Oh My Laird!: A Risqué Regency Romance (11 page)

It took less than an hour for Amelia to realize that getting back on a horse after a long day’s ride—well, it wasn’t the best idea she’d had that week.

Her already-sore muscles reminded her that it had taken a while to get them functioning again, and she slid from the saddle awkwardly, using a convenient boulder to break what would have been a quite nasty fall.

She groaned and clung to poor Strawberry, who was looking quite confused herself. Or at least Amelia thought so.

“Sorry, dear girl.” She patted the horse’s cheek. “Let’s take a bit of a rest for a few moments, shall we?”

There was a break in the hedgerow where she had stopped, and it seemed as if others had also paused their journey at this point. She found an iron ring set into the side of the boulder, perfectly placed to secure the reins and stop Strawberry from wandering off.

And looking through the hedge, she saw a lovely view of the landscape and another boulder placed just where the best view could be had. She walked to it and looked at the flat spot. Ordinarily she would have searched for a shawl or at the very least a handkerchief. It spoke volumes about how tired and confused she was when she sat down on the rock without a thought to her garments.

The scenery was idyllic—rolling fields and hills leading off into a horizon hazy with sunshine. Birds sang, the gentle breeze played with the ribbons of her bonnet…and Amelia was blind to it all.

Her thoughts revolved around the mess she had managed to get herself into. And the husband she had allegedly acquired along the way.

She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, lifting her hands and putting her chin in them, curling up on herself as she stared blankly out over the Scottish landscape.

Is there something wrong with me?

Amelia’s mind turned that over with a certain amount of apprehension. In the past, when a situation had looked as if it might get out of control, she had always been able to manage it, turn it to her advantage, or at least escape from it with a whole skin.

But this time, at this moment with this man—she was at a loss. No immediate solution rose to tap her on the shoulder. She couldn’t see a way out, or a way to evade the inevitability of what had happened.

Although she’d not heard of hand-fasting, she had no doubt it was quite legal. Gretna Green, and its long tradition of runaway weddings, must have the backing of the Scottish legal system, or there wouldn’t be such a dramatic parade of couples heading north to tie the knot.

So she doubted there was much she could do about that aspect of her situation. At least not at this point. And somehow the notion of filing for a divorce—well, it seemed
wrong
.

That feeling puzzled her and she moved to considering why this entire business had her so turned around. She had lain with Ian once. They had spent time together, but nothing out of the ordinary. She had spent more time with more men before him.

And yet—and yet he was
different
to those men somehow.

That was a thought that troubled her, puzzled her and made her more than a little uncomfortable. No man had been different before. No man had made her smile, treated her the way Ian did, talked to her the way Ian had.

When she was with him, it was as if she was free to release all the colors of her being. A strange idea, but one that made sense to her troubled mind. She didn’t have to hide anything with him. She didn’t have to pretend interest in his conversation, because she
was
interested. She didn’t have to hold back her opinions because he paid attention to them.

He treated her as an intelligent human being first, and a woman second. And that, she realized, was what made him different. Not only the man himself, but how he treated her.

She liked it. She liked being an equal in a conversation, every bit as much as she liked that fire lurking behind his eyes. The heat that exploded when they touched.

She liked that too.

A butterfly danced past, dallying here and there, then catching the breeze and wandering away.

She had felt like that; a will-o-the-wisp fluttering wherever the wind blew her. From ballroom to soiree, from man to man. Aimless, pointless and yet at the time she had imagined it was the perfect life. Free and pleasurable.

How wrong she had been.

Even in bed, he was different. He gave as much as he took, demanding she follow his lead to the peak of pleasure. And she did, knowing that she would derive every bit as much wondrous exhilaration as he.

She’d lain with him, eager to experience his touch, his mouth, the feel of him inside her. More eager and excited than she could remember being in—well, ever.

Perhaps something inside her recognized that he would be not just an outstanding lover—which he was—but a new force in her life that would change her.

That was another frightening thought. He would change her, if he hadn’t already. She didn’t care to look back now, to wonder about any of the people who had played roles in her past.

She was ready to look forward, to dare to dream of a life that held more than empty social chit-chat and even emptier liaisons.

But even as that door opened and light began to shine through, Amelia felt the clouds obscure the sun. How could she possibly expect Ian to make a life with someone like her?

The enormity of her past crashed down on her and her eyes filled with bitter tears. She was soiled, notorious and beyond redemption.

It was impossible to imagine living as Ian’s wife. She just wasn’t acceptable.

The tears came, flowing freely as she sobbed at the loss of what could have been a wonderful future. Bitter tears, coursing their way unheeded over her cheeks as she wept, lost in disgust for herself and unable to see anything but sadness and loneliness in the years ahead.

She wasn’t aware that she had company until a soft hand touched her shoulder and another held a large handkerchief out to her.

“Now now, my dear. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Not on a day like this…”

Amelia jumped and turned to see an older woman smiling sympathetically at her. “Oh, goodness.” She took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “I apologize. A private moment of sadness. Please excuse my behavior.”

The woman studied her. “How English.” She smiled again. “And I’m permitted that observation because I am English. Or I was until I met and married my Scot. But that’s neither here nor there.” She settled herself next to Amelia. “Now. Suppose you tell me what is it that has you so sad?”

“I would not keep you from your journey.” Amelia’s instinctive reaction took over. She did not readily share personal details, and certainly not with strangers.

“You’re not. I was just out enjoying the sunshine. Riding nowhere in particular. But now I’m beginning to think that the wee folk steered my horse in this direction to help a fellow traveler in need.”

“Wee folk?” Amelia couldn’t let that comment pass unnoticed.

“Of course.” The woman glanced out at the vista before them. “We’re sitting on one of their homes. A
Sighan
‘t’is called. A green hill shaped something like a cone.”

Amelia glanced around. Damned if she could see it. Perhaps this woman was a little…deranged? “Forgive me, but I don’t see it.”

“You will.” The woman removed her bonnet with a sigh of relief. “Your pardon, but the sun feels better than that damn straw.”

Her head glowed in the sun, hair as red as fire tumbled in curls around her face, and a mound of it was pinned into a knot. She was quite lovely, realized Amelia.

“Do you live near here?” In spite of herself, Amelia had to ask the question out of politeness and also a mite of curiosity.

“Not far. Up the road a couple of miles.” The woman pointed vaguely in the direction Amelia had been heading.

“So you’re originally English then?”

“I am that. But once you wed a Scot and settle here, the country gets into your heart and turns you. With your willing cooperation. So now I’m Scottish.” She grinned. “And I have the hair for it.”

“I noticed.” Amelia couldn’t help smiling back. “I’m Amelia…Amelia DeVere.” She hesitated a little, but couldn’t bring herself to use her new name. She wasn’t even sure if she was entitled to it yet.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Amelia. I’m Katherine Mc—“ she coughed a little, “McAllan.”

Amelia stood and held out the handkerchief. “Well it’s been delightful speaking with you, Mrs. McAllan. But I must be getting on.”

Katherine ignored the handkerchief. “Oh sit down, Amelia. You’re as miserable as a wet Sunday. I’ll wager you’ve no place in particular to go, so you might as well sit here and unburden yourself. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Amelia wanted to roll her eyes and leave, but there was something about this McAllan woman. Something that she found reassuring. Odd, because she wasn’t given to even thinking about other women, let alone assessing their characters.

Damn Scotland. Her brain was turning to porridge.

“You’re very interested in a complete stranger.” Amelia sat again, surrendering to the moment.

“Of course I am. You’re a beautiful young woman, obviously upset, and you’re all alone. It would be un-Christian of me to pass by without offering some sort of comfort.”

“Ah.” Amelia digested that.

“Plus I’m incredibly nosy. Other people’s business is always more fascinating than one’s own, don’t you agree?”

The wicked giggle that accompanied this confession drew a matching laugh from Amelia. “Yes, I will agree.”

“Excellent.” Katherine settled herself more comfortably. “Now tell me. Who is he?”

“What makes you—“

“Oh good heavens, don’t even ask that.” Katherine raised an eyebrow. “You and I both know the only reason a grown woman cries like you did is because a man’s either broken her heart or is about to. So I ask again. Who is he?”

Amelia lifted her chin. “Things are not always as they might seem, you know. As a matter of fact, he
hasn’t
broken my heart.”

“Ah. Well that’s a good start. Does he have a name?”

“Ian.” She left it at that.

“Very well. So what has this Ian done that has you all topsy-turvy?”

Amelia sighed. “He has married me,” she answered glumly.

“Er—pardon?”

“He married me without my knowing it.”

“The cur.”

“Indeed. And perhaps he did know it, but didn’t tell me. And I certainly wasn’t to know that saying things in front of others would be viewed as legally committing to the things I was saying. This is my first time over the border. I can’t be expected to understand the intricacies of obscure traditions.”

“Well of course not.” Katherine blinked.

“It’s all so stupid and here we are married, and all I can think of is how terribly wrong I am for him.” Her lip trembled.

“Really?”

Amelia nodded. “I’m a terrible person with a terrible past. I have shame and scandal attached to my name and my own family banished me from London. I have—had a small estate, but even that burned down on me. And now poor Ian…he’s stuck with me.” She swallowed. “I’m the worst thing that could happen to him. And I don’t know what to do.”

The tears came once more, in spite of her determination to stay calm. It seemed that just thinking about the mess she’d made of her life, and now Ian’s, was enough to turn her into a watering pot.

Before she knew it she was being hugged by a pair of warm arms and patted on the back.

“There, there, Amelia. Don’t cry. It will be all right.”

Since that was a rather absurd and meaningless comment that did nothing to assuage her sorrows, Amelia managed a rather damp snort. “Oh golly. Now I feel much better.”

She drew back and blew her nose.

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” Katherine smirked. “Not when you’re in such a mess.”

“Thank you.” Amelia straightened her bonnet. “Your sympathy is much appreciated.”

“Stopped you crying though, didn’t it?”

Amelia paused.
Dammit
. The woman was right.

“Now that the sniffles are done, I think it’s time we managed to come up with a way to sort out all these troubles.” Katherine stood and shook out her skirts. “I have a small cottage a couple of miles up the road that way.” She pointed to the north. “Come and have lunch with me, we’ll have a cup of tea and see what’s best to be done.”

Since Amelia had no other plans nor any idea of where she was actually going, as long as it was away from Ian for a while, she nodded. “That’s very kind of you. I accept. If you’re sure I won’t be interfering with your afternoon plans?”

“I had nothing planned that is anywhere near as important as helping you.” Katherine put her arm through Amelia’s as she stood and led her to the horses. “You need a place to sit and think, and a good lunch, followed by an excellent cup of tea. And you need the benefit of my wisdom and advice. All of this you shall receive in abundance whether you like it or not.”