Page 27 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
She drummed her fingertips against the cushion of the chair. “You’re confident both of the letters came from Paul?”
“Both letters arrived by private courier.” MacLain crossed over the blue and ivory wool carpet to the wall behind the desk.Jostling one of the wooden panels behind the desk, he slid it open, revealing a stout iron safe. “I recognized his script. I am counting on ye to confirm my assessment.”
With smooth, sure movements, he manipulated the dial, and the lock released. He opened the weighted door to reveal a small book stored within.
When he handed her the leather-bound volume, Amelia’s breath caught. Her hands trembled as shock washed over her. Everything about the book, from its maroon leather binding to the lettering on its spine, was all too familiar.
“The book has significance to ye,” MacLain said, observing her reaction.
“Yes.” Dragging in a low breath, she opened the cover and gulped against a sudden lump in her throat. With the tip of her pointer finger, she traced the inscription penned in indigo ink on the title page.
To my dear Pixie . . .
Years ago, when she was still a girl in braids, her brother had dubbed her a pixie, flitting about and driving her governess to distraction. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear Paul’s voice, claiming in a childish taunt that somehow, she’d lost her fairy wings. Given her penchant for mischief, her mother and father had found the pet name rather fitting, while her beloved grandfather took a liking to the name. In his heart, Amelia was his little pixie, an imp no one could ever tame.
A rush of memories cascaded over her without warning. She blinked hard against a swell of emotion. Not even the most skilled forger would have known to use the affectionate nickname.
“Good heavens,” she whispered, turning to MacLain. “My brother gave me this book of poems many Christmases ago. How did you come to possess it?”
The set of his jaw hardened. “The first letter had been placed within the pages of this book.”
Oh, dear.Of all the books in her private library, why would anyone choose this collection of poetry to send to Logan MacLain?
Seeming to sense her pain, he gently touched her shoulder. “Had ye loaned it to anyone?”
“Never.” Bitter tears brimmed in her eyes, but she blinked hard, determined to hold them back. “I thought I had misplaced it. I’ve been heartsick.”
“Whoever took it wanted to be sure to connect ye with yer brother.”
“Indeed,” she agreed. “May I see the letter?”
He removed a folded leaf of stationery from the safe. “This is Paul’s handwriting, is it not?”
Fresh grief swelled within her. This imprecisely penned letter might well have been the last Paul had ever written. The very idea roiled her insides and tormented her with quiet misery. Her gaze swept over the page. Her pulse raced as she read and reread the ominous warnings scrawled in Paul’s characteristically brash script.
Her heart thudded, feeling as if it might actually crash against her ribs. “My brother wrote this message. I have no doubt.”
With a nod, MacLain placed another note in her hand. “This came with yer brother’s watch.” Was that an undercurrent of pain in his voice?
At first glance, she saw her brother’s bold strokes, the long, angular lines so typical of his script. Quickly scanning the brief missive, she paused, then read it again more slowly, careful to take in every nuance of Paul’s warning.
Fear mingled with the sadness deep in her heart. “I am confident Paul wrote this as well.”
“These messages make it clear that ye’re in danger.”
“I don’t…I simply do not understand.” Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she searched for words. “I am not positive I even want to.”
Shivers traced an icy path along her spine. Hands trembling, she stared down at her brother’s brash scrawl. Once again, she took in the words that seemed a desperate confession.
I have kept too many secrets. Like a fool, I believed I could shield Amelia. But I can no longer protect her. If you are reading this, I have met my fate. My dear sister does not deserve to suffer the consequences of my deeds. She is innocent. But the jackals want what is theirs. They will show no mercy. I cannot defend Amelia, but I have faith you will protect her. MacLain, I know that you will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I am putting my full trust in you.
Bowing her head, she lost the battle against the tears pricking the backs of her eyes.
“Oh, Paul.” She swiped away a rebellious drop, then another. “Dear God, what have you done?”
*
At the sightof a lone teardrop trickling down Amelia’s cheek, an instinct Logan had thought long buried returned to life. For years, he had walled off his own heart, but now, as he reached for Amelia, he wanted only to comfort her. Gently touching her arm, he reassured her. He was there to ease her fears. There to help her uncover the secrets behind her brother’s death. There to protect her.
