* * *
“You’re very late,” Amelia said, sitting up in bed when Duncan entered her bedchamber. She had been waiting for hours. “Aye.” He set the candelabra down on the chest of drawers and removed his coat. “I’ve been busy, lass, winning your uncle’s esteem. He thinks very
well
of me now, and I think
well
of him, too. He’s a good man, like your father. We have much in common, and he supports our engagement. He said your father had been disappointed he’d not been able to arrange a match between us after his visit here last spring, and that, in your uncle’s opinion, our marriage cannot happen soon enough.”
“My father desired a match between us?”
She was surprised to hear this and felt a sudden rush of joy. With
all
her doubts and fears lately, especial y regarding her own judgment and her recent decision to marry Duncan, it meant a great deal to know that her father had approved of this man as a potential son-in-law. Perhaps her father’s spirit had been watching over her
all
along. She felt rather starry-eyed.
Crawling on
all
fours to the foot of the bed, she stood on her knees and hugged the
tall
bedpost where the velvet curtains were tied back with gold tassels. There was something different about Duncan’s mood tonight. He seemed wound up tighter than a
tall
case clock. His high spirits were almost contagious.
“You seem very happy,” she said. “What else happened between you and my uncle?”
Duncan crossed to the window and looked out at the darkness. “I expressed my opinions about your former betrothed and told him that I mean to protect you from him, and your uncle did not dispute my views. He made it known that he never approved of your engagement to begin with.”
Amelia was surprised to hear this as
well
. “He never told me that.”
“He was respecting the wishes of your late father, even though it went against his better judgment. He’s through with
all
that now, though. He
will
make his own judgments, and he
will
act upon his conscience.”
Amelia sat back on her heels. “So that is why you are so pleased?”
He faced her. “Not just that, lass. Your uncle has agreed to help me bring Bennett to justice. He
’ll
support an inquiry to investigate his crimes. As God is my witness, Richard Bennett
will
pay for what he did to my Muira.”
Amelia felt a sudden jolt in her heart. She was pleased, of course, that he was choosing a more civilized path toward justice by leaving the ultimate decision of punishment to the army and the courts. It was exactly what she encouraged him to do on that final night of her abduction, and certainly, if Richard was guilty, he should be tried and convicted.
What troubled her was Duncan’s unremitting desire for vengeance, fueled by his pain over Muira’s death. Amelia shivered slightly, feeling the Butcher’s elemental despair and his dangerous fury
still
lingering about. Clearly,
all
of that was not yet behind them.
“So you mean to continue with your vengeance?” she careful y asked.
He gave her a look of warning. “Let there be no accusation in your words, lass, because I break no vow to you. The promise I made was to refrain from using the blade of my axe to take Richard Bennett’s life. I never agreed to let him go on raping and pil aging. What I do now is exactly what you asked of me in the mountains. I am doing it
your
way.
The civilized way. I
will
leave his fate to the army and the courts.”
He was right, of course, and she nodded. “I suppose you must do what you feel is right to avenge Muira’s death,” she said.
She
recalled
suddenly what Beth MacKenzie had said in the cottage:
The Butcher buried his own heart in the ground
with his beloved on the day she died—at least the part of
his heart that was capable of love.
“It’s not just for Muira,” he said, “but for
all
of Scotland, too.
The man is a tyrant. He must be stopped.” He passed by the foot of the bed. “But let us not speak of Muira again.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not
wish
to speak of her,” he said irritably.
He began to untie the ruffled cravat at his neck. “Now take off your shift, lass. I am lustin’ for you.”
Sti
l
l reflecting upon the hurt she felt over Muira’s enduring presence in his heart—for it was a place into which Amelia had not yet been invited, not
really
—she watched his hands as he untied the loose knot.
And was this truly lust for
her?
she wondered, feeling tempted to question him. Or was it lust for his long-awaited vengeance?
He gazed at her with a hot, overwhelming sexuality.
She decided not to question him now. That would be a foolish thing to do, for there was hunger in his eyes. He looked ready to devour her, and it made her bones turn to jel y, because whenever he had that particular look in his eye, the sex was more passionate and satisfying than ever.
She realized at that moment how much of a captive she
still
was—ensnared by the undeniable
pull
of his sexuality.
When he looked at her with those voracious eyes, nothing else seemed to matter. The whole world simply disappeared.
A flashing moment later, he was there at the corner of the bed, taking her face in his hands and pressing his mouth to hers. She was astounded by how quickly she could plunge into this role as his lover and forget everything else. It had been
all
she could do, over the past few days, to distract herself from these feverish urges and desires.
all
he had to do was come to her, command her to disrobe, and she obeyed.
He moved to the door, locked it, then returned to stand before her like a conquering warlord. “Lie back,” he said, and she lay down crosswise on the bed.
He tore off his jacket with rough impatience and tossed it to the floor. His fingers moved in a blur of motion down the button fastenings of his waistcoat, which he threw on the floor as
well
.
Amelia leaned up on both elbows. Watching him rip the loose shirt off over his head, she could barely comprehend her desires.
She wanted to prove that he belonged to
her
now—that her power to enchant and possess matched his, and that he was just as much a captive as she.
Bare-chested,
still
in his breeches, he came down upon her in a fiery heap of masculine flesh. He lifted her shift—al this while kissing the tops of her breasts where her
collar
had
fall
en open. Desire burned in her depths, and soon her shift was off over her head. Nude at last, feeling no modesty, and baffled by this unhindered passion, she wiggled beneath him.
“You are mine now, Duncan,” she found herself saying.
He drew back and stared at her. “Aye.” Then he kissed her deeply and flicked his tongue over her nipples. Amelia moaned while he continued to lick and suckle and use his lips to blaze a trail of pleasure down her quivering
belly.
She parted her legs and cupped his head in her hands.
He inched lower
still
, and suddenly his face was in the damp
hollow
between her thighs, probing the depths of her womanhood with his lips and tongue.
She gasped with delight, her breath catching in her throat.
Her blood quickened in response as he pushed ahead with his face, devouring her hungrily. He slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her off the bed to gain better access, and Amelia shuddered with pleasure.
He glanced up, and for a split second their eyes locked together. He moved up to mount her, then reached down and released himself from his bulging breeches.
A moment later, he was inside, thrusting and plundering, claiming her completely.
all
she knew was that she belonged to him, body and soul, and from this moment forward nothing could save her from this
all
-consuming desire to win his heart, and to make this marriage a true one.
* * *
A few hours later, Duncan woke to a quiet knock at the door. He turned his head on the
pillow
and saw that Amelia was sleeping peaceful y, so he slipped out of the bed, making sure not to wake her. He walked naked to the fireplace where the enormous flames were dancing in the hearth, warmed his hands for a moment, then picked up his axe, which was hanging against the stones on the hook where the poker was normal y kept. Stealthily, he crossed to the door and opened it.
Richard Bennett was standing there in the corridor. “She’s mine. Give her back.”
Without hesitation, Duncan stepped forward and cut Bennett down.
Duncan backed up, watched Bennett sink lifelessly to the floor, and felt a dark and sinister
swell
of satisfaction move through him.
He woke with a start and sat up in bed.
Amelia was
still
sleeping soundly beside him.
all
was quiet, except for the raindrops beating against the window.
His heart was racing. He glanced across the room at a few dying embers of fire in the grate,
still
glowing faintly. He placed a hand on his chest and felt again the wretched satisfaction he had experienced when he’d watched Richard Bennett die.
Disturbed by the dream, Duncan glanced uneasily at Amelia, rose from the bed,
pulled
on his clothes, and returned to his own bedchamber to sleep the rest of the night alone.
A week later, Duncan made love to Amelia on top of the covers with the bed curtains closed. They were surrounded by velvet, cloaked in darkness, and he gave himself over to the senses of touch, smell , taste, and sound. He lost himself in the ecstasy of her mouth, in the clever stroke of her tongue up and down the length of his passions, and in the sound of her hungry moans as she devoured his boundless desires.
He simply could not get enough of her.
He closed his eyes and ran his hands through the silky locks of her hair and wondered if it was possible that she might one day succeed in removing him from that
hell
ish black abyss of death. He’d not had any dreams of violence over the past week, yet it hardly seemed possible that it could continue this way—that he could live the rest of his life outside of that wretchedness, or that he deserved this pleasure.
The sex that night was like a haze
all
around him, and when he managed to open his eyes, she was coming down on top of him in the darkness, straddling him, sheathing him with her tight, lush heat. The intoxicating aroma of their lovemaking
filled
his senses, and he groaned as she began to move. He held her tiny hips in his hands, felt her hair sweep across his face, and thrust upward to revel in every forceful, pounding impact of their bodies coming together.
Afterward,
following
a string of explosive climaxes, he lay weak and sated, spread across the bed on his stomach like a dead man. Amelia covered him with her body. She weighed next to nothing, but he felt the pressure of her breasts on his shoulder blades and took great pleasure in the quiet reverie. It was like some kind of trance. He might even have
fall
en asleep. He was not sure.
all
he knew was that when he opened his eyes and felt the heat from her body on his back he could not help but think of the dream.…
He blinked a few times, then spoke softly. “He
’ll
come here, you know.”
“Who?”
“Bennett. He
’ll
not let this pass.” Duncan paused. “What
will
you do when you see him?”
She took a long time to answer, and Duncan felt his stomach turn over with dread.
“Nothing,” she said at last. “We are no longer betrothed.”
Duncan considered that careful, rather elusive reply. “If he comes here and tries to win you back, I cannot guarantee I
’ll
be civil.”
“But you promised not to harm him, Duncan. We have an agreement. You
will
leave his fate to the courts.”
He wet his lips and fought to suppress the anger he felt at her desire to protect her former betrothed. Did she
still
care for him? Or was it something else? Was it Duncan she was trying to protect, by
pulling
him back from the precipice of
hell
?
“Aye. I
will
not break my word,” he said. “But I
will
want you to see him for what he truly is.”
She was quiet for a long time. “Why?”
“So that you
will
not regret the choice you made in a husband.”
There it was. The truth.
She
rolled
off him and sat up. He felt the gentle stroke of her fingertips across his back, rubbing over the scars. He continued to lie on his stomach, facing away from her, staring into the blackness.
“I
will
have no regrets,” she said, “if you keep your word to me. Despite how we began, Duncan, I do see goodness in you, and I desire you. You know that. Since we arrived here, and even before that, you have proven yourself to be a man of honor in so many ways, and I believe that in time we
will
grow to trust each other and care for each other very deeply.
At least that is what I hope
will
happen.”
Those hopes brought him no comfort, however, because deep down he
still
believed himself to be a savage and he feared that in time, when the initial heat of their passion cooled, she, too, would come to see that he was, and always would be, a warrior at heart. Like his father.
“I
still
do not think you understand me, lass,” Duncan said.
“You don’t know the things I’ve done.”
He had forgotten none of it. Not a single detail.
She hesitated. “I would prefer to put that behind us and begin anew. You are the Earl of Moncrieffe, and I
will
soon be your countess. Let us think of that and be hopeful about the future. The rest of it is in the past.”
He pondered her words for a long time while she massaged his lower back. It relaxed him, made him want to sleep.
“Do you not worry about the violence in my nature?” he careful y asked.
“Perhaps, sometimes,” she admitted.
Sometimes …
If she were wise, he thought wretchedly, she would worry about it every minute of the day.
Because he most certainly did.