Capturing The Highlander's Heart (Lasses 0f The Kinnaird Castle Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Aye, so this is what a companion does every morning. Comes to the kitchen to smell baskets before everyone awakes.”

  Amelia’s back stiffened, and she tried to compose her features into an expression of calm austerity.

  As she turned, she began to say, “I’ll have you know that these were baked for my…” Good God. For, even though she’d known it was Laird James’ voice, this couldn’t be the same man who’d grabbed her so forwardly only 7 days ago.

  Before her, leaning against a doorframe, stood Jamie, with an impish grin on his chiseled face. His hair had been brushed and pulled back into a low, tight bun, and he wore no wig, looking so different from the London lords. He wore a loose linen shirt which covered broad shoulders, and the buttons were open at the top. His arms were crossed across his chest, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and the muscles in his forearms bulged. The man practically filled the doorway with his height, and his long, muscled legs covered in tan breeches were crossed at the ankles.

  Jamie’s eyes never left Amelia’s face as he watched and enjoyed her look of surprise at his new appearance.

  “Baked for your…? Ye didn’t finish yer sentence, lass. Perhaps ye’ve got that English tongue of yers in a twist?”

  His grin widened, and he slowly walked closer until Amelia’s backside bumped up against the kitchen table. “Well?” He laid a hand next to her on the table. “Who were these delicious items baked for?”

  Being so close to him, Amelia could smell rosemary, and peppermint, and soap, and it filled her senses. Gone was the smell of smoke and whiskey, which had made her stomach clench, but the mesmerizing pools of green remained. After a pause, Amelia shook off her surprise and once again regained her composure. She was a reserved English lady after all.

  She raised one eyebrow and cleared her throat. “’Tis not my tongue that’s in a twist, but perhaps I can’t quite comprehend the roughness of yer Scottish brogue. And, if you must know, your mother had them baked for my mother, as I’m headed to visit her today.” She moved out of Jamie’s sphere, and turned to grab the basket and started to head for the kitchen door.

  Jamie turned and leaned against the kitchen table where Amelia’s backside had just been. He crossed his arms and chuckled. “My roughness, eh? Still haven’t lost yer ire from the other day, have ye? Och, come now, we both made mistakes in identity haven’t we?”

  Amelia could feel her flush of embarrassment returning, and she turned back to him just as she’d reached the door. “So we have. But my mistake did not involve groping another person.”

  Jamie could see redness begin to climb up her neck, and his wide smile matched the idea that just popped into his head. He walked towards the door and moved beside her to exit first. But, before he continued through, he stood behind her, lingering for a moment before reaching down to her basket, snatching up a warm tart, and whispering, “Well, I’d be happy tae remedy that, Sassenach. Ye just let me know.” And he left the kitchen leaving a bewildered Amelia behind to storm off angrily out of the castle.

  * * *

  Amelia rushed out of the castle doors, basket in hand, to be faced with a much-needed rush of cold winter air. It helped subdue the most heated parts of her anger.

  “Oh! That man is insufferable!” She huffed, as she began the journey to her mother’s cottage.

  “How can such a lovely woman have birthed such an ogre of a man? Why he’s positively impish! He must be used to women falling over him. He seems to think he’s God’s bloody gift to womankind!” Amelia wasn’t normally disposed to swearing, but this man pushed her over the edge.

  Amelia’s pace and breath matched her furious attitude. She felt Laird Jamie had ruined any sort of peace or inspiration she could have found in this morning walk. Just like a man to ruin everything. And wasn’t it just like a man to make her insides feel like melted butter when he looked at her? Amelia was further enraged by this new thought. She remembered with indignance the tingling warmth that crept up her stomach when he whispered close to her ear. She brushed it aside and waved a hand in the air. It was nothing! A physical response to closeness. I detest the man! And I will be sure he knows it.

  Amelia stomped off down the path, shivering in the cold wind, preparing how to take her revenge, forgetting her need for poetical inspiration.

  * * *

  Henrietta greeted Amelia warmly at the cottage door, hugging her daughter tightly, and her face was flushed with excitement. “Oh, do come in out of the cold, my dear! My goodness, you’ve walked a long way! Come in, come in! You must tell me everything!” Henrietta led her shivering daughter inside and placed her in front of the fireplace. “Sophie will bring us some tea directly. She’s a lovely girl and has been such a help to me.”

  Amelia put her basket down and looked worriedly into her mother’s face. “Mother, tell me, are you well?” Henrietta appeared to have gained in strength, but the tired eyes remained, and Amelia knew her mother may be well in body, but not in mind and spirit.

  “Of course, dear! All is well. Each night, with a fire going, I’ve been able to sleep, and I try to write letters during the day. The ground is yet too hard for gardening, unfortunately.

  Amelia passed her the book she’d brought her. “Here, Mother, I know these Scottish nights can get a bit lonely.”

  “Thank you, dear! I always say you’re never alone if you have books!” Her smiled faded for a moment. “Your father always said it too.”

  Amelia tried to soothe her mother’s pain. “Well, I hope it will give you some company and warmth. Tell me of your garden plans.

  “Well, dear, I would love to cordon off sections for an herb garden. Sophie and I have been discussing it. Apparently there’s a need for certain herbs, and I could be of assistance to the Brechin healer. And, we could have our own medicine here. But enough about me. Tell me about your time at the castle! How is the lady? And the lord? Are you being treated well?

  Sophie entered with two cups of tea, and Amelia opened up the basket of rolls and tarts. Amelia wasn’t sure how much to reveal to her mother about the laird, but she extolled the virtues of Lady Kinnaird. “Mother, she is English! And she is kind, gentle, and intelligent. We’ve spent much of our time in the library, and we discuss many things the ladies back in London would never have discussed. I know she’s older than me, but she feels like a true friend. The poor woman has lost her husband and is in need of companionship.”

  Henrietta touched Amelia’s hand. “Ah, and you’re the perfect one to provide it, my dear. And the lord?” Henrietta sipped her tea innocently, and Amelia sifted through potential descriptions of the man which didn’t seem too heinous.

  “He is apparently working on a land project to help his clan and others and those working on the land around the castle.” That seemed appropriate enough.

  “Well, isn’t that wonderful? I’m so happy things are going well, my dear.” And she and her mother talked late into the evening, discussing the past as well as their bright hopes for the future.

  The next morning, Amelia hugged her mother to say goodbye and handed her the money she would need to pay the rent and Sophie. “Everything will be fine, Mother. We can take care of ourselves now. And I will put money aside to help pay the rest of our debts.”

  Henrietta smiled hopefully. “And then, maybe your father can return?”

  “Yes, Mother. He will be able to return.” With that, Amelia left to trudge her way back to Kinnaird castle through the cool morning mist.

  She was considering the right to pen a phrase when soon after, a figure on horseback hailed her, and Amelia slowed her gait to allow him to approach her. Fire-red hair came into view, and she groaned with embarrassment at the sight of William Fraser, NOT the Laird of Kinnaird Castle.

  “Ahoy, there Miss Parker! William jumped down from his horse and came to kiss Amelia on the hand in greeting. Amelia bowed. “Hello, Mr. Fraser.”

  “And what are ye doing out here alone in the bitter Scottish cold? Ye could freeze t
ae death out here ye know, a Sassenach woman and all, not used tae the bitter winds, and ye could get lost in the morning moor mists.”

  His face held concern but also a smirk.

  Amelia straightened in slight defiance. “I will be perfectly well, thank you. I was just visiting my mother for the night and am returning to the castle.”

  William replied, “Aye, Mr. Fletcher has told me about it. Well, let me accompany ye to back to the castle if ye don’t mind. I’d feel better about it. Never let it be said that a young, handsome, strong Scotsman left someone out tae freeze on their own.” He laughed, and they began to walk together, William leading his horse by the reins.

  Amelia smiled at his open confidence. She coughed in embarrassment. “Mr. Fraser do let me apologize for the mistake of thinking you were Laird James. I was very embarrassed.”

  William turned to her with a smile as they walked. “Och, lass, that was about the best thing I’d heard all month. I was in stitches! And I think it knocked Jamie down a peg or two. He’s needin’ a bit o’ that.” William winked at her.

  “Yes, Laird James...Jamie does seem to have a confident streak.”

  William roared with laughter at her attempt at politeness. “He is a bit of an arse, I’ll tell ye. But pay him no mind. Now, have ye been enjoying it here at Kinnaird? Despite the existence of the blaigeard?”

  Amelia told him about her time at the castle, and William regaled her with a few tales from his childhood. She forgot all about Jamie’s nearness and her embarrassment with William and laughed out loud in the cold air. She admired such ability to find humor in almost every situation in life. But the conversation eventually turned to more tragic topics. “May I ask what happened to Lady Kinnaird’s husband, the former Laird?”

  “Och, now that is a sad topic. Old Laird James fell in the Battle of Culloden. It was the final Jacobite uprising against ye English.”

  Amelia’s hand fled to her heart. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had assumed it was an illness.”

  “No, that man was a strong as an ox. Jamie was there as well. Most of the men were felled by English muskets, but some were kept as prisoners and executed or tortured. Jamie fell into the latter group.”

  “Laird Jamie was tortured by English soldiers?” Amelia felt a rush of sympathy for the bastard.

  “Aye.” William nodded somberly. “Those English bastards had nae mercy for most o’ the men. But, he was allowed to return to the family home, as his mother’s English and of noble English birth. His grandfather was an English viscount. So, he is the laird and chief, but the English have reduced the clan leaders tae naething more than landlords.”

  Amelia shook her head in disbelief. “I’m very sorry for what the English have done. We were always taught the nobility of soldiers. I had no idea. Unfortunately, ladies in England are not taught much about politics and what’s going on in the outside world. Our heads are stuffed with balls and husband-hunting.” She smirked. “But, I much prefer your rough world of Scotland. Were you not in the battle?”

  Here William paused. “Me da was there and was killed as well. As well as Jamie’s uncle. I had been injured before and was lying up sick. It broke my heart tae not be there tae help them, noble lads, the lot o’ them.” Amelia apologized once again and laid her hand on his arm. But, suddenly, William shed the frown he was wearing and returned to his jovial self, enjoying the warm presence a young woman’s hand and smile could bring.

  “And so now, it’s me and Jamie, two non-gentleman, left tae sort out for ourselves.” William winked at her knowingly. Amelia flushed. “And, there’s Jamie’s cousin, Donald, who ye’ll be meeting soon enough. He’s a bloody bore and idiot, so I wouldn’t waste me time with him.”

  Amelia smiled, but inside was pondering over the tragedies of the Kinnaird clan. How could the English have done such horrible things? Shoot down clans of men who only wanted to protect their lands? And Laird Jamie--tortured. And Lady Kinnaird--widowed. It was almost too much for her to bear. Her own financial troubles seemed small in comparison. At least her parents were still living.

  William and Amelia finally arrived back at the castle to find Jamie and Fiona eating breakfast in the main hall at a long wooden table.

  “Hello, my dear! Do join us for the morning meal and warm yourselves.” Fiona motioned warmly to the seat next to her.

  When Jamie looked up to see William and Amelia entering together, he gave William a confused look, and William winked. Jamie asked from the head of the table, “And what are ye two doing together so early in the morn?”

  Fiona tsked at her son. “Jamie do be polite to our guest. How am I to show you in polite society with your impertinence? How can I possibly explain you at the upcoming dinner party?”

  Amelia removed her scarf and cape and sat down next to Fiona. “Mr. Fraser, William, just met me along the way as I was returning from my mother’s house.”

  Jamie turned to William who also sat at the table with a large grin on his face. “Is that so?”

  William shrugged with innocence. “What’s a red-blooded Scotsman warrior to do but to help a lass along her way?” He started to eat with barely controlled glee.

  Fiona smiled. “Quite right.” Jamie looked suspicious, and clapped William on the back which made William spill his ale as he sipped. “And what would we do without such good Scotsmen about?”

  Amelia narrowed her eyes at Jamie’s odd behavior, but eventually settled into a side conversation with Fiona about their plan for the day.

  Jamie didn’t like the look of William and Amelia entering together, so quite at leisure with one another. And as they’d come in, Amelia was laughing about something William said: a happy, light sound, like a mountain brook. She had been refreshed by the morning air and exercise, and her skin shone healthily. Her blue eyes nearly jumped out at him, their icy blue entrancing. And as she’d taken off the scarf and cape before sitting, he noticed the tight fit of her bodice. It was too small for her, but that just gave him an eyeful of her thin waist and ample breasts that he hadn’t seen before. He didn’t want to notice it.

  Jamie turned to William and whispered, “And so, yer planning on being a bastard aren’t ye?” William lifted his hands in mock innocence. “Me? Yer best friend for all these years? The bet said nothing about me not being able tae talk tae the lass.”

  Jamie mulled over a response. William continued and leaned back in his chair with an air of cockiness. “Aye, this bothers ye, it does. May the best man win, I suppose.”

  Jamie lifted his cup in admiration. “To William Fraser, my best friend, who will find a loophole wherever there is one, especially if a woman’s involved.”

  They laughed, and Jamie excused himself from the table. His gaze lingered over Amelia, and as if he’d willed it, she connected her eyes with his. For a moment, they paused, Amelia’s neck reddening until Amelia tore her gaze away, and Jamie headed to his work room.

  So, she’s not so immune to my charms after all. He smiled to himself, and at the same time squashed down the feeling of pleasure that rose in his gut.

  Chapter Seven

  Christmas was fast approaching, and the servants were busily baking, hanging decorations, and making all the holiday preparations. Ivy covered the window sills, and the scent of spices filled the air. It made Amelia homesick for her London home, spending Christmas with her father and mother by the fireplace, and dancing at the Yule balls. But, she was thankful, since Scotland didn’t normally celebrate Christmas, but the clan made an exception for Lady Kinnaird.

  Two more weeks had passed since Amelia’s first visit to her mother, and she was helping Lady Kinnaird prepare for a dinner party that evening. They sat together over tea cups by the fireplace, and Prince Charlie laid at Fiona’s feet.

  “Oh, it will be nothing like a London ball, you know. It’s just family, most of the clan, with a few other guests of course, like William,” Fiona explained to Amelia.

  “William is not a part of the clan?”

 
; “Och, no, although it seems so.” Amelia loved the way Fiona’s English accent had been peppered with a slight Scottish lilt. It made her seem younger and kinder. “Since his father died, he’s been staying close to Jamie. He has a family home farther away, but he doesn’t reside there as often as he does here. The rest of his family died many years before.”

  “Oh, I see.” More tragedy to be found connected with the Kinnaird clan.

  “Now, come, dear, help me look over this dinner menu.” They discussed chicken and lamb and blaeberry pies until all was settled and organized. Fiona left the room to go take her afternoon nap, and Amelia was left to sip the rest of her tea alone with Prince Charlie.