The Seduction of Miss Amelia Bell

by Paula Quinn

  “I acknowledge that the proscription against the MacGregors is unfair—”

  “Ah, ye acknowledge it,” he cut her off momentarily to cast her a mocking smile. “There is hope fer our species yet.”

  She ignored his comment—which curled his lips with something more genuine.

  “’Tis inhumane,” she continued. “But the decrees against them are hardly ever exercised.”

  His gaze on her hardened and he liked the way it made her square her shoulders, like she was readying herself to take him on.

  “How d’ye know what’s exercised against us? Were ye there every time one of us was arrested? None ever return. They may no’ hunt us with dogs and brand the faces of our women anymore, but we are considered the shyt beneath a nobleman’s boots. And they dinna’ just feel that way aboot us, but aboot all Scots. They will always seek to subjugate us. Always. If none of us fight back, ’twill nae longer be just the MacGregors whose rights are robbed from beneath his helpless arse.”

  Finally, he’d succeeded in silencing her. He wanted to shout a cheer of victory. But madly enough, disappointment seized him first. He wanted to tell her about his kin, about the deeds of men he considered far above any men anywhere else. Camlochlin bred great warriors, heroes who faced their enemies head-on and left respect and fear in their wake. He itched to tell her about his grandsire Graham Grant and his heroic deeds in aid of the Stuart throne. But his grandsire was part of the reason James Buchanan died. So he suspected she wouldn’t enjoy hearing it.

  “I’m turnin’ into my faither,” he murmured softly. He’d suspected it for some time now, tried to deny it. But he felt the pull of lyrics, the call of music in his blood.

  “Is he that bad then?”

  Darach blinked at her. “Who?”

  “Yer father?”

  Hell. Had he spoken loud enough for her to hear?

  “He’s worse,” he answered. “He’s a poet.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  No one saw Darach and his two Buchanan guests enter Ravenglade since they did so from the north, and from a tunnel beginning at least a half mile away. They entered the castle through a secret floorboard inside a small storage room beyond the buttery, down the hall from the kitchen. Henrietta and Amelia discovered them first, thanks to Grendel’s low growls and scratching at the door to be let into the small room.

  Amelia was quite stunned to see the three of them step into the hall from another room thought to be sealed from the outside. She recognized William from his last visit here and guessed the girl with him was his sister, Janet.

  “What are ye doing back here and how in the world did ye get inside?” she asked Darach, giving him a brief hug.

  “Tunnels,” he told her while she followed them to the battlements where Edmund stood watch with the others. They were all as shocked to see Darach and the Buchanans as she was. They all listened to William explain about the tunnels. Malcolm scowled during the entire rendition. His muttered utterings of words like “mole,” “rat,” “thievin’,” and “bastards” brought a frown just as dark to Janet’s face, but she didn’t stare at Malcolm overlong. No woman did if she wanted to hold on to her good senses. Edmund appeared so relieved by the news that Amelia thought he might fling his arms around William, and perhaps Janet, too.

  “Has the duke made any other move?” Darach asked after William peered over the wall and whistled at the amount of men below.

  Edmund told them about the note attached to the duke’s arrow. He also told him in brief detail about Amelia almost falling over the side and his being shot by her father. “They likely believe I pushed her and then dangled her above the ground as a threat. It has given us a bit more time, but I don’t know how much. Once they start trying to get in, we won’t have much time.”

  “What does her almost falling have to do with anything regarding the army?”

  They all turned to Janet, who’d asked the question—all but Darach, who spread his gaze over the landscape, at anything but them, and inhaled a gusty breath.

  “Miss Bell is the duke’s niece,” Lucan supplied.

  “We kidnapped her,” Malcolm added.

  “So.” Janet’s eyes narrowed and darkened on Darach. “They have come fer her then and not fer Ravenglade?”

  “Ravenglade?” Malcolm asked, looking none too pleased with her or her brother. “The only ones who want to try to take it from me are yer kin.”

  “Hell,” Darach muttered and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he caught Amelia’s gaze.

  She smiled softly at him, understanding what he’d done.

  “Not according to yer lying cousin Grant,” Janet corrected Malcolm. “Ye see, Will?” She turned to her brother. “I told ye we shouldn’t have trusted him.”

  “His intentions were not to deceive ye, Miss Buchanan.” Amelia turned to her and wondered if the cool pewter skies had anything to do with the icy color of her eyes.

  “And how d’ye know that, m’lady?” she asked Amelia, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Because I know that he told ye whatever he needed to tell ye so he could find yer tunnels and get us out. If that makes him a scoundrel to ye, then mayhap ye need a loyal friend or two to prove ye wrong.”

  Janet found Darach’s gaze and seemed to catch her breath. She returned her attention to Amelia and answered her warm smile with one of her own. “I’m not above admitting when I was wrong.”

  “Where does it lead?” Edmund’s query drew her attention back to the men.

  “About a half mile to the east, beyond the army.”

  “Impressive,” Luke said.

  “My kin had many long years to build it,” William told them. “’Tis more impressive than ye can imagine.”

  “’Tis,” Darach validated. “A man doesna’ have to bend his head to walk through it.”

  “Show us.” Edmund clapped William on the back and then handed him over to Luke. “If ’tis safe enough, we can leave tonight. I’ll be along in a moment.”

  Before he left, Edmund walked back to Darach. “Ye’ll keep watch fer a bit? Keep an eye on Amelia while she’s up here?”

  “Aye.”

  “I want to see the tunnel, Edmund,” Amelia said.

  “Ye will, lass,” he promised her, touching her face with the backs of her fingers. “After I deem it safe fer ye.”

  She nodded. She would see the tunnel and use it later. Nothing had changed for her except that Edmund would be safe and she thanked God for that. But she still couldn’t leave her father. Now, at least, she had a way to return to him. Her uncle had already stated in his letter that the treaty would not be dissolved. There was nothing left to be done. Would Edmund hate her for leaving him? She kept herself from crying and tried to concentrate on what she needed to do.

  Edmund turned to leave and called out to Darach over his shoulder. “Ye saved us all, lad.”

  “Aye,” Malcolm called, on his way out. “Ye’ll be needin’ an ode to yerself. Now there’s a challenge.”

  Amelia smiled through her misery and turned to Darach while the others all left the battlements. “I like her.”

  “Who?”

  She slapped him on the arm. “Ye know very well who.” When he conceded with a smirk, she shook her head at him.

  “I like her, too,” he admitted. “But I dinna’ want a wife yet.”

  Amelia pouted for a moment, knowing she couldn’t argue his point. He was ten and eight, nine at the most. If he wasn’t ready, it was good that he knew it.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting,” Janet said, reaching them. “I’ve already seen the tunnels, but never an army.” She set her gaze beyond the moat and took in the sight, never once glancing in Darach’s direction.

  Amelia suppressed the urge to grin at them both and made her excuses to leave them. She would tell Darach later what she thought of Miss Buchanan. What did their age matter when there was so much charged power between them? The air smoldered and crackled and they both fought
so hard to deny it. It was silly. Darach should allow himself the pleasure of loving one woman. Amelia would tell him that later, if she had time.

  First she had to prepare for her escape. The thought of running from Edmund nearly brought her to her knees. He wouldn’t understand why she left him. She should tell him, but what would she say? What if he stopped her by force? What would become of her father?

  When Edmund returned from seeing the tunnels, she would retire to her room, claiming to need a nap after such a tiring, perilous day. She would leave shortly after that. Of course, traveling through the tunnel alone would frighten her but what else could she do? God help her, she would never be happy with Walter. She would never be happy with any other man but Edmund. She had tasted love. She’d been caressed by it.

  Things were different now.

  She had changed, but her future hadn’t.

  She went to the kitchen, where Sarah and Etta were preparing supper. Sarah. The thought of leaving her, of never seeing her dearest friend ever again, prompted more tears. She loved Sarah more than she could ever express, and she wouldn’t express them now. She couldn’t let herself be swayed. Sarah would have a wonderful life with Lucan. That’s what mattered.

  She reached for an apron and joined them at their task, keeping her mind off what she needed to do.

  She thought about telling Sarah her plan, but decided against it. Her friend would try to dissuade her from going. Too many things could go wrong, but Amelia was willing to risk it. She needed to risk it.

  With her decision made, she focused on baking shortbread cakes, a favorite of any Scotsman.

  When an hour had passed, she left the kitchen without filling Sarah in on her plans. She returned to the battlements to make certain Edmund and the others had returned and the tunnel was clear and safe. After sharing a word with Janet, she looked out over the army of men below. Would she be able to find her father among them, especially with the sun going down? She would have to.

  “Can we see where the tunnel will let us out from here?” she asked casually.

  William gazed out, squinting against the setting sun. “Let me think.” He measured distance with his fingers and pointed east, a good distance from the army. “Aye, I believe there is where we will come out. ’Tis difficult to tell from here. The woods look alike.”

  “By the time the duke knows we are gone,” Edmund said, coming up behind her and closing his arms around her waist, “we will be halfway to Skye. We need to talk about this now, my love. Let’s go inside, aye?”

  She closed her eyes, afraid that if he turned her around to look at him, she would cling to him and never let go. How was she going to insist on leaving? Demand, if she must, that he return her or leave her here while he escaped? He wouldn’t agree to it and she wasn’t strong enough to resist him overlong. Could she truly leave him? How different would her life be now that she knew love? Could she live without it? Without him? He was her David, her giant-slayer, only he didn’t slay the giant this time. Was the difference that this time, she was in his life? What else would befall him if she stayed? She had to go. But if he knew, he wouldn’t let her.

  “There is no need to speak of it further,” she said and dragged a breath into her lungs to help her smile when she turned in his arms. “I love ye and I cannot leave ye.”

  His relief was evident in his shaken breath, the warmth in his eyes, the handsome smile forming on his face.

  After a kiss, he moved to return to his plans but she stopped him with a hand to his arm. “When will we be leaving?”

  “We’ll leave a wee bit before the midnight hour,” he told her. “The tunnel is tall and wide enough for our horses to be walked out.”

  “Well then”—Amelia closed her eyes and prayed to just keep breathing a little longer when Edmund pressed a kiss to her temple—“I think I shall take a nap. I’m tired from the day and will need rest fer the journey. Edmund.” She stopped him again when he turned to go. “Ye gave life to my dreams. I will love ye and no other fer the rest of my life.”

  His smile faded a little and he took a step back to her.

  “Edmund?” Malcolm called. “William’s agreed to bring Henrietta and Chester back to his village until the army leaves Ravenglade. Come, more preparations need to be made.”

  “Go, my love,” she urged him. “I’ll see ye after.”

  She watched him leave, calling out to Darach as he left the battlements. She musn’t think. Just do. Move before she never moved again. She hurried to the buttery. On her way she picked up a meager candle to light her way inside the tunnel. She had to do it quickly, before anyone saw her. Before she listened to her heart and took her nap instead of running away.

  Pulling up the floorboard, she said a quiet prayer and crawled inside. As she suspected, it was daunting being underground, surrounded by wooden beams and dirt. Thankfully, there were torches lit along the way, to light her path. The Buchanans had truly accomplished an impressive feat digging out this tunnel, but she still didn’t like being in it. She pressed forward, refusing to think about what she was leaving behind. She didn’t hear the low whine behind her, the heavy breathing following her. She heard nothing but the sound of her own heart beating…breaking.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Edmund looked into the face staring back at him and adjusted its left eye. He stuffed more hay into the Highland dummy’s plaid and buffed it up a bit. It was supposed to be him after all, not a woman. There were eight hay figures in all, four of which were donned in the belted plaids belonging to Edmund and his Highland cousins. None of them minded leaving their plaids behind. They owned more at home and there were plenty of clothes in Ravenglade to wear, left here by Connor Stuart and the men who came after him.

  Currently, Edmund wore a waistcoat, dark brown breeches, and a white ruffled shirt. The fit wasn’t too bad, a bit tight, but Sarah whistled at him when she passed him in the hall and Janet stared at him in the courtyard behind the curtain wall where they dressed their dummies. Hopefully, his appearance would please Amelia as well. He looked around the torch-lit yard for her. He hadn’t seen her in an hour and supper was almost ready. He’d checked her room but she wasn’t there. He’d thought she might be packing a few things or helping Etta and Sarah in the kitchen. When he hadn’t found her, he’d come out to the courtyard and found the others making their models. He’d decided to wait for her there.

  “Has anyone seen Amelia?” he asked now, feeling a wave of sudden fear grip him at how dark it had become. He shrugged it away. She hadn’t left the castle. Had she? When had he last seen his dog? He wanted to laugh at the silly fear threatening to grip him again. She was here, somewhere in the castle…doing something. Likely on her way to him right now.

  “I thought she was in the kitchen,” Malcolm said.

  “She’s not,” Luke told them. “Sarah was looking fer her a wee while ago.”

  Edmund remained calm and turned to Darach and Janet. They both shook their heads. They hadn’t seen her. He didn’t run back into the castle. He wanted to, but he didn’t want the others to believe he found her foolish enough to leave on her own. Or that he was the fool for believing her when she told him she loved him and that she wanted to stay with him. He made his way inside the fortress and then dashed to the kitchen and plunged inside. She wasn’t there. The garden. He sprinted to it and entered the cool night air.

  “Amelia!” he called out into the darkness. “Grendel!”

  He turned when no answer came and sprinted across the long corridor and burst through three doorways, the last one being the one that led to the buttery.

  When he saw the floorboard pushed aside, he knew. She’d gone. She’d left him, and without even a damned farewell.

  He disappeared into the hole, leaving the floorboard where it was.

  Amelia stopped and leaned her palms against the wall. God help her, how long was this tunnel? She hated it. She hated the shadows that danced along its walls and ceiling. Twice she had to stop to clo
se her eyes and force herself not to panic. She couldn’t breathe. She felt like she was choking on the stale, hot air and she wanted to run back. If it weren’t for Grendel, she would have. She spoke to him and watched him breathing without struggle.

  “I’m not going to tell ye that ye’re a good boy fer following me, Grendel, but I’m happy ye’re here, dear friend.” She thought of how much Edmund loved this worthy dog. She sniffed back another barrage of tears. There had been two others since she’d entered the tunnel. The first one came thanks to Edmund and the second, Sarah. She doubted her heart would ever mend and she would spend every night of her life weeping.

  “I think I feel the slightest bit of a breeze.” She stopped and tried to concentrate on the whiff of fresher air she was certain just wafted across her face. “I pray we’re close. I fear going mad in this place.”

  Grendel looked up at her, his dark eyes large and almost understanding. And then he pricked his ears, turned his head to look forward, and took off.

  “Grendel!” she shouted for him. She didn’t want him to leave her alone. She ran after him, her heart pounding madly as she hurried along a crooked path cooled by the night air. She was approaching the opening.

  Thank God.

  A pistol shot rang out close, stopping her dead in her tracks. Another sound followed that fell so heavily on her heart, she would have fallen to her knees from the weight of it if she weren’t holding on to the wall.

  A dog’s cry. Grendel.

  She ran toward the sound but stopped before she left the concealment of her hiding place. A soldier stood beneath a column of pale moonlight, a smoking pistol in his hand, and Grendel fallen at his feet.

  Nae! Nae! Not Grendel! Amelia fell against the wall, and then to her knees. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Grendel. Oh, God, please, please not Grendel, she prayed while the soldier shoved her beloved friend with his boot. Grendel didn’t move. Amelia clamped her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. Even in her torment she couldn’t give away the tunnel. She couldn’t go to him. She couldn’t run out and let them see her. The army would get inside Ravenglade and kill everyone. She wanted to scream because this was her fault. The horrible scene before her was her fault. There was no denying it this time. She watched along the tunnel entrance, carefully hidden behind the thick brush and trees as more soldiers appeared, alerted by the pistol fire.