“Yes, I am aware.”
“Duncan desires peace and the safety of his clan aboveall. He does not sanction war and death for those in his care.
But when he fights as the Butcher, it’s personal.” A gust of wind blew across the orchard, fluttering Josephine’s hat ribbons.
Amelia felt a sudden pang of animosity. “Why are youtellingme this?” she asked. “Do you think I am wrong to ask that he give up his campaign?”
Josephine considered it. “Nay, I don’t think it wrong. I understand what you feel, and I would do the same in your position. I wouldn’t wish for my Iain to begallopingabout the Highlands picking fights with English redcoats, and I am glad he doesn’t have a hankering for war, and never did. I only want you to know that it may take some time before Duncan is healed of that pain. He may feel some regret over his break with Angus. They were close. They’ve known each other since they were lads, and they’ve been through a lot together.”
Amelia spoke defensively. “I did not ask him to give up his friend.”
“Nay, and he wouldn’t have done so, if it had been his choice. But it was Angus who broke the friendship. He’s not one to give up a fight, and he doesn’t have a pretty lass like you in his life to distract him from war.”
Amelia felt a cold raindrop strike her cheek.«WillDuncan blame me for their quarrel?” she asked, feeling a rush of dread.«Willhe resent me?”
“Not now,” Josephine answered. “From what I can see, he’s infatuated with you. But one day, he might regret the loss of his friend. Angus was there for him when Muira died.
They shared the same grief. I suspect he’llregret it if Angus is not there to toast you on your wedding day.”
They reached a patch of flowers on the far side of the orchard. Amelia bent to pick some daisies. “I am not sure what I can do about that,” she said. “I don’t wish to cause a rift between them, but Angus despises me. He would never listen to anything I say.”
Josephine knelt beside her and tore some long stems from the earth. “I don’t expect that anyone can do much of anything. Anguswillhave to resolve the matter himself and find a way to accept Duncan’s decision. If he can’t do that…”
She rose to her feet and arranged the flowers in the basket.
“If he can’t accept it, he’llsimply continue to live thathellish, unhappy life that Duncan has final y given up.” She gazed meaningful y at Amelia from a distance away. “Do not mistake me, Amelia. Iain and I are both very pleased with how things have turned out. We believe you are the best thing that’s ever happened to Duncan.”
“But real y, I’ve done nothing.” She glanced around the orchard. “What exists between us is very…” She did not know what tocallit.
Josephine nodded. “I understand, but you must not give up hope that true lovewillblossom one day, now that you are pledged to one another, and you are able to see another side of him. Everythingwillchange. The clothes make a difference, do you not agree? He’s quite a distinguished gentleman when he puts some effort into it.”
Amelia couldn’t help but smile. “I must confess, I rather liked the kilt and the unkempt hair. I hope he doesn’t feel it necessary to give that up completely.”
Josephine chuckled. “Maybe you can convince him to wear his sword to bed on your wedding night, and nothing else.”
They giggled naughtily and dashed back to the castle gates as thunder rumbled in the distance and murky cloudsrolledacross the sky.
Chapter Eighteen
The Moncrieffe coachrolledover the drawbridge and into the shaded stone archway of the gate tower. It wasfollowedby a second coach, drawn by four magnificent grays and bearing the ancestral coat of arms of His Grace, the Duke of Winslowe.
The vehicles had been spotted by a scout. By the time the dukerolledinto the bailey, Duncan and Amelia were waiting at the front door of the castle.
Duncan took out his timepiece and consulted it, then slipped it back into his coat pocket.
“Do you have somewhere else to be?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he replied in an intimidating voice. “But your uncle is late, and my patience is wearing thin. I want you as my wife. He should’ve been here yesterday.”
She was flattered by Duncan’s impatience. He wanted her, and he wanted her now—not just in bed, but legal y and official y. He wanted to speak vows before God.
Did she want that, too? Yes, of course she did. She’d already surrendered her innocence to him, and she might aswelladmit it to herself. She was hopelessly, desperately in love.
The ducal coachpulledto a halt in front of them, and a liveried footman hurried to lower the step. Wearing a garish green satin jacket and peach breeches, her uncle, plump as a pumpkin, emerged from the dark confines and squinted upward at the front of the castle before he set a shiny buckled shoe upon the step and hopped heavily to the ground. His perfume was overpowering. His black wig wastalland unwieldy, with ringlets that bounced as he walked.
“My darling girl!” HepulledAmelia into his arms and squeezed the air out of her lungs. “Thank God you are found, and you are safe!” He turned to Duncan. “I owe you a great debt, Lord Moncrieffe, for my niece’s rescue. You have saved her from the Butcher’s axe.”
Duncan gave an elegant bow. “She saved herself, Your Grace. She is a remarkable woman. I did nothing but provide these stonewalls as sanctuary.”
