Page 96 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
Mansfield clutched at his chest, his expression strangely calm. And then, his gaze went blank as his mouth moved in a soundless cry.
The man who’d ordered Paul’s murder crumpled to the floor, lifeless as a discarded puppet.
Kicking Mansfield’s weapon aside, Logan cut a straight path to Amelia. He cupped her cheeks between his hands and gazed down at her. He searched her face. “Did the bastard hurt you, love?”
“No.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Thank God.” His voice sounded rough, tinged with feelings he did not disguise. “Ah,mo chridhe.”
My heart.
Amelia rose on her toes to kiss him, a fleeting brush of her lips against his. If only she could savor this moment. But the sight of blood slowly spreading over his upper arm was a far more pressing matter. “You need a doctor.”
Logan glanced at the spread of blood over his upper arm. “In due time,” he agreed. “Believe me, I’ll survive this. I’ve had far worse.”
“I tried to stop him,” she murmured.
“Ye threw off his aim.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Ye saved my life, love.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, a simple prayer of the heart.
Amelia glanced toward Mrs. Langford. The sight of the old woman on the floor cradling Mrs. Johnstone’s head tore at Amelia’s heart.
The thud of footsteps outside the entry drifted to her ears. Finn strode through what remained of the door, brandishing a long gun. “What in thunder—”
“Mrs. Johnstone—she needs help,” Amelia cried out.
Finn cut a straight path to her side. Mrs. Johnstone’s eyes fluttered open.
Groaning softly, she struggled to sit up as Logan rushed to kneel at his aunt’s side. “Lay still,” he urged.
“Do not worry yer head over me,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong.
Amelia turned to Finn. “She’s suffered a blow to the head.”
“I’ll fetch Doc Stevenson.” Finn bolted to the door. “He’ll know what to do.”
Mrs. Johnstone set her gaze on Logan. “Ye killed the bastard?”
His expression was grim. “I had no choice.”
“Ye saved the lass.” Mrs. Johnstone reached out, pressing her hands over his. “I knew ye would.”
“Thank God.” Logan turned to Amelia, raw emotion darkening his irises to the color of midnight. “I made it in time.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
By sunset, thephysician had tended Logan’s wound and examined his aunt, even as she insisted they were making too much of a fuss. Despite her protests, Logan had seen the clear look of relief on her face after the physician pronounced her in good health. Following ample rest, she would soon return to her energetic self. After Doc Stevenson went on his way, Aunt Elsie lay on her brass bed, comfortably propped up with pillows, a novel in hand. He chuckled at her tone of aggravation as Mrs. Langford interrupted her reading as she doted over her old friend like a mother hen.
With Amelia by his side, Logan went to his study. She relaxed in a well-upholstered wing chair while he eased into the Orkney chair he’d acquired during his travels and stretched out his legs. The whisky in his tumbler took the edge off the throbbing in his arm. He was a damned lucky man. The bullet had caught flesh, not bone. The wound had been a small price to pay for Amelia’s safety. God only knew he would have willingly taken a slug to the heart to protect her.
Allowing himself a moment of pure contemplation, he drank in Amelia’s unpainted beauty. Despite the dull ache in his shoulder, he smiled to himself. Thank God he had women like Mrs. Langford and Aunt Elsie in his life. Good-hearted and courageous, they’d stepped in to help raise him after his own mum died far too young. And now, the valiant women, unwilling to surrender to a brutal bastard, had defended his sweet Amelia.They had resisted Mansfield and his hired thug, and in the process, they’d bought much needed time. Suspecting Mansfield would return to threaten Amelia, Logan had raced to the library like a madman. But without the women’s efforts, he might have been too late.
Too late.The mere thought that he could have failed to protect Amelia seemed a bare-knuckled blow.
“Come, I’ve prepared a light supper,” Mrs. Garrett said, her face worn with care. “Ye both need to eat.”
In the dining room, he and Amelia dined in near silence. She’d been through so much. Her features were drawn, her reserved demeanor very much unlike her usually vibrant manner. At the moment, it seemed best to keep to his own thoughts. There would time later to discuss what had happened that night. And what he wanted to see happen in the future.
