anyone in his life.
And now, he’d lost her.
Within hours, she would be on a steamship heading away from England. Away from him.
But far more than an ocean would keep them apart. He had hurt her. At the moment when he’d last looked into her eyes, she had struggled not to weep. Now, she’d never forgive him. Not that he could blame her. Bloody hell, he couldn’t even forgive himself.
Why hadn’t he spoken the words she’d longed to hear? Why hadn’t he told her the truth?
When the courier arrived not long after dawn, Finn’s hastily scrawled message had seemed a blow to the gut. Logan had read the note not once, but twice, then crushed the paper into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace. At this point, it didn’t matter. Amelia would depart London that day. Soon, he’d be little more than a memory to her, the dolt who’d let her slip through his fingers.
So why in Hades had he come to the building where Amelia had housed her cherished library, the very place he expected to find her?
He wanted to offer a proper farewell. Or so he tried to convince himself. She deserved that, and so much more.
But that wasn’t the half of it. He wanted to see her again.
No, not wanted. Needed.
If only to burn the image of her coral-rose smile and sapphire eyes into his memory.
Now, standing before the place where he’d first laid eyes on Amelia, he saw Finn emerge from the building, hauling a large steamer trunk down the steps. Spotting Logan, Finn threw him a scowl.
“Logan MacLain, I’d always known ye were a stubborn arse. But I had never taken ye for a blasted fool.”
“Fool, is it?” Logan folded his arms and returned Finn’s glower. “The way I see it, ye’re the one breaking yer back.”
Finn made it to the pavement and deposited the trunk in his spacious coach. “Funny that you mention it—my back, that is.” He stood away from the carriage and rubbed his sides for effect. “It would be better for all of us if ye convinced Amelia to stay. My sore muscles would be most grateful.”
“Ah, it’s good for ye to put them to use for something other than chasing skirts.” A peculiar lump settled in Logan’s gut. “Where is she?”
“She’s gone off with Mrs. Langford for something or other she needs for the voyage. I expect them back within the hour.”
An unfamiliar emotion coursed through Logan, like a poison in his veins. “I see she’s got ye wrapped around her finger.”
“Amelia needed assistance. She couldn’t very well turn to ye, now could she?”
“Not wasting any time, are ye?” Logan gave voice to the peculiar bitterness that had suddenly infused his thoughts.
“If I had the energy, I’d set ye straight on yer arse for saying such a thing.”
