Page 88 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
“A woman like ye doesn’t want to settle for a man who earned his fortune rather than inheriting it. I learned that lesson a very long time ago, Amelia.”
She gulped against the sudden burning in her throat. “I know that someone hurt you.”
Understanding flared in his midnight dark eyes. “Ah, I see. My aunt has seen fit to inform ye about the lass who hardened my heart. She’s warmed to ye. It makes sense she would want to warn ye.”
Amelia shook her head. “It was nothing like that. Quite the opposite, really.”
“Is that so?” He crossed the room, standing near enough to touch her, but he held his hands very still. “Ye’re right that awoman hurt me. At the time, it seemed a betrayal. But now, I see she was right. I could not have given her what she wanted.”
“But I am not her.” She blinked hard, struggling to hold back rebellious tears.
“No, ye’re not, lass.” The faintest hint of a smile curved his mouth. “Ye cannot hide yer feelings. Ye’re not one to make promises to one man while enticing another. The lass I was going to marry found herself a more prosperous match. She returned my ring via a blasted courier. She did not even have enough regard to tell me to my face.”
The lingering pain in his eyes tore at Amelia’s heart. “I am so sorry that happened to you.”
He shrugged. “Looking back, she did me a favor. A cruel turn of fate often turns out for the best.” He grazed his fingers over her cheek, brushing away a teardrop. “Ye’re nothing like her, Amelia. Yer heart is kind. But ye don’t know how to trust a man... a man like me who puts no stock in the stuff of myths and lonely poets and blasted fairy tales.”
With that, he turned and went to the door. The stout panel closed softly behind him, leaving Amelia alone with her thoughts and her bitter tears.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Promises. Vows. Rings.
Ugly memories of the night before played in Amelia’s thoughts. Even as the barbed words she and Logan had hurled at each other seemed to echo in her ears, she forced herself to carry on with the work at hand. Mrs. Johnstone and Mrs. Langford had insisted on joining her at the library, and with their eager assistance, they had made short work of cleaning what remained of the vandal’s dismal handiwork. The enjoyable tasks and the women’s light banter had served as merciful distractions from the dull throbbing in her chest. In the company of the women who’d become newfound friends, she had better things to do than to mope about like a lovesick maiden.
Lovesick.The very idea of it was ridiculous. She’d taken a chance. She had never expected permanence. From the start, she’d known better than to risk her heart, much less on a rogue like Logan MacLain. Sharing his bed and his passion and his tenderness had been a sweet folly. Nothing more. Pity that for a time, she would pay a heavy price until her heart fully healed.
Someday, she might happen upon a lover who was true, a man who wanted her to the depths of his heart and soul.
Logan was not that man.
His kiss was so very delicious. So very tempting.
If only it was enough.
He had not lied to her. Truth be told, Logan had been honest from the first. He had crashed into her life in the name of honoring a vow.
He was undeniably handsome. Undeniably charming. Undeniably tender. Logan desired her touch. Her kiss. And when they’d made love, his every caress held passion and heat and delicious delight.
But he had walled off his heart.
Logan was not willing to give her the thing she craved most of all.
He would not offer his love.
Perhaps he’d believed she was like him. Did he think she was capable of keeping her own heart so well guarded, even while she warmed his bed and savored the pleasures of his touch?
No, she would not settle for less than love.
“In all my years, I cannot recall a spring so cold and damp,” Mrs. Langford said as she swept a broom along a low shelf near Amelia’s legs, pulling her from her thoughts. Setting the tool aside, she rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill.
“It is rather cool and gloomy today, isn’t it?” Just like her mood. “You’re welcome to borrow my cardigan jacket. It’s quite warm.”
“I’ll not take the clothes off yer back and have ye come down with a chill.” Mrs. Langford flashed a cheeky grin. “I’m going to take a bit of time to warm these old bones by the fire and finish my tea. And if Elsie thinks I’m lazing about, she can jolly well—”
“I could do with another cup myself. I do think I’ll brew another pot,” Mrs. Johnstone cut in with a smile. Crossing the room to head to the stove in the back room, she stumbled over the edge of a small, braided carpet. “Good heavens, I nearly took a tumble.” She kicked the offending rug out of her way. “The floorboard’s come loose. Amelia, do you have something we can use to tap the nail back in?”
“Of course.” Amelia went to the back room to fetch a small hammer, then began to slip the board into place.
