Page 28 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“If Amalie does change her opinion of me, I’ll be as gentle as I can when making her understand I can never love her.”

“Well, despite your conviction that Amalie despises you, my cousin can be the friend and confidant I’ve a feeling you want in a wife. She’s steadfast and loyal to those she cares about.”

Jamie paused for a fraction of a second, but Valeran continued to study the dancing shadows in the fireplace. When he didn’t speak, his friend cleared his throat.

“Amalie’s always been different, but the fire at Westbrook Farms changed her—all of us. Although she’s never said it, my Uncle Caleb’s death affected her deeply. Amalie’s always been hard to read, but the fire made her even more so. Some of that might have to do with why she’s extremely sensitive to noise and boisterous crowds. But there’s a piece of her heart she keeps shielded from everyone, even those who love her dearly. So, be kind to her, Val.”

The heartfelt plea made Valeran turn and face his friend once more. It was obvious Jamie cared for his cousin deeply. With a bob of his head, Valeran swallowed the knot in his throat.

“I give you my word I will do my best to be a good husband to her, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe from harm,” he replied quietly.

“Thank you.” Jamie nodded, then walked toward the bedroom door. “Well, I’ll leave you to sleep as best you can. Ten o’clock will be here sooner than you think.”

Valeran nodded his head in response, but remained silent as his friend walked out of the room, and the door softly thudded shut. Sleep was the last thing he would have tonight.

Chapter 9

I won’t marry him.”

Amalie stopped prowling the carpet in the abbey’s salon to face her parents. Chin tilted upward at a sharp angle, and her back ramrod straight, she stared at the Laird and Mistress of Crianlarich in a mulish manner. She didn’t have to view herself in a mirror to know her posture and expression epitomized the vehement defiance of a true Rockwood.

At her obstinate refusal, Julian MacTavish, Laird of Crianlarich, scowled at her. It was more than apparent her father was deeply frustrated with her continued resistance to accept the proposal Valeran was supposed to make this morning.

Even before her parents had sent for her after breakfast, Amalie had dreaded the confrontation. She’d been right to do so. Last night’s humiliation had proven an easy storm to weather compared to this morning’s tempest. She’d been arguing with her parents for more than a half hour, and this was the first time she’d actually refused to marry Valeran. The fact she’d done so with such belligerence made a voice in her head shout out a warning to remain as calm and firm as she’d managed to do since entering the salon.

It had been easy to convince her parents as to Lady Mary’s treachery. The woman had been the one to rouse the couple from their bed with the news of Amalie’s alleged indiscretion. What she hadn’t been prepared for was their adamant and unyielding insistence she accept Valeran’s proposal. Amalie had been certain her innocence and explanation would save her from a marriage she didn’t want. She’d been wrong. For the thousandth time since last night’s humiliation, Amalie mentally imagined driving one more nail into the coffin she was building for Lady Mary in her head.

Until now, she’d tried to reason, offer alternative solutions, and even pleaded with her parents, something she never did with anyone. A silent snort of disgust echoed in the back of her mind. Last night she’d pleaded with Valeran to compromise her completely. She grew even more rigid in her stance, but forced herself to repeat her refusal in a less combative tone.

“I will not marry the Earl of Sommerville. I have no wish to marry anyone, least of all Sommerville.” Her words immediately caused a thunder cloud of anger to settle on her father’s features.

“Dinnae argue with us, Amalie. Ye will marry the bastard.” At the Crianlarich’s fierce snarl, her mother touched his arm in a gesture meant to calm her husband.

“Julian.” The soft plea went unheeded.

“Nae, I will nae marry the mon.” Amalie almost stamped her foot like a spoiled child, something she’d never done in her life.

“Aye, ye will, Amalie,” the Crianlarich said harshly. “Ye will marry the mon, if I have tae drag ye down the aisle myself.”

Last night, the tall Scotsman’s anger had been directed solely at Valeran. But today was the first time she could ever remember her father raising his voice at her. He’d always been patient, firm, even cajoling, but never authoritarian. Stunned, the harsh words reverberating in her ears like a death knell., her mouth fell open in shock. It only lasted a brief moment before anger flooded her limbs. For the first time since entering the salon, Amalie lost her temper and the brogue of her childhood replaced the educated, cultured inflections she’d been taught.

“Dinnae ye dare try tae tell me what tae do, Crianlarich. Ye are nae my father.”

The instant the words flew past her lips, the air was sucked out of her lungs so quickly it was as if her chest was on fire. Horror-stricken, she knew they were words she could never take back. Her stomach lurched violently as she took in the shocked expressions on her parents' faces. Never in her life had she felt so sick from something she’d said. If she had actually eaten breakfast this morning, she would have been unable to keep the meal down with the way her stomach was churning at this moment.

Pain, shock, and disappointment slashed across the face of the man who’d taken her into his home and loved her as his own from the time she was six years old. The Crianlarich’s reaction only deepened Amalie’s distress. She’d always been blunt and pragmatic with her words, but over the years, she’d learned to think before she opened her mouth.

Anguish darkened the mahogany gaze of the man who’d been her father since she was little. Shamed by her cruelty, tears welled up in Amalie’s eyes. Never in her life had she ever regretted her sharp tongue as much as she did at this moment. She desperately wished she could take back her words, but she knew that was impossible. The instant the Crianlarich bowed his head in obvious pain, Amalie rushed forward to wrap her arms about his waist and hug him tightly.

“Oh, Father, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I dinnae mean it. It’s…it’s nae true,” she choked out with a remorse that rose from the bottom of her soul. “I love you very much, so very much.”

It took only a split-second for her father’s arms to wrap around her and pull her even tighter against his chest. Her cheek pressed against his heart, she closed her eyes tightly to keep her tears from streaming down over her cheeks.

“I know I cannae ever take the words back, but they are nae true. I do love you, Father.” Her muffled, but impassioned, words made the tall Scotsman lowered his head to kiss her temple.

“I ken that, lass. Do ye think I want tae force ye tae marry a mon ye dinnae love?” The soft, gruff words were riddled with the sound of deep regret, almost guilt. Pushing herself free of her father’s embrace, she took a step back.

“Then please dinnae make me marry him, Father.” Amalie turned toward her mother. “Please, I cannae marry him, Mother. Ye dinnae—”