"The next village," she replied, trying not to be specific. "Done?" she asks, referring to the meat on the open fire.
"Aye." He cut out some part of the meat and then stopped. "Ah umnae, stupid, ma money?"
Amelia brought out a small bag of coins fixed to her waist on her renaissance under her plaid. The man looks at her closely, while Amelia returns the look. She gives him the 'Don't even think about it' look, and he seems to understand correctly. She brings out twenty-five cents and gives it to him.
"You are a trader?" he asks. He cut out some meat and gives her.
"No," biting on the meat in hunger, "You?"
"Aye," he replies.
She looks around them. "What do ye trade?"
"Humans," he replies with a straight face. Amelia almost stops chewing in surprise at his response. Then the man burst out laughing with his other two men.
"Ye scared?"
"Nah, I'm not. I've seen worse." Whether the man was joking or not, she knows there is a bit of truth in what he said.
"You're trading those men you tied up there?" she asks him, pointing at Oliver and his rider who look like they have been beaten. They appear weary and hungry.
"That's ma personal business."
"If you want to make more money from them, you have to feed them, or they'll die; your loss," she advises him, biting reluctantly on her meat. The man looks at her for a moment, then signals to one of the guys to take them some meat.
"It will rain," he says, looking up the cloud. "You can camp here with us and leave in the morning. Also, give your cuddy some rest," he adds, pointing at Amelia’s horse.
Amelia didn't give him a response; she already made up her mind to camp here even before he said the words. She looks in the direction where Oliver and his rider are tied up. From their dressing, she can tell that one of them is noble, and another is a rider. Amelia watches them struggling to eat with tied hands. She knows what it feels like to be a prisoner. What could they have done?
Amelia feels a rough hand slowly running over her and touching her breast. She wasn't sure if she was still in dreamland or not. The hand touches her lips, and she can feel clumsiness in it on the skin of her lips. Leaving her lips, the hand went down towards her thigh, aiming for her female region. Is this a dream or not?
Bit by bit, she opens her eyes, but all she could see was faint darkness. Where is she? Trying to gather her environment and recollect she remembers. She is camping with some traders. The hand stroking her thigh sharpens her attention immediately.
She attempts to push it off and stand up, but the hand pushes her back on the hard ground and forces its way to her lady area. She jerks, kicks, and tries to shout, but the hand covers her mouth. She traces the hand to the face of the person and feels a scar there; she knows who he is. She tries pushing him off her, but he is too heavy for her. Then she targets his eyeballs and presses it harder. He screams. Feeling him weak, she kicks his manhood hard, and he screams more loudly and frees her.
She jumps up immediately, but he grabs her again with anger and tries to reach for her neck while she resists with all her strength. She is no match for him as he is a strong man. She remembers seeing a pistol on his waist yesterday evening, so she grabs it and shot him in the belly. He falls to the ground, and she reshoots him just to be sure he’s dead.
Amelia hears approaching footsteps. She knew his men would come when they heard the gunshot and screaming. Dodging and at the same time aiming for him, she shoots one of the men running toward her. There were three men, where is the last one?
Perhaps he is with their prisoners; men whom they plan to bounty in exchange for money. Quietly, she goes to where they were tied, and there is the third man. He is almost sleeping; he probably drank a lot of wine. Seeing Amelia, he stands alert, but before he pulls the trigger, she shoots before him, and he slumps dead immediately. Oliver watches her in awe. Amelia takes a pocket knife from the dead man's pocket and cuts free the ties on their hands.
Chapter 6
'Who is she?' Oliver asks himself as he watches Amelia search the dead bodies for valuable items. She doesn't look like a fighter, but she does know how to aim with a pistol. Her attire doesn't look like the high-born but that of a farm girl. Is she a petty thief who camouflages as a traveller to steal people's belongings? If she had the intention of stealing, why would she help free him and his rider?
"You should leave; anyone could pass here and link you to these bodies," Amelia says as she ties a bag of water, leftover meat, money, and a pistol on her horse. "You can have their cuddies; it'll make your journey easier."
Looking straight at her now, Oliver notices one thing, she is a natural when it comes to beauty.
"Where are you heading too?" Oliver asks.
"To the next village," she quickly gives him the same reply she gave to the man to prevent him from asking further questions.
"Which one?" he throws in almost immediately.
His question occurs to Amelia that she has no idea of the name of the place she is heading toward. She has been entering villages without knowing their names. She has only been fleeing, hoping Clach never finds her.
"It seems you don't know where you are heading to but wandering around," he adds. "No matter how you keep wandering, that food and money you steal won't..."
"I didn't steal them!"
"Oh ... sorry, borrowed mayhap. I mean they are dead, what use is it to them." He shrugs and smiles at her, but she didn't reciprocate.
"Forgive my manners. Thank you, if you weren't here, we'd still be tied up to that tree or probably been bounty away."
Amelia nods and starts climbing her horse, but Oliver quickly adds again.
"You can come with us. I'm sure you don't know where you are going. That food and money won't last you for long," Oliver says with pleading eyes.
He is right, Amelia thinks; soon, she will run out of food and water. If she continues to wander from one village to the next, she won't have enough to sustain her. Moreover, she will do anything to have a warm place to lie on, a good meal, and enough shelter in this windy weather.
"It's my little way of saying thank you," Oliver adds again.
"Where're you headed?" Amelia asks, just to be sure he is not another man hungry for the reward placed on her by Laird Clach. Though he looks like a noble who could care less about bounties, she has to be sure.
"Montrose."
She has heard quite a lot about Montrose, and it seems similar to Arbroath, they say. If this young man promises to shelter and feed her, then it's to her advantage. She could begin a new life there.
"Well, lead the way," she finally says.
A little bit of excitement rushes within Oliver on hearing her words. Why? He has no idea; at least he gets to see her around.
"Oh," he smiles sheepishly. "Forgive me manners, again. I'm Oliver." He stretches his hand for a handshake. She reciprocates after a minute look at him.
"Amelia."
"A beautiful name for a bonnie lady," he says, still smiling. "This is my rider, Douglas." The rider greeted with a wave of a hand. They take the dead men’s horses and ride away.
They rode for hours that day, and Oliver concludes that Amelia doesn't talk much. He watches her silently as she gets lost in her thoughts. What is on her mind? Aside from what could have led to his father's death, now he has some burning questions about this young lady, and the only way he can get answers is to ask.
"You seemed quite good back there," he tries opening up a conversation. "Not everyone can aim perfectly with a pistol. How did you learn?"
"My father; I hunted with him several times," she answers, seeing what he is trying to do.
"Killing a man is one thing; hunting is another one." Amelia didn't reply to this.
Oliver asks further. "Is this the first time you killed a man?" He knows that she is not an amateur as she did it without remorse, but he is curious. And again, he has to keep her talking else she will go silent on him again.
/> "Nah, the second time." She looks away.
"Hmm, with a pistol for food?"
"I did it for ma freedom, the auld man took me as a captive for sex, and I stabbed him before he could do it for a second time." She snaps with anger, then quietly added, "Though I stole his money and this cuddy" patting her horse.
He nods, understanding her. Being a lady and wanderer can leave her as prey in the hands of hungry men. Even though she didn't come from a wealthy background and was beaten by the wind, her beauty still can’t be overlooked.
Her pale skin looks dull due to the harsh weather, but the softness can easily be noticed. Her amber-colored eyes perfectly suit her light brown hair, which falls by the sides of her oval face. The hair looks like a comb hasn't been run on it for a long time, and it makes him wonder how long she has been wandering villages. But most of all, what is causing her to run? She looks like a young lady in her early twenties. What exactly could she be running for?
"What could make a quinie roam from one village to another? Running from something?" he asks her.
Amelia knows that if she didn't say anything or ignored this particular question as she had done to the others, he would suspect her. Moreover, he is right; something must have made a young girl like her roam on these dangerous roads.
"Running from home, Ma da wants to marry me out for a debt." Well, at least this is close to the truth.
"Whit! That's like bargaining you out. How can a father do that?" he says. Amelia shrugs.
"For how long have you been on the road?"
"Couple of months."
"Well, I hope he doesn't get to find you; that's an awful thing to do."
Oliver now understands how she must have felt and the reason for her silence. Most times, parents do want to extend their decisions on their children like he tried to do, but not to swap him. Silently, he thanks his father for the genuine love for him, aside from the differences they had.
Chapter 7
For the past three days, Amelia has been on the road with Oliver, and she has learned a few things about him. According to him, his late parents lived in Montrose while he pursued his passion as a painter in Dunfermline. However, the sudden death of his father brought him back home.
He never mentioned if he is from a noble home or not, and she doesn’t bother to ask him. She has come to trust him, even with the little she knew of him. In the past days, they have loosened up and talked freely with each other. With this, Amelia feels that she could trust him.
Having ridden for the past three days, Oliver suggests they camp to let the horses rest. Reaching Montrose will take them another two, or a day and a half if the horses could go faster. Optimistically, he hopes his Uncle hasn't buried his father without him. Although, he would have reached Montrose on time if he hadn't encountered the men who held him hostage.
The three travellers camp by the roadside for the night to continue the next day. Lying in her tent, Amelia can still feel the chilling breeze of the wind running into her tent, even with her warm clothes. A warm room would be the best remedy for a night like this. Lying there on the hard ground, she wonders how Oliver is coping with the weather. Probably better or more warmed up than her. He and Douglas share a tent. Lucky for them, two in a room can accumulate heat to warm them up; thus, they are better off than her.
She marvels at what it will be like to lie next to or with a man like Oliver. How broad is his chest? Can it be wide enough to envelop a lady like her? How many women has he been with? With the kind of work he does, she is sure he must have been with a lot of them. Especially those who want him to paint them raw, without clothes. Or better still, what is he like without clothes? Amelia shivers with the thought of this. After all, he is a handsome man; she likes the way his sharp jaw and dark eyes are in exact proportion to his face.
Her thoughts are immediately brought to a halt as she hears movement outside her tent. Quickly she becomes alert...
"Miss Amelia?" a voice calls, she recognizes the voice as Oliver. Why would he be looking for her at this late hour? She stands up and opens the tent. There is darkness everywhere, but the moon's reflection gives a dim light. He walks into her tent.
"The night is cold. I was wondering how you are coping?" he says. Though Amelia couldn't see his face, his voice sounded hoarser than it used to be.
"It's quite chilling," she replies. Amelia doesn't know why she is having a sudden flush of warmth within her.
"Can I keep you warm?" he asks her.
"Ahem ... sure. But I feel bad for Douglas."
"He can manage, he's a man."
He locates where she is lying and lays next to her; he envelops her and embraces her tightly. His chest is as broad as she had imagined. He held her tightly, and slowly the chill she has been feeling is gradually fading away.
Her face was on his chest, and she could hear his heartbeat and smell his masculine aroma. In his arms, she feels safe. Safe from Clach, sheltered from the old man who took her captive for sex. And safe from the man who she has also saved him from. All her life, her experience with men has been terrible, but there is something about Oliver that wants to make her trust.
Listening to his gentle breathing as they lay there, she questions herself on what Oliver thinks of her. Does he see her as a beautiful woman similar to those he has been with? Or does he see her as a young lady who has been through a lot and needs pitying? Admittedly, it could be pity.
As if he could hear the thoughts going in on her mind, Oliver releases her from his embrace. Smoothly, he traces her face from her hair to find her lips; he lifts her face to meet his and gently places his lips on hers. Amelia had wished for this but, at the same time, didn't expect it. He sweeps her lips in between his and a passionate sensation dashes in her stomach. Amelia found herself reciprocating more to the kiss than she would have expected. She locks her tongue with his, and he moans deeply and deepens the kiss. Lost in this passion, he moves his hand, which he has been placing on her head to her waist, then slowly to her arse, then slowly to her breast. Amelia loves the feeling of this. She moans and holds him closer. After a few minutes, which seems like forever, he releases her lips.
He strokes her hair and kisses her forehead. This is the first time Amelia is experiencing this sort of feeling. While still embracing her, he strokes her hair as they both fall asleep.
Arriving at the castle, Amelia is surprised that Oliver never mentioned that his father was a laird and one of the famous, wealthy Montrose merchandisers. On seeing him, everyone welcomes him heartedly with surprised faces. Possibly, they never knew he would be back for his father's funeral. Of all those who were surprised to see him was his father's brother Elliot.
Oliver instructs one of the maids in the castle to take Amelia to her chamber to freshen up. The maid did as she was told with respect and without hesitation. This was a new kind of atmosphere for Amelia, and she loves it.
She had her bath and wears the new gown a maid had brought in as requested by Oliver. Amazingly, it fits perfectly. A maid comes in and informs her that Oliver wishes to see her in the study.
Approaching the study as directed by the maid, she hears voices, and one of them is Oliver's. Upon reaching the door, she sees Oliver and the aged man he had earlier introduced to her as his Uncle. When the man sees her, he storms out of the study in anger. Amelia noticed that Oliver has cleaned up too, and he looks more dashing than before. He smiles at her.
"Did I cause a problem?" she asks as she walks towards him.
"Nah. Uncle Elliot and I have always had our differences." He scrutinizes her from up to down, and his smile deepened; he holds her hands. "You are a beauty, a stouter."
She laughs. "All thanks to you. The gown is beautiful though I am a pure nick."
"Naw, don't say that." He kisses her. "I'm glad you are here."
"Me too. And you never told me you are a son to a laird."
“I’m sorry, I’m not used to telling people.” He kisses her again and then embraces her.
She holds him too in an embrace. Just then, Amelia's eyes draw on the large portrait on the wall of the study. It is the portrait of an older man, the same older man she killed after taking her captive for sexual pleasure. How did Oliver know him?
She gently releases his embrace and asks him.
"Who is he?" pointing to the portrait.
He glances at the portrait and smiles. "That's my father. Alexander Adair"
No. That can't be!
Chapter 8
Just when she thinks she has finally found happiness, there goes her world crumbling. This can't be happening to her. How does she tell Oliver that she was the one who murdered her father?
Since the night Amelia found out that Oliver is Oliver Adair, Amelia's mind has been like a boat on distressed water. What tricks is her fate playing on her?
Not that she knew the old laird’s name then, everything she did was done out of self-defence. She never intended to run into him that night. If Isla's husband, Lewis, hadn't planned on shipping her to Laird Clach for pay, she wouldn't have to keep fleeing and walking into the den of Alexander; or perhaps if she hadn't run away from Clach.
Memories of that night keep vividly flashing in her mind. Months after leaving Isla's home, she remembers sullenly walking away that late afternoon. Alexander and his men had set up a tent as they went out hunting. One of his men had thought she was a bear. Luckily for her, she wasn't shot but was brought to Alexander himself. Instead of releasing her with at least some food, he kept her as his sex slave. For one week, he hid her and tied her up. He gave her food when he wanted to have her. She took her fate into her hands the second time he wanted sex again. She resisted him, but he hit her. Rebelliously, she managed to get hold of the knife he used while eating and stabbed him in the chest. Then he took his horse and a small bag of coins she had found and fled. Now, will Oliver believe she did it to defend herself and gain her freedom?
Highland Lover: A Historical Highlander Steamy Romance Collection (Highland Lover Series Book 6) Page 3