The Seduction of Miss Amelia Bell

by Paula Quinn

  “Goodness, it must have been difficult fer her to realize that her boy had fighting in his blood so young.”

  “’Twas. And harder still fer my aunts Isobel and Mairi when their daughters, only a pair of years older than Darach, tried to fight as well. Although I think Mairi expected it of Caitrina, just not so soon.”

  “I never saw a dead man until I came here,” Amelia told him, remembering her past with him. “I wasn’t allowed inside my grandsire’s chamber when he died of a sickness to his lungs.”

  “I feel responsible fer spoiling yer innocence.”

  She leaned up on one elbow and looked down at him. “Spoiling the innocence of my eyes or my body?”

  He blinked, then grinned, looking unsure as to which answer he should give. “Yer eyes,” he finally admitted. “I’m not done with yer body.”

  She shook her head at him playfully, then scooted out of his reach when he tried to keep her with him.

  “Where are ye going?” he asked, watching her hooded, sleepy eyes while she slipped her chemise over her head.

  “I saw lovely plump berries just over there.” She pointed to a stand of willows when he looked. “I want to pick some fer us to eat.”

  “I’m perfectly content to dine on the plump berries before me.”

  “Och, fer goodness sakes, ye’re beginning to sound like Malcolm. Close yer eyes and rest. I’ll bring the dogs with me.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. “Make haste, Amelia.”

  “I will,” she promised and hurried off, barefoot.

  Grendel followed her the instant she stepped into the woods. Gaza took off first toward Edmund and then back to Amelia when she realized her new and beloved master wasn’t coming.

  Amelia patted the dog’s head. “I know, Gaza. I love him, too.”

  She walked farther along until she spotted what she was after. Fat, red currant berries grew in clusters, tempting her forward. She should have brought a basket with her from the castle. Henrietta could make some delicious pastries with the sweet berry.

  “I don’t like being pulled from my bed to go chasing after a lady. I don’t care who she is.”

  Amelia stopped, quieting Gaza’s low whine and keeping Grendel from rushing out of the trees.

  “Well, you best care, Humphrey,” said another, deeper voice. “She’s the duke’s niece, and soon-to-be wife of the lord chancellor.”

  Amelia didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. She was afraid that she might never move again.

  “If Captain Pierce hears you speaking of your duty like that—”

  Captain Pierce was here! Amelia looked longingly back the way she’d come, toward Edmund. She had to tell him, tell the others. If Pierce was here, then so was her uncle, possibly Walter—definitely an army. She wanted to move. But what if she cracked a twig or rustled the leaves? There were three men in Ravenglade, not including Chester, the old steward. She didn’t care how skilled Edmund and his cousins were. They would lose against an army.

  She prayed for the dogs to stay quiet. She didn’t know that Grendel was trained to do just what she needed. Thankfully, Gaza followed his lead.

  “Do you think the gossip is right, though?” asked the first man, a soldier most likely. “Do you believe she ran away with outlaws so that she could get away from the lord chancellor?”

  “It’s not our concern, Humphrey. Are you done taking your piss?”

  “I believe it. She must know what a merciless bastard he is. Think you he has struck her yet?”

  “Damn you, Humphrey, you’re going to get us both killed.”

  Humphrey was quiet for a moment. Amelia prayed that he was done so he and his friend would leave. Then, “Remember that wench he nailed last winter on his visit to Edinburgh? The one he asked us to take from the local tavern? Perhaps Miss Bell knows how she was found dead the next morning.”

  Amelia didn’t know. She clutched her belly and fought to keep herself upright. Walter killed a woman? It couldn’t be true. That wasn’t what they were saying.

  “I asked around a little after the gruesome discovery and I learned that Lord Seafield enjoys some very perverse sexual desires.”

  “That doesn’t make him a murderer, Humphrey.”

  Amelia thought she must be dreaming. How could she marry a perverse man after she’d been with Edmund? What if Walter murdered that woman? Did her father know? He couldn’t know.

  “And where in blazes is the duke? Why send us to Perth and then take his damn time getting here himself?”

  “He’ll be here in a day or two, Humphrey. Then we can get this business over with and return home. Now hurry up!”

  Amelia waited for them to leave the clearing, and after making certain they were gone, she raced back to Edmund.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Edmund sat in the solar with the others discussing what Amelia had overheard that morning at the loch. The duke had found them, and he was bringing his men, possibly his army.

  “How did he find us?” Malcolm asked.

  Edmund shook his head. “I don’t know. Mayhap someone recognized us in Edinburgh. Most know that Ravenglade belongs to the Grants.”

  “Why aren’t they here?” Luke tapped his boot on the floor. “What are they waiting fer?”

  “Most likely fer the duke to arrive,” Amelia told them. “The two soldiers I overheard discussed the duke’s arrival in a few days.”

  “My guess is they won’t attack until he arrives,” Edmund said.

  However the duke found them no longer mattered. They were found. An army was coming. Edmund and his cousins were going to need help. “We’re going to need the Buchanans in this.”

  Malcolm threw back his head and laughed. “Ye’re mad, cousin. I’d rather die in battle.”

  “Ye may get yer wish then,” Edmund told him. “How do ye suppose we fight armed soldiers? We might manage to kill a dozen or so, but we are three, Cal. We don’t stand a chance.”

  Malcolm closed his eyes and tightened his jaw. “What d’ye propose we do?”

  “I think William is looking fer a way out of this mess with Darach.”

  “I agree,” Luke said.

  “We need to ride to the Buchanan holding today, while we still have time to leave the castle, and speak to William about his kin’s duty to Scotland.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “William’s new at being chief. He’s young and doesn’t yet command the respect from his kin that he’s due.”

  Edmund disagreed. “After last night and the beating he took to save them, I think things will change. We will offer them something in exchange fer Darach and their aid with the duke.”

  “What do we give them?”

  “Their dog,” Malcolm suggested.

  Edmund glanced at him with enough warning in his eyes to quiet him. “We’ll offer them terms.”

  “Like what?” Malcolm asked, already sounding like he hated the idea.

  “They want Ravenglade. We will offer them paid positions here. The place is empty fer months at a time. Ye keep yer steward, Chester, here and ye’ve offered Henrietta her own quarters if she agreed to stay. Why not take on more? Ye have the room.”

  Malcolm laughed and tossed his booted foot over the arm of his chair. “Ye think the Buchanans would stay as servants?”

  “Nae. They wouldn’t be servants. Ye’d be paying them in coin or in protection, whatever ye want to offer. They’d be living here. That’s what they’ve always wanted. Ye need a gardener and ye could use a blacksmith and a bottler. How about a marshal?”

  “A marshal fer what horses, Edmund?” Malcolm shook his head at him. “I have no carts or wagons. But while we’re at it, why do I no’ hire a few Buchanan minstrels to sing fer me? Och, I can also use a tanner and a soap maker and a porter.”

  “And a scullion,” Sarah added. “Just this morn I heard Henrietta complainin’ about cleaning the kitchen.”

  Malcolm stared at her for a moment, and then smiled indulgently. “I’m no’ givin’ an
y of this m’ true consideration, lass.”

  Sarah smiled back. “I know ye’re not, Malcolm. Ye only consider yerself.”

  Lucan’s chuckle pulled Malcolm’s hard gaze in his direction. “’Tis no’ true.”

  “’Tis,” Luke insisted.

  Malcolm turned to Edmund and then rose from his seat when Edmund nodded his head in agreement. “What would ye all have me do, then?” He threw up his hands. “Invite the Buchanans into Ravenglade with open arms? Allow them to stay here in m’ absence and then trust them to hand it back over when I return?”

  “Why not?” Luke said. “Someone’s got to make the first move toward ending this foolish feud.”

  “Writings will be drawn and signed,” Edmund told Malcolm. “I’ll begin penning everything now. We’ll send Chester an hour or two before we arrive to let them know we come with a peace offering. Ravenglade is yers, Malcolm, and always will be. If they try to take it again, they will lose their positions here and possibly their lives.”

  “Why the hell would I agree to any of this, Edmund?”

  “Because, Cal, it gains us what we need and we get Darach back safely.”

  “Who says I want the hellion back?”

  Edmund smiled at his cousin, knowing him better.

  Malcolm tossed back his head and exhaled a gusty sigh. “All right then. Let’s go do it.”

  Janet Buchanan stood in the shadows of the barn while her brother spoke to Darach about the afternoon’s events. They’d received a visitor about an hour ago in the form of Chester, Malcolm Grant’s steward. Chester was slightly built and of medium height, and no threat to her kin whatsoever. To Janet’s estimation, he looked to be about the same age as her and William’s father would have been.

  The steward had been sent on ahead to prepare the Buchanans for the arrival of Malcolm Grant and his escorts, the MacGregors.

  Her kin all listened quietly when he unfolded a parchment and began to read out loud.

  “Malcolm offers us a place at Ravenglade,” William filled Darach in. “We could make our home there and—”

  “As servants,” Janet muttered.

  “As thieves who will pilfer everything they can get their hands on,” Darach muttered back.

  Janet glowered at him and opened her mouth to set him straight. William’s voice stopped her.

  “Grant and the MacGregors want to end the fighting and work toward peace. Some of us here want that, too. Either way, Darach, yer kin are coming shortly to discuss everything.”

  “Are they comin’ withoot opposition?” their prisoner asked. “Or do they only think they are?”

  “There’s nae trap being set here,” William assured him. “My father always knew that killing Malcolm or his father before him and taking Ravenglade by force would bring the entire Skye clan down upon our heads. I stand in his place now, and he didn’t raise a fool.”

  Darach smiled at him and Janet’s spine went soft. How was it possible that the bastard grew more alluring and virile every time she saw him?

  His gaze found hers beneath the soft amber glow of a lantern hanging from the low rafters. She’d looked into the eyes of dangerous men before, but no one as perilous as Darach Grant. With his face less swollen and discolored, she had to admit he was the finest looking man she’d ever seen.

  Janet knew she was mad and she would never admit to this aloud, but she didn’t want his kin to come for him.

  “What guarantee do I have that she was raised with ye, Will?”

  Janet’s fingers curled into fists and she remembered why she hated him. “I’m nae fool, Grant,” she said tersely. “I think I’ve proven that to ye by not tripping over my feet every time ye look my way.”

  His emerald gaze glimmered as it came to rest on her again. “Ye have, indeed,” he admitted softly.

  Her belly flipped and she turned to her brother, only to find Will watching her. She backed into the shadows once again.

  “When they arrive,” William continued on, “I’ll speak to them and then bring ye to them.”

  Darach nodded. “Tell yer kin,” he called out to William when he turned to leave the barn, “if anyone draws a weapon, I’ll use yers to kill them.”

  William laughed but then let it fade with a nod, as if he suddenly believed Darach could do what he said.

  “I will not miss yer brazen overconfidence, Grant,” Janet told him when they were alone. She should have left right behind her brother.

  “What will ye miss then?”

  She shouldn’t have looked at him. She heard the grin in his voice. She hadn’t needed to see it.

  Yer slightly sinister smile and the glint of something feral in yer gaze.

  “The hope and expectation I experience every morn when I enter the barn that a horse somehow killed ye during the night.”

  He crooked his mouth. Mad as it was, he was going to miss this fire-tempered wench and her springy blond curls. “Ye have an acid tongue, Janet Buchanan.” He went to her, but came to a harsh, abrupt halt, stopped by the restraints on his ankles. “I find it most appealin’ and would like to—”

  Shouts from outside halted whatever else he meant to say. Janet thought it best, but was a bit disappointed, though she would never admit to such a thing. His kin were here. He was leaving. The next time she saw him he would likely be married…or, more likely, dead. It didn’t matter to her. As long as he was out of her hair.

  “Farewell, Darach.” She stepped back just as the barn doors opened again and Will returned.

  Janet didn’t look back as she left. She wouldn’t think of him ever again. Nothing had changed.

  She kept repeating it over and over again in her mind as she exited the barn and disappeared into the crowd of those who had come to see their enemies up close.

  Chapter Thirty

  John Bell paced a worn path in the grass. He looked off into the distance to where he understood Ravenglade Castle to be. He couldn’t see it from where his brother-in-law’s army made camp. Why were they so far away? What were they waiting for? He didn’t care if the duke wasn’t here yet. If Amelia meant more to her uncle than his position, he would be here by now, and so would her betrothed. How could Walter not be here? John closed his eyes to drive out the truth that Amelia meant little to her future husband. They should have charged forward and taken her with the force of their numbers.

  Ah, he was normally a patient man. God knows he’d been patient with his wife for years, listening to her constant complaints about her life, and how she was forced to marry below her. He’d been patient when she arranged the marriages of their daughters Elizabeth and Anne to older, wealthy noblemen. He knew power was important to Millicent and she wanted her daughters to have it all, so he let her have her way. Besides, his two eldest daughters were exactly like their mother in that they sought power in their unions, not love. Amelia was different. She had always been different. He cursed himself, as he did every day, for not protecting her enough from her mother’s critical tongue. He’d made many mistakes in his life, like agreeing to live in Queensberry House with his family, a place that wasn’t his own, that he hadn’t worked for, and could be taken from him at any point in time. He did it for his wife. But letting Millicent constantly berate Amelia was his greatest regret. If what that Buchanan man had said was true, that his Amelia had been seen kissing her captor, then he had no one to blame but himself and his wife. He’d been a coward, afraid that Millicent would have her brother toss him out on the street. There were many times when he’d wanted to leave on his own, but he’d taken vows and he couldn’t leave Amelia. He’d stayed for her. He did all for her. He might not have protected her enough, but he was there to love her, and to remind her that she was a gift to him, a ray of sunshine in an otherwise gloomy hell. He wondered how his little girl was faring. He’d lain awake every night alternating between tears and rage. Would he ever see his daughter alive again? When he heard Buchanan speak of her, he almost fell to his knees with relief.

  Had the
outlaws hurt her? If they had, he would kill them himself. He knew how to fire a pistol and even wield a sword, though he hadn’t wielded one in years. Nothing would stop him from ending the lives of anyone who put hands to his girl.

  “There you are!”

  John didn’t turn at the sound of his wife’s piercing voice. He closed his eyes and prayed for even more patience. When this was all over…

  “What are you doing here all by yourself, John?” She walked around him so she could see him, or rather so he could see her when she shook her head at him. “Sometimes you are so odd.” She blinked and then smoothed a wrinkle in his coat. “Walter and my brother have finally arrived and plans are about to be discussed on how to proceed. Do you want to be included or not?”

  “Of course I do,” he said, moving her out of his way. “What kind of foolish question is that? I’ve been waiting to proceed since Amelia first disappeared. Since we discovered where she was and yer brother took his damned time going after her.”

  “John”—his wife looked around nervously—“lower your voice before someone hears you!”

  “Let them hear!” he shouted, frustrated and fed up at the slow pace of his daughter’s rescue. He was tired of being a coward. He was going to fight for his Amelia. “I don’t give a damn about politics or—”

  “We already know that,” Millicent hushed sourly.

  “Good! Know this also. I don’t care what people think about us killing Highlanders who have kidnapped my daughter. I don’t care about which Parliament rules, or if Scotland and England unite. I care only about my Amelia, as should ye, woman!”

  She pressed her hands to her chest in a display of utter shock and offense, a gesture John had seen on her as often as she breathed. “How dare you! Of course I care about her!”