Page 33 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
“Aye, in the proper measure.” Again, those dark eyes flashed. “Of course.”
Absently, he scrubbed his hand over the dark stubble of beard on his jaw, stirring a fresh rush of heat to flood Amelia’s cheeks.
Would his touch be tender?
Would he command a response from her with the slight roughness of his skin against hers?
She was playing a dangerous game, wasn’t she?
Logan MacLain was a man skilled in all manner of delicious wickedness. A true rogue.
She glanced down to her toes, making a valiant effort to banish the wanton notions. Didn’t she know better than to engage in a flirtation, much less with this man? Heaven only knew nothing good would come of it.
She could not let down her guard.
Hadn’t she already learned a bitter lesson about men who could coax a woman out of her corset with little more than persuasive words and a flash of desire in their eyes? Before they had wed, her husband had eased away her doubts with his seductive promises. If only she’d realized she was not the only woman Edward wanted. Innocently—perhaps foolishly—she’d believed spoken vows could change him.
She’d been so very wrong.
The truth of it still seemed a dagger to the chest. But the years had brought a bitter wisdom. Trusting a man to pleasure her body was one thing.
But entrusting a man with her heart was quite another matter.
A light rap upon the door provided a welcome distraction from her thoughts. She didn’t know who’d come up to MacLain’s office, but she offered silent gratitude for the interruption.
He moved to the door. After verifying the identity of the visitor with a gruff question, he cracked open the door and plucked an envelope from the unseen man’s outstretched hand.
“Mr. Caldwell instructed me to say it’s for yer eyes only,” the messenger said in a youthful voice.
“Good enough,” MacLain replied.
“Any message ye’d like me to relay?”
MacLain shook his head. “Ye can be on yer way now.”
With that, he closed the door, tore open the seal of the envelope, and glanced over the missive. He bit off an epithet between his teeth.
His expression grim, he turned to her. “Did yer brother have any interest in the occult?”
A shiver traced over Amelia’s nape. Images from a deck of unusual cards flashed through her thoughts. “I was aware of a passing curiosity. There was a woman... Paul met her quite some time ago. She told fortunes.”
“Ye recall her name?”
In her mind’s eye, Amelia pictured a striking beauty with a cascade of auburn hair. “Helen Tanner, if memory serves. He was rather taken with her, but after Papa discovered she fancied herself to be a fortune teller, he forbade Paul from seeing her.”
“But he didn’t listen.”
“No, I don’t believe he did,” she said. “At the time, Paul did not confide in me. I was little more than a girl fresh from the schoolroom, but even then, I could see he was drawn to her. After a time, she ended their relationship and sailed to America. I never heard her name again, not until a year or so ago.”
“What happened then?”
“Paul mentioned casually, perhaps too casually, that she had arrived in London.”
“And ye’ve no idea why she returned to London?”
“At the time, I thought she wished to rekindle her relationship with Paul. But now, I’m not so certain something else did not motivate her return.”
MacLain gave a solemn nod. “We need to find her. She may be in danger.”
