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“Jamie was never one tae throw me off before. I think there may be another woman takin’ me place.” Her lips pursed in jealousy.
She then walked toward the door, away from the warmth of the flames. She heard the clink of a coin on the floor behind her.
“For ye. ‘Tis a useful nugget.”
Alana rushed to pick it up and leave the cold fort as soon as she could, inwardly happy she wouldn’t have to be working for that red-headed fiend any longer. She wasn’t exactly sure what Donald wanted from Jamie, but she needed this money desperately. And if Jamie Kinnaird wasn’t going to be marrying her, then she needed to do all she could to survive.
* * *
The hall was lit with candles and firelight, warm with bodies and merriment. The whole clan was back together to celebrate the last day of the year. The born and bred Scots were making merry more on this day than Christmas, as it was a true Scottish holiday. There was drinking and games and dancing and food.
Amelia spied the drunken man who taught her the dance steps at the Christmas dinner, and she smiled in his direction. He waved her to the dance floor as she sat at the long meal table, resting in between all of the activity. She declined with a wave and a smile. She had enjoyed a few dances already and was now relaxing by watching all of the reddened faces. So happy everyone was, despite such hardships. And not one of them had been cold to her, despite her English status. Suddenly, she felt someone standing beside her. A voice asked, “Will ye dance, Sassenach?”
She looked up to see the eyes that had looked at her hungrily only one evening ago, and the lips that had kissed her so fiercely and thoroughly. It made Amelia redden with the thought. Jamie held out a rough, workworn hand to her.Those hands touched me...there.She swallowed slowly.Will they ever touch me again?
“Aye, ‘tis been a long time since you’ve called me that,” she said in reply and stood.Amelia had dressed with care that evening, in a beautiful light blue gown, made of silk. Her stomacher was white with ruffled lace, and there was lace at her elbows where the sleeves ended. She wore a wide skirt that moved elegantly across the ground. Her neckline was square and low, and she’d tied a white ribbon around her thin neck. A maid had curled her blond hair to sit higher on her head but also frame her face. She wore white slippers. Amelia felt more at home than she had in a long time. These past weeks she’d been wearing stays under a more suitable home dress, made of wool or linen, but now she could be dressed like a lady, thanks to Fiona and the seamstress.
Jamie’s mouth opened slightly at the sight of her standing next to him. “A beauty ye are, lass. Did ye take this with ye from England?”
Amelia blushed with pleasure and pride, and said, “No. It is your mother’s. We simply had the seamstress adjust the fit.” She looked down to lay her hand on her stomach and make sure everything was still in place.
Jamie leaned in to her ear. She closed her eyes as she felt her heartbeat rise with his closeness, and...the throbbing ache threatened to return.
HIs voice was a whisper, “Aye, ye would need tae accommodate that pair of perfect, luscious breasts of yorn.” He smiled at Amelia’s sharp intake of breath. “Tell me, will I be gettin’ the chance tae taste them?”
And he pulled away to see a surprised Amelia who looked around and whispered, “Taste?”
“Aye, they look rather delicious tae me.” He winked, and decided to end the tease before Amelia would be too dazed to walk to the dance floor. She laid her hand on his arm, as he led her into the Scottish steps.
Fiona stood with William on the side, dressed elegantly in a purple gown and William in kilt and shirt. She smiled to see Amelia and Jamie gazing into each others eyes as they spun hand in hand, weaving through the partners to meet once again.
“She looks lovely, does she not?”
“Aye, she is a bonny lass. And I believe yer son thinks so as well.” He laughed and took a sip of ale.
Fiona laughed as well and replied, “I believe you are correct, but he’d never admit it. He’d better not be toying with my young friend.” She turned a threatening glare to William.
William held his hands up. “I think ye’ll find ‘tis the other way around.”
“Really?” Fiona turned back to the dance floor and placed her hands on her silken hips. “Well, isn’t that fascinating? I do not think my Jamie will be able to resist.”
* * *
Amelia sighed into the now familiar library chair, leaving the crowd for a bit of respite from the noise and merriment. She leaned her head on her fist and stared at the fire, thinking dreamily of Jamie in his kilt and sword, and the way his hand had felt against hers on the dance floor. As she had left the main hall, Jamie had followed her and they shared a hot and urgent kiss against the cold stone wall, his hands holding hers above her head. Then, he’d left her wordlessly to return to the party. She had needed some alone time even more after that.
So much had happened since she’d first arrived in Scotland. She had come a broken woman, feeling the weight of rejection and betrayal, and loss of status. But, now, some of her pieces had been put back together: by Fiona, by Wiliam, and by Jamie. She had received such kindness here and freedom that she felt like a different person: stronger, bolder, braver, and was willing to fight for what she wanted. She smiled at the renewed feeling of strength that filled her core.
She stood to return to the party, and a maid rushed into the library. “Och, thank the Good Lord I’ve found ye, Miss. I want tae apologize, but here is a letter I’d received yesterday for ye. It must have got lost in all the madness of Hogmanay preparations.” The maid bent her head, and Amelia thanked her. She left hurriedly once again.
“Ah, it’s from London Prison of Debts...Father.”
Anger and fear boiled in her stomach and threatened to choke her as she ripped open the envelope. Her eyes scanned over the page hurriedly.
Dear Amelia,
Your mother has written to me a few times, even though I told her not to, and told me of my beautiful, resourceful daughter. She has given me your address, so that I could write to you as well. Tell me of your time in the castle. Are you writing?
Enough with the pleasantries. Your mother writes that you are saving money for my release. You should not do so; I am not worth saving after my wretched behavior. The debts are far worse than you imagine. Apparently much of the house was not able to be sold and so my debt continues to hang as reminder of my weakness. Tell your mother not to spend her tears or worries for me.
Forgive me,
Father
Amelia could have bellowed into the skies, she was so seething with anger. “He feigns apology and remorse, yet he concerns us more with these facts about the house and the true horror of his debts. Does he think I can really let my mother be brokenhearted forever?”
Amelia paced the library, breathing in and out, attempting to calm the red fire that swirled inside of her. “He continues to be my burden, even after he has taken my inheritance from me. I cannot, will not, watch my mother descend into weakness and despair. She has hope now, and I cannot take that away!”
A clearing of a throat caught her attention, despite her fury. It came from the library door, and she looked up to see cousin Donald.
“Well, I couldnae help but overhear. Perhaps I might be of service?”
