Captured by the Highlander (20 page)

Duncan met her eyes. “Aye, and everything else that is unpleasant in the world. And one day I hope you
will
trust me.”

Trust. The word shook her. One week ago, he had been consumed by only one ambition—to
kill
Richard Bennett. He was
still
consumed by the loss of his former betrothed. He could not possibly have been cured of that grief after only one week, just because he desired her physical y and had proposed marriage to strike a bargain of loyalty. And he had been lying to her about his identity since the moment she met him.

“What about my uncle?” she asked. “He is my guardian. I could not possibly do this without his consent.”

“I
’ll
send for him.”

“And do what?” she asked with sarcasm. “Win his esteem?”

Duncan’s eyes lifted. “Aye. I saved you from the Butcher of the Highlands, didn’t I? And I would wager your father would have been more than pleased if I’d asked for your hand when he was here in the spring.”

She marveled at his confidence. “I have a dowry, you know. It’s quite substantial.”

“I care nothing about that, lass, but I
’ll
take it. For the good of Scotland. We are agreed then?”

She took a deep breath and prayed that she was doing the right thing. “Yes, we are agreed.”

He started for the door. “Good. You
’ll
write to Bennett today and end your engagement, but do not seal the letter. I
’ll
be reading it before it’s sent.”

“And what about trust?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

She sighed forlornly, then said one last thing before he left.

“I
will
oblige you in that, Duncan, but in the future…”

He waited for her to finish.

“If it is a docile wife you are seeking, you should know that you
will
not find it in me.”

He faced her squarely. “I have no interest in a docile wife. I want
you.
And I like it better that you can defend yourself— even against the likes of me. On that note, you are mine now, so I
’ll
come to your bed tonight.
will
you receive me
will
ingly?”

She lifted her chin. “As long as you don’t bring your axe.”

He grinned. “Just my hands, then. And my mouth. And one other thing.”

“I suppose you are referring to your sense of humor?” she countered. “Or perhaps your boyish charm.”

He stared at her with a slight glimmer of amusement, then left her alone in the room to comprehend the shocking magnitude of what she had just agreed to.

Not only had she agreed to become his countess, she had given him permission to come to her bed tonight when they were not yet man and wife.

Would he take her virginity, or would it be like the other times? Would he stop if she asked him to?

Would she even
want
him to stop?

No, she decided. No, she would not. Despite everything, her desire for him was immense. After everything they’d done together, she belonged to him, body and soul, and tonight he would claim her as his wife in
all
but name. There would be no turning back. He would make sure of it.

She forced herself to focus instead on what she had achieved. She had bargained for a soldier’s life, and she had won. Now it would be up to the King’s army to decide his fate. Which was only right.

More important, she had bargained for the salvation of Duncan’s soul, and for that she would have no regrets.

* * *

“They say they have never laid eyes on him,” Major
William
Jones explained, feeling sick to his stomach as he emerged from the cottage, locked the door from the outside, and mounted his horse. “The wife claims he’s nothing but a legend.”

William
’s commanding officer, Colonel Bennett, reined in his skittish white horse. Bennett whipped him hard across the rear flank. “The Butcher is true flesh and blood, Major Jones, and these filthy Highlanders know it. They’re Jacobites. Burn them out.” His horse reared up and screeched alarmingly.

“But there are children inside, Colonel.”

Bennett glared at him fiercely. “Are you questioning my orders, Major?”

“No, sir.”

William
feared he might vomit.

“Then do as I say and burn them out. There must be a window they can crawl out of, if they wish to live.”

Colonel Bennett
galloped
away toward the stable and shouted, “Burn everything! Shoot the livestock and
kill
that mangy animal!” He pointed at the black and white sheepdog in the stable door, barking incessantly.

William
fought to smother his agony. He looked up at the Highland mountaintops shrouded in mist, then at the clear water rushing bril iantly along the riverbed. His shoulders rose and
fell
with a deep, cleansing breath, which was necessary to discharge
all
independent thought, as he rode around the thatched cottage to ascertain that there was indeed a rear window. When he found it, he said a brief prayer for forgiveness, and for the safety of those inside, and then he lit the torch and tossed the flame up onto the roof.

Duncan entered his private study. It was dusty and cluttered with papers, paintings, and rare books, which were stacked in
tall
, tilting piles against the
wall
s. A telescope on a tripod stood in front of the largest window, aimed at the sky to view the stars at night. A
collection
of busts lined the mantel, and the
wall
s were hung with rich and vibrant Flemish tapestries.

In the center of the room, a set of
rolled
architectural plans stood vertical y inside an open trunk. He had dragged the trunk there a month ago, searching for some piece of information he could no longer
recall
.

He sat down at the desk facing the
small
stained-glass window in the corner and
pulled
out a blank sheet of paper embossed with the Moncrieffe coat of arms. The light pouring in through the glass
ill
uminated the page with a dappled rainbow of color. He reached for his quil
l
, dipped it in the inkwel
l
, and began a cordial and gracious correspondence, conveyed in the most exquisite
penmanship possible while writing in such haste.

Lady Amelia Templeton, Richard Bennett’s betrothed, had agreed to become his wife. He had claimed her as his own, and very soon he would bed her and draw soft cries of rapture from her lips.

In turn, he had agreed to spare Richard Bennett’s life.

Disturbed suddenly, Duncan lifted the
quill
off the page, sat back, and looked around the room. He
recalled
a day he had once sat at this desk writing a letter to Muira, pouring out his heart and quoting love poetry. He had adored her, and his future had been
filled
with hope—not unlike what he was feeling at this moment. A strange condition indeed.

He supposed it was because, for once, shockingly, he was distracted from that grief. By making Amelia his wife he knew he would immerse himself in sexual pleasures, and he was anticipating those pleasures with great vigor and zeal.

But could he truly keep his word to her, lay down his weapons, and
allow
Bennett to live?

He idly tapped the soft tip of the feather
quill
on the page and gazed out the window. What if Bennett came here and demanded satisfaction?

Well
. Duncan would simply have to exercise self-control and force himself not to run Bennett through. He could do it.

He was a highly disciplined warrior. He would keep his hands off his weapons and focus instead on the effects of this less violent, altered form of revenge.

He was stealing Bennett’s beloved, as Bennett had once stolen his own. It was an eye for an eye, as Angus had once said. And there was nothing to stop Duncan from presenting evidence to the Crown, which would instigate a court-martial and with luck, death by hanging. He had not promised Amelia anything about vengeance in that form. In fact, it was what she had tried to convince him to do.

So there it was—vengeance achieved from
all
angles. As an added benefit, Duncan would be satisfying his lust for Amelia. Her body, her innocence, and her virginity—it would
all
be his.

Sitting forward and dipping the
quill
, he continued the letter. A moment later, he sprinkled it with sand and shook it clean, folded it, sealed it with wax, then rose from the desk and left the room. A liveried footman was standing in the corridor, waiting dutiful y, as instructed.

“Take this to Fort
William
today,” Duncan said. “It must be delivered to the Duke of Winslowe. No other man’s hand. Do you understand this?”

“Aye, milord.”

“Lady Amelia
will
also have a letter to be dispatched today, which I
will
need to see. Go and wait outside her chamber, bring it to me, then you
will
take the Moncrieffe coach to the fort and provide His Grace with a return escort.”

The footman bowed to Duncan, then hurried down the corridor toward the stairs, passing Iain along the way.

Iain watched him go, then strode toward Duncan anxiously. “I hope you have a plan,” Iain said, stopping outside the study door. He began to speak in an almost frantic whisper. “Because I’m growing tired of putting out your fires, Duncan. I’ve been waking every morning to find myself staring into the impossible consequences of your fury. A few days ago, it was Richard Bennett seeking Moncrieffe men to join his troops and hunt you down. Our own men! Today was worse. I was forced to receive the daughter of a great English duke, who wanted
you
of
all
people to protect her from the Butcher. What the devil was I supposed to
tell
her?

Obviously, she must know the truth by now. It
’ll
mean the gal ows for us both.”

Duncan glanced up and down the corridor to ensure there was no one about. “Come inside.”

His brother walked into the study and glanced at the open trunk. “Could you not ring for a chambermaid, Duncan? This room is the very essence of anarchy.”

It was no secret that Duncan’s younger brother preferred order over chaos. He was exceptional y
well
mannered, highly
intelligent
and educated, and when faced with a choice, he never, under any circumstances, selected the path of greater risk. He detested conflict, had never held a sword or set foot on a battlefield.

And that morning he had reached the absolute pinnacle of panic when Amelia was announced—not five minutes after Duncan had come charging into the bailey like a cannonba
ll
.

“I like this room in its current state,” he replied. “Sit down, Iain.” Duncan gestured toward the settee.

Iain moved toward it but had to move a box of candlesticks in order to clear a space. He flipped back the tail of his morning coat and sat down. “Tel me what happened with Lady Amelia. What in God’s name are we going to do?”

Duncan sat down at his desk. “There’s no need to panic.

She
’ll
not reveal our secret. I’m confident she
’ll
be loyal.”

Iain’s eyebrows flew up in disbelief. “She gave you her word, did she? Freely?”

“I did not threaten her, if that’s what you think.” He paused.

«Well
… maybe I did, but the lass is plucky and she threatened me, too. It was a fair fight. But now that it’s done, I
’ll
trust her not to betray me.”

Iain frowned. “But how can you risk such a thing, Duncan?

Bluidy
hell
! She just fled from you. She ran away in desperation, and the first thing she asked was whether or not Colonel Bennett was
still
here. She no doubt wanted to run straight into his arms and cry on his shoulder.”

Duncan did not want to hear Iain’s speculations, for they were pointless now. Whatever happened when she first arrived was of no consequence, because that was before she and Duncan had reached an agreement.

“Lady Amelia has agreed to become my wife,” he said.

“She
’ll
be Countess of Moncrieffe as soon as the marriage can be arranged, and
will
not be able to speak against me as her husband. Her uncle and guardian, the Duke of Winslowe,
will
soon arrive, and I am certain he
will
approve the match.”

Iain sat for a long moment without moving. “You’ve already proposed to Lady Amelia? And she has accepted you?”

“Aye.” Duncan stood and walked to the window. He bent to peer through the telescope at a mother duck and her ducklings, waddling along the banks on the other side of the lake. Quite unexpectedly, he felt rather buoyant.

“Are you sure it was not a ploy,” Iain asked, “to make you let down your guard, so she can escape you again?”

Duncan straightened and looked up at the sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds. “I am not a fool, Iain. I know that she has feared me in the past, despised me, even. I cannot begin to make you understand what exists between us, but she gave me her word, and I gave her mine.” He faced his brother.

“You know, she is very much like her father. Do you remember the duke from his visit last spring? He was a decent and honorable man.”

Iain continued to stare at him in shock. “But she’s English, Duncan. The clan
will
not approve of an English countess.

You already know what people say about you, since your negotiations with the duke. They say you only seek the King’s favor to increase your lands and treasury. Now you want to marry an English duke’s daughter? Besides
all
that, she’s
still
betrothed to Colonel Bennett.”

Duncan sat down again. “She belongs to me now.”

His brother sighed and leaned back against the cushions.

“Your prisoner,
still
?”

“Nay,” he said angrily. “My wife.” He regarded his brother with
challenge
. “There is something else I must
tell
you. Now that I have made this pledge, certain things are going to change.”

Iain sat forward again. His brow wrinkled with curiosity.

“What things?”

A knock sounded, and they both turned their attention to the door.

Angus walked in and stood with a tight grip on the hilt of his sword. His golden hair was tied back in a queue. He had shaved and changed his shirt.

“Did he
tell
you the latest news, Iain?” Angus asked, keeping his icy blue eyes fixed on Duncan. “That he’s going to marry that English vixen, just so she
’ll
keep her mouth shut?”

“Aye,” Iain replied. “He just explained it to me.”

Angus glowered at Duncan. “It would’ve been more prudent just to
kill
her, do you not think? It’s what you should’ve done back at the fort nearly a week ago, and spared us
all
a lot of grief and effort.” Duncan rose from his chair and strode toward Angus, who backed up and looked at Iain. “Did he also
tell
you he agreed to lay down his sword in exchange for her silence? And that he agreed to spare Richard Bennett’s life?”

Iain shot a glance at Duncan. “Nay, he did not
tell
me that part.”

“I was about to,” Duncan explained.

He and Angus stood face-to-face in the center of the study. Angus spoke quietly. “Have you lost your fookin’ mind, Duncan?”

“I know what I’m doing,” he growled.

Angus paused. “But you shouldn’t have to give up everything you’ve fought for. You cannot let her talk you into letting Bennett live.”

“Don’t
tell
me what I can and cannot do,” he warned.

“The only reason you’re not drawing your sword to defend yourself right now is because I’m guessing you mean to forget the promise you made and take up your sword again the day after you speak your wedding vows. At least that’s what I hope.”

Iain stepped in to interject. He was shorter than both men and for that reason had to look up to address them. “But it would be ungentlemanly,” he said “to break a promise to a lady. Especial y the daughter of a duke.”

Angus glared down at him. “Ungentlemanly? Fook, Iain!

You may dress like an Englishman, but the last time I checked, you were
still
a Scot. And you’re forgetting that your brother stripped the lassie bare in her bedchamber and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of turnips when he carried her out of the fort. Then he tied her up and threatened to skin her like a rabbit if she tried to escape. So I think it’s a little late for good manners.”

Iain
swall
owed uneasily. “It’s never too late to be civil.”

Angus leaned down close. “You never had the stomach for war, Iain. You always left that to others, so I suggest you stay out of this.”

Iain’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He careful y backed away.

Duncan met Angus’s cold, hard gaze. “I gave her my word.

I
’ll
not be breaking it.”

“And what about your word to
me?
” Angus asked. “That together we would see my sister’s death avenged.”

Duncan felt an unexpected stab of guilt, which he quickly pushed aside. “I
’ll
not defend myself to you.”

A fierce moment of tension ensued; then Angus started for the door. “You may have pledged a vow to that Englishwoman, Duncan, but she heard no such vow from me.