by Brina Cary
Why would anyone swear an oath to her father? He was just a simple salesman. He wasn’t anyone important. Well, he wasn’t anyone important to anyone other than her. To her, he had been the most important man in the world… He had walked out on her though. That was unforgivable.
“What did he do?”
“Yer father negotiated contracts for the SNP. Contracts are important when a country is on the verge of becoming free. Yer father made a lot of money, all of it now yers.”
Money? Why would she want money? The tiny house, which she apparently could not return to, was paid for. That was the only debt she had ever had. Her college had been paid for by scholarships and hard work. What would she need with her father’s money? She had worked really hard to support herself. There wasn’t a need for anything else. Well, unless she continued to be a queen. Then there might be a need. How expensive was running a country anyways?
Shaking her head to dispel the thought, she glanced about the room again. It seemed slightly off. There was something about it that seemed unusual. The room seemed as if it was made for more than just hiding things. “What was this room for?”
“Once it was a hide away. Now tis used for training.”
“Training?”
“Aye, we are yer men. We train here. And here ye shall learn to fight. Ye shall learn to protect yerself. Here in this verra hall, ye shall get stronger. Ye shall prepare for what may come. The land is verra accepting of ye as queen; however, we are Scotland. Some think us weak in this moment. It shall be up to ye to show our strength. Shall we begin?”
The grin on his face made her stomach flip. Butterflies, such a foreign feeling. The look made her feel as if she was a wanton woman ready to be devoured. Was she truly ready for this? Ready for everything Jacob offered? And exactly what was being offered?
A cough sounded behind her and she spun around. The others stood there. The ones that had, with Jacob, pledged to protect her. Was what he said true? Were they really there to protect her or was there more to it? Could she even trust them? Could she even trust Jacob?
As they stepped into the room she noticed that they had changed clothes. They were once again dressed the same as the men that took her from her home. Once again reminding her of who they were… The kidnappers! They were the kidnappers! “You son of a bitch,” she hissed.
“Before ye get all angry as a seafarin’ witch, allow me to introduce yer men.”
Did he seriously just call her a witch? Fine. She would keep her mouth shut for now, but he would pay for that later. Crossing her arms over her chest she waited for him to continue. She would find a way to kill him later.
Chapter 9
Jacob knew he was in trouble. Her eyes said it all. The blue-green depths had swirls of copper that seemed to leap out as if fire burned from her eyes. Her arms were crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly down, as if asking was he really so stupid as to do what he had done. One foot lightly tapped out an impatient rhythm. She was angry enough to be contemplating his excruciatingly painful demise. If she had Brandir’s spirit then she could do it too. Strength was not necessary when your spirit was of a phoenix rising from the ashes. Determined to burn those that would harm the ones you loved.
He would have to do some fast talking to get her to understand exactly what was at stake. Maybe then he would let him train her. Show her how to protect herself. A storm was coming and it was imperative that she be prepared for it. The news would be out. That Scotland had voted for freedom and now had a queen. A vulnerable, angry, and beautiful queen.
“Lass, yer father Brandir asked us to watch after ye. We are to protect ye from any and all dangers. All of the men in this room have pledged their loyalty to ye. Each will give their life to protect ye. Dinnae take this lightly and dinnae forget this. T’will be a time when t’will be needed.” The men lined up against the wall as they had done many times before. Each waiting their turn to be introduced to their queen.
Jacob walked up to the first one on the far left and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “’Tis Tim, our resident computer expert.”
Walking up to the next one he turned to her. “’Tis Deacon, our weapons expert.”
Moving further down the line. “’Tis Darren, our spy.”
“Spy?”
Stifling a laugh, Jacob casually said, “Aye, he can move into the enemies own forces an’ give him a hug before he realizes it.”
“Queen, dinnae fash. Tis only used fer good.”
She did not seem assured by Darren’s words, so Jacob moved on down the line. It was vastly important that she see them all as good. Amelia needed to have it drilled into her that these men, his brothers, were there to help her. They were there to protect her.
“Will here was among us that brought you here. This lad excels at marksmanship and hand to hand.”
“Dear God… What have I gotten myself into?” Her breathless tone brought him to a halt. She sounded scared; however, the tone struck him. Underneath the fear was anticipation. Strength. Even a hint of excitement…
It was a tone he had longed to hear from her, from the very moment he first saw the woman she had become. From the very first moment he stole Brandir’s wallet as a child. This was the little girl that had stolen his heart. Here she was all grown up. He just wished the reason was for him, and him alone.
“Do ye have any questions for us?”
“One,” she said with a tinge of fire. “What in the Hell did you fools think you were doing by scaring me half to death the other night in my house?”
A cough from Darren caused her to turn back towards him. Jacob tracked all of their movements. She was angry, and if she was like Brandir then anything could happen.
“Queen, we were doing our job. Protectin’ ye is what we were asked to do.”
“Since when has protecting become attempted murder?” She flared back around to Jacob and he knew what was coming next before the words were even out of her mouth. “What are you protecting me from?” Her eyes narrowed and he held his breath. “Or should I ask, from whom are you protecting me?”
“Damn.” It was too soon to have this talk. She’d run if she knew the truth — find the first boat back to America, if she couldn’t find a plane. “First, ye will need to learn how to use a gun.”
“I already know how to use a gun.”
He laughed. This tiny woman knew how to use a gun? He didn’t believe it.
“I had to pay for college somehow.” Her feet were set apart, her stance daring him to disbelieve her. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she leaned slightly back onto one hip. Her entire demeanor screamed at him. She was waiting for him to deny it, waiting for the chance to show him she could.
“I think ye have a few tricks up yer sleeve.”
“Aye, that I do.” She mimicked a strong Scottish Brogue.
No, he was better off not underestimating her. Brandir’s daughter was a strong one indeed.
Chapter 10
As Amelia lay in bed that night, she wondered about the men that had promised to protect her. Were they good men? Could they be good men if they had kidnapped her?
“Am I being Stockholm Syndrome’d?” Rolling over, she punched the pillow. It was too hard. Hers at home was softer. “I have to be if I’m going to put up with this mess.” Sighing deeply, she looked around the room they had designated for her. It felt like a prison cell. Bad things were capable of happening here. The room was too opulent. She wasn’t an opulent person. What if she… What if she grew to like it? “Oh, God… I have to get out of here.”
Throwing back the covers, she jumped out of bed. She wrapped up in the robe Fiona had left for her and jammed her feet into her shoes. Running across the room, sliding on the slick floor, she reached the door to the balcony in record time. She threw it open and stepped out into the cold night air. The people that had been milling about had gone back indoors, with the exception of a few die-hards. They cheered in excitement as they saw her, stopping her in her tra
cks. “They’re going to wake everyone…” Waving and smiling grimly, she walked backwards back inside. As she closed the door, she hung her head.
“You really thought that would work out for you?”
Spinning around she came face to face with Jacob. He was so close that she could see his eyes dilate as he looked at her chest. Looking down, she felt her face flame with embarrassment. The robe had come open, revealing an expanse of flesh — the crest of her breasts. Her nipples, visible through the sheer fabric of the silk nightgown, were erect from the cold.
“Och, lass, yer taunting me.”
“I don’t taunt anyone.”
“Ye taunt me. Ye have fer a verra long time. I would like to touch ye, Amelia. I dinnae think ye know what ye do to me. Will ye allow me to touch ye?” He lowered his voice.
She wanted to scream yes. Her brain seemed to shut down and her body took over. What would it be like to have his hands on her? What would it be like for him to touch her in her most intimate places — places that grew wet at just the thought?
Before she could stop herself, she nodded. She watched with rapt anticipation as he reached up and ran the back of his fingers over her left nipple. The touch so light that it felt like a soft kiss. “I may have promised to protect ye, but I will punish ye if ye try to run again.” He cupped the same breast and her stomach dropped. He used his thumb to circle her nipple, eliciting a gasp from her.
Why was she allowing this? Why was she so drawn to this man? What had he done to her to make her ache for him? There had to be some explanation for this insanity…
“Why are you Stockholm Syndrome’ing me?” His motions stilled and she instantly regretted the question.
“Stockholm Syndrome’ing…?” His eyes narrowed. Amelia knew she had angered him. “Amelia, never have I needed to Stockholm Syndrome a lass into my bed. They all come willingly. I will nae touch ye again, unless ye beg for it.”
Jerking back from him, she wrapped the robe tightly about her. “I will never beg for you to touch me.” Her words laced with venom. Clutching the fabric to her throat as if it would protect her, she glared at him. His words hurt more than she conceived possible. They stung her pride. “I wouldn’t beg, even if you were the last man on Earth. I wouldn’t beg, even if you… made all my bells whistle.” She wanted to smack herself for using that phrase, but it was hard to find the words when her temper was involved.
“I have waited for ye.” He licked his lips. “And sooner or later, I will make all of yer bells whistle, Amelia.”
She sputtered in astonishment at him. “How dare… I can’t believe…” Her mouth opened and closed. Her blood boiled. He was so arrogant, so ridiculously sure of himself. “Get out.”
“That ‘tis what yer going with?”
The amused smile on his face made her even angrier. “I said, get out. I mean it. You can take me away from my home. You can take me away from my family. You can take me away from everything I care about, but that doesn’t mean I will let you insult me.” She had her pride, even if it was dwindling by a thread. Had she really let him touch her? Was she losing her mind?
“What family?”
The sound of flesh hitting flesh bounced off of the walls and reverberated back to her. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. She had punched him. Right smack in the nose.
“Fuck.”
Fear spread throughout her. He glared at her and stepped forward, blood trickling from his nose.
Slowly she stepped back. “Look, I’m sorry. I was mad. I didn’t mean to. I have a bit of a temper…” Her back hit the wall. There was nowhere to go. He kept coming forward. Jacob slowly put his hands on each side of her head. “I didn’t mean it… Please don’t hurt me.” At the flash of confusion that crossed his face before being masked by hurt, she knew she had underestimated him.
“Lass, I dinnae know why ye fear me. If ye had hit me a thousand times I would not hit ye once.” He leaned forward and she closed her eyes. The light brush of his lips on her cheek surprised her. “Not once, Amelia. Not once.” She opened her eyes and he stepped back from her. “Now, sleep. Ye can try to escape again tomorrow.”
“I…”
“’Tis fine. I expected it.” He reached out and bopped her on the nose with his forefinger. “Try during shopping. Ye might learn a thing or two.” With a grin he turned and walked away.
As the door closed behind him, Amelia crumpled to the ground. “I am so screwed.”
Chapter 11
“Lass, ye may enter any shop ye like. Remember that if ye run, ye should be prepared for us to chase.”
“Yeah, good luck with that one.”
“Queen, I would prefer it if ye tried to escape. There may be a time when tis needed for ye to know how.”
Images of being tied naked to a bed flooded her mind.
“Och, why so red, Queen?” The grin on his face told her that he knew exactly what she was thinking about.
“You’re a bastard.”
“Aye, that I am.” He winked. She felt butterflies floating delicately in her stomach as he winked at her. Was Jacob flirting with her? “Ye have a temper, Queen. Tis expected to show at times. I am waiting patiently to see it again.”
Regret assaulted her, tearing through the layers of ragged ice that people suspected covered her heart. “Yeah… I try to hide that. I’m sorry I punched you.”
“Ye punched Jacob?”
Amelia spun around, not realizing that Darren had come up behind her. “Um…”
His laughter startled her. Why was he laughing?
“Darren, if ye value yer life t’would be agreeable for ye to pretend ye never heard the queen say anything…”
****
Amelia slipped through the tiny open window and out onto the rickety gutter. “Thank you, diet,” she whispered. Clinging to the window frame, she looked down. The distance to the cobblestone street below was about six feet. “Deep breath and go.” She hesitated. “All right, now.” She hesitated again. “It’s just six stinking feet. I’ve got this.” She let go of the window frame and stepped off the gutter.
As she landed a small pain went through her right knee. The ground was harder than she gave it credit for being. “Next time, I’m going to do the fancy rolls they do in movies.” She blanched. “What am I saying? There’s not going to be a next time. This is insane.” She wrapped the jacket tighter around her and pulled the hood up over her head. “I’m getting out of here and never coming back.”
Quietly, like a thief in the night, she slipped away down the alley. She walked quickly, hoping that she appeared as someone trying to get out of the cold. Occasionally she looked around to see if she was being followed, but didn’t see anyone, despite the unnerving feeling of being watched.
After a good bit of walking she came to fountain. It was beautiful. Surrounded by benches, it seemed to be a good resting spot. The water gushing into the fountain brought peace to her. The sun shined through the mist, creating a tiny rainbow. Here she was, in Scotland and surrounded by magic, but her heart was breaking. If she left, would the country be attacked? Who would they have left to turn to? Would anyone protect them?
Her mother had often told her stories of how great Scotland was — how great the Scottish people were. Was she failing them by leaving? Her mother had once told her that Scotland protected its own. That they would do anything to protect their country and their people. Nationalism in its finest. Was it truly nationalism or was it just plain and simple love?
Could she, Amelia MacRory, actually help if she stayed? Or would she doom the country to failure? “Craziness,” she whispered.
“Hello.”
Startled, she turned towards the little voice. A young boy of about six or seven stood a foot away from her. “Hello.”
“Ye look verra sad. My mum says never to let a lass be sad. Do ye need a hug?”
This little boy was offering her a hug because she looked sad. Tears gathered in her eyes. “I could most definitely use
a hug.” She smiled at him. As he came forward to hug her, she realized that he was right. She was exceptionally sad. Mainly because she missed her mother. She also missed her father. The man who had chosen Scotland over her. Maybe it was time to learn more about him — more about the country he loved so much.
The little boy hugged her as if her very life depended on it, his tiny arms wrapped around her neck like a life line. Then he kissed her cheek. “There, all better.” He smiled at her before walking off, back to his mother that watched from afar. She smiled and waved. As tears fell down her cheeks, Amelia waved back.
She pulled the map that she had swiped, out of her coat pocket. “All right, now that my sightseeing is done, I guess it’s time to go back.”
“Ye could have asked one of us to take ye.”
Amelia jumped at Jacob’s voice and slid off the bench onto the hard ground. She sputtered in an attempt to speak, “I… I…”
“’Tis alright. I expected ye to try. Now we can teach ye how to properly escape and evade. Yer right terrible at it.”
“Are you seriously critiquing my escaping skills?”
“Aye. They need some work.”
“I take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“I’m not sorry I punched you.”
“There ‘tis. Took long enough to make an appearance.”
He helped her up from the ground. His hands were strong, yet gentle, on her upper arm as he hauled her up. She grinned as he dusted her jacket off. “There what is?”
“The anger of a fiery woman. Scotland’s Queen needs to be witty, full of wisdom, and have the anger to seek vengeance if needed.”
“Why would I need to seek revenge?”
“Not revenge, vengeance. Tis a verra big difference between the two.”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“Aye, in some cases. Not in all.”
“Jacob?”
“Aye?”
