“Paul wrote of jackals,” she said in a near whisper. “Of more than one.”
“The man who attacked ye was not the only one to have ye in his sights.” He placed his hand over hers, an undemanding caress. “Yer brother knew this was coming, Amelia. I know the man he was. Paul would’ve protected ye himself if there’d been any way, but he knew they would get to him first. So he sent for me.”
Rising to her feet, Amelia laced her hands together, as if to still them. Restlessly, she went to the window, drawing back one panel of the drapes, bringing sunlight into the room. Turning to him, she met his eyes, then veiled her gaze with deep brown lashes. “Even as a girl, I held no fear of the dark. But now, it seems I must be wary of what lurks behind every shadow.”
“If ye’ll trust me, I will keep ye safe.” He drew her closer. The subtle aroma of lavender on her skin filled his senses. “Ye have my word.”
“Your word as a gentleman?” The faintest of smiles touched her lips.
“As a gentleman. As a rogue. Does it really matter?”
Her stormy eyes met his gaze. “There’s something you need to know... if you’ve set your mind to helping me, that is.”
“Ye know I have, lass.”
“I won’t be content hiding like a frightened child behind four walls. I will not rest until I find the scoundrel who killed Paul.”
“Ye think I will try to stop ye?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “I would prefer that you assist me.”
“I meant what I said.” He lightly brushed away a tear on her cheek. “I will be at yer side.”
She shook her head. “This is not your fight.”
He tipped her chin up with his finger and gazed into beautiful eyes that glistened with unshed tears. “The blazes it isn’t. I won’t let ye face this alone.”
Her teeth grazed her lower lip. “Tell me—how did you know where to find me?”
“I’d known of Paul’s connection to yer library, but I had no cause to seek ye out. Not until now.”
Turning back to the window, she peered out at the street below. “You have mentioned a debt you owe to my brother. I’m asking you to tell me what happened.”
Like a blow he had not seen coming, ugly memories flashed through his thoughts.
Moonlight glinting off a dagger’s blade.
Blood—his blood, soaking his linen shirt.
The flash of a gunshot.
God only knew how he’d struggled to lock the images deep within the recesses of his mind. The memories would be a part of him until he took his last breath.
He’d been a young man on that fog-shrouded night at a tavern by the sea. Too blasted arrogant. A bloody fool, getting himself in over his head. Determined to make his own fortune, he’d convinced himself he could handle the risks.
Damned shame the cost had been so steep.
He and Paul Anderson had forged a strong friendship. In truth, they’d been brothers in spirit. With his keen intellect and fierce ambition, Paul was a man who strove to live by his wits. He’d wanted no part of violence. But what happened that dreary night had cleaved their bond in two. Now, his sister deserved to hear the truth from his lips. That much, he could give her.
“Yer brother was forced to take a life.” Odd, how even now, speaking the words felt like a blade to the gut. “He killed a man to save my neck.”
Amelia kept her back to him, but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “He was a gentle man.” A hush of pain clouded her voice.
Gentle.So many years before, Logan’s mum had used that very word to describe him. He had been a boy in those days, whiling away lonely hours shooting targets he’d set on flat stones and daydreaming of a time when he would be old enough to leave the simple life of the countryside and seek his fortune.
Burying the quick jolt of pain deep within himself, he shoved the fragments of memory aside. He had to focus on Amelia, on offering the lass what little comfort he could.
“Paul faced an ugly choice. He did what he had to do.”
