She longed desperately to see her uncle again and wondered when that blessed moment would occur. Perhaps then she would feel normal again.
A short time later, a liveried footman knocked at her door and said, “His Lairdshipwillsee you now.”
Shefollowedthe young Scot into the wide corridor, which took them to the main staircase, then downstairs toward the rear of the castle. They crossed over a bridge corridor with arched windows looking out onto the lake, which led out of the castle to the keep—a separate tower at the back, surrounded entirely by water.
Amelia wondered what questions the earl would ask. How much would he wish to know about her abduction? Would he ask the details of her capture, the specifics about Duncan’s weapons, or his name and the names ofallthe rebels whofollowedhim?
Would the earl force her to give an account of where she and Duncan had camped each night and who they encountered along the way? If she revealed that information, would the earl send an army into the forest immediately to hunt for Duncan and drag him to the Tolbooth?
Something raw and agonizing seized up inside her. She did not want to be responsible for his capture. Where was he at that moment? He must have known she would come here.
Was he outside the castlewalls, watching her pass by these very windows? Or had he escaped in the other direction, knowing that once she arrived at Moncrieffe, she would revealallshe knew and he would be pursued?
She hoped he realized the gravity of his predicament and had fled the other way. It would be best for both of them. She also hoped Moncrieffe would be as fair as her father believed him to be and that he would takeallof Duncan’s conduct into account. She wasstillin possession of her virtue, afterall. Duncan could have deprived her of that, but he had not done so, and for that she would be forever grateful.
Amelia and the footman crossed a long narrow banquetinghall, then reached an arched door at the end with wrought-iron fittings. He knocked, then pushed the door open and stepped aside. Amelia entered agallerywith a polished oak floor,walls of gray stone, and a wide fireplace adorned with heraldic images in the spandrels. She movedfully into the room, and the door closed behind her.
The earl stood elegantly at the window with his hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the lake and park beyond. He wore a lavishfull-skirted blue coat of French silk, heavily embroidered in silver, withfrilledshirtsleeves extending from the cuffs. The tight knee breeches were gray, worn with knee-high riding boots, polished to a fine black sheen. Unlike his brother, he wore no wig. His hair was lightly powdered and tied back, the long queue spiral y bound with black ribbon. She noted the decorative saber at his waist, encased in a glossy black sheath.
“My lord.” She waited for him to turn around so that she could award him a proper curtsy.
When at last he did face her, she bowed her head, but the shock of familiarity shot into her stomach like a cannonball.
Her gaze flew up as the urge to honor him with the customary curtsyfellto the wayside.
“You?”
Were her eyes deceiving her?
No, they were not.
It was Duncan. Butcher of the Highlands.
Or his identical twin.…
Her body shuddered as if she’d been punched, and she stood, breath held, fighting shock and disbelief. This was not real. It could not be!
Handsstillclasped behind his back, Duncan—or the earl—strode ominously toward her, shaking his head. “Tsk-tsk, Lady Amelia. I am very disappointed to discover that Fergus was right in the end. ‘Can you trust the word of the English?’he always said. I should have listened to him.”
Feeling dazed and frazzled andstillnot entirely sure this was not Duncan’s twin, she turned for the door, but hefollowedand pressed the flats of his hands against it before she could reach the handle. He stood behind her with his arms braced on either side of her while she tried in vain to tug, rattle, and shake the door open.
Shecalledfor a servant, but no one came to her aid. She might aswellhave been shouting into a void. When she final y gave up the struggle and tipped her head forward in defeat, Duncan nuzzled the back of her ear, as he had done so many times before, and she knew in that moment that this was the man she had come to desire so desperately. She had not gotten away atall.
“I would expect no less from you, lass. You were always a fighter.”
His body brushed up against hers. Were it not for the memory ofalltoo recent sensations and desires, she might have been able to keep her head, but this was impossible.
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “How can this be?”
She felt as if she were back in that field in the rain on the first morning of her abduction—not knowing what kind of man she was dealing with, feeling powerless to escape. She had no idea what he meant to do with her now that she had run from him.
Hepulledher away from the door, then circled around her and blocked the exit with his large, muscular form.
“I knew this was where you would come,” he said, “so I rode hard from the camp. Did you enjoy your breakfast and bath? Is the gown fashionable enough for your sophisticated tastes?”
There was something diabolical in his eyes, and there was a hard edge to his voice that cut her to the quick.
“You are truly the earl? This is not a hoax?”
