Page 4 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
A wave of apprehension washed over her, but she steeled herself against it. She felt no fear of this man. But deep within, an instinctive warning sounded.
Something was wrong. Of that, she was quite certain.
“Please leave,” she said. “Now.”
Again, he shook his head. “I must refuse yer request.”
She lifted her chin higher. By thunder, she was not about to let this stranger intimidate her. “In that case, I shall summon a constable.”
“I would not do that if I were ye.” He shot Beatrice and Edith a sly look. “I suspect these women already know who I am. The new scoundrel in town, purveyor of liquor and all manner of debauchery. Or so I’ve heard on the street. But for ye, lass, I will offer a more proper introduction. My name is Logan MacLain. I have come bearing a message from yer brother.”
Chapter Two
Casting a glanceabout the cluttered space that looked to have once been a bookseller’s shop, Logan MacLain questioned his resolve to take on a fool’s errand. What in blazes was he doing in a library—a ladies’ lending library, no less?
Surrounded by high-backed upholstered chairs, shelves brimming with well-used books, and the unmistakable aroma of rosewater in the air, Logan ruthlessly shoved aside his doubts. He had bloody little choice in the matter.
Years earlier, he’d incurred a debt. And he had given his word that when the time came, he would settle it. By God, he intended to honor that vow. Even if the woman at the heart of his quest regarded him as if he had gone mad. Or daft.
Or both.
From the moment he’d first stepped inside the place, Amelia Stewart and her companions had made clear their dismay that any man—much less a rogue like him—had dared to enter their domain. He’d seen no hint of fear in the lass’s deep blue eyes, nor in the gawking countenances of her companions. Rather, he had spotted indignation that he’d had the gall to burst in and disturb their peace.
Now, he regretted the raw honesty of his too-blasted-blunt declaration. Amelia Stewart’s lips had parted slightly, and she eyed him with ice in her gaze, seeming to search for a suitable rebuke.
Her sapphire eyes narrowed as she found her voice. “I know full well who you are. I’ll ask you only once more to leave this establishment.”
“I cannot do that.” Damned if he would toss the promise he had made to her brother upon the rubbish heap. “I must speak with ye. Alone.”
She threw her companions a sneaking glance. “Bea, please summon a constable.”
“That would be a mistake.” He spoke the truth. Any of the patrolmen in the vicinity could be allied with the schemer who’d led Amelia’s brother to his death.
With a deliberate motion, he reached for the links of the watch fob dangling from his vest. Bringing the timepiece into her sight, he displayed its engraved gold back.P.J.A.A courier had delivered her brother’s watch to Logan’s doorstep, mere hours after a letter he’d never expected to receive made its way to him—a letter containing a desperate plea written in a dead man’s hand.
For a long moment, she stared at the watch. The skin at her throat rippled slightly, as if she’d swallowed against an emotion she didn’t want him to see. And then she set her keen-eyed gaze on him.
“Bea... wait.” She threaded her fingers together, as if to steady them from trembling. “If the two of you would not mind staying a while longer, I would appreciate your presence. Perhaps you might peruse the periodicals that have recently arrived while I step into my office with our visitor.”
One of the women, a dark-haired lass with a comely round face and a scattering of freckles over her nose, shot him a look of distrust. “If you need us, we’ll be right here.”
“Thank you, Edith.” Amelia turned to him. “Very well, Mr. MacLain. Follow me. Please.”
He trailed her into a cramped room filled with more books and shelves. She lit a lamp, closed the door behind them, then stepped behind a large desk.
Amelia Stewart was pretty. There was no denying that. Her golden hair bore hints of ginger, while her rosy mouth needed no assistance from lip rouge. But fine lines of tension feathered around her eyes, and the set of her mouth was taut. Unyielding. No wonder that. Her brother’s demise had no doubt been hard for her to accept. The inquest had ruled his death a suicide.
But Logan knew better. And he suspected Amelia did as well.
Leaning forward, she pressed her hands against a small area on the desktop that was not covered with books or paper. Her knuckles whitened. Was he the cause of her distress? Or did something else trouble her?
“Mr. MacLain, you are not the first to claim to bear a message from my brother. And from beyond the grave, no less. Evidently, preying on those who’ve lost loved ones can prove quite lucrative. But you are the first who’s dared to cross my threshold bearing stolen goods.”
He drew the pad of his thumb over the back of the timepiece. “I take it ye recognize this.”
“You knew I would.” She reached for the pocket watch, but he closed his fingers around it.
“Not so fast.”
