Al at once, a hot and seething anger burned in her core.
How could she have been so blind? Andallthat talk about her learning to trust her own judgment and see a man for who he truly was on the inside—how could he have saidallthat to her while he was masquerading as two different men, intentional y misleading and manipulatingallwho came into his sphere? Whowasthis man deep down? She had no idea.
“I am the great Laird of Moncrieffe,” he said, spreading his arms wide, a gesture that flaunted the extravagance of lace at his cuffs. As he lowered his hands, a blue gemstone on his forefinger reflected the sunlight beaming in through the window. “But I am the Butcher, too.”
“You lied to me.”
Al that had passed between them—the intimacy and tenderness she had felt in his arms, the trust that had begun to grow—it wasallgone now, and she had never felt more foolish. With a sweep of her hand, she indicated his fashionable clothing. “What isallof this? I cannot believe you spent five days with my father negotiating for Scottish freedom, leading him to believe you wanted peace, while at the same time you were riding up and down the Scottish HighlandskillingEnglish soldiers?” She looked around the room, at the paintings on thewalls. “Who else knows of this?
You certainlypulledthe wool over my father’s eyes, aswellas my own. Who else have you tricked besides me? Does your housekeeper know? The footman who just escorted me to this door? Is this a vast and bottomless conspiracy of treason?”
She thought of Richard spending the night here at Moncrieffe, enjoying the earl’s food and whisky and his so called hospitality. On the way to the guest chamber, Iain had told her that Richard had employed the earl’s militia to ride out in search of the infamous Butcher. Richard was probably being lured on a wild-goose chase by now, on his way to the Orkney Islands or some other far-off place.
And wasanyof what Duncan told her about Richard true?
She had no idea what to believe.
“No one at the castle knows,” Duncan replied, “except my brother and his wife.”
“Your brother, who was so kind, and arranged for my breakfast and a bath … He is a charlatan, too?”
Duncan frowned. “He’s a good man and a loyal Scot.”
She tried again to reach the door. “You are insane. You and your brother both.”
Duncan seized her wrist. His big warrior hand gripped her like a steel vice. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
She didn’t bother trying to free herself. “Why not? Are you afraid I’llwalk out of here and reveal your true identity to the world?”
It was a clear threat, uttered without subtlety or reservation.
His eyes narrowed, and he dipped his head to speak close in her ear. “I fear nothing at the moment, lass, because Angus is standing outside that door and he’s been itching to slit your throat from the beginning. You’d be wise not to give him a reason to do it.”
Chapter Fifteen
Amelia tugged her arm free and adjusted the fabric of her sleeve. “I despise you.”
“It’s your right to think of me however you choose, but I suggest you hear me out first.”
She strode away from him, across thegallerytoward the window. “Hear you out? What is there to possibly explain?
You are a fraud. One week ago, you were a savage in a kilt, wielding an axe over my bed—the most sought-after enemy of England. This morning you are a gentleman, dressed in silks and ruffles and lace. You negotiated with my father, an English duke, who thought so highly of you and sang your praises to the King.” She turned and faced him. “Iwillnever forgive you for this. You have made a fool of me. When I think of the past few nights, and how you seduced me—”
“Seduced you?” He laughed. “You wanted it as much as I did, lass. If I remember correctly, you did mention that you enjoyed it.” His eyes simmered with desire. “Don’t lie to yourself. You need a real man inside you, instead of that polite English fop you think tocalla gentleman, and do not insult me, or yourself, by trying to deny it.”
She crossed to him and slapped his face. “You may be dressed impeccably. You may even be of noble blood, but clearly, you are no gentleman.”
He stood motionless, barely reacting to the strike. Clearly this ruthless man was made of steel or stone.
She returned to the window and looked out at the lake.
The light sound of his footsteps crossing the room sent sparks of awareness toallher nerve endings.
“I am more a gentleman than your betrothed, lass. You just haven’t seen that side of him.”
“Doallmen have two sides?” she asked, feeling more lost and alone than ever. “Do youallhave secrets? If so, how is it possible to ever know someone? Or to trust? Orlove?”
She watched a duck fly low and skim the surface of the water in a smooth landing and fought ardently against the urge to weep andfallto this man’s knees and beg for an explanation, so that she could understand what she was feeling. She was frustrated to the point of dizziness. Part of herstilldesired him, but she felt so confused over who he real y was.
