Captured by the Highlander (21 page)

I owe her nothing.”

Duncan
followed
him into the corridor. “Do not take this into your own hands, Angus. Leave Bennett to me.”

Angus turned back. “Why? Does the fair English maiden mean that much to you? What about Muira? You loved her once. Can you forget her so easily? It hasn’t even been a year.”

There was the guilt again. He felt it in his chest. “I forget nothing. I only want to end the bloodshed. I’m sure it’s what she would’ve wanted.”

But did he real y believe that? He had no idea. He had not even considered it until this moment. He had been considering nothing but his own needs and desires.

“My sister would have wanted to see Richard Bennett’s head on a spike,” Angus argued, backing down the length of the corridor. “But you’ve chosen that Englishwoman over her and your friends, as
well
.” His brow creased. “What’s happened to you, Duncan? Where is the man I knew—the brave Scot who fought beside me on the battlefield at Sherrifmuir? The fierce Highlander who raised his sword against tyranny and injustice? Have you forgotten everything your proud father raised you to be? Do you mean to forget Scotland, too?”

“I forget nothing,” Duncan replied. “I
’ll
have my vengeance.

I’ve taken Bennett’s woman, as he took mine.”

“But what the fook do you plan to do with her?”

A knot of tension
balled
up in Duncan’s gut.

Angus shook his head. “So that’s it, then. You’ve made your decision, so I
’ll
be leaving you now, because clearly, like your softhearted brother, you no longer have the stomach for war, either.”

With that, Angus turned and descended the stairs.

Duncan backed up against the
wall
and pounded his fist repeatedly against the cold, hard stones of the castle corridor.

* * *

The letter to Richard was not easy to write, but it was almost done.

Amelia set down the
quill
for a moment and leaned back in the chair. What would her father have made of this decision? she wondered as she glanced about the former countess’s lavish red bedchamber, where she was now situated and would forever remain.

Something told her that—without knowing of Duncan’s dual identity, of course—her father would have been pleased to see her wed the great Earl of Moncrieffe. He was an aristocrat, after
all
, who lived in a luxurious palace and possessed more wealth than anyone could imagine. Her father might very
well
have chosen Duncan over Richard last spring, for Richard was the third son of a baron and would have been forced to rely on her dowry and her father’s future generosity, if he’d survived, to provide them with the comforts to which she was accustomed.

Not that any of those customary comforts ever mattered to her, nor did they matter now. Nevertheless, this exquisite palace would be her home and she would spend the rest of her days here, knowing that she had at least steered the infamous Butcher of the Highlands away from his lust for blood and vengeance. She had used what power she had over him to temper his rage.

She thought about that particular power she possessed.…

She was not a fool. She knew he wanted to bed her, and that mutual sexual desire was the basis for everything. It was why he was
willing
to give up his vengeance for her. It had played a part in her own actions as
well
, for she wanted him.

She could not deny it. She was aroused by his physical prowess and his own personal savage breed of heroics.

And so …

He would come to her bed each night to satisfy his appetite for her body, and she, too, would satisfy her own urges and curiosities. In a way, he would take his vengeance out on Richard through her. Through the ownership of her body. She had resigned herself to it, was even anticipating it—but at the same time it was a frightening notion indeed, to imagine the complete unleashing of that man’s passions.

And her own, as
well
.

She sat forward and somehow managed to finish the letter.

A moment later, she was handing it to the footman outside her door, then donning a shawl to go and meet Josephine, Iain’s wife, who had offered to take her on a tour of the castle and grounds. She imagined it was going to be very awkward, meeting this woman who knew everything about the situation, including the reasons why Amelia was suddenly betrothed to her brother-in-law.

Amelia hurried downstairs and entered the reception room where she had met Iain earlier that morning. Josephine sat in a chair by the window with an open book on her lap.

She glanced up and closed it when Amelia walked in.

“I am pleased you did not get lost along the way,”

Josephine said, rising to her feet. “The corridors of the castle can be difficult to navigate.”

Tasteful y dressed in a modest blue silk gown, Iain’s wife was prettier than Amelia had expected. Slender, blond, and blessed with a lovely smile, Josephine exuded a charismatic grace that helped to calm Amelia’s nerves.

“Indeed, I hesitated after crossing the bridge from the keep, but in the end, I was able to find my way.”

Josephine approached and held out her hands. “You
’ll
learn every corner and crevice of this magnificent bastion before long. I
’ll
see to it personal y. I am very happy to meet you, Lady Amelia. You have no idea how pleased I was to learn that I would have a sister.”

Amelia was surprised by how quickly she warmed to this woman’s greeting when she had felt so unsure about her decisions and had not known what to expect from Iain’s wife.

“We
will
stroll
through the interior first,” Josephine suggested, leading Amelia toward the door, “and then we
will
venture outdoors and become better acquainted.”

The tour began with a return to the keep, where Josephine adhered to a courteous and leisurely pace through the banqueting
hall
, the heraldry room, the chapel, and final y into a central courtyard with a decorative stone fountain.

Afterward, they returned to the main castle. Amelia was shown through every cozy guest chamber—she lost count after seven of them—as
well
as the library, three drawing rooms, and final y the dining room, the kitchens, and the impressive wine ce
ll
ar.

At long last, they exited the castle through a side door and made their way along a stone walk that led to the stables.

The sun was shining, and Amelia lifted her face to feel its warmth on her cheeks.

“Let us be honest now, shal
l
we?” Josephine said, linking her arm through Amelia’s. “Clearly you are distressed. You’re about to marry the Butcher of the Highlands.”

Amelia exhaled heavily. “If only I could explain how difficult it has been.”

“Please try, Amelia. You can
tell
me anything. I am a woman, and I
will
understand. I know the circumstances of what brought you here, and it cannot have been easy.”

Josephine’s understanding opened a floodgate of emotions and explanations. Amelia described Duncan’s terrifying appearance over her bed at the fort and
all
the things that had occurred in the
following
days. She told Josephine about Fergus and Gawyn and Angus and how they had treated her. She described the details of her first escape to the English camp and what revelations had
followed
regarding her opinions about this country as
well
as her own. She also told Josephine about meeting the boy,
Elliott
, and how Duncan had been a very different person that day.

“That is the Duncan I know,” Josephine said. “And I believe that is the man you
will
come to know as your husband. Not the Butcher. You
will
forget that other side of him. It is certainly not a side I see very often. He
will
win your respect and your love, Amelia. You must trust me in that.”

Amelia
swall
owed over the jagged rock of uncertainty that had lodged itself in her throat. “I wish I could be so sure of everything.”

“Give it time.”

They
strolled
across the bailey to a sundial, which indicated the hour with precise accuracy.

“I must confess,” Josephine said, “that I am pleased I can final y speak openly to another woman about my brother-in-law’s activities as a rebel and a hero of Scotland. It has always been a
well
-guarded secret, but I am so pleased that I
will
not betray any confidences by regaling his efforts to fight for Scotland in every possible way. There are things I could
tell
you…”

“That would be helpful,” Amelia replied. “I want to know
all
that is good about him, so that perhaps I
will
find this easier to manage.”

They
strolled
along the perimeter of the castle island.

“Despite what you must think,” Josephine said, “he is a good man and deserves his happiness. He has not known much of it in a long time.” She described his grief over losing Muira, and her hope that when he found love again the weight of his sorrows would grow lighter.

Amelia pondered this new life and Duncan’s obvious torment, as
well
as her ability to bring him out of it, as Josephine hoped. She had made considerable demands on him that morning, asking him to lay down his sword, believing it was in his best interest, and they had both entered into this arrangement hastily. She felt very daunted.

“Let me
tell
you some tales about his heroics,” Josephine began. “There is one particular story about his courage at the Battle of Inveraray, where he stormed the
Campbells
tronghold like a wild Viking warrior of old. And then I
’ll
tell
you how devoted and generous he is, as laird of this castle.

He gives work to anyone who wants it; he shares his wealth and takes an interest in the lives of those in his care. He does not
allow
for dishonor among his people. A bad egg is punished or banished, and he has the loyalty of
all
who serve him.”

As they slowed their pace along the stone walk, Amelia listened to Josephine’s homily and realized how very little she actual y knew about the complicated man who would soon be her husband.

She wondered uneasily when her uncle would arrive and what
he
would make of her decision.

And Richard, of course. She wondered when he would receive her letter.

* * *

That night, they dined at opposite ends of the long table with Iain and Josephine. It was a bountiful feast of oyster soup, Cornish hens, fresh vegetables, and imported wine from the south of France. After a dessert of brandied peaches and cream with chocolate truffles, they played cards in the blue drawing room and conversed about theater and politics, laughed over light gossip.

Amelia was astounded by the fact that everything was so conventional, and there were times she felt almost comfortable and was able to laugh genuinely, without pretense. She felt more at home here than she did in her own house since her uncle had taken up residence. It was not that she did not love her uncle. He was a kind and agreeable man. But he was older, and there was something very relaxed yet exciting about these young Highlanders. Even Beth MacKenzie and her family had made Amelia feel at ease in a way she had not expected. The mood in their modest cottage had been cozy and without airs.

These Scots knew how to laugh and tease and ignore the rules that could sometimes suffocate a polite young lady of good breeding at a dinner party. Amelia did not feel suffocated this evening. Strangely enough, she felt free, easy, and astonished by Duncan’s casual charm.

She
recalled
what Josephine had said to her that day:
I
believe that is the man you will come to know as your
husband. Not the Butcher. You will forget that other side of
him. It is certainly not a side I see very often. He will win
your respect
…

Indeed, when one was not in the position of fearing the gleam of his axe, his wit was vastly entertaining. Tonight, at least, there was nothing savage or barbaric about him. He was the very model of elegance and refinement.

She had a feeling, however, as she glanced at the clock, that things would be very different when he came to her bed.

At the mere thought of it, her heart began to flutter. She met his striking gaze from across the room.

The heat she saw in his eyes told her that it was time to retire.