Page 56 of Tempting the Highland Captive

“Ye are nae yer faither and yer people will soon see that.”

“And his enemies?” he asked, pulling her around to look him in the eyes.

“If they ken what is good for them, they will see that ye are the better man.” She sat down on his laps and placed her hand on his cheek. “Just as we have.”

Ron pulled her close and kissed her. He savored every moment of it. Earlier in the day, he had feared that he would never be allowed to kiss her again and now when he looked into her eyes, he could not help but feel that he was looking at eternity. Lifting her up into his arms, he carried her from the hall and up the stairs to their shared bedchamber. “I thought that ye were lost tae me forever,” he murmured against the warmth of her hair.

“I am sorry,” she whispered against the skin of his neck.

“’Tis I who am sorry. ‘Twas my own foolishness that caused it.”

Amelia shook her head. “Ye have nae control o’er who sired ye.”

“If only such a thing were possible.”

“I would nae change ye in any way, my love,” Amelia promised, kissing his throat just below the jaw.

Ron laid Amelia down upon the bed and crawled in beside her, pulling her back into his arms. He was exhausted and needed to sleep, but he needed to make love to his wife more. Reclaiming her lips, he drew her breath inside of him and held it there as if he could absorb her into himself as well. Her words from before drifted through his mind. My soul is yers, she had said to him as they had lain in bed together, swearing their love. In that moment, intertwined in passionate reconciliation, it was as if he did hold her soul, just as she held his.

* * *

That night, they made love with such passionate fervor that they had fallen swiftly to sleep in each other’s arms. The day had been trying, stressful, and completely beyond anything that either of them had expected. The battle had exhausted them both, but not nearly as much as the pain of losing one another had. Amelia lay within Ron’s arms hovering between sleep and wakefulness in the predawn hours. Her head rested on his chest and the beating of his heart lulled her back toward the lovely darkness of her dreams. Just as she was about to surrender to the images floating just beyond consciousness, she heard a noise in the room that pulled her attention back to the physical plane. Lying still, she waited and listened. It was the sound of soft padding footsteps on stone and it was moving closer.

Amelia opened her eyes and squinted through the darkness. The fire had burned down to a dull glow that gave off very little light. The hairs on her arms stood up in trepidation. She could feel the presence of something or someone in the room with them. Wedged as she was wrapped in Ron’s arms, she struggled to roll over so that she might survey the room behind her. Her moving roused Ron from a deep slumber and he released her. Flipping over, she came face to face with a dark shadowy figure holding a knife over her prone form.

“Ron!” she cried out in warning, but she feared that she was too late. The knife had already been put into motion.

Ron sprang to life and grabbed her, pulling her out of the bed with him. The knife plunged into the bed a mere whisper of a hair from where she had just been. Springing to his feet, Ron grabbed his sword and leapt across the bed to impale their attacker. A cry of pain split the darkness. It sounded like a woman. “Light,” Ron requested as he knelt to bend over the now subdued assassin.

Amelia fumbled in the darkness to light a candle and brought it over to hover above the face of their attacker. “Ysenda?” Amelia gasped in surprised denial. She stood there gaping in shock unable to process what had just transpired. “Why?”

Her fellow clanswoman lay upon the floor in a pool of blood, her eyes filled with hatred. “Yer faither,” Ysanda spat out, as if the words themselves were a dangerous poison upon her lips.

Amelia knelt and attempted to stifle the flow of blood that was welling up out of Ysenda’s abdominal wound, but it simply flowed over her fingers. “Why?” she begged for an answer to understand why this long-time trusted family servant would have done such a thing as attempt to kill her.

“I curse the day that ye were born a lass for that is the day yer faither took my innocence from me. It would have been better had he taken my life. The result was the same.” Ysanda’s voice was growing weaker with every beat of her heart pumping what remained of her life force out onto the bedchamber floor.

“Go and find Maggie,” Amelia begged her husband. “Tell her what has happened and that we need her help to save Ysenda.”

Ron shook his head. “I will nae leave ye alone with a woman who has just tried tae kill ye in yer bed.”

“I will be fine. She cannae harm me in her current state. Please, hurry.” Amelia pushed him towards the door, her bloody hand leaving a red print upon his bare chest. “Hurry!”

“If she harms ye…” He left the threat hanging in the air and went to do as Amelia asked.

Amelia turned back to the wounded woman. “My faither raped ye?” she asked, needing to clarify her words.

The woman turned her head in shame. “Had ye been born a lass, he would have had nae need o’ me.”

“I cannae help how I was born,” Amelia pointed out. “How do I deserve tae die for my faither’s actions?”

“If ye are dead and yer husband is dead, then my child will inherit.”

“Yer child?” Amelia asked in confusion. “Why would yer child inherit?” The answer occurred to her too late to keep her from asking the bruising question. “Yer child is my faither’s child?” Amelia sat in stunned silence for a moment. “I did nae ken that ye e’er had a living child.”

“I hid him away.”

“Him?” With one word it felt as if all the blood had rushed out of Amelia’s head and she nearly fainted.

“My son,” Ysenda whispered with her last breath, then was gone.

“Ysenda! Ysenda!” Amelia attempted to revive her, to no avail. “Who is yer son? Where is he?” She received no answer.

My faither had a son…