The Seduction of Miss Amelia Bell (18 page)

D
arach sat with his back pressed into a corner of a stall in the Buchanans’ barn, his
legs outstretched before him and crossed at the ankles. His bruises, and there were
many—in fact, he hadn’t known until this point in his life that his body could hurt
as bad as it did—was healing.

Healing. The thought of it brought images of Luke to him. Was he dead? Had Darach
failed him? Please God…

Each passing day of his captivity found him growing stronger. More himself. Soon,
he would escape this place and kill everyone who stopped him from helping his cousin
and who had caused his pain.

“Ye associate with MacGregors. Ye know that’s a crime, aye? Ye could be hanged fer
it. I may just turn ye in before my brother returns. Better to watch ye swing from
a noose than to have to sit here keeping an eye on ye.”

Darach slid his gaze to his hostess, Janet Buchanan. He would like to begin with her.
Twice now he cursed the shackles that kept him out of reach of her throat. He’d never
throttled a woman before, but this wildcat tempted him sorely. “I find it difficult
to believe that ye were truly betrothed. Ye’re bonny, but I’ve seen bonnier.”

“I should have hit yer head harder and killed ye, rather than leave the simple task
to Kevin and his pathetic friends. The sight of ye repulses me.”

Darach smiled in the shadows. The effort pained him, since his lip was still swollen,
sliced in two places, and likely purple. With one eye still swollen shut, he guessed
he was repulsive indeed.

“There’s the door, lass. I’d kick ye in the arse on the way oot, but I’m restrained.”

She laughed at him. Darach had to admit the sound of it warmed his blood. “Let me
fill ye in, since ye’re so helpless here. One of yer MacGregor friends stole my cousin’s
dog and blew off his hand. Tonight, they’ve gone to Ravenglade to get what is theirs.
They will likely kill yer lads in their sleep.”

Darach forgot for a moment that he was secured by the ankles and almost sprang to
his feet. Ravenglade! He realized almost instantly that his cousins could handle any
number of Buchanans who came against them.

“I hope ye bid yer cousin a fittin’ farewell,” he told her, sinking back into the
shadows. “Ye likely willna’ be seein’ him again.”

“He’ll return,” she corrected just as confidently. “Mayhap with a head or two that
we could hang as decoration.”

“Janet!” At the sound of her brother’s voice, she and Darach both turned toward the
barn doors. “Why the hell did ye not tell me what the lads were planning? They’ll
bring war on us, ye fool! Think of it. We kill them and then the rest of them come
looking for us. We won’t last a se’nnight against them.”

Darach agreed, and as William dragged his sister toward the exit, he cast her an icy
smile when she looked over her shoulder at him.

Normally, Grendel’s earsplitting bark was enough to alert Edmund to trouble, but when
Gaza joined him, they woke the castle.

Edmund was the first out of bed, since sometime during the night both dogs had managed
to make their way inside his room.

“What is it?” Amelia asked, terrified, from her door when she saw Edmund in the hall.

Hell, he missed her. He hadn’t spent more than an hour at a time with her since his
eye-opening talk with Malcolm. He was miserable.

“I don’t know,” Edmund told her, draping the rest of his plaid around his shoulder.
“Stay here. Don’t leave yer room.”

She nodded, watching him bend to fit various sized daggers into his boots, pistols
into his belt, and his broad claymore into its sheath.

Lucan, Malcolm, a lass Edmund had never seen before, and Sarah were all exiting their
rooms. Edmund pulled the women to him and then pushed them into Amelia’s room.

“Someone’s inside the castle,” Malcolm said, following the sounds of the barking dogs
below stairs.

“Ye left the bridge doun?” Lucan asked him in disbelief.

“I dinna’ recall. I was drunk and Elizabeth was eager,” Malcolm told him unapologetically.
“Let’s no’ fret aboot how they got here but take care of them now that they are.”

“Luke.” Edmund stopped his limping cousin. “Why don’t ye stay here until—”

Lucan shoved him out of his way and dragged a very long claymore from its sheath.
“Ye stay with the women if ye’re going to worry like one.”

Edmund watched Lucan make his way toward the stairs, then followed him down.

Malcolm was correct. Someone was inside the castle. Grendel and Gaza were gone, their
incessant barking ceased. Edmund knew Grendel wasn’t injured but on the hunt for his
prey.

As was he. As were his brothers.

They didn’t have to wait long to find what they were hunting. Not a moment passed
after they separated in the foyer when a man burst through the door to the servants’
quarters with a weeping Henrietta under his arm and a pistol pointed at Malcolm.

“Is this what ye keep fer long, lonely nights, Grant?”

“That’s my cook, ye bastard.” Malcolm’s voice rolled like thunder, chilling the air
as he boldly stepped toward them. “Ye’d better shoot that weapon now, Andrew Buchanan,
because if I get my hands on ye—”

Andrew fired, alerting everyone to them, including the dogs, and filling the foyer
with smoke.

He missed his target, who never stopped coming at him until he reached him. Malcolm
slapped the gun out of Andrew’s hand as he was trying desperately to load another
ball. He snatched Henrietta from the culprit’s arm, then grasped Andrew by the back
of the throat and smashed his face into the nearest wall.

Letting Andrew crumple to the floor, he turned to make certain his dear cook wasn’t
harmed. From the corner of his eye he saw three more men appearing from three different
directions and another group of at least twelve exiting the Great Hall.

He smiled, his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. A fiery woman in his bed
and the challenge of a good fight after that. It was a good night, indeed.

Edmund would have agreed with his closest friend’s sentiments, if he hadn’t just caught
sight of Grendel galloping up the stairs to the top, where Amelia stood looking down
in terror.

Damn it! Why hadn’t she stayed in the room?

“MacGregor!” someone called from among the intruders. “I want my hand and my dog back.”
Alistair Buchanan stepped forward and pointed with his only hand to the yellow dog
that had sat down at Edmund’s feet.

Edmund looked down at Gaza and felt his heart go soft. He shook his head in frustration
with himself and with the Buchanans. When were these fools going to learn? And is
this what loving Amelia turned him into? A pitiful sot with a weakness for a set of
huge, brown eyes on a pretty female?

“Alistair, take yer men and get out before I rid ye of yer other hand, and mayhap
yer empty head.”

“I want my dog!”

Alistair’s gaze rose at the sound of a slight moan from the top landing. Edmund didn’t
blink. If Alistair moved toward her, he would die.

“Call the dog, Alistair. If she comes to ye, ye can fight me fer her. Either way,
she stays with me. If ’tis a fight ye want, I’ll kill ye and every one of yer friends.”

The one-handed Buchanan cast an uneasy glance at his comrades. Empty-headed or not,
Alistair understood his options were few.

A loud shout rang out, echoing through the halls, saving Alistair from having to make
a decision. Grendel and Gaza remained at their posts, alert, ready to attack.

“MacGregor! ’Tis William,” the voice called out from somewhere inside. “William Buchanan.”

Edmund exchanged a glance with Cal and Luke. “Where are ye, Buchanan? And how the
hell did ye get in here?”

The young chief appeared in an entrance to the foyer, leading to the kitchen. “The
bridge was down; I came in through the rear bailey.”

Edmund cast Malcolm an accusatory glare for leaving the bridge down.

“Will,” Edmund reasoned, “what the hell are ye doing wasting yer time with petty clan
grievances when yer country is about to lose its Parliament, its independence? Ye’re
fighting fer a castle that will likely be taken from ye the moment this union is formed.”

“I didn’t come to fight,” the chief said, entering the foyer slowly. “I would appreciate
mercy on my kin. I will repay ye by offering them to yer cause.”

Scotland didn’t need men who were forced to fight. She needed men who wanted to, who
understood that they needed to. “My cause and yers are the same. If ye and yer kin
understood what ye could lose, ye wouldn’t be so eager to fight with us.”

“Then tell us.”

“Look, are we goin’ to fight or not?” Malcolm rested the tip of his claymore on the
floor and waited impatiently on it. “I’m not givin’ up a warm bed and a warmer wench
fer long speeches on things
I
already know.”

“There will be no fighting,” William announced, then turned to rake his eyes over
his men. “But if ye will wait just a moment before returning to yer pleasures, Grant,
there is something I must tell ye, as a token of my good will.”

Malcolm glanced up the stairs to his buxom visitor and winked.

“Yer young Mr. Grant is in our care.”

Edmund’s heart pounded violently in his ears. Violence was what he recognized in Malcolm’s
and Luke’s eyes. “Darach?” he heard himself asking.

“He’s alive and well, I give ye my word!” William held his palms up when Edmund and
his cousins moved toward him.

“Ye’re lyin’,” Malcolm growled.

“Nae. Against my will, some of the lads went after him and captured him on a road
leading north.”

“Was he harmed?” Luke asked.

When the chief didn’t answer right away, Lucan lifted his sword.

“If any one of us doesn’t return, my kin have command to kill him!” William held his
hand to the hilt of his blade, but he backed away. “’Twas the only way to ensure our
safety.”

“Verra’ well,” Edmund said, sheathing his blade. “We won’t kill any one of ye. Ye
will all return alive, but I, fer one, intend on making ye all wish ye’d never set
eyes on Darach Grant.”

He moved forward with Luke and Malcolm at his side and Grendel returned to his heels,
and the fighting commenced.

W
e should go get him now,” Malcolm insisted, and then cast an irritated glare at Amelia
when she pulled the cloth around his hand too tight. “Two fingers are already broken,
lass. Leave the other three intact, I beg ye.”

“Fergive me,” she answered quietly, keeping her gaze downcast.

“That’s exactly what they’re expecting us to do, Cal,” Lucan said while Sarah tended
to cuts on his face. “This entire thing could be a trap to get us to their holding.
We may have sent some of them home with broken bones, but there are many more of them
in their village. If they kill us all they dinna’ have to worry aboot us bringin’
our kin back fer them.”

Edmund watched Amelia while his cousins argued about rescuing Darach. He already knew
what to do about Darach. He didn’t know what to do about her. That was an enormous
problem, since he should know. Stick with the plan. Return her to her uncle once the
treaty was dissolved, or kill her if it wasn’t. Of course he couldn’t kill her and
neither could any one of his cousins. They’d never killed a lass before, and they
never would. He’d never thought for an instant that the duke wouldn’t do everything
in his power to save his niece. Whatever the outcome, Edmund would lose her.

For the last two days she’d avoided him at every turn and he’d done nothing but sulk
around the castle wishing for another way to have a future with her. One way in particular
continued to invade his thoughts. It was something almost blasphemous to his heart,
but relentless nonetheless. If the duke refused their demands Edmund could keep Amelia.
He could keep her alive with him in Skye. It was blasphemous indeed, to hope the duke
and the chancellor would go ahead with the treaty. Scotland would become part of the
new United Kingdom. Everything he had fought for would be lost. He hated his traitorous
heart for thinking it…for hoping for it, but he didn’t want to let her go. When he
thought about never seeing Amelia again…Saints help him, it was worse. She tempted
him to give up all for her. It scared the hell out of him and stripped him of all
his defenses, but he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to.

He caught her eye and smiled at her when she looked up. She didn’t smile back.

The fight with the Buchanans was too much for her.

He would have preferred Amelia never to witness him in such a merciless state. She
hadn’t said a word since the fight ended and Edmund and his cousins tossed the Buchanans
into the moat and then led the women to the solar. Mayhap she was not suited to the
Highland life. It would be a good reason to let her go.

“Edmund, what is yer suggestion?” Malcolm asked him, drawing his attention away from
Amelia.

“Luke’s correct. It could be a trap.”

“And if they kill him in the meantime?” Malcolm put to him.

“If they truly have him, they won’t kill him,” Edmund assured him and then watched
Amelia rise to her feet and excuse herself. His gaze followed her out of the solar
with Grendel at her side. Gaza remained at his feet but watched them as well, and
then looked up at Edmund. He continued speaking. “Either Darach is already dead or
William told the truth and he lives. I believe William told the truth. He wouldn’t
have taken such a beating if he was lying. As long as Darach lives, the Buchanans
are safe from us. They know it. Their chief knows it. They won’t kill him. We need
to recover, regroup, and have a plan. They’ll be expecting us when night falls. It’ll
unnerve them when we don’t show up.”

Malcolm nodded and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He glanced over at Elizabeth,
asleep on his settee. “If we’re no’ goin’ tonight, I’ll be returnin’ to m’ chamber.”
He stood, went to the settee to pick Elizabeth up, then left the solar without another
word.

“If ye will both excuse me,” Sarah said next. “Amelia is troubled. I want to—”

“Nae, please, let me.” Edmund rose before she could reply. Sarah was still angry with
him and he didn’t want to argue with her.

He didn’t search long. He had a feeling where she might be, but Gaza led him straight
there.

He didn’t enter the garden immediately. Amelia’s soft cries stopped him. For a good
while he remained utterly silent and brokenhearted at the sound of her weeping. What
could he say to her but beg her forgiveness for dragging her here, into a world of
blood and gore no noble lady would ever be accustomed to seeing? To rough, brutal
men, and dreary, dead gardens.

Another reason to let her go.

But none of his logic helped. When he could no longer breathe without holding her,
he pushed through the gnarled tangle of bush and took her in his arms.

“Amelia, my love,” he whispered, pressing her close, stroking her hair, breathing
her in like she was all the air he needed to live.“Fergive me. Fergive me, I beg ye,
fer my foolishness.”

She looked up at him with tears misting her eyes to a rich mahogany. Gazing into them
jolted his heart from its foundations.

“Oh, Edmund, ye were not foolish about the Buchanans,” she said, more beguiling to
his heart because of her sincerity. “What happened to Darach is not yer fault. If
I hadn’t pestered ye to leave Grendel to his sport with Gaza, then Alistair Buchanan
would still have his hand and his dog, and…” She sniffed and tried to pull herself
together. The strength she called up made Edmund adore her even more.

“Ye think this is yer fault?” he asked her softly, angry at the lies her family fed
her about her bad fortune. “Love, Darach left fer Skye long before I shot Alistair.
His capture had nothing to do with Gaza. In fact, if not fer them coming to get her,
we might not have ever known what became of Darach.”

She wiped her nose. “I did not think of it that way.”

He smiled and wiped her tears. “Ye continue to bring us good fortune, Amelia. I was
speaking about how foolish I was about us.”

“And I understand about that as well,” she told him. “I admit when Malcolm spoke about
it I was hurt, but I know we can never be together, Edmund.” She held her finger to
his lips when he would have spoken again. “We are not children. I must wed Walter.
I cannot bring shame to my father and you cannot give up yer fight fer Scotland. We
would never ask such sacrifice of each other.”

He sat there. Still. She was right. But he didn’t want her to be. It sickened him.
He had to find a way to keep her with him. Was it even possible? They both had so
much to give up.

“What would ye have me do? How am I supposed to just walk away?”

She looked up at him through glimmering eyes. “How can I answer when I ask myself
the same thing?”

“I cannot.”

“Ye must.” They had no choice. “But I don’t want to return to Walter without knowing
what making love to a man who truly feels something fer me is like. So tonight,” she
said against his lips, unable to keep a soft sob from escaping. “Tonight, ye will
claim me, Highlander. But just fer one night.”

“Nae.” He shook his head. “If I have ye, I’ll never—”

“If ye care fer me, Edmund, don’t deny me this.” She took his face in her hands and
brought his mouth to hers.

He didn’t.