Chapter Sixteen
A s Amelia entered the library with Logan at her side, his steady presence offered a sense of security. Somehow, she knew she could count on this man. Days earlier, they’d been strangers. But now, she felt an instinctive bond.
Trust.
And perhaps, something more.
Surveying the chamber, she pulled in a breath. Even Logan’s nearness could not ease the tumult in the pit of her stomach while she made her way through the chaos.
How dare the curs invade her sanctuary!
The light of day brought the damage into harsh view. So much of the vandalism seemed utterly pointless, more the product of rage than of a purposeful search for a hidden valuable. Moving toward a chair that had been tipped on its side, its stuffing strewn about the floor, Amelia blinked back angry tears. Near her desk, she spied a flowerpot shattered on the floor. Dirt and uprooted plants lay among the bits of broken pottery. Utterly senseless. There’d been no true reason for the destruction.
No reason beyond a desire to instill fear.
She squared her shoulders, feeling a surge of determination course through her. If the intruder thought she would scurry away like a frightened mouse, they’d soon discover their error. The heathen who’d ransacked this place would not leave her cowering in a fit of despair. No, she would restore order from the chaos.
Just as she would find justice for her brother.
Logan righted a toppled set of shelves. Turning to her, the set of his jaw betrayed the anger that simmered below the surface. He crouched down, gathering remnants of stained glass that had once formed a lovely lampshade. “Damn the bastard.”
“Perhaps they found what they were searching for.” An oddly hopeful notion ran through her thoughts. “If they did, they may be finished with me.”
Rising to his full height, Logan bit off an epithet. “Finished or not, they will pay for what they’ve put you through.”
The conviction in his voice was a comfort. Her gaze wandered over his long, lean body. How would it feel to go through life with a man like him by her side, strong and courageous and resolute?
Forcing her attention back to the mess that surrounded them, she sighed. If she were wise, she would do well to keep Elspeth’s cold glare in her thoughts. The jealous scorn in her eyes had been as vicious as a slap to the face. She’d wanted the pleasure of his touch. Most likely, Elspeth did not crave a place in his heart.
If only I could say the same.
If only she could look upon a night in his arms—a night in his bed—as a passionate escape. And nothing more.
She wanted more. Needed more.
She’d do well to protect her heart.
To protect herself.
Busying herself with a pile of papers that had been tossed to the floor, she set them on her desk and banished her musings far to the back of her mind. Moving a stack of books back onto a shelf, and then another, she set about putting the displaced volumes strewn over the floor back in place while Logan explored the back rooms of the library. The rather mindless task offered some comfort. Until an obnoxious pounding of the brass knocker against the front door tore her from the momentary peace.
“Mrs. Stewart, I know you are in there,” a man’s voice bellowed. “I need to speak to you.”
She spun on her heel. The timing could not have been worse. “Drat the luck.”
Logan met her eyes. “Ye know who’s calling?”
“Yes.” She resisted the urge to sigh. “Unfortunately.”
“I’ll send the bloke on his way.”
She placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “That would not be wise. You see, Mr. Driscoll is the owner of this building.”
His dark brows quirked. “At what point did ye gather I’d follow the wisest course?”
Despite the storm of nerves churning within her, she could not help but smile. “In any case, I suppose I should let him in.”
“As ye wish.” Logan opened the door, meeting the landlord’s cold gaze.
Amelia stepped forward to greet the burly man garbed in an inexpertly tailored tweed overcoat. “What brings you here today, Mr. Driscoll?”
The man stared up at Logan. “So, I see the rumors are true. You’ve taken to keeping company with—”
“With what?” Logan’s tone could have cut diamonds.
Nervously, the landlord shoved his hands in his pockets. “I must say, I had not expected to find the likes of you here, MacLain.” Looking past Logan, he scanned the room. His bushy brows settled into a harsh line. “What in God’s name has happened?”
Amelia hid a bit of pillow stuffing in her skirt pocket. “A bit of a mishap. Nothing more.”
“I’m acquainted with your hound’s penchant for mischief, but this is beyond that little beast’s capacity for destruction.” Mr. Driscoll scowled. “I understand you’ve had trouble recently—the kind of trouble that is not good for my investment.”
“As you may have heard, I was the victim of an attempted robbery.” Amelia held her voice steady.
“Who in blazes would want to make off with a trove of books?” Mr. Driscoll reached down to pluck a lace doily off the floor. “And cheap fripperies.”
Amelia tucked another piece of pillow into her pocket. “Now that is a question for the local constable.”
Mr. Driscoll’s mouth settled into a stark line. “As I understand it, a ruffian paid you a visit, then promptly ended his own life?”
“I assure you, that brute’s presence was not a visit .”
“Call it what you will. I will not tolerate criminals on these premises.” The landlord puffed his chest, as if doing so might shore up his own courage. “It is my duty to notify you that an investor has an interest in this building.”
Logan folded his arms and leaned against a desk, deceptively at ease. “Yer investor will have to find another place.”
“We’ll see about that.” Mr. Driscoll shot him a scowl. “I’d be a fool to refuse this offer. Cecil Mansfield is a most generous fellow, I might add.”
“Mansfield.” The name echoed in her ears.
“So, you’ve heard of him. The man is looking to expand his galleries.”
Logan regarded him coolly. “The lady is not leaving.”
“For now, MacLain.” The landlord’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. His attention darted back to Amelia. “And to see with my own eyes that you’ve taken to cavorting with the likes of him... it seems you’ve made my decision for me.”
“My lease is paid in full through the end of the year. Surely you have not forgotten that fact.”
The landlord’s expression hardened. “Might I remind you, this is my property, Mrs. Stewart. I will protect what is mine.”
With the ease of a powerful cat, Logan closed the distance between Driscoll and himself, crushing the man’s lapels between his fingers. “If word that ye’ve harassed this woman gets to my ears, ye will answer to me. Understand?”
Mr. Driscoll replied with a nervous nod.
“It’s time for ye to go.” Logan gave him a shake before he dropped his hands. “Before I give ye a reason to regret coming here today.”
A current of elemental awareness raced through Amelia’s core. For a heartbeat, perhaps two, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Logan. His confident actions and flint-edged tones spoke of raw power.
Most impressive, Mr. MacLain.
Forcing her attention back to the landlord, Amelia watched Mr. Driscoll’s surly march to the door. Stumbling, he kicked a small braided rug out of his way. He muttered a foul word beneath his breath as he stared down at the cause of his misstep. A floorboard had tipped up ever so slightly, not quite even with the other planks.
“I see the ruffians you associate with have damaged my property,” he ground out. “Your brother is not here to negotiate another lease. I will see you gone from my property.”
“Ye’re trying my patience,” Logan warned. “Get out.”
“I’ll be on my way. For now.” Driscoll’s thin mouth curved into a sneer. “Believe me, Mrs. Stewart, you’ve more to worry about than the likes of me.”
*
Following close at the landlord’s heels as the man made his retreat, Logan steeled himself against the urge to teach the bloated toad a well-deserved lesson. Driscoll knew the recent hell of grief Amelia had endured. Yet the foul-tempered bloke had treated her with undisguised contempt. Only the reality that she would witness the ugly scene had kept Logan’s instincts in check. If the man dared to turn back to the library, Logan would take the opportunity to provide that instruction, there and then.
Satisfied that Driscoll was indeed on his way, he turned back to Amelia. “Don’t let him intimidate ye. The coward backed down in the face of a man who knows how to use his fists.”
She busied herself placing another stack of books in place upon a shelf. “Paul once considered Mr. Driscoll an ally, if not a friend. But of course, that was in the past. At one point, they were partners in an enterprise.”
“An enterprise, eh?”
“They shared an interest in an art gallery. I was not privy to many of the details, but there was talk of an investor, a silent partner.”
“Hawk?”
A tiny crease between her brows deepened. “I don’t know who invested in the venture. It was all rather hush-hush.”
Logan held back the thoughts that came to mind. An investor could have many reasons to wish his involvement kept a close secret, especially if the funds were tarnished by crime. What kind of dishonest schemes had Paul gotten himself into?
“Ye’ll get no more trouble from the likes of Driscoll,” Logan reassured her. “Or he will answer to me.”
Faint lines of tension feathered around Amelia’s mouth. “I cannot imagine Paul wished you to take on every unscrupulous man in town on my account.”
“He knew I’d watch over ye.” Telling himself he wanted only to touch the rebellious curl that had escaped Amelia’s rather-severe bun he reached out, tracing the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “Not that Driscoll would be a challenge to send running for cover. Even yer ball of fur with teeth could chase off that bag of hot wind.”
A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I do believe you’re right.”
“Do ye now?”
Her smile lit the room. “Absolutely.”
The tempting curve of her lips stirred a longing deep within his chest. A hunger, physical in nature.
Yet more.
Infinitely more.
He wanted to make Amelia smile every day. He wanted to be the one who brought her joy. And God above, he wanted to taste those sweet, lush lips.
Unable to stop himself, he spoke the truth. “I’m of a mind to kiss ye, Amelia.”
“Are you now?” The husky notes of her voice were a subtle seduction.
He smiled. “Ye do realize we are actually alone. No nosy old woman to walk in at precisely the wrong moment.”
She flashed a cheeky little grin. “No dog to wreak havoc.”
“Not so much as an ill-timed bark.”
“Quite so,” she said. Her brow furrowed. “Unfortunately, Mr. Driscoll may return.”
“If he does—and especially if he walks in while I have ye in my arms—he will regret it.”
A soft, teasing challenge filled her eyes. “It would seem you are rather intent on kissing me, Mr. MacLain.”
He cupped his palm against her cheek. Her skin was velvet soft against his. “Would ye like that, Amelia?”
Her gaze locked with his, vibrant and tempting. “I do believe I would.”
Without another conscious thought, he took her in his arms. Smoothing her curls from her face, he studied her. Her eyes were the color of a stormy sea, tiny flecks of gray darkening the dusky blue of her irises. Bloody hell, she was beautiful.
This near, he could feel the gentle rise and fall of her every breath. Her mouth curved into the most tempting of smiles.
Amelia wanted this. She desired his touch. She invited his kiss.
She wanted him .
Dipping his head, he tasted her sweet lips. Ah, it seemed Amelia had been made for him. The subtle fragrance of lavender filled his senses as her slender arms curved around his back. Bringing him closer. Gentle. Yet possessive.
He could not get enough of her.
He deepened the caress. Her response unleashed a wave of need coursing through his body. With a breathless, simmering heat, she kissed him. Giving and taking. Leading him to the brink of control. God above, she was more enticing than any woman he had ever known.
Sliding his hands along the length of her back, he ran his fingertips over her gently rounded bottom. Holding her close, he nested his erection against her softness. What he wouldn’t give to dispatch with the row of buttons on the back of her dress, peel the layers of clothing from her delectable body, one by one, and teach her the true depth of his hunger for her.
But by hellfire, this was not the time. And it was not the place. She deserved more than a quick tumble in her own flat. In her own bed. Amelia deserved to be tempted. To be seduced. To be loved until she was mindless with pleasure. She deserved to be held in the arms of the man who adored her all through the night.
That time would come.
But for now, he had to maintain control. He had to do what was right. He had to keep the focus on protecting her.
Summoning the strength to let her go, he gently eased his mouth from hers. His muffled groan sounded like a roar to his own ears.
She met his gaze, her eyes wide and luminous. “Most impressive, Mr. MacLain,” she whispered, gracing him with the most teasing of smiles. “Most impressive, indeed.”