Page 5 of Tempting the Highland Captive

“Which laird?”

“That is nae o’ yer affair,” the prisoner ground out. “And I did nae kill my maither!”

Amelia stood staring at him for a moment and found that she believed him. “Which laird?” she asked again.

“Rossell,” the guard answered.

“Michael Rossell?”

“Aye, that would be the one,” the guard nodded.

In that instant the spark of an idea flared within Amelia’s mind. “He is condemned to hang for his crimes? There is nae chance o’ a reprieve?

“He will hang as surely as I am standin’ here,” the guard assured her.

Turning back toward the prisoner, Amelia took a step forward and met his blue eyes head on. “Ron,” she began using his chosen moniker, “how would you like to marry me?” A stunned grunt sounded from behind her, and a second later, Lucas had ahold of her arm and was physically hauling her out of the prison cell.

“Have ye lost yer mind, lass?” he practically roared as he hauled her down the corridor. “Offerin’ yer hand tae a murderer? I have ne’er seen the like.”

At hearing Lucas’ protestations, Father Jacob and Maggie came running out of the next cell. “What did ye just bellow?” Maggie asked, out of breath.

“This numpty just offered her hand in marriage to a condemned murderer,” Lucas informed them still yelling in anger and astonishment.

“Ye did nae, lass? Tell me it is nae so,” Maggie exclaimed, taking Amelia’s hand in hers.

“Aye, I did,” Amelia confirmed, but before she could open her mouth to explain further, the little group of people had her out of prison, across the street, and back at the inn pushing food and ale upon her as if she had fallen prey to a bout of lunacy brought on by malnutrition. Finally, Amelia had had enough, and she stood up forcefully from where they had placed her on a bench at a side table. “Enough! I am nae hungry, thirsty, or mad. What we need is a man who will keep Michael Rossell and his warriors at bay. Ron Kyall is the perfect man. The reputation of such a violent man would keep our enemies at bay and he will be executed soon, so there is nae risk o’ him e’er comin’ and leadin’ the clan. In every way that matters, I would be laird, and all would be forced tae accept it.”

Lucas shook his head. “’Twould ne’er work, lass. Yer faither would nae allow ye tae wed a condemned maither murderer, e’en if the lad did try tae kill his mortal enemy.”

“I dinnae believe that he killed his own maither. You can see it in his eyes that he was nae lyin’ about that,” Amelia argued.

“Yer faither would ne’er allow it,” he repeated firmly, shaking his head.

“Aye, I ken yer faither well, lass, and Lucas is right. The laird would nae allow it,” Father Jacob confirmed, giving Amelia a pitying look. It was clear that he thought she had succumbed to hysterics.

Amelia growled low in her throat, “Faither need nae ken the truth o’ it. We could say that I married an army captain instead and that he is away tae the Americas for a time. Such a lie would stand until Faither…” She stopped speaking, unable to say the actual words.

“Until His Lairdship dies,” Maggie finished for her shaking her head in sympathy.

“Aye,” Amelia nodded, swallowing the tears that threatened to overtake her. “Then I would be free tae do as I wish concerning the truth o’ the matter. Ron Kyall could be wielded as a weapon against Rossell, his violent reputation against all other enemies, and nae one would e’er need tae ken that he had died until it was tae late tae do anythin’ about it. It would give me a chance tae show that I can lead the clan without question.”

“And if the clan disagrees?” Lucas asked, not yelling this time, but his voice was still quite gruff.

Amelia sighed and sank back down onto the bench. “Then I will marry another man and produce an heir.”