“Perhaps it would be an improvement,” she snapped back sending the men into another burst of laughter.
“Aye, that it might, but then I would nae be afforded the pleasures that are still tae come.” The man ran his dirty hand over Amelia’s face, and she bit at it like a stubborn horse in defiance.
“There are no pleasures to be found here for you, sir,” she bit out the words as if by sheer force of will she could turn them into daggers to pierce his heart.
“Upon that we disagree.” The first man ran his hand up the fabric of her trouser leg. Amelia jerked it away and attempted to stumble to a standing position. The man grabbed at her waist pulling her back down hard upon the ground.
“I am nae done with ye, lass. Why dinnae ye settle down and we can get tae kennin’ each other a wee bit better?”
“Never!”
All three men grinned knowingly at one another in a gruesome expression of shared lust and ill intent. Amelia felt as if she might vomit in the grass at the things she saw in their eyes. The men’s eyes were bloodshot with drink, but they were sober enough to keep their bearings stopping her attempts at escape with every turn. The first man descended upon her as a ravenous wolf without form or restraint. He clawed at her clothing in an attempt to pull them free of her body. Amelia screamed as she fought off her attacker.
A shot rang out across the windswept moor and one of the men standing over her fell dead upon the ground. Another shot rang out and the second man lay much as the other. The man on top of her now lay flat on his belly, breathing hard, attempting to stay below the rocks. The sight of his dead comrades had cooled his ardor interrupting his disgusting vulgar plans for Amelia’s person. He grappled to cock the pistol that he had taken from her and pointed it out upon the empty space in front of them. The sound of another pistol cocking overhead stopped him mid breath.
“Unhand the lady,” Tristan’s voice demanded coldly from above.
Amelia turned to find his bold blue eyes staring down at the man lying atop of her with a murderous light. Every muscle in his being jumped and twitched as if his body could not contain all of the anger he felt. The man atop her quivered in fear as he crawled up off of Amelia’s torso. “Please dinnae kill me,” the man whimpered.
“Would you have given the lady the same courtesy?”
“O’ course,” the man sniveled. “It was all just a bit o’ fun, lads. If ye wanted a piece o’ her all ye had tae do was ask. I would have shared her with ye. I am nae a greedy man.” The man pulled a Sgian Dubh from his belt and attempted to stab Tristan in the ribs.
Tristan growled low in his throat as he pulled the trigger. Blood spattered all over Amelia’s face and chest. She screamed in fear and disgust, the man falling atop her feet caused a sharp pain to travel up her legs at the impact. She scurried out from beneath his weight screaming. She attempted to flee the scene and ran straight into Fergus’ arms.
“Och, lass,” he commiserated pulling a cloth from his jacket pocket for her to wipe her face with. Amelia lay her head against Fergus’ chest and wept. “I told ye it was nae safe for ye tae go traipsin’ about the countryside on yer own, lass. Why did ye run off and put yerself in harm’s way? Ye had me and the lads worried sick for ye.”
“I am sorry, Fergus. I did not mean for any of this to happen. I only wished to find Grace. It is all for Grace.” Amelia melted into sobs as she clung to the front of the Scotsman’s shirt.
“Och, lass. Hau dyer wheesht. Dinnae fash. We found ye in time and that is all that matters.”
“A sight more than that matters,” Tristan bit out angrily from behind Amelia’s back. “Do you know what could have happened here? Do you have any notion of what that man would have done to you?”
Amelia stiffened in anger. “As he was atop of my body and not yours, I would say I have a better notion than you.”
“You do not have the faintest of ideas what could have befallen you here today! He could have raped you! They all could have violated you in turn! Even if they had not killed you, you would have wished that they had!” By this point Tristan was shouting, shaking with anger. Amelia had never seen him thus before.
Amelia herself was also shaking out of a combination of fear and anger making it very difficult to hold herself steady without Fergus’s bodily support. “I think the lass has been through enough. Dinnae ye think so, My Laird?” Fergus eyed Tristan’s stance warily.
“Nay, I do not. She must learn that she cannot run off whenever she pleases, placing herself and those charged with her care in danger. She is going back to Canterley, Fergus, and you are taking her there. She can face the wrath of the Viscount, for if it is I who doles out the punishment I may never cease from beating her.”
Amelia’s eyes flashed with anger and she turned to face her new opponent. “I would shoot you dead where you stand before I would allow you to do so.”
“You have no choice in the matter.”
“I have every choice. My sister…” she began but was interrupted.
“Is Henry’s fiancé but you do not see him running off like a spoiled child whenever he gets angry putting the rest of us in danger. Do you honestly believe that what you have done here has helped Grace in any way? If anything, your little excursion has put her at further risk because now a portion of our party must turn back and return you to Canterley instead of going forward.”
“I will not go!”
Tristan came to stand within a hair’s breadth of Amelia’s face. He was so close that she could feel his breath upon her forehead. “You will go if I have to knock you unconscious and tie you to your horse.”
The sound of a cocking pistol drew Tristan’s eyes down to his belly. Amelia had taken his secondary pistol from his belt without him even noticing. He backed up slowly raising his hands in the air to show her that he was not pointing a weapon at her.
“Och, lass! Ye dinnae ken what it is ye do,” Fergus moved to take the pistol from her but stopped when she moved her finger to the trigger.
“I meant it when I said that I would kill you, Tristan Knight. You, nor any man, will keep me from finding my sister.”
“Ye are mad with grief, lass. Ye ken nae what ye do.”
“Be that as it may, I mean what I say.”
“Amelia,” Henry’s voice called through the fog of her shock and anger. She felt cold from the inside out. Her near violation, though unsuccessful, had left its mark and she was losing her grip on sanity for the flood of emotions that threatened to drown her. “Amelia,” Henry tried again.
“Henry?”
“Yes, Amelia, it is I. Please put down the gun Amelia. I promise that I will not let them send you home if you will just put down the gun.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Swear by your love for Grace,” she commanded not sure whether to trust him.
“I swear by my love for Grace, Amelia, that I will not let them send you home.”
“As the highest-ranking nobleman here, you swear to me that I will be allowed to stay?”
“I swear it.”
The look on Tristan’s face said that he wished more than anything else to violate such an agreement, but Amelia knew that as a Duke, Henry out ranked both Tristan and her father. Whatever Henry said was law short of an edict from the King or Prince Regent. Nodding, Amelia moved away from Tristan lowering the pistol, but she did not release her hold on the gun.
“I will be keeping this,” she informed them as she mounted her horse. Before any of them could stop her, she took off down the road once more, leaving all three men to scramble for their horses. In but moments, she could hear the thunder of their horses’ hooves coming up behind her.
“Henry, this is a mistake,” she could hear Tristan condemning from behind her as they approached.
“Be that as it may, you will respect my wishes in this matter. Love is never a mistake, misguided at times perhaps, but never a mistake,” Henry answered. “All that Lady Amelia is guilt
y of is loving her sister and in that score, I am as guilty as she.”
“Yes, but you are not mad,” Tristan argued.
“Ah, but my dear fellow, that is where you are wrong.” Henry’s words provided Amelia with some comfort as he came to ride on the one side of her and Fergus on the other. Tristan passed the three of them and rode on ahead to ensure that the path ahead was safe. Amelia watched his ramrod posture. Every muscle in his body was tense with rage.
“He is angry now, lass, but it is anger born o’ fear. When he saw that cuddie atop o’ ye, he went mad with rage. We all feared for yer life, he more than anyone. The lad loves ye, lass. He cannae help himself.”
Amelia looked at Fergus in surprise. “What?”
“’Tis true, dear sister,” Henry supported Fergus’ assessment. “Tristan is as in love with you as I am with Grace.”
“That cannot be. I have never once given him cause to feel thusly toward me,” she argued in confusion.
“By simply drawing breath you have given him cause, my dear,” Henry answered, his eyes showing a wisdom far beyond his years.
“He has been little more than an annoying brother to me over the years. I cannot imagine…” she could not finish the sentence as she knew it to be a lie the moment it emerged from her lips. She had thought of him as more than a brother and she knew it. She turned to gaze once more upon Tristan’s rigid back. The tense muscles of his body threatened to burst his jacket seams. “I have no time to think of such matters now,” she replied instead.
“The heart does not listen to our sense of timing. It does what it wants, when it wants with us. It is but ours to keep up.”
Amelia thought upon Henry’s words as they continued on together in silence. She was still shaking from her near violation.
“Would ye truly have shot the laird, lass?”
“I do not know,” she answered. “I was in shock from the attack and was not myself.” She thought about it for a moment. “There is not a soul that I would allow to stop me from finding Grace, but no I do not believe I would have killed him.”
“That is good tae hear, lass. I would nae wish tae see ye bear the pain o’ such a choice.”
“Nor would I,” Henry agreed.
“I suppose that I will owe him an apology in time,” Amelia sighed, beginning to feel the shame of her prior behavior.
“In time, perhaps,” Henry nodded, “but not right now. You both need a bit of time and distance I believe.”
“Aye,” Fergus agreed.
They fell back into silence riding along the main road north each scanning the landscape for any sign of Grace or her kidnappers. They would stop from time to time and ask people along the way if they had seen anything. Most had not, but occasionally they would meet someone who had seen them in passing. Tristan continued to ride ahead for the remainder of the day. When night fell and they set up camp, he offered to stand first watch.
Amelia lay down on the cold hard ground, resting her head upon her saddle. After the frightful day’s events, she was somewhat afraid to go to sleep. The image of the man’s face leering over her flashed through her mind causing her heart to speed up in fear and her skin to break out in anxious perspiration. Her breath quickened in panic as she remembered the stench of him so clearly, she tasted it in her mouth. The memory was so vivid, so terrifying, that she could not close her eyes.
Thanks be to God that the fiend did not succeed in his attempts to further harm me. If he had… Amelia could not even finish the thought it was too horrifying.
She rolled over away from the sleeping forms of Fergus and Henry to stare out into the night. She could not stand to have her back to the unknown and felt better knowing that Tristan stood guard over them all. She knew that he was angry with her, and rightly so, but she could not allow him to keep her from her quest. Amelia would have surrendered her life willingly if it meant that Grace was found, but she had not intentionally set out to put it at risk. She hoped that Tristan would come to forgive her in time.
If he does not, I will accept it, but it would be unfortunate to lose such a family friend. Deep down she knew she was deluding herself. She would not be able to accept it and she knew that he was more than just a family friend, but she could not allow herself to entertain such an idea openly, even within her own mind. Grace was what mattered, she was all that mattered.
Amelia studied Tristan’s form in the darkness. She could not make out anything but a black outline, but its sturdy strength was oddly comforting to her. “Can you not sleep?” his voice traveled across the space between them.
“Nay,” she answered softly so as not to awaken Fergus or Henry. “The memory of the man that attacked me and the thought that such a thing could be happening to Grace as we speak…” her voice trailed off unable to bear the thought.
“You cannot think of such things or you will never sleep again, but I understand. I have been having similar thoughts myself.”
“I am terrified for her.” Silent tears streamed down her face.
“As am I. As are we all. Were I able to take this pain from you both, I would in an instant.”
“Thank you for aiding my family during this difficult time.”
“Always,” he promised, his tone of voice carrying a myriad of meanings. “Close your eyes. I will be here to stand watch over you through the night. You are safe.”
Amelia looked at his outline for a moment longer, then obeyed, secure in the knowledge that he would not allow anything harmful to befall her.
Chapter 8
Jonathan returned from another long day of questioning tenants and neighboring crofters from both his and Tristan’s estates. The Viscount had ridden to London to speak with his solicitor about what could be done to gather the funds needed for the ransom. With Amelia gone to Henry’s estate, Jonathan had been left alone to deal with the fallout of everyone’s grief and fear at Canterley.
I cannot believe that Amelia left me here to bear the burden of this alone. I do not believe she would ever have chosen to aid Henry over her own brother. In fact, I am not at all certain that she did go with Henry. I cannot imagine anything keeping her from being here in case of Grace’s safe return or another ransom note arriving unless… Unless she has gone looking for Grace herself.
Jonathan stopped in his tracks as he realized what she must have done. That would explain the absence of Fergus MacDonald as well.
The Viscount had been furious when he realized that the stablemaster was gone. Jonathan had at first suspected that Fergus had had something to do with the kidnapping. Even though the man had never given him cause to doubt his loyalty before, his absence during such a time of crisis was suspicious. When Henry’s letter had arrived explaining the situation Jonathan had been surprised but had accepted it; however, he had doubted that Henry’s letter had told the Viscount the entire story.
Amelia must be looking for Grace with Fergus and Henry. Why would they not include me in their plan? Were he not the only one of the family remaining at Canterley, Jonathan would have ridden for Slantonshire straight away. As it was, he could not leave and risk missing the next letter from Grace’s kidnappers. Frustrated, angry, and alone, Jonathan broke one of his father’s many rules and went below stairs in search of Mrs. O’ Boyle. He found her cooking his supper.
“Mrs. O’ Boyle,” he greeted with a nod.
“My Lord,” she greeted turning around in surprise. “Have ye found out anythin’ about our darlin’ girl?”
“Nay, I have not.”
“Come and sit, My Lord. Ye are weary to the bone. ‘Tis not good that ye have been left alone here in this big old house.” The cook bustled about the kitchen making him a cup of tea and dishing out a bowl of soup. It went completely against the strictures of his station to dine in the kitchen with the household staff looking on, but Jonathan was too tired and despondent to care. He had not slept the night through since Grace had been taken.
Sighing, he obeyed and sat down at the table against the far
kitchen wall. While he ate and drank, he watched the comings and goings of the household. Canterley ran as a well-greased wheel with everyone and everything in its place. The Viscount demanded perfection and his staff did all in their power to provide it on the miserly funds that he provided them with.
Jonathan had tried his hand at hunting, but had never been very good at it. He preferred his sport to be of a more intellectual nature and had conquered many a foe in games of chess and political debates. He rode as well as any man and did so daily, but he simply did not relish the killing of living things as other men did. Fergus MacDonald provided the kitchens with many a wild creature, allowing Mrs. O’Boyle to create scrumptious fare in spite of her master’s miserly ways.
The Haunted Knight 0f Lady Canterley Page 7