* * *
A few hours later, Duncan woke to a quiet knock at the door. He turned his head on the pillow and saw that Amelia was sleeping peaceful y, so he slipped out of the bed, making sure not to wake her. He walked naked to the fireplace where the enormous flames were dancing in the hearth, warmed his hands for a moment, then picked up his axe, which was hanging against the stones on the hook where the poker was normal y kept. Stealthily, he crossed to the door and opened it.
Richard Bennett was standing there in the corridor. “She’s mine. Give her back.”
Without hesitation, Duncan stepped forward and cut Bennett down.
Duncan backed up, watched Bennett sink lifelessly to the floor, and felt a dark and sinister swell of satisfaction move through him.
He woke with a start and sat up in bed.
Amelia was still sleeping soundly beside him. all was quiet, except for the raindrops beating against the window.
His heart was racing. He glanced across the room at a few dying embers of fire in the grate, still glowing faintly. He placed a hand on his chest and felt again the wretched satisfaction he had experienced when he’d watched Richard Bennett die.
Disturbed by the dream, Duncan glanced uneasily at Amelia, rose from the bed, pulled on his clothes, and returned to his own bedchamber to sleep the rest of the night alone.
Chapter Nineteen
A week later, Duncan made love to Amelia on top of the covers with the bed curtains closed. They were surrounded by velvet, cloaked in darkness, and he gave himself over to the senses of touch, smell , taste, and sound. He lost himself in the ecstasy of her mouth, in the clever stroke of her tongue up and down the length of his passions, and in the sound of her hungry moans as she devoured his boundless desires.
He simply could not get enough of her.
He closed his eyes and ran his hands through the silky locks of her hair and wondered if it was possible that she might one day succeed in removing him from that hell ish black abyss of death. He’d not had any dreams of violence over the past week, yet it hardly seemed possible that it could continue this way—that he could live the rest of his life outside of that wretchedness, or that he deserved this pleasure.
The sex that night was like a haze all around him, and when he managed to open his eyes, she was coming down on top of him in the darkness, straddling him, sheathing him with her tight, lush heat. The intoxicating aroma of their lovemaking filled his senses, and he groaned as she began to move. He held her tiny hips in his hands, felt her hair sweep across his face, and thrust upward to revel in every forceful, pounding impact of their bodies coming together.
Afterward, following a string of explosive climaxes, he lay weak and sated, spread across the bed on his stomach like a dead man. Amelia covered him with her body. She weighed next to nothing, but he felt the pressure of her breasts on his shoulder blades and took great pleasure in the quiet reverie. It was like some kind of trance. He might even have fall en asleep. He was not sure. all he knew was that when he opened his eyes and felt the heat from her body on his back he could not help but think of the dream.…
He blinked a few times, then spoke softly. “He’ll come here, you know.”
“Who?”
“Bennett. He’ll not let this pass.” Duncan paused. “What will you do when you see him?”
She took a long time to answer, and Duncan felt his stomach turn over with dread.
“Nothing,” she said at last. “We are no longer betrothed.”
Duncan considered that careful, rather elusive reply. “If he comes here and tries to win you back, I cannot guarantee I’ll be civil.”
“But you promised not to harm him, Duncan. We have an agreement. You will leave his fate to the courts.”
He wet his lips and fought to suppress the anger he felt at her desire to protect her former betrothed. Did she still care for him? Or was it something else? Was it Duncan she was trying to protect, by pulling him back from the precipice of hell ?
“Aye. I will not break my word,” he said. “But I will want you to see him for what he truly is.”
She was quiet for a long time. “Why?”
“So that you will not regret the choice you made in a husband.”
There it was. The truth.
She rolled off him and sat up. He felt the gentle stroke of her fingertips across his back, rubbing over the scars. He continued to lie on his stomach, facing away from her, staring into the blackness.
“I will have no regrets,” she said, “if you keep your word to me. Despite how we began, Duncan, I do see goodness in you, and I desire you. You know that. Since we arrived here, and even before that, you have proven yourself to be a man of honor in so many ways, and I believe that in time we will grow to trust each other and care for each other very deeply.
At least that is what I hope will happen.”
Those hopes brought him no comfort, however, because deep down he still believed himself to be a savage and he feared that in time, when the initial heat of their passion cooled, she, too, would come to see that he was, and always would be, a warrior at heart. Like his father.
“I still do not think you understand me, lass,” Duncan said.
“You don’t know the things I’ve done.”
He had forgotten none of it. Not a single detail.
She hesitated. “I would prefer to put that behind us and begin anew. You are the Earl of Moncrieffe, and I will soon be your countess. Let us think of that and be hopeful about the future. The rest of it is in the past.”
He pondered her words for a long time while she massaged his lower back. It relaxed him, made him want to sleep.
“Do you not worry about the violence in my nature?” he careful y asked.
“Perhaps, sometimes,” she admitted.
Sometimes …
If she were wise, he thought wretchedly, she would worry about it every minute of the day.
Because he most certainly did.
* * *
A few days later, Amelia and Josephine took the coach to the village to deliver a cherry pie to Mrs. Logan, the mil er’s wife, who possessed a rare talent for the arrangement of flowers and had offered to decorate the chapel for the earl’s upcoming nuptials.
But while the woman spoke of colorful blossoms and crystal vases, Amelia could barely concentrate on the conversation, for she was distracted by thoughts of Duncan and what had transpired in bed the other night, when he had revealed his concern that Richard would come to the castle to win her back. Duncan was worried that he would not be able to resist killing Richard.
She did not want Duncan to suffer with such self-doubt.
She wanted to help him see that he was a good man and could put his past behind him. He was not like his father. She knew Duncan was not.
A knock sounded at the front door and interrupted her thoughts, as well as Mrs. Logan’s presentation of the flowers.
Briefly flustered by the intrusion, Mrs. Logan rose from her chair to answer it.
A tall , broad-shouldered castle guard stepped inside. He wore the MacLean tartan, and his hand was squeezing impatiently around the hilt of his sword.
“I have orders,” he said, “to escort Lady Amelia back to the castle at once.”
“Has something happened?” she asked, feeling a rush of panic as she stood. Josephine stood up as well .
“Aye, milady. The Moncrieffe militia has returned with the redcoats.”
She took in a quick, sharp breath. “Do you mean to say that Colonel Bennett is here?”
“Aye. I’m to ride inside your coach with you, and I’m not to let you out of my sight until I deliver you safely to the gallery in the keep.”
She strode to the door and saw more than twenty mounted clansmen waiting outside—al carrying shields, swords, and muskets. It seemed she had her own personal army of protectors.
She backed up into the miller’s cottage. “Surely this is unnecessary. The lieutenant-colonel is my former fiancé, and we ar
e not at war with his regiment, are we? Surely he just wishes to speak with Lord Moncrieffe and ensure that all is well .”
At least she hoped that was the case, and she hoped Duncan would assure Richard as such. Then Richard could be on his way. Disappointed by her rejection, perhaps, but alive.
The tall Highlander shrugged. “It’s not for me to say, milady. I’m just following orders. I’m to see you safely back to the castle.”
She squared her shoulders. “Of course.” She turned to the miller’s wife. “I do apologize, Mrs. Logan. Perhaps we can continue this another day?”
“My door is always open to you, milady.” The woman did her best to appear calm, but her cheeks were flushed with color.
A short time later, Amelia and Josephine were seated inside the coach, with the tall Highlander situated across from them. He kept his eyes fixed on the door at all times.
While the heavy vehicle rumbled along the road, no one said much of anything. The tension inside the coach was palpable. Outside, they were surrounded by a fierce contingent of Highland warriors on horseback, and it seemed as if they were driving straight into the very heart of a full-blown battle, already in progress.
Amelia hoped this was just a precaution and wondered what Duncan imagined would occur when she arrived. It was highly probable that Richard would wish to speak to her privately and ascertain that this union was of her choosing.
Perhaps he was angry, or believed that Duncan had forced her hand. In that case, she would do her best to explain her change of heart and somehow make Richard understand that she was happy—otherwise he might feel compelled to fight for her, and that could lead to an awkward set of circumstances. She must do all she could to prevent him from saying or doing anything that might provoke Duncan.
She would do her best to explain her feelings and convince Richard to leave.
As for the other issues regarding Duncan’s official inquiry into Richard’s alleged crimes as a soldier, which would be a full affront to his honor as an officer and a gentleman … well , she hoped the charges would be laid at Fort William, not Moncrieffe, so that Duncan could be distanced from it.
The coach hit a bump and she bounced on the seat and wondered anxiously where her uncle stood in all of this. He had not mentioned Richard since he arrived, and he had been absent a great deal of the time. He had not asked Amelia how she felt about ending her engagement, nor had Duncan spoken of her uncle’s opinions on the matter since that first night. They had both been curiously silent about Richard, which caused her some uneasiness now, as the coach rattled over the stone bridge and through the gate tower.
They emerged out of the archway into the bright, sunny bailey. She and Josephine sat forward and peered out the windows.
There was noise and confusion in the yard—kilted Highlanders shouting to one another, the clang of metal against metal as they practiced their maneuvers. Horses—restless and spooked by the sounds of battle—whinnied and reared up. In the east corner Amelia saw a splash of red as the coach rumbled by. It was a cluster of English soldiers, sitting together in the grass.
The coach pulled up in front of the castle door. The Highlander who had been assigned to deliver her to the keep hopped out first, then took her firmly by the arm. He seemed determined to reach the gallery without stopping, and she had to pick up her skirts and scurry to keep up with him.
He led her through the front entrance hall and across the bridge corridor to the keep at the rear. They crossed the long banqueting hall and at last reached the gallery. The Highlander opened the arched door and pushed her through it. She stumbled inside; then the door swung shut behind her, and a key turned in the lock. The Highlander’s footsteps disappeared down the length of the banqueting hall .
Suddenly she was alone. all was quiet.
Amelia stood for a moment and stared at the keyhole, then abruptly turned away and walked to the window. She looked out at the calm lake and studied the reflection of the trees upon the water.
It was odd to imagine Richard being here at this moment.
It was like a sharp, pungent taste of reality, the emergence of her old life, which had all but vanished over the past few weeks, as if it had never existed.
Only it was not the same life at all . The man she had once hoped to marry was accused of unspeakable crimes, and she would soon have to face him and try to see the truth for herself, when she had not been able to see it before.
What if she still could not?
And what was happening in the castle now? Was Richard speaking to Duncan? Was he angry? What would Duncan do?
Do you not worry about the violence in my nature?
Lord help her, she was certainly beginning to worry about it now, after being dragged out of the village by an army of Highlanders with muskets and spears. The whole situation seemed positively medieval, and her heart was racing with dread. What if something terrible was happening? Her hands began to shake as her mind swarmed with grisly images of Duncan in his kilt, splattered with blood, swinging his battle-axe through the air. She shut her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples to block it all out.
Footsteps approached outside the door. A key slipped into the lock. The door opened, and Iain strode in.
She crossed to meet him. “Oh, Iain, thank heavens.
Please tell me what’s happening. Is Josephine all right?
Where is Duncan? Has he spoken to Richard yet?”
“Not yet,” Iain answered in a voice that seemed almost too casual under the circumstances. “Colonel Bennett is waiting in the library, and Duncan will be here soon. He wants you at his side when Bennett contests your engagement, which he full y intends to do.”
“How do you know this?”
“Bennett announced it to the guard when he rode through the gate.”
She laid a hand on her stomach. Lord help them all . But at least there was one promising factor in all this: Duncan would not wish to have her standing at his side if he intended to don his Butcher garb and slice off Richard’s head. He knew how she felt about that, and he had given her his word.
“Did you speak to Richard already?” she asked. “Are you sure he wishes to confront Duncan? I’m surprised he did not ask to speak to me first.”
“He did. It was the first thing he requested. Strode in here, bold as brass, and demanded a private appointment with you.”
“And you said no?”
“Not exactly. I told him to wait in the library, that you were on your way back from the village, and he would see you then. I arranged for a small supper to be sent up.”
“Thank you, Iain. But I believe all of this is quite unnecessary. If I could just speak to him, I would assure him that I am well , and that I genuinely wish to marry Duncan. If he heard those words from my own lips, I believe he would accept my decision and leave peaceful y.” She paused when Iain frowned at her. “Please, Iain, do not misunderstand. I do not wish to protect him. I only wish to do what I can to prevent an altercation. I am certain that he came here because he needs to confirm that I am safe. Do not forget, I was his intended bride and while under his protection I was abducted by the Butcher. You cannot fault him for coming here. You would do the same thing, I am sure.”
“I do not fault anyone, lass. But Duncan will not let you be alone with Bennett. It is the unshakable truth. Do not even bother to ask.”
She watched Iain for a moment to measure the strength of his resolve, then resigned herself to the fact that it could not be breached. She turned away and sat down on the long bench at the table.
She had no choice, then, but to abide by her future husband’s wishes. He had his reasons to employ such excessive measures, she supposed.
Duncan walked through the door just then. She rose quickly to her feet. Their eyes met and locked.
“You heard Bennett is here?” Duncan asked. He was dressed in an extravagant full -skirted coat of gold, with heavy button ornamentation and a matching embroidered waistcoat, cut low in front to reveal
the white, ruffled neckwear. On his head he wore a jet-black, full -bottomed French wig with a mass of curls that reached well below his shoulders.
The wig unnerved her. It was an accessory she had not seen him wear before. Had he worn it with her father?
She made careful note also of the dress saber, sheathed and belted at his waist.
“Yes, I heard,” she replied. “I was dragged out of the miller’s cottage, where I was looking at flowers for our wedding day.”
She imagined that he might come forward, take her into his arms, and assure her that everything was going to be all right, that they simply had to get through this day and all would be well . But he remained just inside the door, his expression dark and menacing.
“You can return there tomorrow,” he said flatly.
“Thank you. I will .”
A heavy silence descended upon the room. Iain cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.
* * *
Duncan stood at the door, his eyes fixed on his future bride, while he fought to suppress the seething rage that was rising up inside him. Richard Bennett was here in his house. He’d just eaten his food and enjoyed wine from his private cellar. And he wanted to speak privately to Amelia.
Duncan took a few deep breaths and squeezed the hilt of his sword.
“We’ll meet him in the banqueting hall ,” he said, remembering his promise to her and wishing—God, how he wished—that he had never made it. If he hadn’t, Colonel Bennett would already be dead and there would be no need for talk.
Amelia nodded and stepped forward. She paused in front of Duncan and looked into his eyes. “Thank you,” she said.
Thank you for what? he wondered wretchedly. For inviting a rapist and murderer into my home, and agreeing to treat him with civility?
Duncan held the door open for her, and she passed through it into the banqueting hall , which ran a length of seventy-five feet along the western side of the keep. The stone wall s were hung with gilt-framed portraits; the floor was ebony oak, the furniture sparse. There was only one long narrow table in front of the hearth and a dais at the far end, with a single heavy chair in front of a rich, crimson tapestry.
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