Captured by the Highlander (23 page)

* * *

Outside in the courtyard, an armed dispatch rider slipped Amelia’s letter into a saddlebag and mounted his horse, with instructions to locate Colonel Bennett, who was heading north with the Moncrieffe militia toward Drumnadrochit.

The rider
galloped
out of the fortress gates with strict and rigorous haste, silently cursing the fact that he would have to answer to the despicable colonel while he awaited further instructions.

* * *

“Did you know that he defended you steadfastly to Angus,”

Josephine said to Amelia the next day, “and chose you over him?” They were crossing the drawbridge with baskets hooked over their wrists, on a mission to pick wildflowers in the orchard, even though the weather was quickly turning gray.

“No, I did not know that,” Amelia replied with a frown.

“When?”

“The day you arrived. Angus was not pleased to hear of your engagement. He felt Duncan was betraying Muira’s memory, and Scotland, too, by laying down his weapons to make you happy. Angus takes great pleasure in war. He always has.”

They stepped off the bridge and headed into the orchard.

Their skirts swished through the
tall
grasses.

“How long have you known Angus?” Amelia asked, pushing aside her discomfort over the mention of Muira’s name. Neither Amelia nor Duncan had talked about his former fiancée since the day they spoke of her in the mountains.

Josephine looked up at the sky. “I met Angus when he came here with his father to invite the MacLeans to join in the rebel ion, over a year ago. Duncan’s father, as I’m sure you must’ve heard, was a fearsome warlord. He was keen to join the cause, though Duncan opposed it.”

Amelia was astonished to hear this. She’d thought Duncan was a passionate Jacobite, because that was part of the Butcher’s notoriety.

“I knew that Duncan’s father was a warrior,” she said, “and that he died in the rebel ion.”

“Aye, and afterward, Duncan returned home to take his place as laird and quickly established himself political y as a Highland noble
willing
to support King George and give up the rebel ion. You would know that, of course, because of your father’s visit last spring.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Duncan desires peace and the safety of his clan above
all
. He does not sanction war and death for those in his care.

But when he fights as the Butcher, it’s personal.” A gust of wind blew across the orchard, fluttering Josephine’s hat ribbons.

Amelia felt a sudden pang of animosity. “Why are you
telling
me this?” she asked. “Do you think I am wrong to ask that he give up his campaign?”

Josephine considered it. “Nay, I don’t think it wrong. I understand what you feel, and I would do the same in your position. I wouldn’t wish for my Iain to be
galloping
about the Highlands picking fights with English redcoats, and I am glad he doesn’t have a hankering for war, and never did. I only want you to know that it may take some time before Duncan is healed of that pain. He may feel some regret over his break with Angus. They were close. They’ve known each other since they were lads, and they’ve been through a lot together.”

Amelia spoke defensively. “I did not ask him to give up his friend.”

“Nay, and he wouldn’t have done so, if it had been his choice. But it was Angus who broke the friendship. He’s not one to give up a fight, and he doesn’t have a pretty lass like you in his life to distract him from war.”

Amelia felt a cold raindrop strike her cheek.
«Will
Duncan blame me for their quarrel?” she asked, feeling a rush of dread.
«Will
he resent me?”

“Not now,” Josephine answered. “From what I can see, he’s infatuated with you. But one day, he might regret the loss of his friend. Angus was there for him when Muira died.

They shared the same grief. I suspect he
’ll
regret it if Angus is not there to toast you on your wedding day.”

They reached a patch of flowers on the far side of the orchard. Amelia bent to pick some daisies. “I am not sure what I can do about that,” she said. “I don’t wish to cause a rift between them, but Angus despises me. He would never listen to anything I say.”

Josephine knelt beside her and tore some long stems from the earth. “I don’t expect that anyone can do much of anything. Angus
will
have to resolve the matter himself and find a way to accept Duncan’s decision. If he can’t do that…”

She rose to her feet and arranged the flowers in the basket.

“If he can’t accept it, he
’ll
simply continue to live that
hell
ish, unhappy life that Duncan has final y given up.” She gazed meaningful y at Amelia from a distance away. “Do not mistake me, Amelia. Iain and I are both very pleased with how things have turned out. We believe you are the best thing that’s ever happened to Duncan.”

“But real y, I’ve done nothing.” She glanced around the orchard. “What exists between us is very…” She did not know what to
call
it.

Josephine nodded. “I understand, but you must not give up hope that true love
will
blossom one day, now that you are pledged to one another, and you are able to see another side of him. Everything
will
change. The clothes make a difference, do you not agree? He’s quite a distinguished gentleman when he puts some effort into it.”

Amelia couldn’t help but smile. “I must confess, I rather liked the kilt and the unkempt hair. I hope he doesn’t feel it necessary to give that up completely.”

Josephine chuckled. “Maybe you can convince him to wear his sword to bed on your wedding night, and nothing else.”

They giggled naughtily and dashed back to the castle gates as thunder rumbled in the distance and murky clouds
rolled
across the sky.

The Moncrieffe coach
rolled
over the drawbridge and into the shaded stone archway of the gate tower. It was
followed
by a second coach, drawn by four magnificent grays and bearing the ancestral coat of arms of His Grace, the Duke of Winslowe.

The vehicles had been spotted by a scout. By the time the duke
rolled
into the bailey, Duncan and Amelia were waiting at the front door of the castle.

Duncan took out his timepiece and consulted it, then slipped it back into his coat pocket.

“Do you have somewhere else to be?” she asked.

“Of course not,” he replied in an intimidating voice. “But your uncle is late, and my patience is wearing thin. I want you as my wife. He should’ve been here yesterday.”

She was flattered by Duncan’s impatience. He wanted her, and he wanted her now—not just in bed, but legal y and official y. He wanted to speak vows before God.

Did she want that, too? Yes, of course she did. She’d already surrendered her innocence to him, and she might as
well
admit it to herself. She was hopelessly, desperately in love.

The ducal coach
pulled
to a halt in front of them, and a liveried footman hurried to lower the step. Wearing a garish green satin jacket and peach breeches, her uncle, plump as a pumpkin, emerged from the dark confines and squinted upward at the front of the castle before he set a shiny buckled shoe upon the step and hopped heavily to the ground. His perfume was overpowering. His black wig was
tall
and unwieldy, with ringlets that bounced as he walked.

“My darling girl!” He
pulled
Amelia into his arms and squeezed the air out of her lungs. “Thank God you are found, and you are safe!” He turned to Duncan. “I owe you a great debt, Lord Moncrieffe, for my niece’s rescue. You have saved her from the Butcher’s axe.”

Duncan gave an elegant bow. “She saved herself, Your Grace. She is a remarkable woman. I did nothing but provide these stone
wall
s as sanctuary.”

Her uncle looked at her. “Are you
all
right, my dear?”

“I am fine.”

He stood back and inhaled quickly. “I
shall
hear
all
about your ordeal soon enough,” he said. “But first…” He faced Duncan again. “I am responsible for this young gel, Moncrieffe. She is my dearly departed brother’s only child, and she means the world to me, so I must beg to ask,
why?

Why have you proposed this match between yourself and my niece?”

Amelia felt her smile drop. She moved closer to stand at Duncan’s side and linked her arm through his, feeling grateful that he was not brandishing his axe today.

“She is already pledged to Lieutenant-colonel Richard Bennett,” her uncle continued, “and this is highly inappropriate, to conduct yourself in such a manner.”

“But Uncle…,” she protested. He did not know who he was speaking to!

His Grace swung a hand through the air. “Hup! Hup!

Hush!”

Her teeth clicked together.

The duke tilted his wigged head to the side and raised an accusing eyebrow at Duncan. “What do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

Duncan inclined his head and put a foot forward in a second, more elegant bow. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I have no excuse to offer, except to confess that I
fell
in love with your niece, and lost my head completely.”

Amelia’s head drew back in astonishment.

Her uncle turned his eyes to her. “The great Scottish laird
fell
in love, did he?”

“Yes,” Amelia shakily replied.

“Just like that?”

“Can you blame me, Your Grace?” Duncan interjected.

“Lady Amelia is like no other woman.”

“My brother spoke
well
of you, Moncrieffe. I wondered if I’d ever be privileged enough in this lifetime to make your acquaintance and see for myself what sort of man you are.”

“I
’ll
leave that to Your Grace to decide,” Duncan said, “if you
will
bestow us the honor of your company at dinner this evening.”

“Of course I
’ll
honor you with my company!” the duke shouted as he adjusted his wig. “Where else am I to go?

We’re deep in the wilds of the Scottish Highlands. I am fortunate I didn’t get
swall
owed up by a hungry boar on the way here.”

Amelia exhaled a nervous breath as they
all
entered the main
hall
together.

* * *

“Ah, Moncrieffe. I daresay this is the finest whisky in Great Britain and beyond.” Winslowe swirled the amber liquid around in his crystal glass, then delighted himself with another deep draught. Duncan lifted his own glass. “I am honored you think so, Your Grace. I
’ll
be sure to send you back to England with a crate of my very best.”

“You are a true gentleman, sir.”

They had enjoyed a sumptuous dinner and dessert,
followed
by musical entertainment in the old banqueting
hall
, but now the hour had grown late. Only Duncan and the duke chose to linger on, sipping whisky by the fire in the library.

The others had retired for the night.

“This is a fine castle, Moncrieffe. Quite old, I presume?”

“Construction of the keep and gate tower began in 1214,”

Duncan told him. “The main part of the castle, where we now sit, was completed in 1629.”

Winslowe’s gaze traveled about the candlelit room.

“Indeed it is an architectural masterpiece.”

They discussed architecture for quite some time, and Duncan promised the duke that he would show him the plans for future additions and refurbishments, which he kept in his study.

Then, at last, the time was at hand to discuss more important matters.

“So you claim to have developed feelings for my niece,”

the duke prompted, scrutinizing Duncan with a spark of
challenge
over the rim of his glass.

“Aye, Your Grace. It is my intention to love and care for her always.”

The duke leaned forward in his chair. “
Love
, you say. I watched you this evening, Moncrieffe, and I do not doubt you are smitten, but I am not sure I would
call
it love.” He sat back. “You are taken with her, natural y. She is a beautiful young woman. I see also that she returns your …
affections.
It was not difficult to make out. She is completely besotted.” He leaned back again. “But it’s
all
rather sudden, is it not? By my calculations, you proposed the very day she crossed your threshold.”

Duncan wet his lips and thought long and hard about how he should answer the duke’s
challenge
. Clearly he was a perceptive and insightful man. “I realize it may seem strange to Your Grace, but I remember Lady Amelia’s father very
well
. I
will
always regard him with the highest esteem. I
recall
also that he spoke with a great love for his daughter. So if I may be blunt…”

Winslowe waved an inviting hand. “Please. I am curious.”

Duncan set his glass down on the side table and rested his elbows on his knees. “I have not had the pleasure of meeting her former fiancé, Colonel Bennett,” he said, “but I do know of his reputation, and I feel it is my duty to inform Your Grace that…” He paused to give the man a moment to prepare himself for what he was about to hear. “Richard Bennett is despised in this country, Your Grace. He is regarded as a tyrant who knows no bounds when it comes to oppression and brutality. Innocent Scots have been slaughtered under his orders; peaceful homes have been burned to the ground. So when I learned of your niece’s engagement, I could not bear the thought of her marrying such a man, so I did not hesitate to violate your country’s rules of etiquette.” He leaned back and stared unshakably at the duke. “And for that I make no apologies.”

Winslowe surveyed him careful y. “You are a
will
full
man, Moncrieffe, but I see that you are decent and forthcoming as
well
, so I, too,
shall
be blunt.” He met Duncan’s eyes. “I was surprised at my brother’s decision to
allow
his daughter to wed Colonel Bennett. I believe he acted in haste to secure a husband for her before he departed from this world.

Myself…?” He sat back. “I am not fond of the man. I have no concrete proof of any unseemly activities, mind you, but I simply do not care for him.
call
it instinct, a gut reaction, whatever you please, but I recognize the fact that he has a cruel streak. I have no doubt he can be charming when he wishes to be, which is why Amelia was influenced in the beginning. And when her father passed away—God rest his soul—she was lonely and grief-stricken. I could not help but feel that Bennett preyed upon that vulnerability. Amelia has a generous dowry, and she is the daughter of a duke. Bennett wishes to advance himself, for he has few connections and is not a wealthy man.” Winslowe waved a finger. “He has a great talent on the battlefield, however, and that is where he made too strong an impression on my brother. He saved his life, you know. It was quite a heroic feat.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” Duncan tossed back the rest of his whisky before he said something distasteful to His Grace, which he might later regret.

“But with my brother gone,” the duke continued, “Amelia’s guardianship
fall
s to me. I am
all
she has, and I
will
not let her step into a future that promises unhappiness. I believe you are genuine in your affections for her, sir, and clearly you are a man of great wealth and personal integrity. I
will
support your engagement, Moncrieffe, and if Bennett sees fit to complain about it …
well
, I am a duke now.” He raised his glass again. “I have some influence in the world.”

Duncan sat forward and shook his hand. “I give you my word of honor, Your Grace, that Amelia
will
be happy here.

She
will
be treated with the utmost respect.”

“Good man.” The duke downed the rest of his whisky.

Duncan gave Winslowe a moment to enjoy the effects of the drink before speaking again. “I hope it
will
not spoil your evening, Your Grace, if I push the subject further.”

The duke sat forward. “Push away, Moncrieffe.”

Duncan nodded. “I spoke earlier of Colonel Bennett’s reputation and what I know of his military tactics. It is my firm belief that the people of Scotland deserve their dignity, and I mean to bring Richard Bennett to justice for his crimes.”

The duke’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “You don’t say. A formal complaint, you mean?”

“Aye. I can bring witnesses, and if you were
willing
to hear their testimonies, I would welcome your support.”

The duke considered Duncan’s request. “He is a celebrated war hero, Moncrieffe. The man has medals. It
will
not be easy. Certainly the army
will
not appreciate it. Nor
will
the King.”

“Surely someone
will
see the truth in it, and be moved to do the right thing.”

The duke crossed one stout leg over the other. “Perhaps.

But if not—and if I choose to support you—it
will
be
my
reputation that
will
suffer. Imagine it, Moncrieffe—an eccentric English duke, new to his title, taking Scotland’s side in a case against the King’s army.”

“A losing battle, to be sure,” Duncan said.

Winslowe slapped his plump thigh and laughed. “Ah, you fearless Highlanders. How I admire your spirit, always so
full
of confidence and vitality, raging across battlefields with your swords and shields held high, even in the face of impossible odds. Ah, to be a Scotsman.” He raised his empty glass.

“And young again.”

Duncan inclined his head at the duke and rose from his chair to go and bring back the decanter. He refil ed both their glasses, then sat down.

“Let me
tell
you about my adventures at the Battle of Sherrifmuir,” he said, “and then we can discuss what might be possible with the King’s army.”

Winslowe sat back and made himself comfortable, and they talked openly about warfare and politics until
well
past midnight.