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She straightened up, and a smile came across her lips. Jamie’s heart flipped for a moment, and he rose from his chair. Being too close to her when she smiled with a pair of the most luscious lips he’d ever seen was...distracting him. He needed to move, to pace, anything. He needed to be the one in control.
He took a deep breath and said, “‘Tis a rare occasion to see Miss Parker smile. Tae what do I owe the pleasure?” Jamie emphasized the word pleasure until it dripped from his mouth like melted chocolate.
Amelia pretended not to notice. “Your part of the truce will be this: You’re not allowed to come within an arm’s length.”
Jamie leaned in, his arms positioned on both sides of her armchair, and Amelia could smell the rosemary and peppermint again.Did this man always have to be perfectly clean lately?Her breath stopped, and after a moment, she endeavored to meet his eyes with practiced calmness.
By God, her mouth looks so sweet,Jamie thought, her big lower lip just waiting to be tasted.He felt his cock stir, and he swallowed slowly to ignore the feeling, but didn’t break eye contact. “Agreed.” And he moved away and left her to herself.
* * *
Laughter and music filled the hall of Kinnaird castle, the evening of the clan dinner. Relatives clasped hands and regaled each other with tales. Children ran around with Prince Charlie, weaving through the adult crowds with ease. The smell of wood smoke and roast lamb made Kinnaird Castle seem like the coziest place in the world to Amelia. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother about it.
Jamie, dressed in belted plaid with a sword at his waist that evening along with the rest of the men adorned in Kinnaird colors, raised his cup and yelled to the crowd. “Clan Kinnaird! 'Tis done! -- Dread Winter has subdu'd the Year.’ Our year has been good, and I know we’ll have a better one come next year, as I want tae create a better, more fruitful land for us all.”
Cheers rose up from the crowd.
“Moladh gliocas! Tae clan Kinnaird, to all the trials we have weathered and to the abundant future we can expect!”
Everyone drank, and even Amelia sipped her wine in reverence. She stared intently at Jamie who had drunk his ale and was laughing and clapping the backs of his clan members. Laird Jamie, the arse-grabbing, last word-having, cocky, brazen, dangerously handsome, Scottish Laird knew poetry. Amelia was shocked. He had just quoted James Thomson.
* * *
Jamie was always happiest when his clansmen surrounded him. There was always laughter, and he had not a worry to think about, except when his next cup of ale might be coming. Despite being the laird, there was no pressure on him to pose as an English nobleman with intricate ceremonies.
The male population of his clan had certainly thinned in the past years, since the final battle. But the old feeling of the Scottish clans of yore remained. Because of all the tragedy Scotland had endured, Jamie tried to make each festival as lively as he could. Musicians played from the corners in the hall, and people started to dance in the old Scottish style with men on one side and women on the other. An old cousin of his grabbed Amelia and brought her out to the dancing fray, Amelia was surprised, but not displeased, and she eventually began to relax and move with the music, taught by her drunken companion.
Jamie noticed with a tinge of annoyance at Amelia’s openness and kindness with anyone other than him. Despite their truce, she seemed to save all the laughing for others and the verbal whippings for him.What has she hurt her so?He wondered. It seemed more than just her mere anger at his confusing her for a painted tart.
He watched her dancing and laughing from the side of the floor, her slim body moving with grace as she touched hands and glided from partner to partner. She was petite but voluptuous, and Jamie was content to watch her shapely legs try to grasp the Scottish steps. It brought a smile to his lips.
“Watching our bonny lass, are ye?” William had approached Jamie on his side and caught that smile. Jamie coughed. “I’m watching all the clan have a good time, despite our troubles.”
“Och, still afraid tae tell me the truth, I see. Well, I can tell ye who is watching our bright new lass.” William pointed across the room at a tall, thin man with red hair, sipping his wine staring directly at Amelia.
“Aren’t we lucky enough tae be blessed with the presence of yer cousin Donald, lad?”
“Aye, lucky.” Jamie furrowed his brow and clenched his fists.
William touched Jamie on the shoulder. “Now, tonight’s not a time for fighting. But maybe we should go have a chat with yer young relative.”
Right then, a young woman exited the dance floor and walked by William with a wink. William kept her gaze and watched as she turned a corner down the dark hallway.
“Aye, tonight’s not for fighting, Jamie. It’s for loving.” William hit Jamie on the back, drank the rest of his ale, and left to follow the young woman.
“Och, so I guess ‘twill be me alone tae discuss with Donald, then?” He smirked at William’s back and then turned his eyes to Donald and began to walk towards him across the stone floor.
Donald was near Jamie’s age but a bit younger. Their fathers had been twins and you couldn’t have told them apart. But, with Donald and Jamie, it was like night and day. Jamie was dark-haired, open, friendly, confident, and strong. Donald was quiet, red-haired, thin, with black eyes that seemed to burn through anything he looked at.
Jamie and Donald would play together as children, but Jamie preferred William’s company over time, as Donald was always trying to kill and cut things up and complaining to their parents about him. Once Jamie and William became friends, Donald fumed silently with anger and would complain to his father even more about them any chance he got, making up wild tales. Jamie had hoped that after both their da’s had died in the battle, he and Donald would grow closer, but their deaths only fueled Donald’s distance and isolation, and his rage seemed to grow.
Jamie approached his cousin and placed a large hand on his shoulder in greeting. “Fàilte, cousin. ‘Tis been a long time since I’ve seen ye here at Kinnaird Castle. How do ye fare down at Kinnaird fort?” Donald’s father resided at the stone fort closer towards the sea, and it fell to Donald after his father’s death.
During Jamie’s greeting, Donald had kept his dark eyes on the dance floor, but then snapped them back to meet Jamie’s cool, green ones. “Aye, ‘tis been a long while since I’ve wanted tae come tae the castle. But, I expect ye’ll be seeing quite a lot of me soon.”
“Is that so? I have been hearing yer name bandied about the clan. What is it ye’ve got going on this time, cousin?” Jamie sighed with impatience.
Donald chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Jamie Kinnaird, Laird of the Kinnaird clan, first born tae the first born, everything in yer life has always been easy for ye. Ye’ve gotten everything ye’ve wanted. Even me own da would have wanted ye for a son instead. Ye’ve got friends, women, and the lairdship, but soon, all that will change.”
