Page 12 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
“I don’t know.” The words seemed not quite truth, not quite a lie. But she couldn’t tell MacLain what the intruder had demanded of her. The very notion of a precious gem concealed somewhere within her library was madness. Even so, she couldn’t chance putting ideas in anyone’s head about hidden treasure.
He looped a curtain tie around the intruder’s legs. “Ye think I’m fool enough to believe that, do ye?”
“Perhaps it’s you who could shed some light on the man’s motives,” she countered. “After all, you confess to at least a passing acquaintance.”
MacLain shrugged. “Most nights, he speaks only a few words, and those are to the barkeep. He keeps whisky flowing down his gullet.”
“Yet tonight, you knew to follow him here.”
“Now that’s where ye’re wrong.” A dark expression fell over his features. “I didn’t know the bastard was here until I heard ye scream.”
“Just in time for you to charge to the rescue.”
“But not to a hero’s welcome, I see.”
“I do appreciate your help.” She weighed her next words carefully. “Provided, of course, this was not a planned performance.”
“Performance?” He fastened the binding into a stout knot around the intruder’s ankles. “What in Hades are ye trying to say?”
She pointed to the door. “I cannot help but wonder how you gained entry. As you can see, the bolt is still in place.”
“Aye, that it is.”
“Yet you did not break it down.”
“Only a fool would go to such trouble.” Rising to his full height, he threw her attacker a look of contempt. “I gained entry the same way he did—through the alley.”
“A door that was also secured,” she countered.
“The puny lock on that rotted hunk of wood was no match for his pry bar.” MacLain eyed the weapon in her hand. “Now, I’ll ask ye to set that gun down before ye blow off one of my toes.”
“I would not waste a perfectly good bullet on your toe. I am quite a good shot.”
“Are ye now?”
“My aim is true to twenty paces.”
“Good to know.” The corners of his full mouth lifted, the merest hint of a smile. “Between yer dog eyeing my leg like a tasty bone and that gun ye’re gripping for dear life, I’m starting to take issue with the welcome I’ve received. I am not used to playing the noble knight. Matter of fact, I’m of a mind that I’d have been better off if I had stayed at the pub and poured myself another draught of whisky.”
“Until now, I had no need of a knight, noble or otherwise.” Squaring her shoulders, she met his arrogant gaze. “Odd that the situation arose only after I’d laid eyes on you.”
“If ye do not trust me, see for yerself,” MacLain said as the trussed-up man on the floor began to stir. “Look at the backdoor. Then you can summon the authorities. Unless you’d prefer to keep this bloke here on your rug. In the morning, the ladies who frequent this place could step over him.”
“Very well. Please, lead the way.” She turned to whistle softly to her dog. “Come along, Heathy. I might be in need of your services.”
She followed MacLain past the rows of shelves to a dimly lit hallway. She lit a gas lamp on the wall.
“Ye see how the latch is dangling off the frame?” he said as they approached the door that opened to the alley. “He forced the lock.”
Amelia spotted a small iron rod stowed nearby, not quite out of sight. “He left his pry bar here, on this shelf.” She sighed. “But when could he have done this? Surely someone in the library would’ve noticed.”
“From the looks of it, he knew what he was doing. He’d be quick.”
Had the chatter of her patrons’ conversation and the ordinary sounds of the crowded, shop-lined street obscured the noise? “You may be right.”
“The coward put some thought into this. He knew when to show himself.” Mr. MacLain leaned closer, studying her in the hazy light. His eyes narrowed. “He left a mark on ye—on yer cheek.”
“I am not injured. Not truly.”
