Page 60 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
“The lass has a point.” Caldwell said, his tone gruff as though it pained him to voice the words.
Surprised, she turned to him. Heaven knew she hadn’t expected either of the men to agree with her without having to vigorously press her case.
Logan shot him a scowl. “What in bloody hell are you saying, Finn?”
“I’m thinking there’s another way—another layer of defense,” Caldwell said, his expression cryptic. “Ye know what I’m thinking, don’t ye, MacLain?”
“Blast it, ye cannot be seriously considering—”
Caldwell nodded. “Ye know what I would do if I were in yer shoes.”
“Not a chance in Hades.” Logan bit off the words between his teeth. “I’d rather endure a night in the Tower.”
Caldwell cocked a brow. “They don’t still use the rack, do they?”
Logan shrugged. “I’ve never had cause to find out.” He let out a long, low breath. “If we do this, it will be for Amelia’s sake.”
Amelia studied him. If only the infernal man would offer some hint of the mysterious plan they were hatching. “Might I ask what dreaded act you’re contemplating?”
“It’s not so muchwhat,” Caldwell said dryly. “Butwho.”
Amelia pondered the single word.Who.“Another dashing scoundrel to the rescue?”
“Not exactly,” Caldwell replied.
Was it her imagination, or had he actually grinned at the thought?
“Very well. I’ll do it.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ye’ll convey the message?”
“Consider it done,” Caldwell said.
Logan cast another scowl his way. “Ye’re enjoying this too bloody much.”
“Aye, that I am.” Caldwell chuckled, then motioned to the barkeep to pour him a drink. “That I am.”
“I’ve got a feeling I’m going to regret this,” MacLain said without elaboration as Caldwell downed a gulp of Scotch.
“Most likely. We both may come to regret this,” Caldwell said rather cheerfully, then took another drink. He nodded to Amelia. “This errand calls for liquid courage.”
With that, he placed the tumbler on the bar, marched to the door and strolled onto the street. Suddenly, the space seemed all too quiet. Appearing rather awkward, Murray mumbled something about a recent delivery of whisky, then shuffled into the backroom.
Amelia met Logan’s eyes. “Well, do you plan to tell me what this is all about?”
“If I had my way—and it might still come to that—I’d take ye to my family’s home. Ye would be safe there. No one would dare attack the MacLains on their own land.”
“Even if that is true, at some point, I will have to return to London.”
He offered a weary nod. “The next best thing to getting you out of the jackals’ reach is to bring security to ye.”
What in heaven did the man mean? He had already stepped into the role of protector. Surely she did not need another. “I’ve no need of a bodyguard. Nor do I intend to scurry away in fear. I feel quite secure right here in the city.”
“It’s not enough. I need to know ye’re being protected while I am tracking down Hawk. With only Mrs. Langford and Mrs. Garrett in the residence, ye’ll be vulnerable.”
“Are you are forgetting Heathy?” she countered a bit cheekily.
“How could I overlook the fierce wee beast? The dog’s teeth might well put a hurting on a man’s ankles or even his shin. But I need someone who can secure the premises when I am not here—someone with opposable thumbs and a reasonably good aim.”
“If I am understanding this correctly, the person you are summoning to your home evokes thoughts of the Tower of London.”
