She curtsied.
“You are Lady Amelia Templeton?” he asked, and his Scottish brogue reminded her that she wasstillin the Highlands.
She noted with immense relief that the gentleman’s voice was friendly and kind. There was nothing threatening or intimidating about him.
“Yes, and I am grateful to you, Lord Moncrieffe, for receiving me at such an early hour.”
“Oh no,” he said,strollinginto the room, appearing rather concerned. “I am not the earl. I am Iain MacLean. His brother.”
She shifted on stinging feet while struggling to hide her disappointment. “Is the earl not in residence?”
“Aye, he is here. But he is not yet out of bed. He’llneed some time to at least put on acoat.” Iain smiled apologetically.
“Oh yes, of course.” She glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes past seven, certainly not the proper time for acall.
This wasallvery strange. She had been running for over an hour, having escaped an abduction. Her hair had not been combed, her skirts were soiled with mud—she could only imagine what shesmelledlike—and this man seemed to be wondering if he should ring for tea. What she real y wanted to do was run to him and shake him and demand to know if he understood what she had been through.
“May I inquire,” she calmly asked, “if Richard Bennett is here? He is lieutenant-colonel of the Ninth Dragoons, and I was told he was heading in this direction.”
This felt utterly ridiculous.
“Aye, he was here,” Iain replied, gesturing for her to sit down again. “He stayed only one night, however, for he was determined to find you, Lady Amelia. You should know there is a considerable search taking place on your behalf, even as we speak. Your uncle, the Duke of Winslowe, has offered five hundred pounds to anyone who delivers you safely back to FortWilliam. He’s been most distressed by what has happened. As weallare.”
Ah, sensible talk, at last, about the reality of the situation.
This wasn’t a dream afterall. She had found sanctuary.
She exhaled sharply. “Thank you, sir. You have no idea how relieved I am to hearallof this. It is comforting to know I was not forgotten. I rather felt like I was in danger of disappearing forever.”
Although shestillfeared that a part of her soul was lost in another place and would never be recovered.
He sat down on the sofa beside her and squeezed her hand. “You are safe now, Lady Amelia. No harmwillcome to you.”
She took a moment tocollectherself and hold back the tears that threatened to spil from her eyes. Herbellyflooded with misery.
But no—it was not misery. She could not let herself believe that she was unhappy. She was safe now. The terror was past. She was no longer a captive in the mountains, or in danger of losing herself to that strange madness that had taken over her body. She had escaped successful y, before it was too late, and she would probably never see Duncan again. She should be happy. Shewashappy. Shewas.
“I must look a fright,” she said shakily, managing asmallsmile.
There was compassion in Iain’s eyes. “You look very tired, Lady Amelia. Perhaps you would like some breakfast and a warm bath. I can summon the housekeeper, and my wife, Josephine, would be happy, I’m sure, to offer her maid’s services and lend you a clean gown. You look to be about the same size.”
“That would be most kind of you, Mr. MacLean. I have long wanted to meet the earl, as my father spoke highly of him.
Perhaps I could present myself to him in a more respectable fashion.”
Iain smiled gently. “I understand. Please, let me show you to a guest chamber.”
* * *
Amelia could have wept tears of joy after she enjoyed a private breakfast and was then shown to the bathing room, where she undressed leisurely and eased herself into a warm copper tub. Thewalls of the room were hung with green damask, and a rush mat covered the floor. White linen curtains, hung from a circular canopy above, surrounded the tub, while a strong, hot fire blazed in the hearth. Mrs. MacLean’s maid stood by to assist Amelia in bathing and dressing. She lathered her hair with herb-scented soap, massaged her scalp, then poured a gentle stream of water from a shiny brass pitcher to rinse it clean. She rubbed her skin with a soft cloth and washed her back, and afterward the maid dressed Amelia in a blue and pink gown of rich floral silk brocade, generously on loan from Mrs. MacLean.
The dress had a scoop neckline trimmed with lace. Its sleeves were tight, with deep cuffs below the elbow, and it boasted a boned stomacher of matching silk brocade. The buckled shoes, also of blue silk damask, were one size too large, but two extra pairs of stockings helped fil them out.
Amelia felt as if she were dreamingallof this.
The maid piled her hair into an elaborate, towering construction and shook the powder generously until she blinked with burning eyes and sputtered and held up a hand to stop the assault.
It felt strange moving about in such a confining display of extravagance after a week of wearing nothing but coarse wool and loose linen, but when she viewed herself in the looking glass, glittering in silk and satin, and recognized what was familiar, she began to weep. The tears were strange, however. Her emotions were disjointed and rambling.
