Upon seeing them, her worst fears were confirmed; Sophie was clearly with child.
Undaunted and hanging on to the slimmest threads of hope, Amelia’s mind raced. What if the baby was actually that of Laird Dunn, former husband to Sophie? Could she be so vile as to misrepresent the child as Oliver’s knowing full well he would do the honorable thing? Sophie was a dangerous woman willing to do anything to get what she wanted at all cost, without conscious or care for those she betrayed.
Adrenaline surged through Amelia. She’d come all this way and would not leave without being sure. When the carriage had driven out of sight, Amelia left her hiding spot and made her way to the road headed to the castle. How was she going to do this? She thought to herself.
As Amelia walked closer to the castle grounds, she spotted another figure headed along the same path. She was anxious at first for the other person not to see her. Still, she noticed the figure seemed somewhat familiar and was actually Maggie, one of the castle servants who’d always treated Amelia with kindness. It had been Maggie who’d witnessed Sophie’s poor treatment of Amelia on the day Sophie had arrived at the castle.
Maggie was surprised and happy to see Amelia, and after they’d said their hellos and had their hug, Amelia explained her situation to Maggie. It was dire, yes, but she had to know the truth about the child Sophie carried, and she begged Maggie not to tell anyone that she’d returned to find out. Maggie gave her vow of secrecy and then delivered the heartbreaking news: “Aye,” the child was Oliver’s.
It was over. That was it. If Maggie said it to be true, then it was genuinely so. She was trustworthy, and there was no use in denying it. The two women bid a tearful farewell with Maggie, shaken and weepy, wishing Amelia a safe journey and restating her vow to keep Amelia’s visit a secret to the grave.
Oliver was having a baby with Sophie, and they’d wasted no time in becoming pregnant; it must have happened within weeks from Amelia leaving the castle …
Oliver must never have loved her.
Chapter 5
Amelia put the bundle of straw down beside her kitchen. Aside from the wheat, the straw she produced on her land had many uses; mattress stuffing, kindling for the kitchen stove, mixed with mud to patch holes in the wall, but also sold or traded for other goods. All of Amelia’s crops were small and, as such, didn’t turn much of a profit. All she needed was more land, and she could produce income. More land, more money. But how? She wasn’t afraid of hard work, even though the hours were long, the labour was back breaking, and the business dirty. Amelia knew in her heart that she would succeed if she just persevered. The only thing holding her back more land
If her father was able to make a tidy profit from his farmland after she’d been handed off to Laird Clach, she knew she could do it, too. But for now, she had to make do with the small portion of land behind her cottage, and she would, thanks to Gavina, who had made it possible in the first place.
Speaking of Gavina, she and Owen would be back soon. While she stayed to work the land, Owen had accompanied “aunty” Gavina to tend to the cows in her pasture next door. Amelia had agreed to this immediately, seizing the opportunity to get some work done uninterrupted by the lad. When Owen was around, there tended to be more playing and less working. Besides, if anyone could handle Owen, it was Gavina. She was like a second mother, an aunt, and a big sister to the boy; all rolled up into one.
A street festival to celebrate the local harvest had been organized by the townsfolk and would occur in the village square later that evening. The three of them had planned to walk into the village later and take part in the festivities. As the sun began to lower in the horizon, Amelia gazed out the cottage window and wondered aloud as to when Gav and Owen would be back from their day of adventures. Before they’d left, Gavina had instructed Amelia to be ready upon their return. They’d be home soon, and she needed to wash up and put on some respectable clothing before heading into town.
Amelia looks out of the window of her cottage as the evening approaches. Gavina and Owen will be back soon, and she needs to wash and prepare as quickly as possible. Gavina would roll her eyes and talk if she came back to see Amelia still in her dirty clothes. She told her to be ready before returning and won’t want to miss the show for anything.
The water from the kettle is just warm enough for the washbasin. While lathering the soap to wash the day’s work from her face, there comes a knock at the door. Oops! Gavina has beaten her to it. She’s not quite ready to go, but no matter, Gavina won’t have to wait for long while she finishes getting dressed.
“Don’t get mad at me, please,” Amelia says with a little chuckle as she opens the door, “Ah'm about to go…” She stops mid-sentence, surprised at who she finds standing on her doorstep.
What is Thomas doing here?
“Hello,” Thomas says with a bright smile, “Why would I be mad at ya?” he jokes.
“H...hello,” Amelia says with confusion in her voice. “The words weren’t meant for you.”
“I know, of course,” he says with a smile and runs his eyes over her clothes.
A flush of embarrassment rushes over Amelia. It was awful for him to see her this dirty. Will he understand if she tells him that she has been working on the farm all day?
For a man of his stature, he might not understand.
“Did I interrupt you? You seem to be busy with farm work,” he says, gesturing toward her clothing.
Surprised, she answers, “Aye. I…I mean naw, Ah'm was through with the farm a few minutes ago. I was aboot to wash when you knocked.” Why is she so nervous?
Thomas nods to this. “Can I come in?”
Oh my, has she forgotten her manners? She moves to open the door wide for him but hesitates. What would he think of her house? Her home is humble and not ornately appointed, like the luxury he is no doubt used to.
“Please, a cup of tea would be braw,” he immediately adds, noticing her hesitation.
Slowly, she opens the door, and Thomas walks in graciously with a broad smile across his face. Amelia watches closely for any hesitation or an untoward expression. Instead, Thomas makes his way in, takes a look around the house, and takes a seat on a kitchen chair.
“Your hame feels cozy. I wondered why you wouldn’t invite me in.”
“For a man of your state, I felt it wouldn’t be comfortable for ya?”
Thomas chuckles. “I wasn’t born into money. Some of us came to our wealth with hard work. Do you live here alone?”
Amelia thought for a second how best to answer. She has never for once denied having a child and wouldn’t start doing so now. Her son is all that brings her joy in this world where betrayal and mistrust run rampant. Moreover, what are his intentions? Why is here?. Whatever they are, she doesn’t intend to hide her son from him for any reason
“Naw, I live with my son. He's three-years-old,” Amelia says, looking him straight in the face.
“Are you married?” He asks with a look of slight sadness crossing his face.
“Oh, no.” This time, it’s Amelia’s face that turns solemn; memories of Oliver always cause her sadness. Thomas, who was relieved upon hearing she is unwed, perks up slightly. Amelia notices the glad mien on his face.
“Deceased?” asks Thomas.
“No, just a failed betrothal,” Amelia answers, not wanting him to ask any further questions. She walks to a small wood burning stove and puts the kettle on the fire. “How do you like your tea?”
“The way you serve, it will be fine. I deh seem to see him around, where is he? I mean, your son,” he asks, craning his neck.
“He is out with a friend. They will be back soon.”
Thomas nods. They drink their tea and make small talk about this and that and whomever, and Thomas didn’t pry any further about Amelia's past life. Had that been a look of sadness in her eyes when he’d mentioned her husband? Perhaps. One thing is certain; Amelia did not want to discuss it further.
They sat for quite some time e
njoying each other’s company. It was a lovely visit, exactly five days since they’d met in the market, and he’d purchased a bag of fruit for her.
Thomas Gant had gained her attention.
Chapter 6
Just as Oliver lays on his bed, there is a gentle tap on the door. He initially thought he was mistaken, probably just one of the staff being clumsy or knocking something onto the floor. Then the knock again; this time it’s clearly someone at his door.
Ach! Who could it be? Could it be Max? It’s the dead of night, and when last he checked on Max – well after his nanny had tucked him into bed – the lad was fast asleep. Maybe he awoke and can’t fall back asleep, so he’s searching for his Da. After all, whenever he wakes up, he always looks for Oliver and not his mother.
Oliver moves to his door. The thought of Max standing alone in the dim hallway by himself this late makes him worry; he unlocks the door and quickly opens it wide. Ughh! Revulsion overtakes Oliver, and letting out a hiss, he swings the door forcefully shut, but it’s stopped mid-way. It’s Sophie.
“Is this how much you despise me?” Sophie says gently while still holding the door. She knows that if she let's go, Oliver will be quick to slam it back.
“Leave whatever discussion you want for tomorrow morn. I need to sleep now,” Oliver says wearily, yet forcefully
The pale moonlight trickles through the uppermost windows of Oliver’s darkened chambers, casting enough light to reveal the outline of Sophie’s generous curves. The delicate arisad she’s wearing is draped around her shoulders and runs the length of her body. Oliver knows she is naked beneath the cloth. This is not the first attempt to seduce him by going unclad in his presence, but, so far, he has successfully turned her away each time. Why she keeps trying is what he can’t understand.
“I needed to talk to you now. It’s aboot our future…” Sophie says, in a calm and seductive tone.
“We don’t have a future!” Why must he constantly remind her of this?
“It’s about Max, a future that includes him.”
The mention of Max calms Oliver a bit. He loves his son more than life itself, and whatever concerns his well-being is of the utmost importance to Oliver. He knows that sometimes Sophie uses this as leverage against him, but whenever something has to do with Max, Oliver listens. Quietly, he let's go of the door and walks into his chamber; Sophie follows him and shuts the door behind her.
“What aboot, Max?” he says, standing a distance away from her.
“Deh, you think he needs a better life from his parent?”
Has she finally come to her senses? Is she ready to finally take proper responsibility as a mother? Oliver is surprised by her words. Has someone finally talked some sense into the lass? He stands a moment and slowly looks her up and down. Has she been at the wine again? He can’t smell it on her.
“Ah! I see you finally had your senses come back,” Oliver says.
“Aye...” She walks closer to him. “I have thought of it. I think Max will be a happier child if we marry.”
“Oh! Away an bile yer heid!” Oliver snaps out in anger. “Do you think me an idjit. Is this your little way of tricking me into marrying you?”
“Ah'm only thinking of our son’s future here,” Sophie says in hesitation, mostly because he understands what she is about to do.
“Max? When was the last time ya showed him love? Were you aware he had a fever three days ago? Naw! That’s because you have no love fur him!”
He knew she didn’t. After all, she had been out “socializing” while Oliver, the nanny, and the family physician had attended to Max. Even mentioning it now, she shows no sign of worry or remorse. Hell, she still hasn’t even bothered to ask about the boy’s well-being.
“What kind of mother are you? Why do you constantly use our son fur your selfish gain?” “If I didnae see you with a bump, I wouldnae thought you ever birthed him.”
“Oh! Away with your thoughts! You just love to overreact!” Sophie snaps, losing her calm façade
Oliver isn’t surprised.
“Do you know how the villager's gossip aboot me being an unwed woman in a man’s gaff?! You need to marry me! It’s the honorable thing to do!”
“I never forced you here. You came willingly. I have told you, leave if you want, but you willnae take the lad with you,” Oliver replies. Oh, how he wished she would just leave him be.
“If I leave, Max goes with me! You deh na get the chance to see him,” Sophie growls the threat like a rabid dog.
“The council will be the judge of that. And I will cease all the money I give you fer your upkeep and his if you run away with him,” Oliver replies to her without hesitation.
Oliver knows that threatening to take Max away is the only thing Sophie can do to hurt him. She’s made this threat several times in the past, and always to extort money. To keep the peace, he has bent to her will, but not this evening. Tonight his threat to her cut her funds entirely has caught her off guard, and he sees the panic on her face.
Gently, she walks toward him, “Ma love, we can’t keep living like this fur the sake of Max.”
As the arisad unravels and falls in a pile around her feet, Oliver sighs knowingly. She is naked.
“You can’t keep hating me,” she says in a sweet, calm voice, walking toward him.
“Leave,” Oliver says.
“I need you…”
“Leave now!” Oliver orders in a stern voice that startles Sophie.
“Why do ya hate me so much?”
“I will call the guard if you deh na leave me now,” He says adamantly. There shall be no more games this evening.
Sophie, knowing he means full well what he’s said, bends to pick the arisad off the chamber floor.
“You can keep searching for that daft wench, but trust in me; you won’t find her!” She spits with so much hate and vitrol that it cuts the air in half.
Silently, Oliver prays she is wrong.
Chapter 7
“You need to impress him with your dressing. You don’t need to dress like a farm girl,” Gavina says as she tosses dress after dress on Amelia's little bed.
“Ah'm a farm girl. I can’t hide that,” Amelia replies.
“I ken, and he kens too. Everyone kens,” Gavina says as she rolls her eyes, causing Amelia to chuckle.
“But you can’t dress like a farm girl to this dance. Trust me when I say, Sam had taken me to one of those, and I am glad that I dressed well.”
“What was it like?” Amelia asks with a smile. Her friend is always good with stories and knows how to make one's imagination run wild with fantasy and intrigue.
“It was braw, and everyone was looking elegant, especially the lassies,” Gavina says with a smile, and her eyes light up. Then she stops.
“Which is why you need to find the perfect gown for tonight.” She says, continuing to toss dress after dress onto the bed.
Watching her, Amelia realizes that Gavina is too busy on her dress mission to tell her the story she’d just mentioned.
“What aboot this?” Amelia says. She raises the dark purple tartan gown off the bed into the air for her friend to see.
“Naw! You sure look beautiful in it, but it’s too auld,” Gavina says, “In fact, all the clothes here look too auld. Most of them are worn thin.”
Gavi was right. All her clothing has become threadbare. Even the gowns Oliver had purchased for her were looking worn and tattered. She had traded some of her extra grain for some used gowns at the thrift market, but wearing them while working in her field had made them fray and fade quickly. Amelia had never imagined that one day her wardrobe would be in such a state of disarray. It made sense though, any extra money for clothing had gone to outfitting Owen, not Amelia.
“Ya, I ken, I can cancel going with him,” Amelia says with a gentle voice.
“Deh even think aboot that!” Gavina snaps, and Amelia chuckles at the seriousness in her friend’s voice.
Sometimes, Gavina can act like
a mother hen to her, especially when she notices Amelia’s self-confidence is waning. Is going out with Thomas this evening really that important? Well, according to Gavina, it is. Gav has scolded her over and over for shying away from the opposite sex.
Moreover, it has been six weeks since she met Thomas, and he has been nothing but kind and nice to her. Even though he is a man of much wealth and fame, he had never treated her with any disrespect or indifference. They had become close, and he seems to get on bonnie well with Owen, who too enjoys his visits.
Thomas had confided his feelings for her several times, but she has not reciprocated nor responded with any emotion other than a slight smile. When he’d invited her to escort him to this evening's dance in the village, Amelia had at first rebuffed the idea, but Gavina was quick to answer on her behalf that she would indeed be pleased to accept. As Thomas had stood looking inquisitively at Amelia, her eyes eventually drifted to meet his gaze, and with an aura of defeat, she’d nodded “aye.”
“Well, there is no clothing to wear. I'd rather not go then disgrace myself,” Amelia says with a shrug.
“I ken, you will say that, so I come prepared,” Gavina says and walks to retrieve her burlap bag. Reaching in, she draws out a beautiful dark purple gown and hands it to Amelia.
“There you go, try this one.”
Somewhat stunned, Amelia looks deep into the beautifully patterned material with surprise. She knows this gown. “This is the gown that Sam got for ya a month ago. Right?”
“Aye, I did some stitching on it. It will fit ya perfectly,” Gavina says reluctantly.
“Gavi…ya deh have to,” Amelia says, almost close to tears.
“I had to. I could nae let ya go to that gathering dressed in your farm wear. Friends are meant to help each other. Besides, I waited till ah'm sure you ya donnae have any wear, so you deh feel bad that ah'm giving ya the gown,”
Highlander's Lost Love: A Highlander Steamy Romance Short Read (Highland Lover Series Book 4) Page 3
