Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

I t was nice to be back at the Keep after a few weeks away. She was surprised to realize how much she’d missed her ne friends, the other time travelers — especially Delilah, who was waiting on the steps to welcome them back the following afternoon. Somehow, word had managed to beat them back to the Keep about what had happened to Taffington in the alley, and she found herself fielding more than a few enquiries about how she’d been able to disarm his guard as well as doing such damage to him. Something told her she’d be teaching a few self-defense classes here at the Keep before too long, something she was more than happy to do.

The mystery of how word had spread so fast was resolved when the two of them were called to see Laird Donal in his quarters. There was a long letter in his hand when he called them in, composed in what Amelia could tell even at a considerable distance was very poor handwriting… almost as though the writer had been forced to use their non-dominant hand to compose it. She did her best to hide the smug grin that threatened to spread across her face… though she could see a hint of amusement dancing in Laird Donal’s eyes when he turned to offer her the weakest rebuke she’d ever heard.

“I’ll be writing back to Lord Taffington to let him know how dreadfully sorry you are for breaking his hand,” the Laird said, pressing his lips together to hide his smile.

“Tell him I wept at your feet for forgiveness,” Amelia suggested brightly, hearing Hamish chuckle at her side.

“As tempted as I am, it may not be in our best interests to goad him right now,” Hamish said reluctantly. “Amelia, you had every right to defend yourself the way you did… but it remains the case that Taffington has the power to make things extraordinarily difficult for us. The influence he has over Weatherby is very troubling indeed.”

“Our good relationship with Lord Weatherby is a valuable asset,” Laird Donal explained. “The English are effectively occupying Scotland, and many of our neighboring clans haven’t been so lucky when it comes to English presence on their lands. Hamish and I are very concerned about Taffington potentially taking over Weatherby’s position here. From what we’ve come to understand from Hamish’s connections in parliament, that eventuality is very possible. And it goes without saying that having Lord Taffington in charge is…”

“The worst possible eventuality,” Hamish supplied grimly. “We need to tread carefully. From what I’ve been able to get out of Sir Baldric, Weatherby wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if Taffington attempted to take over his role here. If Taffington starts throwing his political weight around, we won’t be able to look to Weatherby for help.”

“So what can we do?” Amelia wanted to know. The jolly mood of joking about Taffington suddenly seemed like it had been a long, long time ago.

“Right now, all we can do is wait,” Hamish said heavily. “I nurse a faint hope that Taffington might take the medicine you gave him last night and improve himself, but I’d be the first to admit that that’s the least likely outcome.”

“And the most likely?” Laird Donal asked.

“A man like that? He’ll want revenge. And he’ll get it whatever way he can.”

There was one benefit to having broken Taffington’s hand, Amelia reflected as the days began to creep slowly by. It seemed to have put an abrupt stop to the revolting love letters he’d been sending her nonstop since her arrival here in Scotland. The most recently dated one among the pile that had accumulated for her in her absence had arrived the day before the encounter with Weatherby in the tavern, and had all but described his intention to corner her somewhere and have his way with her… she wrinkled her nose before stuffing the missive back in its envelope and returning it to the drawer where she kept them, as far from sight as possible. Once Taffington was dealt with, she promised herself, she was going to burn every last one of these letters.

At least she and Hamish had plenty of time to spend together. She wound up spending very little time in her own room as the weeks went by — Hamish’s quarters were much larger, including — most importantly — the bed. It wasn’t like she had many belongings of her own to store, either. By the end of their first week back, she’d moved most of her clothes into his wardrobe, and the rest of her possessions followed quickly.

Her friends noticed, of course. For a while, she’d entertained the idea of keeping their blossoming relationship a secret, maintaining the charade of going back to her own room each night… but the spark between them was undeniable, and she quickly tired of hiding the way her eyes were drawn to him every time he stepped into a room. She could tell, from the looks on the faces of her friends, that they’d put the pieces together, but they all seemed to have agreed to some collective pact of politeness, and nobody brought it up.

Eventually, she mentioned the subject to Delilah. It had been a fortnight since she and Hamish had returned from the village to the Keep, and she hadn’t been back to her own room for three or four days. She and Delilah were taking a stroll around the walls of the Keep in the late afternoon sunshine, enjoying the pleasant weather, which had been growing warmer over the last few weeks. That warmth had been the only thing anyone could talk about for the last few weeks, and Delilah was telling her that the warm summer weather always marked marriage season for the surrounding area. She smiled, thinking of Milly and hoping the young woman was looking forward to her own wedding, despite all the unpleasantness with Taffington.

“Speaking of romance,” she said casually, marking the way that Delilah deliberately didn’t change a single thing about her posture or body language. “I suppose you’ve noticed that Hamish and I have been spending a bit of time together.”

“Oh, have you?” Delilah couldn’t have sounded any more casual if she’d spent days practicing her tone… which Amelia had a suspicion she might have. She couldn’t help but laugh, feeling very fond of her friend.

“I appreciate the effort, but I can’t say you’re very convincing,” she said, and Delilah joined her in laughing, looking apologetic.

“Alright. I’ll admit that a little conjecture might have been going around.” There was a brief pause in which Delilah was clearly struggling to be polite, before finally, impatiently, a more honest demand broke through. “Well? Tell me what’s happening!”

Amelia laughed, not even bothered by the demand. “I have a feeling you know what’s happening, Delilah! The same damned thing that’s happened to all six hundred of the other women who’ve turned up here and found out they’re one half of a pair of identical twins who were born hundreds of years apart. I’m annoyed about how predictable it all is, honestly.”

“Who could blame you?” Delilah pointed out. “I don’t mind telling you that half the girls in the Keep are in love with him. Who’d have thought that diplomacy was sexy?”

Amelia snorted. “There’s more to him on that front than the diplomacy. Not that I’ll be going into details,” she added primly. Then she hesitated. “I wanted to ask your advice about all that, actually. Should we be… I don’t know, keeping it secret that we’re… getting physical? I don’t want the whole village to think I’m a whore.”

Delilah shook her head. “You’d be surprised by the general attitude to sex around here,” she said frankly. “The only people who get their knickers in a twist about premarital sex generally have an ulterior motive. Normal people know it’s part of life. Nobody’s going to respect you any less for it.” Her eyes were twinkling. “One thing you might need to get ready for is a proposal, though.”

“A proposal?” Her eyes widened. “We’ve barely known each other a month!”

“MacClaran men move fast when they know what they want,” Delilah said with a shrug. “I’m not saying you need to say yes, just letting you know that you might want to… prepare a response, if the question comes up.”

Now that she thought about it, she had noticed Hamish looking at her sideways when he thought she couldn’t see him, and he’d been a touch preoccupied of late… with the Taffington situation, she’d thought at first, but there seemed to be something else there, too. To her surprise, the thought didn’t frighten her. Delilah was looking at her curiously out of the corner of her eye, clearly eager to hear her thoughts but respecting her privacy still. It was amazing how far that simple courtesy went to making her feel like she wanted to open up. Knowing she didn’t have to share her feelings made her all the more comfortable to do so.

“You know, I think I’d say yes, if he asked me,” she said, feeling an odd thrill run down her spine at the thought.

“You would?”

“I mean, in my old life, in the old world, I’d say it was absolutely insane. But… none of this is anything like my old life,” she said, gesturing to the wall of the castle that loomed up beside them, to the gorgeous Scottish countryside sprawled out all around them. “And I’ve never met so many disgustingly happily married women in all my life. Magic or curse or fate or whatever it is, it’s clearly working for you all.” She shrugged. “Who am I to go against that?”

Later, it occurred to her to wonder whether Delilah might have been asking on Hamish’s account — scouting out her feelings on the subject of marriage to ascertain how she might feel about a proposal. She wouldn’t have put it past the man — he was a diplomat, after all. But before they had a chance to discuss it, something happened that put a profound dampener on the subject of marriage… in the form of a long letter from Sir Baldric.

Lord Taffington, it seemed, had recovered from his wounds… and he was up to his old tricks in earnest.