Page 39 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
MacLain’s eyes narrowed. “But ye think she will talk to ye? Bloody unlikely.”
“I believe she will tell me the truth, if only for Paul’s sake.”
MacLain regarded her for a long, silent moment. “I will not expose ye to danger.”
Amelia forced a little shrug. “We may work together to find Miss Tanner. Or I will make inquiries on my own. The choice is yours.”
He flashed a scowl. “Ye are a confounding, headstrong woman.”
“I consider that high praise.” She met his fierce look with a little scowl of her own. “You know I am not bluffing,” she added for good measure.
“Much as it pains me to admit it, she’s right,” Caldwell spoke up. “We’ll have a better chance convincing Helen Tanner to tell us what she knows if she can confide in someone she already knows.”
MacLain slowly shook his head. “That is too damned risky.”
The note of concern in his voice warmed Amelia’s heart. The most talented of thespians could not have feigned the emotion.
She allowed a faint smile. “If anyone dares to threaten me, I am entirely confident you will teach them the error of their ways.”
“That goes without saying.” MacLain plowed a hand through his hair. As Amelia’s gaze trailed the path of his fingers, a longing to touch him kindled deep within her.
“We will protect her,” Caldwell said, his tone resolute. “Ye know we can.”
Amelia planted her hands on her hips. She would find justice for her brother, one way or another. And now, she had acquired allies in the battle. “So tell me, gentlemen, what is our plan?”
Chapter Twelve
Alone in hisprivate office at the Rogue’s Lair, Logan savored the quiet. He draped his jacket over the back of a chair, went to the sideboard beneath the window, and poured two fingers of good whisky from a decanter that had been in his family for generations.
Weary to the bone, he eased back against the leather of a well-padded chair, stretched out his legs, and willed himself to relax. Taking a drink, he studied the play of gaslight and shadows against the ceiling. Tension held him alert. God only knew he’d never planned to play the protector.
Not for Amelia Stewart. Not for anyone. But he would defend her. He would keep her safe.
No matter the cost.
At first, he’d been determined to honor the vow he’d made so long ago. But now, his need to keep Amelia safe had more to do with the woman herself than a promise he’d uttered in his youth.
Since the moment he’d strode through the door of her library, much to the shock of her prim patrons, his world had shifted on its axis. Before he’d first laid eyes on Amelia, his drive to restore this once-decrepit tavern to its former glory had consumed his energies.
He would bring the Rogue’s Lair back from the brink of ruin, just as he’d once pulled himself up from the shattered depths of loss and betrayal. He’d spent years in America fleecing British fops gone west, night after night plying his mathematicallyprecise skill at cards in rough saloons that brimmed with guns and rotgut whisky. When he’d tired of the smoky rooms and drunken fools, he upped the stakes, risking his ill-gotten gains on wildcat wells that had the good grace to gush oil, and with it, a fortune. Weary of an existence where he never knew when he’d end up on the wrong end of a gun, he’d returned to England.
Since landing in London, he’d poured money, time, and energy into the old pub his kin had believed a fool’s purchase. Despite their doubts, the sense of history in this tavern had spoken to him. This place would be his home, its restoration his greatest accomplishment.
Until suddenly—unexpectedly—he’d been drawn into another quest, this one far riskier. And far more crucial.
It was as if a temporary madness had overtaken him. He had not felt himself capable of caring about a woman in a very long time. God only knew he didn’t want to. Not since he’d watched the lass he’d been engaged to wed enter a rich man’s carriage and leave him behind.
Forever.
In those moments of pain and the miserable years that followed, he’d believed his heart too hardened to ever hold feelings for another woman.
Until he’d seen the quiet storm in Amelia’s sapphire blue eyes.
Closing his eyes, he pictured her in his mind. When she cocked her chin defiantly, a challenge had flashed over her delicate features. By Zeus’s thunder, she was beautiful, even if she didn’t seem to know it. Amelia had not been bent on seduction. But she’d drawn him in nonetheless. Her intentions hadn’t mattered to his body, not in the bloody least.
Even though he craved her beauty, he could rein in that hunger.
Blasted shame the need in his soul was another matter.
