by Sahara Kelly
Her head glowed in the sun, hair as red as fire tumbled in curls around her face, and a mound of it was pinned into a knot. She was quite lovely, realized Amelia.
“Do you live near here?” In spite of herself, Amelia had to ask the question out of politeness and also a mite of curiosity.
“Not far. Up the road a couple of miles.” The woman pointed vaguely in the direction Amelia had been heading.
“So you’re originally English then?”
“I am that. But once you wed a Scot and settle here, the country gets into your heart and turns you. With your willing cooperation. So now I’m Scottish.” She grinned. “And I have the hair for it.”
“I noticed.” Amelia couldn’t help smiling back. “I’m Amelia…Amelia DeVere.” She hesitated a little, but couldn’t bring herself to use her new name. She wasn’t even sure if she was entitled to it yet.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Amelia. I’m Katherine Mc—“ she coughed a little, “McAllan.”
Amelia stood and held out the handkerchief. “Well it’s been delightful speaking with you, Mrs. McAllan. But I must be getting on.”
Katherine ignored the handkerchief. “Oh sit down, Amelia. You’re as miserable as a wet Sunday. I’ll wager you’ve no place in particular to go, so you might as well sit here and unburden yourself. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Amelia wanted to roll her eyes and leave, but there was something about this McAllan woman. Something that she found reassuring. Odd, because she wasn’t given to even thinking about other women, let alone assessing their characters.
Damn Scotland. Her brain was turning to porridge.
“You’re very interested in a complete stranger.” Amelia sat again, surrendering to the moment.
“Of course I am. You’re a beautiful young woman, obviously upset, and you’re all alone. It would be un-Christian of me to pass by without offering some sort of comfort.”
“Ah.” Amelia digested that.
“Plus I’m incredibly nosy. Other people’s business is always more fascinating than one’s own, don’t you agree?”
The wicked giggle that accompanied this confession drew a matching laugh from Amelia. “Yes, I will agree.”
“Excellent.” Katherine settled herself more comfortably. “Now tell me. Who is he?”
“What makes you—“
“Oh good heavens, don’t even ask that.” Katherine raised an eyebrow. “You and I both know the only reason a grown woman cries like you did is because a man’s either broken her heart or is about to. So I ask again. Who is he?”
Amelia lifted her chin. “Things are not always as they might seem, you know. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t broken my heart.”
“Ah. Well that’s a good start. Does he have a name?”
“Ian.” She left it at that.
“Very well. So what has this Ian done that has you all topsy-turvy?”
Amelia sighed. “He has married me,” she answered glumly.
“Er—pardon?”
“He married me without my knowing it.”
“The cur.”
“Indeed. And perhaps he did know it, but didn’t tell me. And I certainly wasn’t to know that saying things in front of others would be viewed as legally committing to the things I was saying. This is my first time over the border. I can’t be expected to understand the intricacies of obscure traditions.”
“Well of course not.” Katherine blinked.
“It’s all so stupid and here we are married, and all I can think of is how terribly wrong I am for him.” Her lip trembled.
“Really?”
Amelia nodded. “I’m a terrible person with a terrible past. I have shame and scandal attached to my name and my own family banished me from London. I have—had a small estate, but even that burned down on me. And now poor Ian…he’s stuck with me.” She swallowed. “I’m the worst thing that could happen to him. And I don’t know what to do.”
The tears came once more, in spite of her determination to stay calm. It seemed that just thinking about the mess she’d made of her life, and now Ian’s, was enough to turn her into a watering pot.
Before she knew it she was being hugged by a pair of warm arms and patted on the back.
“There, there, Amelia. Don’t cry. It will be all right.”
Since that was a rather absurd and meaningless comment that did nothing to assuage her sorrows, Amelia managed a rather damp snort. “Oh golly. Now I feel much better.”
She drew back and blew her nose.
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” Katherine smirked. “Not when you’re in such a mess.”
“Thank you.” Amelia straightened her bonnet. “Your sympathy is much appreciated.”
“Stopped you crying though, didn’t it?”
Amelia paused. Dammit. The woman was right.
“Now that the sniffles are done, I think it’s time we managed to come up with a way to sort out all these troubles.” Katherine stood and shook out her skirts. “I have a small cottage a couple of miles up the road that way.” She pointed to the north. “Come and have lunch with me, we’ll have a cup of tea and see what’s best to be done.”
Since Amelia had no other plans nor any idea of where she was actually going, as long as it was away from Ian for a while, she nodded. “That’s very kind of you. I accept. If you’re sure I won’t be interfering with your afternoon plans?”
“I had nothing planned that is anywhere near as important as helping you.” Katherine put her arm through Amelia’s as she stood and led her to the horses. “You need a place to sit and think, and a good lunch, followed by an excellent cup of tea. And you need the benefit of my wisdom and advice. All of this you shall receive in abundance whether you like it or not.”
Amelia looked at her. “Do you have many friends?”
“Some.”
“You amaze me.”
Amelia mounted from the boulder and watched Katherine do the same with quite surprising agility.
“It’s an easy ride.” Katherine led the way. “Just follow me.”
Amelia had the distinct feeling that no matter what she might have said or done, the result would be the same.
She followed Katherine out onto the road leading north.
Chapter Fourteen
Ian rode into Kilmalochan with a sense of excitement and joy at the homecoming. He’d not been back in too long, not since last Christmas, and he was overdue for a visit.
The place hadn’t changed, of course. It had stayed the same for many generations, so everything looked the way it had when he’d headed south for London in the new year.
But even so, it was good to be home. Because this place, this land, was home to Ian and always would be. He intended to settle here with Amelia, and he couldn’t wait to talk to his mother and find out what was going on.
“Hallo Fergus,” he grinned at the man who came out to take his horse. “You’re as ugly as ever.”
“An ye’re still no smarter’n when yer left, lad. No’ a whit o’ manners lairned in them big towns, yon.”
“Now what do I need manners for? I can still outrun you any day.”
He clapped the man on the shoulder and ran up the steps and into the warmth of his home.
“Barclay. Good to see you looking so hearty.”
The butler approached with a broad smile. “Welcome home, sir. Welcome home. Her Ladyship said to expect you, but we weren’t sure when.” He took Ian’s coat. “Your room is prepared, of course. And there’s a fire in the parlor if you’d fancy warming yourself…”
“Efficient as always, Barclay. Not sure if this place would survive without you.” Ian nodded at the parlor. “Is my Mother in there?”
“Indeed sir.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
She was waiting for him, a smile on her face, her arms wide as she stood by the window. “There you are, my boy. Come here and give me a hug.”
He willingly obeyed—this was the woman that ha
d given him life. He measured all other women against her and most fell short. She loved him unreservedly and was never afraid or ashamed to say so to anyone who asked.
Although his decision to become a Bow Street Runner was controversial, to say the least, she had stood by him, understanding his need to experience a different side of life than he would ever see at Kilmalochan.
He smelled her scent, that unmistakable blend of lavender and heather. And knew he was home.
Then she pulled back, looked him up and down…and boxed his ears.
“Owww.” He jumped and put a hand to his head. “What was that for?”
“For wedding that poor girl without even having the grace to tell her.” Katherine spun on her heel and walked away with an angry flounce. Then she turned back. “What were you thinking? How could you do that, Ian?”
“I…well…you see…”
“I don’t see. Not at all. I’m going to assume you wished to bed her. I am not surprised, because a more beautiful woman I don’t think I’ve ever seen in my entire life. But lusting for her and marrying her to get in her bed? I ask again. What the hell were you thinking?”
Ian felt the blush, but held his mother’s gaze. “Of course I wanted her. But I also think I’ve made the mistake of falling in love with her. She doesn’t know who I am, other than a Bow Street Runner, and I wanted to keep it that way. I wanted her to love me back. Not for what I have or what I can give her, but for who I am.”
“So you tricked her into a hand-fasting?”
“Truthfully, Mama, that was an accident. She’d the worst leg cramps after a long ride from Natherbury Fell. So I carried her to the room and we ran into a set of London busybodies. She was the one who said we were wed. Plus, there was only one damn room at the Inn and the clerk made the obvious mistake about us. Circumstances set our feet on that path, not me.”
“You didn’t step off it,” his mother pointed out.
“Well, no. I didn’t.” Ian acknowledged that. “And I’m not sorry either. She’s no shrinking tender virgin, Mama. But she’s the woman for me.” He lifted his chin. “Is she here?”
Katherine shook her head. “No, she’s at the gamekeeper’s cottage. Mallory and his wife are over in Jedburgh for their granddaughter’s christening. So I took her there, fed her and left her to think in peace and quiet.”
Ian sagged into a chair and put his head in his hands. “So what do I do, Mama? Do you think she’ll ever speak to me again, now that she knows we’re wed?”
His mother relented. “Ian, if ever there was a woman in agonies over whether she’s ruined a man’s life, it’s your Amelia. She’s convinced that she’s the wrong woman for you. That her past renders her ineligible. And she may be right…”
His head shot up at that. “She’s not. That’s my decision, not hers.”
Katherine rolled her eyes. “You know, you are very much like your father sometimes.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Where is he, by the way?” asked Ian.
“Out shooting with The Wayburn.” Katherine shrugged. “Two old men who can barely see to the end of a field and they’re off bagging game. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear the game laughing at them.”
Ian, who knew “The Wayburn” to be a local character with more money than sense, agreed. “Will they be back tonight?”
She shook her head. “No, they’re gone for a few days. Probably to end up in the Wayburn Arms, telling tall stories and depleting the supply of Scotch.”
Ian, who had a fondness for Wayburn Scotch, envied his father, but was smart enough not to say so.
“May I bring Amelia here?”
Katherine was silent for a few moments, then nodded. “I think you should. She’s your wife, whether she likes it or not. And it’s time you straightened that out between you. Then you can tell her the rest…and pray to God she doesn’t run you through with your own Sgian-Dubh.”
Ian grinned. “Why do you think I’m not wearing the kilt?”
His mother laughed. “All right, you do have a few brains left.”
Both knew that wearing the kilt included the ceremonial dagger tucked into the sock. It was a real weapon and there was no doubt in Ian’s mind that Amelia would threaten him with it if she felt the need.
He smiled, proud of the woman he’d chosen. Not that she’d skewer him with his own blade, but that she was strong enough to seize any weapon if the situation demanded it. She had an inner core that he believed was the equal of many a man. Which, given her exquisite beauty, was unexpected, to say the least.
“So are you going to fetch her, or shall I just stand here and watch until you’ve finished thinking?”
Ian sighed. “Mother, sometimes I really do understand why father goes hunting.”
“Cheeky pup.” She crossed the room and embraced him. “Go and get your wife. Bring her here. Lay it all out and make it work.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Ian kissed her cheek, hugged her and almost ran from the room. It was time to settle things with Amelia. And finally, formally, claim her as his wife.
He couldn’t wait.
*~~*~~*
Alone in the small cottage after Katherine had left on an errand, Amelia had found the peace and quiet she sought. She finally began to think, settled in a comfortable chair by an open window.
She could hear the birds and the rustle of the trees as the breeze stiffened and shook the limbs now and again.
It was restful, and her mind calmed with the tranquility.
She was married…there was no question about that at all. Katherine had confirmed the long-standing Scottish tradition that Hetty had talked about. If a couple declared themselves wed three times in front of other people, then yes, it was a fact.
So Amelia’s first topic of consideration was how she felt about that. About being Ian’s wife. Mrs. Ian McPherson.
Strangely enough, the notion of being Ian’s wife brought nothing but a smile to her face and a warmth to her heart. She didn’t care about anything but seeing him with that look of desire on his face. That certain softness in his eyes when he looked at her sometimes.
Was he rich? No. Did that matter? No. Rich, poor or in between, anything was more than she had right now.
She had learned the value of people as opposed to the value of things. It hadn’t been a long journey to get here, but in the last weeks her life had turned upside down and with that upset had come clarity. The loss of her ruby had set her on a strange road, one she could neither anticipate nor predict.
Stripped of everything that was familiar, she had been forced to rely on herself, discovering that she could do more than she realized. That she was more than she had previously believed.
And now, she was married.
How that would work out—well, it wasn’t just her decision. Ian had to have a say in this whole business.
But, as she gazed out into the beauty of a sunny evening, she accepted another truth. She’d be quite happy to be Mrs. Ian McPherson.
“’T’is a beautiful sight.”
His voice made her jump. “Ian.” She stood. “How did you know where I was?”
“I’d have found you if you’d run all the way to John o’Groats, Amelia.”
“Where?”
“It’s way north—oh never mind.” He walked to her and took both her hands in his. “We’ve some talking to do, haven’t we?”
“Yes we do,” she agreed. “We’re in a bit of a mess, Ian.”
“And it’s entirely my fault.” He did his best to sound humble.
“That goes without saying.” She gave him the eyebrow.
He grinned. “I can hear my mother saying much the same thing.” He raised her hands and kissed the backs of them. “Will you come to my house for a bite to eat, Amelia? Then we can work all this out between us.”
She was intrigued. “You live near here?”
“I do. Kilmalochan is only a mile or so fr
om here.”
“Then yes, Ian. I would like to visit your home and have dinner. I confess to being a bit hungry.”
“You’ll have to ride…”
“I can do it.” She squared her shoulders. “I managed today.”
“You ran away from me today, love.” He closed the window and locked it. “Please don’t do that again. Especially not when I’ve just found your ruby.”
She gasped. “Really? You found it?”
“Well actually I bought it.” He led her outside to where the horses were tied.
“Ian.” She froze. “You what?”
“It’s a long story, best told over a good meal.” He handed her Strawberry’s reins. “Up with you.” And he threw her into the saddle.
“Wait. Shouldn’t I leave a note or something for Katherine? The lady who let me stay here…Mrs. McAllan.”
Ian chuckled. “Don’t worry about her, lass. I know her well. She’ll be happy you’re with me.”
He mounted and brought his horse beside hers. “All right then?”
“All right.” She smiled and let him take the lead.
How could he have bought her ruby? And was he sure it was hers? She had so many questions, but asking them while on horseback was not a good idea. She needed a clear head, not a sore rump, and somewhere she could focus on all the things he was telling her.
If she had her ruby back…well, she was at least independent. The money that would bring would certainly provide an ample living. Or restore Natherbury Fell.
Whether she wanted to? Well that was a different question.
Other than the occasional question as to her welfare, Ian remained silent for most of the ride. Her constant worry—that he was regretting their “marriage”—dogged her thoughts, to the point where she was glad of the silence between them.
Finally, he halted beside a tall hedge, overhung with heavy branches of chestnut and firs.
“We’re almost there.” He moved their horses close and took her hand. “We turn left here and you’ll see my home.”
She smiled. “How lovely. I’m looking forward to it.”
“I hope you like it.” He sounded nervous.