Amelia had woken up in a state of emotional turmoil. She took one look at Duncan asleep on the bed of fur—the most handsome man she ever laid eyes on—and realized she had to get away from him, because she hadfallen hopelessly, passionately, foolishly in love.
Now she was stumbling across a field, weak and disoriented. Her shoes were wet from the dew in the grass, her toes numb from thechill. She was exhausted and breathless, for she’d been runningfranticallyfor almost an hour—first through the forest, then across these wide,rollingfields. She had no idea where she was; she had only the sunrise to guide her in any direction. She could be lost in the middle of nowhere forallshe knew, for it was entirely possible that the castle was not located perfectly south of where they had camped the night before, even though Duncan had said they were north of it. She could have inadvertently passed it by and might in due course end up on the shores of the Irish Sea.
Surely he must have discovered her absence by now and begun his pursuit. He could comegallopingacross the fields at any moment and bring a swift end to her escape. If he found her, he would be furious. It would not be so pleasant between them after that. There would be no more kissing and caressing. He would likely tie her up and gag her from that moment on.
But it would not be so very different, she supposed, from the bonds of his sexual power, which had enslaved her in a mad, irrational desire and almost kept her from running this morning when she final y had the chance to escape.
She stopped and looked around, glanced up at the sun to try to ascertain her location and bearings. If she was going to survive this ordeal and return to the life she once knew, she would have to stop thinking about Duncan and set her sights on locating the castle.
* * *
It had been far more than an hour since Amelia had fled the camp in the woods. She was just resigning herself to the fact that she was lost when she reached the edge of a tree-lined field and a grand skyline of towers and turrets came into view. Exhausted but clinging to newfound hope, she stopped in her tracks and blinked to focus her eyes on the impressive panorama of stone architecture, like asmallcity in the distance. On its outskirts she saw vegetable gardens, an orchard, a vineyard, a mil —al less than a mile away.
Civilization at last. A world she knew.
She began to run, stumbling on blistered feet over grass that glistened with dew. White mist rose from the surface of a lake, but as she drew closer it revealed its true purpose as a defensive moat. The castle stood on an island. Its stonewalls and drum bastions rose sheer from the water, and the tremendous gate tower was connected to the mainland by a drawbridge and an arched entrance.
Richard might be there now, perhaps with asmallbattalion of soldiers, stationed within. What would she do when she saw him? What would she say about theappallingstories she’d heard about him?
Would he ask if she had been ravished?
Breathless with exhaustion, she reached the bridge at last and crossed over, where she was met by a large, ruddy-cheeked guard dressed in a kilt and armed with two pistols and a claymore. He stood under an iron portcullis.
“Are you lost, lassie?” His voice was deep and intimidating.
“No, sir, I am not lost. For once, I know exactly where I am—at Castle Moncrieffe—and I wish to address the earl.” She could barely speak through her breathing.
“And what’s your business with my laird so early in the morning? He’s a very busy man.”
She spoke in a clear and steady voice. “I am Lady Amelia Templeton, daughter of the late Duke of Winslowe, who was a colonel in the King’s army. One week ago, I was abducted by the Butcher of the Highlands, and I have just escaped. I am in immediate need of the earl’s protection.” It took every ounce of mettle she possessed to get the words out.
The Scotsman’s smile faded, and his face went pale.
“You’re the colonel’s daughter?”
Oh, thank God.“Yes.”
He bowed to her. “Beggin’ your pardon, milady. Come this way.”
He led her through the wide, shaded archway, then into the blinding sunlight beyond, which beamed down on an inner bailey. It was a green, parklike space with a circular driveallaround. To the left a high curtainwallwith drum bastions blocked the view of the lake, and to the right a large square building cast a long shadow across the lawn. There were few people about.
Amelia and the guard walked quickly toward the main castle, which was just as she’d imagined from her father’s descriptions. Moncrieffe was a stately palace of classical elegance, and she could barely believe she was about to set foot inside it, after the trials of the past week. How strange it would be to walk on polished floors again, to behold works of art, to climb ornate staircases.
They entered the mainhalland passed through an archway to asmallreception room with elaborate wood paneling, a marble chimneypiece, and a finecollectionof Chinese porcelain.
“Wait here, milady,” the guard said, bowing again before he quickly departed, closing the door behind him.
Amelia once again felt the sting in her shoes from the blisters, so she hobbled to an upholstered chair, sat down, and clasped her hands together on her lap. She sat verystill, taking a moment to close her eyes, catch her breath, and calm herself. None of this seemed real. She felt strangely detached from it.
It was quiet in the room, except for a clock ticking on the mantel. After a moment or two, she opened her eyes. She looked around at the furniture. The chairs and end tables appeared to be of French workmanship, while the carpet looked Persian. On the farwallthere was a portrait of an ancestor—a fierce-looking man in an armored breastplate and kilt, with one hand on his sword.
The clock ticked on, and she did not move from her chair for afullten minutes, though it seemed like an eternity. An eternity ofstillness.
Final y, she heard footsteps in thehalland stood. The door opened, and a gentleman entered. He was of medium height and slender build, wore a green brocade morning coat with lace cuffs, black knee breeches, shiny buckled shoes—and upon his head a curly brown wig. He, too, was just as she’d envisioned from her father’s descriptions, although she did imagine the earl to betaller.
If this was, in fact, the earl.
He looked very …English.
