Donald arrived in the main room, looking surly and rumpled from the evening before. His hair was askew, and his shirt was stained. He had fled from the church angrily on his horse and had made it to the castle as morning light began to appear in the sky, flopping into his bed to consider all the delicious methods of revenge he could enact on both Jamie, William, and those two young lasses, Amelia especially.
He continued to rub his jaw roughly, and Fiona could now see that both swelling, and a bruise had formed. She attempted to appear casual. “My dear nephew, what has happened?” She stood and moved towards him. He held out a hand.
“Donnae come near me, aunt. Or should I even call ye that? Yer blasted son has hit me in the face with his fists of steel. He’s always been cocky about his strength ever since we were bairns, and I’ve been victim tae his violence for many a year.”
Fiona inwardly rolled her eyes, knowing that whatever Donald had done, he was sure to have deserved it. “I am so very sorry. How can I help you with your injury? I can call for the doctor.” She turned to make the motion of sending for the doctor when Donald stopped her.
“Nay. I will not show the clan a weakness while they still struggle tae view me as their new laird.” He moved his hand from his jaw, straightened his shirt, and lifted his chin and shoulders with pride. “Mayhaps with these new scars and bruises, I will be seen as a brave warrior.”
Inside, Fiona fumed. Donald had chosen not to take part in the battle against the British. His father had been so ashamed when he’d found out his son had hidden deep in the woods to avoid recruitment for many a year. He may have even taken up with English forces without his father’s knowledge. He was no warrior, and he did not deserve the title. Fiona held her tongue, knowing that it would only worsen her already precarious situation. Where was Jamie?
Donald moved toward her, with a slinking to his gait, and a new confidence emerging after his realization of the power of his wounds. He got close enough to her face that Fiona could smell his stinking breath, and he grinned. “Dear aunt, I believe I have exhausted my kindness with ye. I would have let ye stay for a longer time, but yer son has shown me that he is ungrateful for the kindness I have extended tae in letting ye stay in MY home. So, I will ask ye tae leave everything here, and go as ye are.” His dark eyes glinted with his new plan, savoring the moment when his aunt would crumple to his feet and beg for mercy. He would have to think about mercy of course. He couldn’t be too ruthless at the beginning of his reign. First, make people believe in your mercy, and then once you have them in your grasp, bring out your true colors and sacrifice all for your own good. He smiled, waiting for her answer, watching her widened eyes, shocked at his horrible nature.
But she did not crumple as he had hoped. She simply stood tall and looked at him straight in the eyes, cold dark against warm brown. She said with clearness and confidence in her voice, masking the fear, rejection, and helplessness she felt inside. “Your parents would be most ashamed of you, my boy. They were such kind people. I do not know how you have turned into such a...a monster.”
Donald could have clapped his hands with glee. “A monster, ye say? I could not have given meself a better description if I had tried. Me da and ma were like ye lot, full of golden hearts and kindness and cheerfulness. But, it only led tae their deaths didnae it? And, me da never loved me. He was always speaking tae Jamie, spending time with Jamie. He hadnae a moment for the likes of his monster son.” Donald grumbled.
Fiona almost felt her heart soften at the truth of his words. Donald’s father, her brother-in-law, had not known what to do with a son who was small, uninterested in fighting, and had no skill with a blade or a plough. Despite his love, he had neglected him; it was true.
Fiona replied, “I am sorry, nephew, for what your parents may have done to you. But are we not your family? Have you painted us all with the same brush?”
Donald went over to the armchair and sat, turning it, so that he could look at Fiona for a while. It was the very armchair under which Fiona had placed the signed document from the minister. “Aye. Now leave. Intae the wilds with ye.” He pointed angrily at the door to the castle, and with a tightening of her mouth, Fiona walked herself proudly to the door, her mind swirling with ideas of how to lengthen the time until Jamie’s approach. Prince Charlie padded after her, whimpering slightly. As she reached the door and put her hand on it, Jamie burst through, nearly running over his mother.
Fiona could have cried. She hugged Jamie tightly and whispered in his ear, “The document is under the armchair, the very one upon which your cousin sits.”
Then, she turned to look at a horrified Donald, who quickly organized his features into a return of that confident calm he had used upon her.
He stayed sitting and adjusted his pose into one of relaxed composure. He wanted to appear as lairdly as possible. He put on a bored expression. “And what are ye doing here, lad? Have ye not heard?” His eyebrows lifted. “Despite what violence ye can do against me, I am still the laird of Kinnaird clan as evidenced by the birth records.” He smiled, content with the power of the evidence he had constructed.
Jamie walked towards Donald, slightly breathless with his rushed arrival, and suggested, “My cousin, ye know ye faked those documents, for I have the proof. But first, for yer own dignity, I will challenge ye tae a battle of swords. Ye always claim a love for yer “silver blades”. Let’s see what ye can do with a sword.”
Donald stood with excitement, feeling confident in his skill of cutting. He would slice through his cousin like a hung pig, and then the lairdship would be completely secure.
Jamie moved away from the fire to the open space between the long dining tables and the outside wall. His boots sounded on the cold stone floor as he backed away, drawing a sword from the wall. Silence ensued as Donald’s grin grew, taking another sword which hung by the fire. He had been admiring it ever since his arrival, and he knew it would slice with speed through the air at his behest.
They both stood with their swords erect, facing one another, not speaking, only breathing in a steady rhythm, both certain of their own fates. Amelia, William, and Henrietta, came in the door soon after, William having helped the women down from the wagon. They gasped, and William attempted to get in the middle of the swords, but Fiona stopped him. She whispered, “‘Tis part of his plan. Henrietta, welcome! Please sit my dear, and she brought Henrietta to the other armchair as she secured the document from under the other, waiting for Jamie’s signal to reveal it to Donald. William stood by Fiona, watching the two men stare at each other, and whispered to her. “Let me ride and alert the other clansmen to come and witness the duel and the document reveal.” Fiona nodded and left hurriedly. Marianne and Amelia simply stood at the doorway, Amelia’s heart quickening, worrying about her future husband. Jamie’s eyes found hers, and he winked at her, an unusual gesture for such a time.
Donald, seeing Jamie’s attention taken for a moment, chose this time to pounce forward and stab with his sword with a growl. Jamie jumped back, eyes slightly widened at the surprise, but he soon found his way again, blocked Donald’s inexperienced blade, and putting in a few expert swings of his own. Donald grunted under the weight of Jamie’s hits, and sweat began to appear on his brow. Jamie smiled inwardly, knowing it was only a matter of time before Donald’s weakness would overpower his pride at being the victor. They moved around the hall, the women huddled by the fire, watching them, hoping for an end with no blood. Donald spun around to get more speed on his swing, and the tip of his sword scratched Jamie’s neck. A prick of red appeared at the spot, and Donald paused to gloat over his small victory. “I will draw enough blood from ye, cousin, tae fill the castle floor!” He attempted to lift his sword to swing again but pausing had been a mistake. Jamie took his elbow and knocked Donald in the face, pushing him to the floor. Then, Jamie knelt over him, the point of his sword in Donald’s face.
Donald turned shades of red to white to gray, all the different emotions showing on his face in turn. He gro
wled in anger, and tried to push Jamie off him, but Jamie would not be moved.
“‘Tis time tae surrender, cousin,” smiled Jamie in Donald’s sweating face.
“Never!” Donald replied.
“Well, ye may change yer mind when I show ye the evidence of yer greed.”
Donald’s face looked confused, but there was a hint of fear at the idea of potentially being found out. He thought of Amelia, who may have told them of his plans.
Jamie removed the blade from Donald’s hand, and left him on the floor, free to get up if he so wished. He walked over to his mother. “Donald, ye may want tae take a look at the document me ma has from the minister.”
Donald smirked, “Ye mean the minister who was willing tae marry Amelia and me?”
“Nay.” Donald’s smile vanished. Jamie continued. “Me ma was smart enough tae know that the minister, the old minister, who dies alone in the cottage in the woods, is the minister who registered the births of our fathers.”
Donald’s face went pale with fear. He hadn’t considered the old man to be alive after so long a time.
Jamie nodded at Donald’s face, and held the document up for Donald to see. It was the church record page that Donald had torn from the book and changed. But, now it had been changed again, and signed by the minister. Jamie smirked and turned to his mother to see her reaction.
Donald felt a darkness begin to take over him. It was a rage he could never control, and now, its strength tripled with his fury. His hand found his silver blade inside his coat. And as Jamie looked away, Donald took the opportunity and summoned all his anger into this moment, propelling his body towards Jamie and the document with his sharp blade at the ready, hungry for blood and death. He quickened his steps and felt a pang of joy as he watched Jamie’s surprised face as he got closer and closer. But, a bark sounded in the distance, and Donald felt himself being pulled down by something, down, and down, until he hit his head on the stone floor, and all went dark. The silver blade clattered against the hard ground, sliding until it hit the tips of Jamie’s boots.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jamie stared down at it, trying to register what had happened. Then he saw Prince Charlie rush towards him, and he knelt to pat his head. “Good boy, ye bonny prince! Helping tae take down a villain!” Everyone began to laugh at the surprise action of the dog, while Fiona rushed to Donald’s side to check his breathing. He still breathed, but he did not wake, and Prince Charlie was heartily congratulated for his efforts to save Jamie and the truth, and he was grateful for all the head pats and belly rubs a dog could wish for.
Jamie turned Donald onto his back and picked up the silver blade to put it away, hopeful that it could not do anyone more harm. He looked at Donald’s face, which was calmer than he had seen him in a long while. “Och, cousin,” he whispered, “why this hatred and rage? Ye have made a foolish choice.”
Amelia and Marianne moved from the door to help Jamie slide Donald towards the side of the hall, and Marianne rushed for a servant to help. They would need someone to carry him to a room and clean his wounds, while they deliberated what to do next.
Servants attended to Donald who was only slowly beginning to rouse, groaning out his pain, while Jamie began to pull in the wagon’s items, and Henrietta was given a proper introduction to Fiona. Everyone sat in the private parlor, and Fiona called for tea. Amelia pointed to her mother, and said, “Lady Kinnaird, this is my mother, Lady Parker.” Both women bowed their heads, and Lady Kinnaird clapped her hands in joy, “It is so lovely to meet you! I feel that we may become good friends!” She clasped hands with Henrietta who nodded and smiled weakly.
Fiona quickly remembered, “Oh, my dear! I am so sorry. You are still recovering from your difficult illness. Please, let me attend to you in your own room, and servants will bring you tea, water, and food. You need your rest after such an ordeal.” She stood and helped Henrietta to her feet. Amelia stood as well, but Fiona waved her away, saying, “To play nursemaid in my own home is one of my most favorite hobbies. Let me attend to your mother, my dear.” Amelia smiled and nodded, and then sighed in her seat next to Marianne. Soon the tea arrived, and the two girls sipped together, grateful for the warm, restorative drink.
Marianne was the first to speak, “My goodness. That was quite a night and morning! I do not think I will need any more excitement for the next hundred years!”
Amelia laughed, a light clear sound that filled the room and the hall.
“Is that a happy lass, I hear?” Jamie called in from the hall, and Amelia smiled.
“I will remember this for as long as I live. It could be in a storybook! Villainous characters, midnight rides to break up weddings, and swordfights! Amelia, ye should write about this story.”
Amelia smiled, mulling over the past exciting events. She had been rescued by her true love. She had been saved from a life of torture and misery, which she had blinded herself to in order to save her family. She placed a hand over her heart, checking to see if it was beating, wondering if it was all real.
“I know, Marianne. It seems like a dream. I…I don’t know how I’ll ever repay him.”
Marianne smiled, “Amelia, he does not need repayment. Repay him only with love. He wanted you with or without debts, and you wanted him with or without the money. True love does not keep a record of debts. You are free.”
“I believe you are quoting the Bible, Marianne. Virtuous and moral Marianne, how could I have been without you for so long? Thank you for being by my side and helping to save me as well.”
Marianne laughed. “The Bible is always good to help us remember wisdom, to quote my father of course.” She remembered the countless times Amelia and she were victim to his endless biblical quotes.
Jamie returned to the room, having completed his task of removing all items from the wagon. His wound had stopped bleeding, but dark blood still remained at the site on his neck. Marianne and Amelia looked up at his form that filled the doorway. “So, are ye happy, my love?”
Amelia stood and grabbed his hands in her own.
“The happiest.” Marianne’s eyes moved between Jamie and Amelia, and she saw the fire that warmed their gazes, and she cleared her throat and said, “I will attend to your mother, as well, Amelia.” And, after a nod from both of them, Marianne left the room.
Jamie’s arms encircled Amelia’s waist, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I do believe we are engaged now, Amelia Parker, and I donnae believe I can wait until our wedding night tae have ye, my love. Has been too long.” He moved a finger to trace a line from her ear to her neck, making Amelia close her eyes and quicken her breath. She then jolted back into reality. “But, Jamie, ‘tis only the afternoon. What of everyone else?”
His expression turned serious, full of desire. “They are all busy, Amelia. Not one soul will notice our absence. We are soon to be man and wife. They would not begrudge us…our pleasure.” He grabbed her hand and moved with her through the hall, noting Donald’s removal to a bedroom, the area where he had been now standing empty.
They ended at his workroom, and outside of the door, Jamie caught Amelia off guard with a kiss. It was urgent and quick, his hands rising to touch her face, his lips wanting to taste every part of her. Amelia moved closer to him, her need rising with each movement of his soft lips, as they pressed her mouth to open for him, and she tasted him back.
Jamie used a shoulder to push open the door, and after they moved inside, he closed it with a foot, not taking his mouth from hers. He backed her up until her bottom hit his wooden desk. His arms moved down, and he lifted her backside up, so she was sitting. She wrapped her legs around him, and he groaned into her mouth, as she tried to lift her skirts up. Amelia’s hands moved to untie his breeches. Her fingertips felt his hardness through the material. She pulled away from the kiss.
“’Tis only appropriate to begin our true journey where we first started those many evenings ago.” Jamie smiled devilishly, his hands on either side of her.
&nb
sp; “I remember that night very well. Ye were in my mind for days after that, lass. I couldnae keep ye out of it; the way ye moaned, they way ye felt, and how beautiful ye were, all laid out on the desk.”
Amelia chuckled, and she freed his cock from its cloth prison. His facial expression turned to one of slight pain, and she gripped onto it for a moment before moving her hands up and down its length. “I expect I’ll be moaning a lot more soon enough, Laird Jamie.” She kept her eyes on him, and they held a mischievous look.
Jamie leaned his face even closer to hers. He whispered, his breath catching slightly as she moved her hands. “Aye, ‘Twill be my life’s work, my Lady.” Amelia laughed, and he caught her mouth in his kiss. She lifted her skirts and moved her undergarments aside. Without another pause, Jamie pushed into her, both of their bodies tensing for a moment, as they remembered each other’s feel. They stopped the kiss and looked into each other’s eyes. “I love ye, with everything in me.” Jamie said softly before placing a light kiss upon her lips.
“And I you.” Amelia replied, her face serious as she stared at her future husband, love filling every part of her. She moved her arms behind his neck, and his hands moved to her backside to hold her in place as he began to move his hips forward, slowly but regularly, and Amelia’s ache of desire grew. He quickened his pace, their breaths matching, and Jamie kissed Amelia’s neck, as she closed her eyes to feel him filling her. Her moans filled the quietness of the workroom, but she tried to keep them low, so as not to call attention to any of the others, should they be wandering around. Jamie noticed her attempts to quiet her sounds, so he moved even faster to try to illicit an even louder one.
Capturing The Highlander's Heart (Lasses 0f The Kinnaird Castle Book 1) Page 23