“Well, well, well, finding a moment alone with ye is hard to come by these days. Ye wouldn’t be avoiding me by any chance?” Jamie suddenly appeared at the side of her armchair, breaking the chain of her thoughts, and he leaned against the fireplace, cup of tea in hand.
She and Jamie had seen each other daily as they worked around the castle, Amelia with Fiona, and Jamie in his workroom, or the library, or out riding. Every time they saw each other, Jamie would smile widely, as if he’d just found a delicious treat, and Amelia would hurriedly leave the room. But, one day, Jamie had approached her in anger as Amelia sat reading in the library.
“Sassenach have ye been taking me ma around the grounds of this castle and in the forest in this foul weather?”
Amelia smiled, happy to have struck a nerve and cracked that sensual facade. “Yes, of course. I’ve read that exercise does excellent work for the constitution, both physically and mentally. It’s part of my job as companion to attend to your mother’s health.”
“Ye’ve read it, have ye? Just like a Sassenach tae have as much pride as a peacock.” He moved closer to her seat, his green eyes flaring. “‘Tis not part of yer job tae be taking unnecessary risks with an older woman. It’s frigid out there, and she could catch a cold...or worse. These woods are full of dangers.”
Amelia replied with as confident an air as possible. “You may ask her if you like. She enjoys it, and she says she’s felt better than she has in years. And certainly, we can take care of ourselves and do not need some pig-headed man trying to restrict us.” Jamie’s shocked face thrilled her to the core, and he turned at that, mumbling, “Aye, I’ll do just that.”
Later that same day, Jamie found Amelia writing in the library, and he cleared his throat to get her attention. “Ye were right, lass. Me ma has refused tae stop her walks, although it’s a dangerous idea. But, she says I’m tae trust ye.”
Amelia smiled in victory at him. “If that’s an apology, then it’s right what I’ve heard: the Scottish aren’t as civilized as the English.”
She returned her gaze to her poetry book. Suddenly, she felt his presence close to her shoulder. Her breath caught in her chest, and she felt her skin heat with his nearness. Time seemed to slow, just for a moment. Don’t show any weakness, Amelia! She willed her neck not to redden, but she knew he could see it above her collar as he stood over her. She was afraid to look up, afraid to be penetrated by that melting stare.
His voice was low, but not angry. It was soft and smooth. “Aye, Amelia, we’re not as civilized as those wig-wearing fops in London. I’d say we’re a lot more fun.”
Then, he left the library, having had the last word once again. Amelia’s blood boiled, but her breath released, now that he’d gone. But, one thing had changed. He’d used her real name. To hear her real name uttered by his lips drew a new, warm sensation.
Since the library, it had become almost a game, with Amelia always displaying a haughty icy air, and Jamie seductively approaching her whenever he could. Amelia kept wondering to herself, What makes a man act so? Why have I become the focus of all his attentions?
And now, here he was again, standing before her at the fireplace, leaning casually against the mantle, a muscled bicep exposed to her view from underneath his shirt.
Amelia forced herself to ignore it and replied, “It wouldn’t make any sense for me to avoid you, as you are the laird, and I am your employee, am I not? Is there something you need, Laird James?”
Her practiced haughtiness made Jamie roll his eyes, and he sat down beside her, rubbing Prince Charlie’s head. “Och, yer enough tae try a man’s patience, Sassenach. Isn’t it about time we came tae a truce? My mother has taken tae ye, after all.”
Amelia put down her teacup and sighed with mock impatience. “I suppose that would be amenable. What do you suggest?” Her heart raced with him being so near, so casually splayed in the chair next to her.
“Well I was thinking something like ye’d stop giving me that blue-eyed ice cold stare every time I walked intae the room.”
Amelia paused. He noticed my blue eyes. Then she inquired, confused. “And you? What is your part of this truce?”
He leaned back in the chair, both of his arms behind his head, muscles straining to be free of their linen prison.
Amelia crossed her arms, waiting for an answer, hating the way he stared at her openly, without any thought of politeness or decorum. She hated the way those green eyes seemed to lock her into their spell.
“Me? What have I tae change? I feel that I have been a most gracious host tae my foreign guest.”
Amelia huffed in reply and watched Jamie’s grin widen. I can’t believe this man had been tortured. He acts as though he’s king of the world. Hmm...what can I ask him to concede in this “truce”?
She straightened up, and a smile came across her lips. Jamie’s heart flipped for a moment, and he rose from his chair. Being too close to her when she smiled with a pair of the most luscious lips he’d ever seen was...distracting him. He needed to move, to pace, anything. He needed to be the one in control.
He took a deep breath and said, “‘Tis a rare occasion to see Miss Parker smile. Tae what do I owe the pleasure?” Jamie emphasized the word pleasure until it dripped from his mouth like melted chocolate.
Amelia pretended not to notice. “Your part of the truce will be this: You’re not allowed to come within an arm’s length.”
Jamie leaned in, his arms positioned on both sides of her armchair, and Amelia could smell the rosemary and peppermint again. Did this man always have to be perfectly clean lately? Her breath stopped, and after a moment, she endeavored to meet his eyes with practiced calmness.
By God, her mouth looks so sweet, Jamie thought, her big lower lip just waiting to be tasted. He felt his cock stir, and he swallowed slowly to ignore the feeling, but didn’t break eye contact. “Agreed.” And he moved away and left her to herself.
* * *
Laughter and music filled the hall of Kinnaird castle, the evening of the clan dinner. Relatives clasped hands and regaled each other with tales. Children ran around with Prince Charlie, weaving through the adult crowds with ease. The smell of wood smoke and roast lamb made Kinnaird Castle seem like the coziest place in the world to Amelia. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother about it.
Jamie, dressed in belted plaid with a sword at his waist that evening along with the rest of the men adorned in Kinnaird colors, raised his cup and yelled to the crowd. “Clan Kinnaird! 'Tis done! -- Dread Winter has subdu'd the Year.’ Our year has been good, and I know we’ll have a better one come next year, as I want tae create a better, more fruitful land for us all.”
Cheers rose up from the crowd.
“Moladh gliocas! Tae clan Kinnaird, to all the trials we have weathered and to the abundant future we can expect!”
Everyone drank, and even Amelia sipped her wine in reverence. She stared intently at Jamie who had drunk his ale and was laughing and clapping the backs of his clan members. Laird Jamie, the arse-grabbing, last word-having, cocky, brazen, dangerously handsome, Scottish Laird knew poetry. Amelia was shocked. He had just quoted James Thomson.
* * *
Jamie was always happiest when his clansmen surrounded him. There was always laughter, and he had not a worry to think about, except when his next cup of ale might be coming. Despite being the laird, there was no pressure on him to pose as an English nobleman with intricate ceremonies.
The male population of his clan had certainly thinned in the past years, since the final battle. But the old feeling of the Scottish clans of yore remained. Because of all the tragedy Scotland had endured, Jamie tried to make each festival as lively as he could. Musicians played from the corners in the hall, and people started to dance in the old Scottish style with men on one side and women on the other. An old cousin of his grabbed Amelia and brought her out to the dancing fray, Amelia was surprised, but not displeased, and she eventually began to relax and move with the music, taught by h
er drunken companion.
Jamie noticed with a tinge of annoyance at Amelia’s openness and kindness with anyone other than him. Despite their truce, she seemed to save all the laughing for others and the verbal whippings for him. What has she hurt her so? He wondered. It seemed more than just her mere anger at his confusing her for a painted tart.
He watched her dancing and laughing from the side of the floor, her slim body moving with grace as she touched hands and glided from partner to partner. She was petite but voluptuous, and Jamie was content to watch her shapely legs try to grasp the Scottish steps. It brought a smile to his lips.
“Watching our bonny lass, are ye?” William had approached Jamie on his side and caught that smile. Jamie coughed. “I’m watching all the clan have a good time, despite our troubles.”
“Och, still afraid tae tell me the truth, I see. Well, I can tell ye who is watching our bright new lass.” William pointed across the room at a tall, thin man with red hair, sipping his wine staring directly at Amelia.
“Aren’t we lucky enough tae be blessed with the presence of yer cousin Donald, lad?”
“Aye, lucky.” Jamie furrowed his brow and clenched his fists.
William touched Jamie on the shoulder. “Now, tonight’s not a time for fighting. But maybe we should go have a chat with yer young relative.”
Right then, a young woman exited the dance floor and walked by William with a wink. William kept her gaze and watched as she turned a corner down the dark hallway.
“Aye, tonight’s not for fighting, Jamie. It’s for loving.” William hit Jamie on the back, drank the rest of his ale, and left to follow the young woman.
“Och, so I guess ‘twill be me alone tae discuss with Donald, then?” He smirked at William’s back and then turned his eyes to Donald and began to walk towards him across the stone floor.
Donald was near Jamie’s age but a bit younger. Their fathers had been twins and you couldn’t have told them apart. But, with Donald and Jamie, it was like night and day. Jamie was dark-haired, open, friendly, confident, and strong. Donald was quiet, red-haired, thin, with black eyes that seemed to burn through anything he looked at.
Jamie and Donald would play together as children, but Jamie preferred William’s company over time, as Donald was always trying to kill and cut things up and complaining to their parents about him. Once Jamie and William became friends, Donald fumed silently with anger and would complain to his father even more about them any chance he got, making up wild tales. Jamie had hoped that after both their da’s had died in the battle, he and Donald would grow closer, but their deaths only fueled Donald’s distance and isolation, and his rage seemed to grow.
Jamie approached his cousin and placed a large hand on his shoulder in greeting. “Fàilte, cousin. ‘Tis been a long time since I’ve seen ye here at Kinnaird Castle. How do ye fare down at Kinnaird fort?” Donald’s father resided at the stone fort closer towards the sea, and it fell to Donald after his father’s death.
During Jamie’s greeting, Donald had kept his dark eyes on the dance floor, but then snapped them back to meet Jamie’s cool, green ones. “Aye, ‘tis been a long while since I’ve wanted tae come tae the castle. But, I expect ye’ll be seeing quite a lot of me soon.”
“Is that so? I have been hearing yer name bandied about the clan. What is it ye’ve got going on this time, cousin?” Jamie sighed with impatience.
Donald chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Jamie Kinnaird, Laird of the Kinnaird clan, first born tae the first born, everything in yer life has always been easy for ye. Ye’ve gotten everything ye’ve wanted. Even me own da would have wanted ye for a son instead. Ye’ve got friends, women, and the lairdship, but soon, all that will change.”
And he returned his gaze to the dance floor. Jamie watched in disgust as Donald licked his lips, knowing he was looking at Amelia. His fists clenched in anger, and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from crushing his cousin’s skull against the wall.
He tried to speak with a confident air. “Will it now? Och cousin, can we not live as friends? Our fathers were brothers after all, and ye never saw two siblings who loved each other more.”
Donald didn’t reply and simply pointed out to the dance floor. “Who is this new lass?”
Jamie didn’t have to turn around to reply. He spoke slowly, his voice lowering. “She’s a Sassenach, come tae act as companion for me ma.”
“A Sassenach? My, my, she sounds like a dangerous woman. Jamie Kinnaird, what foolishness is this, allowing an English woman tae reside in a Scottish laird’s castle? The pressures of lairdship affecting yer sense?”
Donald smiled, showing his wine-stained teeth. He stepped forward, seemingly to approach the dance floor. Jamie turned to see that Amelia had left to speak to Fiona, face flushed, pieces of blond hair coming out of her bun to frame her face, which held a big, beautiful smile. Jamie felt a pressure building in his chest as he remembered Donald attempting to move in that direction.
Jamie turned his head back to his cousin’s face and placed a finger in the middle of Donald’s chest. He lowered his voice to almost a growl. “I wouldnae be doing that, lad.”
Donald scoffed, “And why not? Och, did ye want the lass for yerself, is it, along with everything else?”
Jamie leaned closer and pressed his finger harder into Donald’s chest. “‘Tis me ma’s friend and my employee, and so she’s under my protection.”
“Ha! A working woman, protected by the laird? How very unusual.” Jamie’s eyes narrowed, and a flash of fear crossed Donald’s face, but only for a moment. Suddenly, Jamie felt a hand on his arm.
He turned to see his mother. “Jamie, dear, please do make an attempt at civility with our guests and family. Hello, Donald.” Donald bowed his head to his aunt. “Hello, Aunt Fiona.”
Fiona grabbed Jamie away to move to her other guests, and Donald slipped out of Jamie’s grasp.
“Jamie, do come speak to your great Uncle Barra. He really wants to hear more about your land project plans, and I’m afraid I couldn’t explain it very well.”
Jamie replied, “Of course, ma.” And he took her arm in his. But, his eyes followed Donald’s movements closely.
While Jamie spoke to Uncle Barra about his plans for the upcoming Spring to cordon off the grazing pastures, he saw Donald make his way to Amelia’s side as she sat with her back against the long wooden table, sipping her wine, and enjoying the merriment.
He turned away for just a moment, and when he looked again, he was just in time to see both Donald and Amelia disappear down a side corridor and out of sight.
Chapter Eight
Amelia hadn’t had so much fun in... well maybe she’d never had so much fun. Her parents had been loving and kind, but there were always strict rules of behavior, especially when at court. She had thought that was fun, dressing like a decorated peacock, bowing to all the nobles, with powdered face, rouged cheeks, and wigged men kissing her hand and leading her to the dance floor.
She remembered how Charles had done so, and she thought that had been the best day of her life. But, this...this rough Scottish gathering with music and revelry was better. Everyone’s faces were red and smiling from the alcohol, and there wasn’t a circle of people she couldn’t enter without hearing a laugh. And the dancing. She hadn’t felt so free in years. It was like she could move how she wanted to, laugh as loud as she wanted, and drink however much she wanted without hearing reprimands or fearing repercussions for her lack of courtly grace.
Amelia sat, backside against the table, watching Fiona speak to Jamie. He looked clean and regal in his belted tartan plaid, sword, and white shirt. His hair was tied back, and he’d let his beard grow a little since she’d arrived. His strong hand gripped his cup of ale, and Amelia idly wondered what those hands would feel like on her skin. Would they be rough, like the Scottish accent that rolled off his tongue?
She giggled. This wine must be going to my head. Why would I want him touching
me? While she was dancing, she had felt Jamie’s eyes on her, and he turned to gaze at her now, every so often, his face a confused look of anger and concern. I’m sure he means to find some fault with my behavior, so that he can use it against me later. I wish he would find interest in some other woman here, who would certainly love to jump into his bed. Amelia smiled. Her mother would disapprove of such thoughts, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time.
A red-haired thin man began to approach her through the throng of dancers. She had noticed him looking at her throughout the evening as well, but she hadn’t paid him much mind.
“Miss, let me introduce myself. I am Donald Kinnaird, nephew tae the former laird, and cousin tae the current one.” He bent low to kiss her hand with an overdone dramatic flourish.
Capturing The Highlander's Heart (Lasses 0f The Kinnaird Castle Book 1) Page 6
