Chapter Seven
Y e’re stuck with me. I will not be leaving ye tonight.
Amelia didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but Logan MacLain’s arrogant words were the most reassuring she’d heard in a very long time.
Still, she could not permit him to stay here. To stay with her . Her cozy flat above the library was warm and quite comfortable. But there was only one bedchamber.
Only one bed.
And she certainly was not about to share that with him tonight.
“If ye think ye can talk me into leaving, ye’d be better off getting a good night’s sleep.” His tempting mouth quirked at one corner. “Ye’ve no worry that I will have my way with ye, or whatever the hell it is ye think scoundrels do.”
“Have your way?” She kept her voice deliberately bland.
Devilish amusement gleamed in his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint ye, but there will be none of that tonight. I am weary to the bone, and as I understand it, properly ravishing a woman takes effort.”
Warmth flamed in her cheeks. I rather fancy the prospect of being ravished by a rogue. The words she’d spoken so blithely while Beatrice carried on about Logan MacLain held a definite irony now. She’d certainly known how to tempt fate, hadn’t she?
“I’ve far greater concerns than fear of being ravished, by a rogue or otherwise.” She hiked her chin and steadied her voice. “Tell me, Mr. MacLain. Why are you determined to play the hero?”
“I’m not anyone’s hero. But I’ll be damned if I will stand by while cowards terrorize a woman.” He cast Heathy a glance. “Even if the lass happens to possess a fierce guard dog disguised as a mop.”
“If Heathy had not planted his teeth in that ruffian’s leg, things might have turned out differently,” she pointed out.
“True,” he agreed with a nod. “I regret ye had to go through that. If I’d known the bastard intended to come after ye, I would not have left ye on yer own. Even then.”
The all-too-recent memory of the intruder’s thick-fingered hands on her body unleashed a shudder of revulsion. She straightened a pile of books on her desk, as if the simple task might help her shake off the sickening sensation.
“I am no worse for wear,” she said.
“Ye’re a poor liar, lass.”
He touched her face, brushing the pad of his thumb over her cheek. Gentle. Comforting. Surprising her with his tenderness.
“I suppose I am.” Fending off another shiver, she rubbed her arms briskly. “Still, the man did no lasting harm.”
“I don’t know why the coward attacked ye. But I do know this much—he’s not the only one who has ye in his sights. I will not leave ye on yer own to face the threat.”
Determination blazed in his eyes. She was not going to win this battle. Truth be told, she was not entirely sure she wanted to. Having him near offered comfort and reassurance she had not felt in quite a long time.
“Very well,” she relented. “But only tonight.”
He rubbed his jaw, skimming his fingertips over a growth of new beard. “That’s a start.”
She squared her shoulders. “Only this night, Mr. MacLain.”
“We’ll see about that.” His mouth hitched at one corner, not quite a smile. “I take pride in my powers of persuasion.”
The hint of challenge in his gravel-edged voice intrigued her, even as a single word echoed in her thoughts.
Persuasion.
Spoken in the man’s gravel-edged tones, the word conjured images of seduction. Of surrender. My, Logan MacLain was an arrogant one, wasn’t he? And she... well, she was not about to give in to any man’s persuasion . Much less a known rogue.
No, she knew better. The man who had left her a widow had taught her well.
Meeting MacLain’s perceptive eyes, she infused a layer of ice into her voice. “I would not count on those powers.”
“They haven’t let me down yet.”
“ Yet would seem to be the key word in your statement.” Steeling herself, she pulled in a soft breath. “Given the events of this evening, I must accept the validity of your argument and allow you to stay close. But only for this one night. If I were alone here, I would be far too on edge to even drift off to sleep.”
“The validity of my argument, eh?” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Ye do intrigue me, Amelia. Ye’ve the face of a woodland fairy, but yer words bring to mind a discussion with my solicitor.”
An emotion she couldn’t quite name stirred deep within her. He’d used her given name. Perhaps she should be taken aback by the familiarity. But somehow, spoken in his husky brogue, it felt so very intimate. So very right.
Ye do intrigue me.
Logan MacLain knew how to set her off balance, no matter her determination to remain unaffected by the man. No one had ever dubbed her intriguing. And only one other person in her life had ever compared her to a fairy, woodland or otherwise. The very thought of it brought a twinge of emotion in the vicinity of her heart.
But she would not give Mr. MacLain the satisfaction of knowing he’d unsettled her. Hiking her chin, she spoke in a bland tone.
“In any case, it’s far better that I am not alone tonight.”
The way he looked at her unfurled heat through her body as the faintest hint of a smile played upon his full mouth.
“Even if that means spending the night with a wicked rogue?”
“Indeed,” she said, hoping to sound resigned. “I intend to see about getting some rest.”
“My weary bones would welcome sleep,” he agreed.
Doubt reared its head. “There is one thing... one thing I must know if you expect to earn my trust.”
The flickers of amusement left his gaze. “Tell me what ye need of me, lass.”
“You say my brother sent for you. I need to understand why... why he chose you.”
“Paul knew he could count on me.”
“Because of the debt you owe?”
“That is one factor.”
“Why else, then, Mr. MacLain? Out of all the men in London, why you?”
“Yer brother knew he could trust me. He never doubted I’d have his back. And now, he is counting on me to protect the person he most treasured.” A muscle in his carved jaw flexed. “I will not betray his trust. Nor yers.”
The intensity in his gaze left her nearly breathless. She glanced away, steadying herself against a sudden wave of emotion.
“I would like to see the letters you received,” she said.
“They’re secure in my safe. I’ll take ye there in the morning. Ye can confirm they are in yer brother’s hand.”
She veiled her gaze with her lashes. “Thank you.”
“Now, we’ve settled one matter—I will not be leaving ye tonight. But I have another question.” His attention raked over the abundance of shelves. “Where in blazes do ye sleep in this place?”
“My flat is upstairs,” she said, collecting her thoughts. “Unfortunately, there’s only one bedchamber.”
A slow grin spread over his features. “Well, if ye’re thinking we will be sharing it, think again. I already told ye I’m too bloody tired to be ravishing a woman, much less one I am sworn to protect.”
“Well, that’s quite a relief,” she teased in return. “I would hate to have to sic Heathy on you.”
He cast the dog a sidelong glance. “Ah, the furry warrior. Now I can rest easy.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll have you know he is truly fierce when he wants to be.”
“As I said, ye’re a poor liar.” He caught her hand in his. Gently, he drew her closer. “Believe me when I say this—ye’re beautiful, lass, and if ye were any other woman, I would barter my soul to warm yer bed. But I came here to keep ye safe. Even from a rogue like me.”
*
At the touch of his hand to hers, Logan knew he’d made a mistake. Blast it, he never should’ve touched her.
Never should’ve looked into those ocean-blue eyes that could draw a man far out of his depth.
Far over his head.
Her skin was warm and smooth as fine silk. No doubt the rest of her would feel as good against his body.
Bugger the twist of fate that had set her off limits.
By thunder, he was tired. But the weariness had not stopped his male body from responding to this, the simplest of touches. Hadn’t kept him from going rock hard at the innocent brush of her fingertips against his.
Her almond-shaped eyes had darkened to the color of the sky after a summer storm, hinting of an elemental desire. Had she felt it too, this low-simmering heat he could rapidly kindle to a blaze?
Deep within, an instinctive hunger stirred. What in blazes had come over him? He knew better than to be drawn to her. The man who had once been his friend had trusted him to protect his sister. Amelia was out of his reach.
Damned shame his rebellious body didn’t understand that truth.
A heavy silence fell over them. Behind them, the rhythmic swing of the clock’s pendulum marked the moments as Amelia seemed to study him. Was she trying to puzzle out his true intent?
A touch of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I’m not so certain you are a true rogue, Mr. MacLain. Of course, I’ve heard the tales. But I know better than to believe every snippet of innuendo that comes along.”
“Ye’re a clever lass.” He drew the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. In response, her eyes widened, ever so slightly. “Sooner or later, ye’ll figure out the truth.”
“Perhaps,” she said, gently easing from his hold.
“I will stay down here in the library for the night,” he said, setting his mind on an overstuffed chair near the front window. Not the most welcoming of accommodations, but it would do.
“There is a settee in the back of the library.” Her gaze skimmed over him from head to toe. “It’s not quite long enough. But it should offer some degree of comfort.”
He shrugged. “Believe me, I have bedded down on worse.”
“Very well.” After retrieving her pistol, she crossed the room and mounted the staircase. “Goodnight, Mr. MacLain.” Halfway up the steps, she turned back to him. “Heathy will stay down here. In the event of an intruder, you can count on him to sound the alarm.”
Was that amusement in her tone?
“I’ve no need to use that wee beast as a sentry.”
She smiled impishly. “Goodnight, Mr. MacLain.”
And with that, she continued her ascent.
Casting aside the good sense he’d been blessed with at birth, Logan allowed his gaze to trail Amelia’s movements until she closed the door at the top behind her. The metallic squawk of protest distracted him, if only for an instant. Good God, did every hinge in this place require oil? He would see to it in the morning.
He spotted the small sofa Amelia had suggested. One glance, and he ruled it out. Too blasted short. Settling instead on a heavily cushioned wing chair, he stretched out his legs and rested his boot-clad feet on a well-used ottoman.
Keeping his revolver at the ready on the table beside him, he closed his eyes. Before long, he began to fall into slumber.
Suddenly, something touched his hand.
Something wet.
And warm.
He jerked awake.
Bollocks. Staring down at the culprit, he laughed. Amelia’s pet wagged his tail, oblivious to the fact that it was high time for man and beast alike to be asleep. The ball of fur on legs was no more a guard dog than he was a bloody duke.
He forced a scowl. In response, the pup wagged his tail even more vigorously.
Pulling himself to his feet, Logan spotted the dog’s bone. Somehow, the pup had managed to wedge it partly between a shelf and the floor.
Scooping up the bone, he set it before the animal. “Heathy, ye little mutt, it would seem ye’ve won this skirmish.”
Sprawling back upon the chair, Logan stretched out his legs. Wearily, he stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to return. Thank God he was exhausted. If not, thoughts of the woman lying in the bed upstairs might well have kept him awake through the night.