“Thank you. Iwill.”
A heavy silence descended upon the room. Iain cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.
* * *
Duncan stood at the door, his eyes fixed on his future bride, while he fought to suppress the seething rage that was rising up inside him. Richard Bennett was here in his house. He’d just eaten his food and enjoyed wine from his private cellar. And he wanted to speak privately to Amelia.
Duncan took a few deep breaths and squeezed the hilt of his sword.
“We’llmeet him in the banquetinghall,” he said, remembering his promise to her and wishing—God, how he wished—that he had never made it. If he hadn’t, Colonel Bennett would already be dead and there would be no need for talk.
Amelia nodded and stepped forward. She paused in front of Duncan and looked into his eyes. “Thank you,” she said.
Thank you for what? he wondered wretchedly.For invitinga rapist and murderer into my home, and agreeing to treathim with civility?
Duncan held the door open for her, and she passed through it into the banquetinghall, which ran a length of seventy-five feet along the western side of the keep. The stonewalls were hung with gilt-framed portraits; the floor was ebony oak, the furniture sparse. There was only one long narrow table in front of the hearth and a dais at the far end, with a single heavy chair in front of a rich, crimson tapestry.
His father had sat in that chair many times to hear clan grievances. He had always ruled with authority from that chair, and more than a few men had died by his sword in this room.
The duke was standing at the window, and Amelia stopped when she saw him. “Uncle, you are here aswell?”
“Yes, my dear. Lord Moncrieffe requested it.”
She looked up at Duncan and gave him asmallsmile, though he could see there was uncertainty in it.
He did not return her smile. How could he, when he was thrashing through everything that was bleak and vicious inside him? He was about to politely receive the disgusting piece of scum he had been hunting for the better part of a year. The scum who had raped an innocent woman—the woman he once loved—and mutilated her body. The scum who burned peaceful crofts and shot women and children for their mere knowledge of the rebel ion.
That same man was about to walk into thishalland question Duncan’s right to claim Amelia as his wife.
He took a seat in the chair. He lounged back in it, spread his legs wide while he gripped the armrests with both hands, for he needed to squeeze something.
“Get behind me, lass,” he said, tossing his head, his mind smoldering with aggression, which he did not even bother to hide from her.
It was impossible now to act civil, to play the part of a charming, amiable gentleman, when his gut was churning with deadly hatred. At this moment, despite the fancy clothes and ridiculous wig he feltcompelledto wear, he was a Scottish Highlander, a warrior, and a savage. He was chief of this clan, and he had been trained from birth to fight andkillin order to protect those in his care. It was taking every ounce ofwillhe possessed to restrain the beast lurking inside him, lying in wait for his mortal enemy.
Amelia said nothing as she lifted her skirts and stepped up onto the dais. She stood just behind his left shoulder.
Duncan sensed her apprehension, but that was not his primary concern. What consumed him most was his own self-control.
The duke remained by the window while Iain stood in the opposite corner. Duncan sat verystill, staring straight ahead at the door at the far end of thehall, his battle-roughened hands opening and closing around the armrests, his warrior senses attuned to every sight and sound.
At last the door opened, and in walked Richard Bennett, Amelia’s former betrothed. Heroic English officer. Rapist and murderer.
Chapter Twenty
When Amelia saw Richard for the first time since her abduction, something inside her lost its point of reference.
Her former fiancé was dressed in his impressive red uniform with shiny brass buttons. He woretallblack boots, polished to a perfect,brilliantsheen. He looked almost like her father in his younger days, and the recognition of that fact penetrated her convictions most disturbingly. Golden-haired and strikingly handsome, Richard carried himself with an impressive confidence as he walked the vast length of the greathall, his footsteps echoing up into the ceiling timbers, his gray eyes fixed on Duncan the entire time.
Fergus, Gawyn, and Angusstrolledin behind Bennett and spread out across the back of the room.
Amelia’s heart began to pound. She had not known of their presence at the castle today. What was their purpose?
Why did Duncan want them here?
Richard stopped in front of them and gave the obligatory bow. Duncan, inallhis silks and finery, sat on his throne like a great and powerful king, saying nothing.
For the longest time, no one spoke, and Amelia felt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest. She rested a hand on the back of Duncan’s chair.
