The Seduction of Miss Amelia Bell (11 page)

Unfortunately Edmund and his band of fearless, though tired, warriors were about to
find out just how bad.

N
othing moved beneath the pewter sky save for the four Highlanders, their large swords
drawn. Seated in front of Edmund on his horse, Amelia felt a breeze cool the flesh
of her nape, and it chilled her to the bone with foreboding. Grendel’s low snarl rumbled
in the morning silence.

They’d reached Ravenglade shortly after sunrise to find the castle drawbridge closed.

“Should the mercenaries ye hired be lowering the bridge by now?” Edmund asked Malcolm.

“Mayhap they fergot what ye look like?” Luke added, calming the restless stallion
between his legs.

Malcolm shook his head. “The bastards know me well enough. If they dinna’ answer m’
call then they’re dead.”

As if to validate his statement, a crow cried out, breaking the ominous quiet.

Edmund wheeled his mount around, already looking for a safe place to deposit Amelia.
“Buchanans?”

Malcolm nodded, following him with Sarah perched in his lap. “Aye. Buchanans.”

An arrow pierced the air between Darach and Malcolm and hit a nearby tree with a loud
thump. Everything happened quickly after that. The morning erupted with the sounds
of Grendel’s loud barking and the thunder of horses approaching from every direction.

Within seconds, Edmund and Malcolm left the women in a cluster of nearby bushes, ordering
them to stay put. Grendel was also commanded to stay where he was, close to Amelia.

The Highlanders moved in unison, defending every side against the approaching riders.
Edmund’s stallion rose up on its hind legs while he cocked his bow, aimed, and fired.

A man went down! Amelia shook while her blood seared her veins. This was real. And
more men were coming. She had heard tales of the strength of Highlanders in battle,
but she’d never seen it before today.

She prayed to God never to see it again.

Metal clashed against metal in a grinding symphony of chaos and sparks. She turned
away from the death she knew was coming for the fighters. She didn’t want to see Edmund
or his kin fall. She didn’t want to think of what would become of her and Sarah if
they did.

She felt like she was in a dream when Grendel broke free of her and raced into the
fray, forcing her to gaze in their direction just as the skies tore open and poured
rain down in icy sheets. The torrent distorted the air, but Amelia could make out
Edmund and the others swinging their heavy claymores with terrifying accuracy. She
thought she could smell blood, or perhaps because there was so much of it, she just
thought the scent was saturating the heavy air. She tried to turn away again but she
felt like she was no longer in control of her body. She watched, horrified and mesmerized,
covering her ears at the screams of dying men.

She felt her heart pitch in her chest when she lost sight of Edmund. What would she
do if he died? Would Malcolm and the others bring her and Sarah back to Edinburgh?
Would Edmund’s face, his smile, his kiss, haunt her for the remainder of her days?
He came back into her vision a moment later, much to her traitorous relief, his sword
flashing beneath a charge of lightning puncturing the clouds. Her gaze followed him
as he yanked back his reins, heaving the stallion to an upward halt—high enough to
place him above a man swinging an ax from his saddle. Amelia closed her eyes as the
hooves of Edmund’s horse came back down, crushing bone and silencing his opponent’s
battle cry.

It was difficult to tell how many men fought against the four, but numbers didn’t
matter. They were no match for the MacGregors and Grants. Edmund’s claymore struck
with merciless precision. Amelia watched, helpless and sick to her stomach from the
carnage around her, but she managed a shout of warning to Edmund when another rider
approached from behind. Engaged in battle with two men in front of him, he couldn’t
turn to defend himself.

He didn’t have to. The attacker spun in his saddle to glare at the bushes where she
and Sarah hid. He kicked his horse’s flanks and lifted his heavy ax over his shoulder
as he rode toward them.

Amelia clutched Sarah and shrank back. He was coming! He was going to kill them! But
the man didn’t waste time riding to them. He flung the ax and waited while it flew
straight for her.

Lucan came at him from his left, passing the bush on his horse, putting himself in
their path. The ax flew end over end and then hit something hard, stopping before
it reached them.

The attacker came at them again but was halted this time by Edmund’s sword across
his neck.

Sarah pressed her face into Amelia’s shoulder and wept when the man’s body fell from
his saddle. Amelia wanted to do the same but she couldn’t take her eyes off Edmund.
Sitting high in his saddle, his golden hair and his face spattered with his victims’
blood, he looked like a lion wild to protect what was his. A moment passed and his
expression changed, going soft on her and then on Sarah. He offered her a subtle nod,
making certain she was not injured. When she shook her head, he called out to Lucan.

“Yer leg.”

“’Tis fine.”

Edmund nodded and turned his stallion back to the fight.

All around her the Highlanders’ enemies fell. Some run through to the hilt by Malcolm’s
blade while others fell from their horses, broken and crushed beneath Lucan’s mighty
arm. Darach preferred to use a dagger and twice he leaped from his horse to his opponents’
to kill them at a closer proximity.

Soon the fighting slowed, and with its end, the drawbridge finally descended. Edmund,
Lucan, Malcolm, and Darach sat perched in their saddles, drenched with rain and blood,
and watched the three riders approaching from the inner bailey. Malcolm waited until
they reached him before he struck the first in the face with his fist and then ordered
the other two to go back, get their comrades, and get the hell out of his castle.

“Mercenaries.” He turned to Lucan with disgust. “Canna’ trust a one even when it comes
to keepin’ Buchanans away.”

Lucan nodded, then leaned forward on his mount and looked across the glen to where
Amelia and Sarah were hidden. His eyes, like topaz flames, sparked and then faded
as his eyelids closed and he fell unconscious from his saddle.

His three cousins leaped from their horses and ran to him, but Grendel reached him
first, whining and sniffing Lucan’s thigh. His plaid was cut. Blood saturated the
wool and the ground where he lay.

“He’s bleeding out!” Edmund tore a long strip from Lucan’s bloody plaid and tied it
tightly around his cousin’s thigh. “We need to stop the bleeding. Help me get him
inside.”

“We shouldn’t move him,” Darach countered, swiping rain or tears from his eyes.

“We cannot leave him out here. Take the horses,” Edmund commanded. “Malcolm, help
me.”

They picked Lucan up with exquisite care and carried him by foot over the drawbridge.
Amelia clasped Sarah’s hand and hurried to keep up with them. She heard a strangled
cry from somewhere behind her and turned to see Grendel close his massive jaws around
the throat of one of the Highlanders’ dying victims. She looked away and swallowed
back the swell of raw emotions that threatened to consume her. Lucan was hurt, possibly
dying. Edmund didn’t need to watch her fall apart. They needed her help.

“My nursemaid Alice taught me how to mix some poultices fer wounds.”

Edmund turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Good. I would be in yer debt if ye
help him.”

“As would I,” Malcolm agreed.

“And I,” Darach echoed. “Tell me what ye need and I’ll fetch it. There’s an alchemist
in the village.”

Darach listened to every word she told him. She needed yarrow or agrimony to stop
the bleeding. She also needed cinnamon or clove to reduce pain and disinfect the wound
to avoid infection. She gave him a list and added a few things that Sarah requested
in case of fever or infection and then sent him on his way.

She followed Edmund and Malcolm into an enormous room in the west wing and watched
them as they set Lucan down in a bed that was so big it made the huge Highlander look
small. They laid him on his side and set about examining his wound.

“His mother will kill us all if he should…” Malcolm’s words faded and he looked away.

“He won’t,” Edmund finished after they all paused in silence.

The gash in his thigh, received from the ax he’d stopped from hitting Amelia, was
about ten inches long and quite deep. He’d protected her and Sarah because she’d given
away their position. She shook her head. She couldn’t let herself think about any
of that now. She had never seen a wounded man before. She prayed she didn’t retch
from the sight of his gaping flesh. She knew the wound had to be cleaned and likely
sewn. The thought of it twisted her belly into a knot and produced beads of sweat
along her brow. “We’ll need fresh water.”

“And clean rags,” Sarah added beside her.

“I’ll fetch them.”

When Malcolm left the room to his task, Sarah turned to Amelia and offered her a comforting
smile. “Ye clean him and I’ll sew him, aye?”

Amelia nodded, loving her dearest friend for being able to read her thoughts and for
helping her with this grim task.

“First though,” Sarah continued, rolling up her sleeves and bending over Lucan’s body,
“we must discover if he still lives.”

Amelia and Edmund watched and waited in silence while Sarah pressed her head to Lucan’s
chest. Moments passed, slowly, torturously, with Edmund running his fingers through
his hair and finally turning away when Sarah said nothing.

“He lives,” she finally announced, bringing such relief to Edmund that he fell back
into a chair close by the bed. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “He’s
cool to the touch. We need to begin soon.”

When Malcolm returned, she requested a pan and his and Edmund’s removal from the room.

Amelia was glad to see them go. She didn’t want Lucan to die, and she barely knew
him. It was Edmund and Malcolm, and even Darach, when he returned sometime later with
her herbs, who coiled her nerves into a knotted mess. They clearly loved him. She
imagined the devastation of losing Sarah and had to push back her tears. She had to
stay in complete control of her emotions and do everything she could to help Lucan.
They couldn’t let him die.

With that thought pushing her forward, she cleaned Lucan’s wound and applied her ointments,
then aided Sarah in repairing his sliced artery and stitching him up. After three
hours they were finally done. Amelia stood back and cleaned the blood from her hands
while the Highlanders returned and took turns at Lucan’s beside. He still hadn’t regained
consciousness but they had done everything they could. Now all they could do was wait.
The men all looked terribly worried and frightened for their cousin, but Edmund broke
her heart just a little more. He stood by the bed, looking down at Lucan’s unconscious
body. Amelia couldn’t read his thoughts, but they were clearly fraught with despair.
When he ran his fingers through his hair and looked away, she wanted to go to him.
He appeared to be the one in charge of the group, making the quickest decisions, ready
for action an instant sooner than everyone else. Did he feel responsible the same
way she did when people she loved were hurt? Surely he knew this wasn’t his fault.
They were warriors. Sometimes they died.

She caught Edmund’s eye and held it for a moment, unsure of what her reaction should
be, but wanting to somehow comfort him. A glance seemed to be enough.

“Thank ye,” he said, moving around the bed to stand before her.

Amelia felt her face go hot and looked away from him. “Sarah did the more serious
mending. Besides, ye’ve no need to thank me. I’m fond of Lucan. I would not see him
perish.”

She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until he took them and finished wiping them
tenderly with a rag. Suddenly her knees felt shaky, too.

“I’m in yer debt.”

“Nae.” She shook her head and the room spun a little. “I—” She closed her eyes to
clear her head but the room only reeled more.

“Are ye ill?” he asked her when she swayed on her feet.

Damnation, she wasn’t prone to fainting spells like her mother and she certainly didn’t
want to faint in front of Edmund and his friends. She was made of stronger mettle
than that, but the day had been so taxing what with all that killing, all the blood…so
much blood…

“I’m fine,” she assured Edmund, stepping away from him. “I simply need a bit of air.
Would ye…”

She didn’t realize she was falling or where she landed, or why she felt safe for the
first time in two days.

E
dmund watched Amelia’s eyes flutter open as he set her down on a stone bench in Ravenglade’s
walled garden. He realized, standing over her while her lush black lashes rose slowly
over the glory of her dark eyes, that she could be trouble. He liked her. He liked
her more every moment he spent with her, especially after she saved his cousin. He
would be forever in her and Sarah’s debt for that. But he couldn’t allow his feelings
for Amelia Bell to go any further than this. He didn’t have time for a lass in his
life, especially not the Duke of Queensberry’s niece, the Lord Chancellor of Scotland’s
future wife. He’d vowed to protect her and that’s what he would do. And himself along
with her. He hadn’t expected to have to guard his heart from her. He’d never had to
do it with any lass before her. But guard his heart, he would.

Though the idea of waking up to her slumberous face every morning was tempting, she
was a dangerous distraction, and he’d been taught by men of honor to stay true to
his course, wherever it led him.

Scotland would always come first. He didn’t fight alone. He had his cousins, more
at home. His father and his uncles, all willing to die for their country or their
name. He was one of them, their beliefs and ideals etched into his heart from the
age of four.

But hell, he thought, looking down at Grendel’s big head resting on her knee, even
his dog liked her.

Her breathing quickened and she opened her eyes. He wanted to smile at her, but he
didn’t. “What happened?” She sat up, holding one hand on her head, and placing the
other on Grendel’s. She looked around. “Where are we?”

“Ye fainted. It stopped raining and I thought ye needed some air so I carried ye out
here to the garden.”

She spread her gaze over the tangled shrubbery and long weeds covering most of the
ground. Though it was spring, most of the trees were bare and gray to match the sky.
Still, when she scratched her head, leaving her hair bunched in that one spot, her
eyes still a bit glazed and her cheeks flushed, he thought she looked like some delicate
fairy queen who’d been snatched from her glade and dropped into a harder, uglier world
where she didn’t belong. A world inhabited by pitiful knights on quests to prove who
they are and where they belong.

“’Tis sorely neglected, I know,” he said, trying to lighten the mood that made him
feel wretched because he couldn’t have her. He shouldn’t want her. “Ravenglade belongs
to Malcolm now, but he spends much of his time in Skye.”

She tilted her head and set those glorious eyes on him, rattling his head a bit. He
sat down on the bench beside her. Her gaze followed him.

“I feel foolish fer fainting,” she said, keeping her attention on his dog. “It doesn’t
happen often.”

She was still angry with him. He understood but he wanted her atonement.

“Good, because I was beginning to think ye had some sort of sleeping disorder that
plagued ye whenever I was near.”

Her scant smile pricked his heart. She’d been through much since meeting him. The
absence of her mirth was his fault and he felt the weight of it. “I wish I could take
ye back, lass,” he told her sincerely. “But I cannot. There is too much at stake fer
too many.”

“And I am the sacrifice.”

For the first time he hated his task. He hated men who wanted power simply to take
what others had, and that innocent people had to suffer for it. “I’ll let nae harm
come to ye, Amelia. Not from any quarter. But this must be done. And as soon as it
is, I’ll return ye into the hands of yer father.”

She nodded, then angled her head away from him so he couldn’t see her face. “I understand.”

He didn’t think she did. He waited a moment and when she remained quiet, he sensed
something darker, deeper troubling her.

“Luke will recover, lass. He’s strong and determined.”

“I…I don’t know.” Her voice was a stark, strangled mess that drew him, along with
Grendel, up.

“Amelia?” He sat forward. “I know ye did all—”

“This is my fault.” Her eyes filled to the rims with tears that sparked in him a deeper
purpose. “I called to ye and the man saw me, Edmund. Lucan saved us and he may die
fer it.” She covered her face in her hands and wept into them. Grendel whined. “Misfortune
follows me. It always has! Ye should send me back before one of ye dies!”

Had he heard her right? Aye, he quickly realized he had. He remembered her father
telling him how her “ill fortune” had driven off many suitors. Hell, even traveling
bards sang of it. Edmund would have laughed at the idea of such a foolish belief,
but Amelia believed it and he wouldn’t mock her, so he merely smiled and moved closer
to her.

“Listen to me, lass,” he told her gently. “Ye called out trying to help me, and my
cousin, who believes he lives in the time of Arthur, did what is in his blood to do.
There’s no shame in this day. No shame fer ye. Only gratitude.”

“Ye speak of it lightly because ye don’t know everything that’s happened. I almost
killed my father last winter when he nearly choked to death on one of my hair pearls
that broke free and fell into his soup.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed but her tears
kept coming. “He sat there at our family table holding his throat, turning a horrible
shade of gray, choking to death before my eyes. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t
move, too afraid that if I touched him he would die quicker. Sarah saved him with
a hard pound on the back.”

“That sounds like an accident and nothing more,” he said softly and smiled at her.

“It didn’t matter what anyone called it when I dropped my baby cousin three days after
he was born and brought on his madness.” Her tears fell heavier as the true weight
of her life came upon her.

Whatever Edmund convinced himself of earlier faded with the need to hold her. He wanted
to comfort her and he wouldn’t be denied.

Reaching for her, he pulled her in closer and closed his arms around her.

She sobbed against his chest. “My sister has already vowed that I may never hold my
future niece or nephew.”

He closed his eyes, angry. “Yer sister deserves her husband.”

She laughed and he pulled back to see her and discover if his ears deceived him.

“There now, that’s what I wish to see, yer happiness.” When her smile remained, he
considered it a great accomplishment, one that he wanted to continue striving to achieve.
He ran the backs of his knuckles lightly over her cheek, vanquishing her last tear.
“I’m certain ye are worth more to yer father than anything he possesses.”

“I would do anything fer him.”

Like marry the chancellor? He didn’t ask her. He understood loyalty. He admired it.
He would do anything for his own father.

“Yer fortune isn’t really that bad,” he told her instead.

She leaned in again and blinked her gloriously huge eyes at him. Edmund wondered how
long it took a man to go mad with desire.

“I wouldn’t get close to me, were I ye.”

“I don’t fear misfortune.”

“How about ceilings falling down in yer bedchamber?”

He scowled, remembering that there was another man’s bedchamber waiting for her. “’Tis
good fortune, Amelia. ’Tis a sign from God not to marry the chancellor.”

She tilted her face up to him and stared into his eyes for a moment that made him
forget what they were talking about and filled his head with thoughts of kissing her.
“I thought that at first but—”

“Ssh.” He touched his index finger to her lips to quiet her. “Misfortune does not
follow ye, lass. If it did”—he struggled to restrain himself from tracing the tip
of his finger over the soft contours of her lips, leaning in—“my heart would not feel
so light when I’m with ye. But if I’m wrong and misfortune ever dares come near ye
again, I’ll slay it like David slew Goliath.”

Her smile widened into laughter. “Ye’re quite audacious to make such a claim, Edmund
MacGregor. But no one has ever promised me such a thing. I will hold ye to yer word.”

He looked into her eyes and wondered if he’d gone mad. He shouldn’t take interest
in her life. A thousand times he heard his father’s voice telling him not to allow
distraction to veer him off course.

“I won’t let ye down.”

She thanked him softly and rose from the bench to leave him. Grendel stood with her.
He had to have gone mad when he took her hand and stopped her, not giving a damn about
distractions for the moment. “Remain with me a wee bit longer. At least until I can
prove to ye that I’m more than just a thief.”

“And a liar?”

He tossed her a smirk. “Ye ferget that ye already admitted that I did not lie to ye?”

She shook her head at him and didn’t move forward or back to her seat. “I said ye
hadn’t been completely dishonest. But ye have nothing to prove to me. After ye saved
my life today, I forgave ye fer all yer crimes against me, but I may make ye pay fer
them yet.”

His smile widened and then faded against the glorious vision of her swathed in warm,
golden light as the sun broke through the clouds. For an instant or two he fell captivated
by the sight of her with her damp hair curling softly around her shoulders. “Thank
ye fer yer favor. ’Tis undeserved.”

“Nae.” She moved closer to him and patted his hand. He looked at her and then her
hand. Hell, it was difficult to keep from kissing her senseless. “Truly, what ye did
fer us today merits my favor. That man would have killed us. He almost killed Lucan
with his ax. Ye may be an untrustworthy outlaw, but I don’t feel unsafe with ye.”

Should he thank her? He sure as hell couldn’t seduce her now. “I’m pleased to hear
it,” he said, not sure if he was or not. And what did she mean calling him untrustworthy.
It stung, but he
had
lied to her. Still, he didn’t like that she considered him so despicable.

“I can seek yer fergiveness fer deceiving ye, Amelia, but not fer kidnapping ye. That
I had to do and would do again.”

She nodded and slipped her hand free of his. “I understand.”

He saw her hand coming at him and braced himself for it. Her palm against his cheek
didn’t sting as much as he expected. He glanced at Grendel, relieved and a bit insulted
that his dog was ignoring him.

“I cannot make ye pay fer what ye’ve already received absolution fer,” she said, “so
that was fer kidnapping me and turning my world wrong side up.”

Edmund brought his hand to his face and watched her leave the garden with his dog
under her palm. When she disappeared inside he closed his eyes and tossed back his
head.

Hell. She was trouble.