The Seduction of Miss Amelia Bell

by Paula Quinn

  He did, closing his arms around her, pressing her closer to his hot body. Hers was even hotter. Their tongues became flames that ignited passions yet unleashed for them both and consumed them in fire.

  Scorching fire.

  And then he stopped dreaming and clung, alone in the fiery darkness, to sanity.

  Amelia spread the cooled cloth over Lucan’s forehead in an effort to lower his fever. She’d done everything she could with the herbs at hand and with what she knew, but it was as if a fire raged within him. They reopened the wound and Sarah restitched it. Malcolm contemplated riding to Skye and fetching Lucan’s mother, Isobel. According to Darach, she knew how to heal any affliction. But the men doubted they could get to her and bring her back in time to make a difference.

  “As soon as he is well,” Sarah said, more confident, or perhaps…more hopeful than anyone else in room, “I’m goin’ to ask Malcolm to bring one of the gels in from the village to look after him.”

  Amelia looked up. “Why?”

  Sarah took in the sight of him, the size of him lying in the bed, and her breath appeared to have been seized. “He makes me uneasy.” She spoke so low Amelia almost didn’t hear her.

  But Amelia did, and she couldn’t believe her ears. “How does he make ye uneasy? He’s as helpless as a pup.” She eyed the spot before the hearth where Grendel usually lay. He still hadn’t returned to Ravenglade and Amelia was beginning to worry about him.

  “Och, but he’s not so helpless,” Sarah whispered, staring at him and sounding more defenseless than Amelia had ever heard her sound.

  “Whatever did he do?” Amelia went to her and took her by the hands. “Edmund told me that Lucan would never do anything dishonorable. He’s been raised on tales of chivalry and—”

  “He’s just so kind to me!” Sarah blurted.

  “What in blazes is wrong with that?” Amelia frowned at her, utterly confounded by this jittery, irrational side of her best friend. “Here is a man who finally shows ye some respect and it makes ye uneasy? Really, Sarah, I don’t understand.”

  “Nor do I.” Sarah stepped away, and out of Amelia’s hands. “But he makes me uneasy all the same. I would prefer not to attend him anymore.”

  Amelia didn’t realize why, but she felt like weeping at Sarah’s announcement. She almost reached out to stop her when Sarah turned for the door, anxious to escape.

  “May we speak further of this later, Sarah dearest?”

  Her friend smiled before she left, and a flicker of the flames that always shone in her eyes returned for an instant. “Of course.”

  Amelia stared at the door after it shut, wondering what kind of friend she was that there was something about Sarah Frazier that she didn’t know until this moment.

  She turned back to the bed and to the handsome face as still as a mask. “Well, sir knight.” She went to him and smiled. “’Twould seem that yer influence on a lady in distress needs not the attention of yer body when yer words are so powerful.” She placed her hand atop his warm one and patted it. “And fer yer kindness to my Sarah, I will make certain ye live. I promise.”

  “And I bear witness to her vow, Luke.” Edmund winked at her when she whirled on her heel at the sound of a voice behind her.

  Oh, she knew what it was to fall entranced by words, a wink, a smile. To lose control over yer own thoughts and desires was a frightening thing, especially when she’d just promised to save someone’s life. She couldn’t let Edmund distract her, and there was only one way to stop it. If he intended on spending so much time with her as he had been, Amelia would have to make certain that time was spent keeping busy. “Will ye help me do it? Help me save him?”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “His body requires constant care. We must keep his fever down by preparing and feeding him special medicinal teas and keeping him cool with rags and baths. We must make absolutely certain that no part of the infection returns. To do that, we will need to keep the wound clean and dry. He’ll need ointments applied and if he wakes with terrors at night, he must be kept calm and still.”

  “Let’s begin then.” The confidence in his tone and the set of his jaw made her smile.

  Two hours later, they enlisted the help of Darach and Malcolm to stay with Lucan for a short time while they took their first rest from their toil. They left the sickroom and strolled the corridors, admiring the artwork along the walls. They stopped beneath paintings of some of the Stuarts and Grants in their family’s history. There was a portrait of Admiral Connor Stuart, his stance straight and immovable.

  A few smaller, but not by much, portraits lined one particular corridor leading to the master bedroom. Amelia saw the resemblance in Admiral Stuart and his sister, the infamous sword-wielding Claire. She was gloriously beautiful with pale, wheaten hair and the stature of a queen.

  “I think poor Sarah is losing her heart to Lucan and she doesn’t know what to do about it,” she shared with Edmund while he pointed out Malcolm’s parents on the wall. My, but they were handsome. Malcolm was a blend of both of them, with his mother’s dark hair and his father’s deep dimples. “That is why she has spent so many hours with him.”

  “I’m almost certain Lucan is suffering the same malady,” he confided, escorting her back to the room. “I wish it weren’t so.”

  “Why?” she asked, stopping to look at him. “Is it because of her station?” She couldn’t imagine that it mattered to Edmund, but did it matter to Lucan?

  “Nae, ’tis because of Malcolm.”

  “I don’t think she cares for Malcolm,” Amelia told him. “Sarah is…” She paused, trying to think of the kindest way to say it. “She is…not concerned with love. She enjoys the company of men but…”

  Edmund smiled. “I know what ye’re trying to say. I don’t think Luke cares about her past.”

  “But I think Sarah does.”

  They reached the room and Edmund held open the door.

  “What should we do?”

  “Nothing,” he said above her ear as she entered.

  “I speak of after he recovers, of course.”

  “Even then, nothing.”

  She formed a word with her lips and then decided against speaking it. “Ye’re correct,” she admitted after their helpers left the room. “We will be leaving yer company soon enough. No point in everyone getting attached.”

  She thought she might have heard Edmund swear, or perhaps chuckle, behind her.

  “I think ’tis too late fer not forming attachments.” He moved up behind her and swept her hair over her shoulder, exposing her nape. “Grendel likes ye.” He kissed her once, twice.

  She stepped away. “I think the beast loves me.” She laughed over her shoulder at him. But her laughter faded all too quickly. What about the beast who kidnapped her? Was he growing attached to her? He certainly kissed her like he was. And she didn’t mind his kisses. But she was a fool to think there could ever be anything between them. If her uncle didn’t kill him, he would likely kill her uncle. She had to do something to stop it all. Even if she did and everyone lived, Edmund would ride back to his beloved Highlands and she…she would be returned to a life she didn’t want. She didn’t want to marry Walter. She didn’t want to leave Sarah behind. No matter how she looked at it, her future appeared bleak. This may be her last opportunity to ever experience passion. Why should she deny herself? Still, it frightened her to think of what she was capable of feeling for Edmund MacGregor.

  When he moved after her, she picked up Lucan’s bowl of herbal water and shoved it against Edmund’s chest, splashing water on him.

  “We need fresh water.”

  His slow smile warned her that a simple bronze bowl between them wouldn’t stop him.

  “Thank ye, Edmund.” She stared up at him, her smile slight but obviously still possessing enough power to bend him to her will and whim.

  “Aye, lady,” he relented with a chuckle. “Anything fer my cousin.”

  What about for her? Would he
give up his fight for Scotland for her? Did she have any right to ask him to?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ennis Buchanan, fifth cousin removed from the notorious James Buchanan, who once held court over Ravenglade and almost single-handedly ended the Stuart reign, trotted onward, toward Edinburgh. It didn’t matter that he didn’t own a horse to get him to his destination more quickly; soon he would have more gold than all his clan put together.

  He laughed to himself at his good fortune. Imagine, the Duke of Queensberry’s niece at Ravenglade, kidnapped by a MacGregor. Bastard outlaws. If he’d had a pistol he would have shot the miscreant who flung his dagger at poor George in Ravenglade’s garden. He and George had gone to Ravenglade that night to finally kill Malcolm Grant, heir to the castle the Buchanans had wanted for so long. His clan had lost a lot of men upon Grant’s return a few days ago and Ennis and George sought restitution. It wasn’t difficult to get inside Ravenglade’s fortified walls. Unbeknownst to the Grants, Ennis’s kin had dug tunnels beneath the shallow moat, behind the castle, long ago.

  His feet hurt. He’d been walking for almost two days now. He could have made it to the city sooner, but he’d stopped to sleep and then to eat, and then for a bit of sport in the bed of a widow who had agreed to give him water as he passed through her village. He wondered what the duke would pay him for the return of his niece. He also wondered what the duke would think of his niece kissing a MacGregor. Heads were going to roll—MacGregor heads, and hopefully Malcolm Grant’s.

  He would be in Edinburgh tonight. By tomorrow, he’d be a rich man and holding court over Ravenglade castle. He began to sing while he strolled and looked up at the afternoon clouds. His luck couldn’t get any better than this.

  He heard a sound that gave his steps pause. A low deep-throated growl. He stopped singing and looked around. He saw no one and picked up his pace. Odd how the hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up. It was as if he’d just walked over his own grave. He moved a bit faster, humming to keep his mind off the unnatural feeling of being followed. Leaves rustled to his right, nearly scaring him out of his skin.

  “Who’s there?”

  The low-pitched growl again. It was terrifying to hear, like that of some hellhound come to exact punishment for his sins.

  Ennis plucked a stick from the ground and held it up. “Come out!” he shouted in the direction of the tree line. “Before I…”

  His meager threat was swept away with the breeze as something moved out of the shadows and into the sunshine. Ennis wanted to scream. What manner of beast was it? Fur as black as the devil’s musings covered the enormous beast. Ennis recalled tales of wolves that were men at one time. He couldn’t remember what they were called. Terror gripped him.

  “What do ye want?” he shouted, holding up the stick as if to strike.

  The creature settled low on its muscular haunches and skulked closer.

  “Leave me alone!”

  Ennis swung at the air and then turned to run for his life. He screamed as fangs sank into the back of his calf. He went down. The beast backed up and waited for him to rise up and run again. For the first time in his life, Ennis Buchanan began to cry.

  Amelia opened her eyes and cringed when she straightened her neck. Sleeping in a chair for three nights was beginning to take its toll.

  “Amelia, I think the fever has broken.”

  Her sleepy eyes widened on Edmund standing over Lucan’s bed. He hadn’t left her. Not for a moment. She sprang from her chair, the one placed beside its twin, where Edmund had slept when his shifts were done. When she reached the bed, Edmund smiled at her and she shared his satisfaction that they had done this thing. They had done it together.

  Did she dare share his relief so soon? She looked down at the bed, and then she moved closer to it. Lucan’s bedcovers were soaked. His color had returned, his breathing slowed. First she reached her fingertips to his face, then the back of her hand.

  “He’s cool.” Her smile widened as she turned and set it on Edmund. “He will be fine.”

  All it took was the slant of his grin to make her leap into his arms. He held her, his face pressed into her neck, silent with her, thanking God with her, basking in their relief. She thought that being with him under such trying conditions would have distracted her from everything she found so enticing about him. But she was wrong. Whenever she looked up and found him tending to his cousin, dedicating his time and his patience to Lucan’s well-being, he grew even more attractive to her, if that was possible.

  “We’ll tell the others soon.” He withdrew with heavy lids and the evidence of weariness thickening his voice. “Let us just take some moments alone without a dozen tasks on our minds now that ’tis over, aye?”

  Amelia nodded and walked with him to the window. Dawn was just about to break over Ravenglade. She realized in that moment that Edmund had been the first thing she saw every time she opened her eyes each morning since the day they met.

  She waited while he sat on the ledge of the alcoved window and took her hands to pull her in closer before she spoke. “I’m growing quite accustomed to waking up around ye, Edmund.”

  He arched a brow at her and swept his sultry grin over her face. “As am I to yer beautiful, slumberous eyes when ye open them.”

  She laughed with him, unsure of what they found humorous and not caring. His gaze narrowed and she thought he might say something. He paused, then let his eyes dip to her mouth. “Ye move yer lips when ye dream.”

  “I do?”

  “Aye.” He edged her closer between his knees. “Ye do. Like ye’re about to form a word, or blow out a candle. ’Tis most disarming. The new day beckons from the window, tempting me to gaze toward the north and the jagged landscape of my home. But I would rather look at ye.”

  Oh, was he so clever as to spin beautiful words around her like a web? If he wanted to capture her, he’d done it every time she watched him tending to Lucan. She didn’t think about Walter or the fact that Edmund had kidnapped her, or anything at all. Those thoughts were obstacles to happiness. And she wanted to be happy. Even if it was temporary. She’d decided that this time was hers and she would enjoy it fully and with abandon.

  “I don’t recall my dreams,” she told him softly, boldly inching toward his mouth. “But I was likely dreaming of ye. Perhaps of kissing ye.” She puckered her lips the way he said she did when she slept.

  He laughed softly against the seam of her mouth, then took it with more possession. Nothing Sarah had ever told her could compare with Edmund’s kiss, or to the sensual flame of his tongue. He caressed her, claimed her with such exquisite care she went weak against him. The warmth of his lips, the tenderness in his hands while he tasted her, touched her face, her shoulders, her breasts, made her ache and grow wet and slick between her thighs. She knew, thanks to Sarah’s instruction, that her body was readying to take him. The thought of it both terrified her and made her burn to cinders. She wasn’t shameless, but she had to fight the mad urge to tear away his plaid, stand him before her, and take in every inch of him before she climbed up all that muscle and begged him to drive himself into her.

  Thankfully, someone knocked at the door.

  Amelia broke away and was in the middle of straightening her gown and praying for her body to stop tingling when Malcolm charged into the room.

  “Edmund—”

  Malcolm stopped, took a better look at her, then cast her a knowing smile that made her go crimson.

  “Darach’s gone,” he continued. “He’s gone to Skye to fetch Isobel and her herbs.”

  “What?” Amelia asked, stunned and a little stung by the news. He’d had no faith in them. “He left? How do ye know?”

  “He woke Sarah before he left and asked her to tell us after he’d gone. He didna’ want to be stopped. No’ that I woulda’ stopped him. Nae offense to ye, lass,” Malcolm offered, but the look in his eyes told her he didn’t care if she understood or not, he would say what he had to say. “But Isobel
MacGregor can just aboot bring the dead back to life. We dinna’ want to take a risk, even the smallest one, and lose Luke.”

  He was correct, of course. These men loved one another. They would stop at nothing to keep the rest safe, as it should be.

  “I just worry that Darach is alone,” she told him in a softer voice.

  “Dinna’ be. Bein’ alone is no’ an issue fer the lad. Now”—he moved past her and the scent of Sarah’s soap rushed through Amelia’s nostrils—“how is he?”

  “He’s going to make it,” Edmund told him, coming to stand beside him. “His fever broke earlier.”

  “Och, hell, that’s good news.” Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed and let his tense shoulders relax. He was silent for a while, just staring at Lucan, then he looked up at Amelia. “Ye have my gratitude, lass. I’ll tell the rest of our kin of this.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without Edmund’s aid.”

  “Aye.” Malcolm rose to his feet and took Edmund by the shoulders. “Edmund, ye’re a good man. Too good to spend yer time aroond the likes of me.”

  “Och, hell.” Edmund gave him a detestable look, then shoved him away. “Stop being a lass.”

  Malcolm adjusted his plaid and cast his cousin a sleek smirk. “Come to the lists and I’ll show ye what a lass I am. We havena’ practiced in weeks. Ye’re gettin’ soft.”

  “Give me a few hours to sleep and I’ll be there,” Edmund promised. “Ye need to be reminded who the better fighter is between us.”

  “I havena’ fergotten. ’Tis Luke, but he’s oot of the lists fer another se’nnight at least.”

  “Longer than that,” Amelia told them. “And don’t either of ye tempt him or lure him out of bed sooner or ye will suffer my wrath.”

  She knew Edmund’s eyes were on her. She could feel them, alit, tender, captivated…amused. God help her, but loving an outlawed Highlander would likely send her mother to an early grave. Not to mention what it would do to her father.

  A dog barked outside the window and all at once, Edmund and Amelia rushed to the ledge.