Captured by the Highlander

by Julianne MacLean

  Bluidy hell ! She just fled from you. She ran away in desperation, and the first thing she asked was whether or not Colonel Bennett was still here. She no doubt wanted to run straight into his arms and cry on his shoulder.”

  Duncan did not want to hear Iain’s speculations, for they were pointless now. Whatever happened when she first arrived was of no consequence, because that was before she and Duncan had reached an agreement.

  “Lady Amelia has agreed to become my wife,” he said.

  “She’ll be Countess of Moncrieffe as soon as the marriage can be arranged, and will not be able to speak against me as her husband. Her uncle and guardian, the Duke of Winslowe, will soon arrive, and I am certain he will approve the match.”

  Iain sat for a long moment without moving. “You’ve already proposed to Lady Amelia? And she has accepted you?”

  “Aye.” Duncan stood and walked to the window. He bent to peer through the telescope at a mother duck and her ducklings, waddling along the banks on the other side of the lake. Quite unexpectedly, he felt rather buoyant.

  “Are you sure it was not a ploy,” Iain asked, “to make you let down your guard, so she can escape you again?”

  Duncan straightened and looked up at the sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds. “I am not a fool, Iain. I know that she has feared me in the past, despised me, even. I cannot begin to make you understand what exists between us, but she gave me her word, and I gave her mine.” He faced his brother.

  “You know, she is very much like her father. Do you remember the duke from his visit last spring? He was a decent and honorable man.”

  Iain continued to stare at him in shock. “But she’s English, Duncan. The clan will not approve of an English countess.

  You already know what people say about you, since your negotiations with the duke. They say you only seek the King’s favor to increase your lands and treasury. Now you want to marry an English duke’s daughter? Besides all that, she’s still betrothed to Colonel Bennett.”

  Duncan sat down again. “She belongs to me now.”

  His brother sighed and leaned back against the cushions.

  “Your prisoner, still ?”

  “Nay,” he said angrily. “My wife.” He regarded his brother with challenge. “There is something else I must tell you. Now that I have made this pledge, certain things are going to change.”

  Iain sat forward again. His brow wrinkled with curiosity.

  “What things?”

  A knock sounded, and they both turned their attention to the door.

  Angus walked in and stood with a tight grip on the hilt of his sword. His golden hair was tied back in a queue. He had shaved and changed his shirt.

  “Did he tell you the latest news, Iain?” Angus asked, keeping his icy blue eyes fixed on Duncan. “That he’s going to marry that English vixen, just so she’ll keep her mouth shut?”

  “Aye,” Iain replied. “He just explained it to me.”

  Angus glowered at Duncan. “It would’ve been more prudent just to kill her, do you not think? It’s what you should’ve done back at the fort nearly a week ago, and spared us all a lot of grief and effort.” Duncan rose from his chair and strode toward Angus, who backed up and looked at Iain. “Did he also tell you he agreed to lay down his sword in exchange for her silence? And that he agreed to spare Richard Bennett’s life?”

  Iain shot a glance at Duncan. “Nay, he did not tell me that part.”

  “I was about to,” Duncan explained.

  He and Angus stood face-to-face in the center of the study. Angus spoke quietly. “Have you lost your fookin’ mind, Duncan?”

  “I know what I’m doing,” he growled.

  Angus paused. “But you shouldn’t have to give up everything you’ve fought for. You cannot let her talk you into letting Bennett live.”

  “Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do,” he warned.

  “The only reason you’re not drawing your sword to defend yourself right now is because I’m guessing you mean to forget the promise you made and take up your sword again the day after you speak your wedding vows. At least that’s what I hope.”

  Iain stepped in to interject. He was shorter than both men and for that reason had to look up to address them. “But it would be ungentlemanly,” he said “to break a promise to a lady. Especial y the daughter of a duke.”

  Angus glared down at him. “Ungentlemanly? Fook, Iain!

  You may dress like an Englishman, but the last time I checked, you were still a Scot. And you’re forgetting that your brother stripped the lassie bare in her bedchamber and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of turnips when he carried her out of the fort. Then he tied her up and threatened to skin her like a rabbit if she tried to escape. So I think it’s a little late for good manners.”

  Iain swallowed uneasily. “It’s never too late to be civil.”

  Angus leaned down close. “You never had the stomach for war, Iain. You always left that to others, so I suggest you stay out of this.”

  Iain’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He careful y backed away.

  Duncan met Angus’s cold, hard gaze. “I gave her my word.

  I’ll not be breaking it.”

  “And what about your word to me? ” Angus asked. “That together we would see my sister’s death avenged.”

  Duncan felt an unexpected stab of guilt, which he quickly pushed aside. “I’ll not defend myself to you.”

  A fierce moment of tension ensued; then Angus started for the door. “You may have pledged a vow to that Englishwoman, Duncan, but she heard no such vow from me.

  I owe her nothing.”

  Duncan followed him into the corridor. “Do not take this into your own hands, Angus. Leave Bennett to me.”

  Angus turned back. “Why? Does the fair English maiden mean that much to you? What about Muira? You loved her once. Can you forget her so easily? It hasn’t even been a year.”

  There was the guilt again. He felt it in his chest. “I forget nothing. I only want to end the bloodshed. I’m sure it’s what she would’ve wanted.”

  But did he real y believe that? He had no idea. He had not even considered it until this moment. He had been considering nothing but his own needs and desires.

  “My sister would have wanted to see Richard Bennett’s head on a spike,” Angus argued, backing down the length of the corridor. “But you’ve chosen that Englishwoman over her and your friends, as well .” His brow creased. “What’s happened to you, Duncan? Where is the man I knew—the brave Scot who fought beside me on the battlefield at Sherrifmuir? The fierce Highlander who raised his sword against tyranny and injustice? Have you forgotten everything your proud father raised you to be? Do you mean to forget Scotland, too?”

  “I forget nothing,” Duncan replied. “I’ll have my vengeance.

  I’ve taken Bennett’s woman, as he took mine.”

  “But what the fook do you plan to do with her?”

  A knot of tension balled up in Duncan’s gut.

  Angus shook his head. “So that’s it, then. You’ve made your decision, so I’ll be leaving you now, because clearly, like your softhearted brother, you no longer have the stomach for war, either.”

  With that, Angus turned and descended the stairs.

  Duncan backed up against the wall and pounded his fist repeatedly against the cold, hard stones of the castle corridor.

  * * *

  The letter to Richard was not easy to write, but it was almost done.

  Amelia set down the quill for a moment and leaned back in the chair. What would her father have made of this decision? she wondered as she glanced about the former countess’s lavish red bedchamber, where she was now situated and would forever remain.

  Something told her that—without knowing of Duncan’s dual identity, of course—her father would have been pleased to see her wed the great Earl of Moncrieffe. He was an aristocrat, after all , who lived in a luxurious palace and possessed more wealth than anyone could imagine. Her fath
er might very well have chosen Duncan over Richard last spring, for Richard was the third son of a baron and would have been forced to rely on her dowry and her father’s future generosity, if he’d survived, to provide them with the comforts to which she was accustomed.

  Not that any of those customary comforts ever mattered to her, nor did they matter now. Nevertheless, this exquisite palace would be her home and she would spend the rest of her days here, knowing that she had at least steered the infamous Butcher of the Highlands away from his lust for blood and vengeance. She had used what power she had over him to temper his rage.

  She thought about that particular power she possessed.…

  She was not a fool. She knew he wanted to bed her, and that mutual sexual desire was the basis for everything. It was why he was willing to give up his vengeance for her. It had played a part in her own actions as well , for she wanted him.

  She could not deny it. She was aroused by his physical prowess and his own personal savage breed of heroics.

  And so …

  He would come to her bed each night to satisfy his appetite for her body, and she, too, would satisfy her own urges and curiosities. In a way, he would take his vengeance out on Richard through her. Through the ownership of her body. She had resigned herself to it, was even anticipating it—but at the same time it was a frightening notion indeed, to imagine the complete unleashing of that man’s passions.

  And her own, as well .

  She sat forward and somehow managed to finish the letter.

  A moment later, she was handing it to the footman outside her door, then donning a shawl to go and meet Josephine, Iain’s wife, who had offered to take her on a tour of the castle and grounds. She imagined it was going to be very awkward, meeting this woman who knew everything about the situation, including the reasons why Amelia was suddenly betrothed to her brother-in-law.

  Amelia hurried downstairs and entered the reception room where she had met Iain earlier that morning. Josephine sat in a chair by the window with an open book on her lap.

  She glanced up and closed it when Amelia walked in.

  “I am pleased you did not get lost along the way,”

  Josephine said, rising to her feet. “The corridors of the castle can be difficult to navigate.”

  Tasteful y dressed in a modest blue silk gown, Iain’s wife was prettier than Amelia had expected. Slender, blond, and blessed with a lovely smile, Josephine exuded a charismatic grace that helped to calm Amelia’s nerves.

  “Indeed, I hesitated after crossing the bridge from the keep, but in the end, I was able to find my way.”

  Josephine approached and held out her hands. “You’ll learn every corner and crevice of this magnificent bastion before long. I’ll see to it personal y. I am very happy to meet you, Lady Amelia. You have no idea how pleased I was to learn that I would have a sister.”

  Amelia was surprised by how quickly she warmed to this woman’s greeting when she had felt so unsure about her decisions and had not known what to expect from Iain’s wife.

  “We will stroll through the interior first,” Josephine suggested, leading Amelia toward the door, “and then we will venture outdoors and become better acquainted.”

  The tour began with a return to the keep, where Josephine adhered to a courteous and leisurely pace through the banqueting hall , the heraldry room, the chapel, and final y into a central courtyard with a decorative stone fountain.

  Afterward, they returned to the main castle. Amelia was shown through every cozy guest chamber—she lost count after seven of them—as well as the library, three drawing rooms, and final y the dining room, the kitchens, and the impressive wine cellar.

  At long last, they exited the castle through a side door and made their way along a stone walk that led to the stables.

  The sun was shining, and Amelia lifted her face to feel its warmth on her cheeks.

  “Let us be honest now, shall we?” Josephine said, linking her arm through Amelia’s. “Clearly you are distressed. You’re about to marry the Butcher of the Highlands.”

  Amelia exhaled heavily. “If only I could explain how difficult it has been.”

  “Please try, Amelia. You can tell me anything. I am a woman, and I will understand. I know the circumstances of what brought you here, and it cannot have been easy.”

  Josephine’s understanding opened a floodgate of emotions and explanations. Amelia described Duncan’s terrifying appearance over her bed at the fort and all the things that had occurred in the following days. She told Josephine about Fergus and Gawyn and Angus and how they had treated her. She described the details of her first escape to the English camp and what revelations had followed regarding her opinions about this country as well as her own. She also told Josephine about meeting the boy, Elliott, and how Duncan had been a very different person that day.

  “That is the Duncan I know,” Josephine said. “And I believe that is the man you will come to know as your husband. Not the Butcher. You will forget that other side of him. It is certainly not a side I see very often. He will win your respect and your love, Amelia. You must trust me in that.”

  Amelia swallowed over the jagged rock of uncertainty that had lodged itself in her throat. “I wish I could be so sure of everything.”

  “Give it time.”

  They strolled across the bailey to a sundial, which indicated the hour with precise accuracy.

  “I must confess,” Josephine said, “that I am pleased I can final y speak openly to another woman about my brother-in-law’s activities as a rebel and a hero of Scotland. It has always been a well -guarded secret, but I am so pleased that I will not betray any confidences by regaling his efforts to fight for Scotland in every possible way. There are things I could tell you…”

  “That would be helpful,” Amelia replied. “I want to know all that is good about him, so that perhaps I will find this easier to manage.”

  They strolled along the perimeter of the castle island.

  “Despite what you must think,” Josephine said, “he is a good man and deserves his happiness. He has not known much of it in a long time.” She described his grief over losing Muira, and her hope that when he found love again the weight of his sorrows would grow lighter.

  Amelia pondered this new life and Duncan’s obvious torment, as well as her ability to bring him out of it, as Josephine hoped. She had made considerable demands on him that morning, asking him to lay down his sword, believing it was in his best interest, and they had both entered into this arrangement hastily. She felt very daunted.

  “Let me tell you some tales about his heroics,” Josephine began. “There is one particular story about his courage at the Battle of Inveraray, where he stormed the Campbellstronghold like a wild Viking warrior of old. And then I’ll tell you how devoted and generous he is, as laird of this castle.

  He gives work to anyone who wants it; he shares his wealth and takes an interest in the lives of those in his care. He does not allow for dishonor among his people. A bad egg is punished or banished, and he has the loyalty of all who serve him.”

  As they slowed their pace along the stone walk, Amelia listened to Josephine’s homily and realized how very little she actual y knew about the complicated man who would soon be her husband.

  She wondered uneasily when her uncle would arrive and what he would make of her decision.

  And Richard, of course. She wondered when he would receive her letter.

  * * *

  That night, they dined at opposite ends of the long table with Iain and Josephine. It was a bountiful feast of oyster soup, Cornish hens, fresh vegetables, and imported wine from the south of France. After a dessert of brandied peaches and cream with chocolate truffles, they played cards in the blue drawing room and conversed about theater and politics, laughed over light gossip.

  Amelia was astounded by the fact that everything was so conventional, and there were times she felt almost comfortable and was able to laugh genuinely, without pretense. She
felt more at home here than she did in her own house since her uncle had taken up residence. It was not that she did not love her uncle. He was a kind and agreeable man. But he was older, and there was something very relaxed yet exciting about these young Highlanders. Even Beth MacKenzie and her family had made Amelia feel at ease in a way she had not expected. The mood in their modest cottage had been cozy and without airs.

  These Scots knew how to laugh and tease and ignore the rules that could sometimes suffocate a polite young lady of good breeding at a dinner party. Amelia did not feel suffocated this evening. Strangely enough, she felt free, easy, and astonished by Duncan’s casual charm.

  She recalled what Josephine had said to her that day: I believe that is the man you will come to know as your husband. Not the Butcher. You will forget that other side of him. It is certainly not a side I see very often. He will win your respect …

  Indeed, when one was not in the position of fearing the gleam of his axe, his wit was vastly entertaining. Tonight, at least, there was nothing savage or barbaric about him. He was the very model of elegance and refinement.

  She had a feeling, however, as she glanced at the clock, that things would be very different when he came to her bed.

  At the mere thought of it, her heart began to flutter. She met his striking gaze from across the room.

  The heat she saw in his eyes told her that it was time to retire.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shortly after midnight, Amelia heard a sound in the corridor.

  Her belly exploded with nervous butterflies, but she made a silent vow that she would not cower. She would enjoy this and focus on the pleasures, of which she knew there would be many. She’d already experienced a number of them in the mountains, and her passion for Duncan was part of the reason why she’d accepted his proposal in the first place.

  But there would be pain when she gave up her virginity tonight. She knew that, too. He was a generously proportioned and virile man. She sat up in the bed and hoped she would be able to accommodate him.