The Seduction of Miss Amelia Bell

by Paula Quinn

  “Speak to me no more, Edmund MacGregor,” she warned. “I want no more lies passing my ears.”

  Edmund was relieved not to have to explain anything else at present. There would be enough time for that later.

  They rode for a few more hours with Amelia twisting to look for Sarah over her shoulder—about as many times as Luke glanced back at the ginger-haired servant. Edmund should speak to his cousin about his obvious attraction to her. These women weren’t here for sport or for anything deeper. They all had to keep that in mind.

  Still, it hooked him in the guts just a little when Amelia continued to refuse him a word and twice, when he would have spoken to her, she stiffened in his arms as if the mere sound of his voice repulsed her. He understood. He’d kidnapped her. She had every right to hate him. He left her alone and let her sleep against his chest for a little while.

  They stopped later that day to eat and make camp on the outskirts of Perth. Sarah seemed more excited to be in the company of infamous ruffians than frightened by them. Edmund let the women sit together while they ate. He didn’t worry that they would run. They were about nine leagues from Queensberry, a long way back by foot. From his place standing against a tree, he watched them share words, heads tilted together while they watched the men in return. Edmund tried to hold her gaze when he caught Amelia’s eye, but she looked like she would rather shoot him full of musket balls than give him an instant of her attention.

  “It feels good to be back in my plaid.”

  Edmund looked at Malcolm, who was bending to pluck an apple from his discarded saddlebag. “I ask ye this as a friend and a brother. Do not break the handmaiden’s heart.”

  Malcolm looked up at him, straightened, then tossed the apple up in the air and caught it again. “What concern is she of yers?”

  “She is Amelia’s dearest friend. Ye should not have brought her along.”

  Returning with firewood, Lucan paused on the other side of Edmund and joined them. “I agree.”

  “Steady, Luke, nae harm will come to her,” Malcolm promised. “She might have heard us speakin’ aboot keepin’ our ransom at Ravenglade. I dinna’ want the duke’s and the chancellor’s men at the doors of m’ castle. It took m’ grandsire years to repair and m’ father more years after that.”

  “Ye might have mentioned that earlier,” Luke told him.

  “Speaking of Ravenglade,” Edmund said. “Everything is ready fer us there, aye?”

  Malcolm nodded. “Aye. I’ve kept on a few of our servants to help keep the place livable between m’ visits. Chester, m’ steward, still resides there, as well, to keep the Grants’ affairs in order. Och, and ye’ll be happy to know that I was able to find Henrietta, m’ parents’ auld cook. I thought she left fer France after we moved to Skye, but turns oot, she was still livin’ right here in Scotland. We’ll be eatin’ good tomorrow, lads.”

  “Dear Henrietta,” Darach groaned, stepping out from behind a tree and replacing his bonnet where his wig had been. “The thought of her cream puffs and tarts makes my innards quaver like a virgin’s—”

  “I was speaking more in terms of yer guardsmen,” Edmund said, cutting Darach off. “Damnation, Cal, do ye ever think in terms of battle and protection, or is yer head filled only with thoughts of women, food, and comfort?”

  Malcolm flashed them all his best smile. “What’s wrong with a satisfied cock, a full belly, and a soft place to rest my arse?”

  Edmund and Lucan shared a tedious look. Why did they expect more from him?

  Catching their reaction, Malcolm laughed and gave in. “I hired a dozen mercenaries to guard the castle until our arrival. Does that make ye both feel better? Though the only trouble we may run into is from the Buchanans. Those bastards will never give up their claim to Ravenglade from the time of m’ uncle Connor Stuart’s days with the traitor James Buchanan.”

  “And we’ll continue to make their clan smaller,” Edmund promised with a clap to his friend’s back. “We’ll rest here tonight and travel the rest of the way at first light.”

  “What are we goin’ to do with a pair of lasses?” Darach complained. “We canna’ stay at Ravenglade forever. I want to go home and those two will likely do nothin’ but complain all the way to Skye.”

  “Let me offer up a suggestion.” Malcolm bit into his apple as sinfully as Adam might have done in the garden. “I say we build a nice fire, promise them the world, and give them the best fu—”

  “Malcolm. Watch yer damn mouth,” Luke warned.

  Edmund remained silent in the middle of them, letting them fight it out the way they usually did. He loved them both, but Malcolm was the first child he’d ever played with when he arrived at Camlochlin so many years ago. And while he shared much more in common with Luke, he forgave Malcolm more easily than the others did for his faults.

  “Fer once, remember that they’re ladies, aye?” Without another word, Luke walked away. He dumped the firewood on the ground a few feet from the women and then squatted to get the fire started.

  “He’s been verra’ sour lately.” Malcolm turned to give Edmund a curious look. “Have ye noticed?”

  “Aye.” Edmund nodded. “Ye know how he feels about treating lasses carelessly.” And it would seem especially Sarah. Luke had spoken about her almost the entire night before they left Queensberry House. Edmund hoped his cousin wasn’t beginning to fancy her, since Malcolm was most likely going to use her for his pleasure and then leave her alone.

  “We didn’t come to Edinburgh to bed lasses or to lose our hearts to them,” Edmund reminded his friend.

  “Who the hell said anything about losin’ our hearts to them?” Malcolm asked and laughed at the preposterous notion.

  Edmund continued on. “I’m beginning to believe that taking Miss Bell was unwise. Visiting the fairer sex in their homes or their beds is one thing, kidnapping them and then riding to Perth and possibly farther with them is another.”

  “Aye.” Malcolm sighed. “I agree with ye there. The wench is likely to fall in love with me, especially after she sees the grandeur of m’ castle. I will be stuck with her fer God knows how long.”

  Edmund closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that Sarah didn’t fall in love with Malcolm and that Malcolm would gain some clarity about not being the perfect delight of every woman in the three kingdoms.

  “I think ye should just leave Sarah to Lucan fer now. He’ll keep her safe and—”

  “What would ye think aboot me ridin’ with yer bonny Amelia the rest of the way?”

  “Malcolm—”

  “’Twould benefit all of us when ye think aboot it. The gel is angry with ye, if ye’ll recall.”

  “Put it out of yer mind.”

  “At least if something happened between the two of us, there would be less consequence, seein’ how I’m no’ a MacGregor.”

  “I think she fancies ye, Cal,” Darach chimed in. “I saw her lookin’ at ye twice now.”

  Malcolm flashed his dimples at Edmund. “Ye see? We could—”

  “Nae, we couldn’t,” Edmund cut him off. “Don’t bring it up to her. In fact, don’t speak to her.” He walked away before he said something he might regret later, like touch her and I’ll break yer neck. And before he had time to ponder why he might have said it. He looked in her direction and realized too late that his feet were leading him straight to her. He wished she smiled when their eyes met. She didn’t; in fact, she cursed him in two different languages when Grendel reached her first and dropped a filthy, saliva-drenched, shredded wig into her lap and wagged his tail at her.

  Chapter Eight

  Amelia wanted to be afraid of the man, or rather, the small group of men watching her and Sarah at the end of the clearing, but she was just too damned angry. She’d been duped, and duped mightily! Now, because she’d allowed herself to be charmed by a handsome smile and a few flowery words, the Treaty of Union might not get signed. Her uncle would be furious! Her mother would blame her—and rightly so! Her uncle
said the Union with England Act was historic. History could be changed and it was all her fault. Oh, if she had a pistol she would shoot Edmund MacGregor where he stood watching her. He took her from her family to use her as a pawn. Walter’s proposal would likely be withdrawn and she would end up a miserable spinster. How was it, she lamented, that everything she did caused catastrophe? Was it so terrible that she was so desperate not to think of her forced marriage to the chancellor that she trusted a stranger? She supposed it was, when the stranger turned out to be an enemy of her uncle…or betrothed. And what did he intend on doing to Walter, or to her uncle for that matter? She’d heard terrible tales about the MacGregors and what they were capable of. Would he try to harm Walter, or her family, if he didn’t get what he wanted? He’d kidnapped her and was holding her for ransom. Dear Lord, what were his plans? She had to find out. And what could she do to stop them? Nothing as long as she remained in captivity. She’d tried to talk to Sarah about escaping but her friend warned her not to be so foolish. These were MacGregors. They would surely chase her and Sarah down and kill them where they caught them if the girls tried to make a run for it. And where would they go? How far away were they from Edinburgh already? A few times Amelia had to fight back tears. Tears for her father and the idea that she might never see him again. Tears that once again, because of her, his name would be shamed, perhaps even going down in history as the father of the fool who botched the Treaty of Union. She wanted to rant and rage against her captors, one in particular, for deceiving her with such ease, but when he stepped out from behind the trees donned in his Highland attire, she could barely remember her name, let alone what she wanted to say to him. She struggled to remember that she hated him and why.

  In her father’s hall he’d looked handsome and commanding in his justacorps and hose but out here, surrounded by thick trees and a backdrop of azure sky, he was nothing short of glorious to behold. Draped in soft, flowing wool that fell to the tops of his kneecaps, he stood like a bronze god holding court over lesser mortals. He spread his crystal blue gaze on her and she stopped breathing.

  But he’d deceived her. He charmed her, danced the night away with her, swept her off her feet, and then kissed her—oh, how he’d kissed her—and it was all a ploy to get to her uncle. She hated him for making her smile at him like a milkmaid too dimwitted to recognize a wolf. She felt foolish for having liked him so much, for thinking so highly of him when he was nothing but a snake, a man who could not be trusted.

  “Heaven help us, Amelia,” Sarah whispered close to her ear. “Have a look at them. We’ve been abducted by four Highlanders! Look at those swords! They’re so long and deadly. We are goin’ to need to be strong, dearest, or they’ll have our skirts over our heads in no time.”

  Amelia was quite certain her best friend had just purred. “Sarah”—she turned to face her fully, stunned that her friend could think about them with desire—“do ye ferget that they kidnapped us? We’ll be fortunate if they don’t kill us! They only care about stopping my uncle. What if my uncle won’t be stopped, not even fer me? What value will we be to these four Highlanders?”

  Satisfied by Sarah’s low whimper that she’d scared her sufficiently, Amelia returned her gaze to the men gathered together by the trees. They certainly looked dangerous enough to be a threat to her and Sarah’s well-being. Purposefully, she kept her eyes off Edmund, too hurt by him to want to ever look at him again.

  She shifted her gaze to Lord Huntley, Malcolm Grant, probably the most lethal one among them. He’d smiled at her twice while they rode and Amelia went powerless against the flash of deep dimples and sultry turquoise eyes eclipsed behind broad strokes of chestnut and gold.

  No women were safe against that one.

  From him, she moved on to his cousin Darach, the bastard who let her fall off his horse and jam her fingers. She hadn’t tried to leap from the saddle. He released her when she bit him and let her fall without offering a hand. He possessed all the arrogance of a prince and the guileless beauty of an angel.

  Deadly indeed.

  Finally, she surveyed the last one, who was trying to start the campfire. She’d heard the others call him Lucan. The one Edmund had said mentioned Sarah. He was the tallest of the four, with a sleek tail of dark hair tied at his nape and bare, muscular arms. He’d seemed angry all day and hadn’t spoken a word to either her or Sarah.

  “I never saw a pair of eyes that color before,” Sarah said, following her gaze across the camp. “They are like sunsets against the dark, harsh plains of—”

  “They kidnapped us. They lied to us. Aye, they’re pleasing to look at, but do we trust a frame just because it’s sweet?”

  “Hush. He’s comin’.”

  Amelia turned to see who her friend meant and was greeted by a large white set of fangs, drool, and a ball of what was once a pure white periwig. She didn’t realize she’d spoken, or even what she’d said until Edmund leaned down to pluck the wig from her lap where his monster of a dog had dropped it, and offered her the barest trace of a smile.

  “Grendel is a male,” he corrected her foreign oath, his potent gaze level with hers. “I think he likes ye. He doesn’t usually share.”

  “Neither do I,” Amelia retorted, pulling herself together while he straightened above her, “but if he doesn’t stop drooling on me I might just share my last meal with the both of ye.”

  He ordered his mongrel to heel, then eyed her lap. “How is yer hand?”

  “Better. Ye have my thanks fer that at least, scoundrel.”

  He quirked his mouth into an infuriatingly handsome smile, then turned his attention to Sarah. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’ve heard much about ye.”

  Sarah blushed and grinned at Amelia. “Amelia is too kind.”

  “Not always,” Amelia corrected her and glared at her captor. “Why do ye think my uncle or the chancellor will do as ye command? Do ye know how long they have been preparing fer this union of kingdoms?”

  He scowled and Amelia slanted her gaze to Sarah to discover if she was the only one breathless by the man’s anger.

  “They haven’t been preparing longer than Scotland has been fighting fer her independence.”

  “Ah, ye’re a patriot.” She shook her head at him. “I would think ye MacGregors had little love left fer the country that continues to try to strike yer name from memory.”

  “’Twas not the land but the men who feared us that made us outlaws. Men like the late William of Orange. Men like the duke and the man ye’re going to wed.”

  “Those men had and still have good reason to fear ye,” she argued, rising to her feet and pulling Sarah with her. “From the moment King William claimed the throne, Highlanders opposed and fought him. They used barbaric tactics to—”

  “By the divine right of kings,” Edmund interrupted, his eyes hardening on her enough to make her take a step back, “William held no claim to the throne.”

  “A purely Catholic belief,” she managed, determined not to let the power of his gaze unsettle her.

  “One I’m certain the MacDonalds wished had been upheld when William sent the Campbells into Glencoe to massacre them because they did not offer their allegiance to him by the appointed deadline. Seventy-eight were killed. More than forty of them were women and children. Do not speak to me of barbaric.”

  Amelia had been a young child when the massacre was ordered, but she remembered her father speaking with her uncle about it a few years after it happened. Her uncle had taken the king’s part and voiced no remorse for those lost. The children, he had said, would only have grown up as Catholic Royalists, trained to fight against the king.

  It had sickened Amelia then, just as it sickened her now.

  “Fergive me fer using the term so blithely. What happened at Glencoe was tragic and I in no way condone such a thing—or any cruelty fer that matter.”

  “Of course.” His expression softened, granting her absolution easily.

  “Mr. MacGr
egor.” Sarah thankfully interrupted before Amelia had time to think about the way his locks fell to his brows, creating shadows in the cool indigo of his eyes. Or did they only appear with the trace of his smile? “Is Mr. Grant wed?”

  He blinked his gaze to Sarah. “Nae.”

  “Betrothed?”

  Amelia could have kicked her. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that her best friend left Mr. Grant alone.

  “He is not interested in becoming either of those things,” Edmund told her. “Ye’d do well to keep a good distance from him. He’s been known to leave many broken hearts in his wake.”

  Sarah actually laughed. Amelia almost wept. “Och, I’ve been known to do the same. I doubt he—”

  “Sarah.” Amelia interrupted her. Her friend could not honestly be serious in her interest in a man who had helped kidnap them. “I think it best if ye leave Mr. Grant to…”

  She let her words fade as Sarah sauntered away to cut across the clearing and loop her arm through Malcolm Grant’s. In the center of the clearing Lucan finally sparked an ember. The sudden flames that rose up startled Amelia and matched his eyes while he watched Sarah walk off behind the tree with Mr. Grant.

  “Our conversation bored her.”

  Amelia shook her head at Edmund’s observation and tried to think of some defense to offer for her friend’s rudeness. “She isn’t bound to worry about the condition of things. I envy her.”

  She felt his eyes on her and looked up at him.

  “What do ye worry about, Miss Bell?”

  “Besides being alone in a forest with four men who seek to use me to hurt my uncle and my soon-to-be husband?”

  “Ye will come to no harm. Ye have my word.”

  She laughed. “In addition to everything else ye are, ye are, first and foremost, a liar. Ye’ve already brought harm to me, Mr. MacGregor. Think ye no one saw us dancing? I blame myself fer my scandalous behavior, and because of it, this will be considered my fault. Ye have no idea what my father and I will be put through. I hope my uncle and Walter do sign the treaty, despite yer threats, because if they don’t, it will be worse fer me when I am returned.”