Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

L aird Donal called Hamish and Amelia to his quarters to discuss the letter after breakfast the day after her conversation with Delilah. Confessing to her deepening feelings for Hamish had led to a rather passionate night spent in their shared quarters, and she was still feeling the drowsy, pleasant aftermath of their lovemaking even as the two of them made their way through the Keep to the familiar door. But one look at the Laird’s face quickly banished those thoughts from her mind, replacing her satisfaction with worry.

“We’ve had word from Weatherby Manor,” he said heavily, gesturing to both of them with the letter in his hand. “I’ve invited you along too, Amelia, as someone who’s grown more familiar with the situation in the village over the last few weeks.”

She nodded, feeling quietly pleased the Laird was beginning to see her as someone he could trust — and hoping, at the same time, that he wasn’t hiding his annoyance with her for breaking Taffington’s nose and hand. It was no secret in the Keep, and had made her something of a local celebrity — especially among the women of the castle — but she wasn’t unaware of the fact that she’d made the political situation more difficult. Not that she’d have changed the decision she’d made, of course. As far as she was concerned, Taffington had broken his own hand when he’d refused to heed her clear and repeated warnings.

Hamish took the letter that the Laird offered, scanning the dense lines of script with the letter outstretched courteously in her direction so that she could read it too. It wasn’t from Taffington, to her relief — that neat, dense hand belonged to Sir Baldric, she remembered from a note he’d sent her thanking her for the return of his cloak. The letter, though, was not good news. Baldric was giving them a warning, in the most diplomatic way possible, that Lord Taffington was on the rampage again. There was no mention of Lord Weatherby in the note, which didn’t surprise her — no doubt he was trying to keep out of the whole situation, not wanting a repeat of the unpleasant confrontation here at the Keep.

One part of the letter confused her, though — and it seemed to be the line that the Laird and Hamish were both focusing on with identical looks of dismay that made their family resemblance very clear. “What does this mean?” she asked finally, pointing it out. “Baldric says Taffington’s been talking about … is that Latin?”

“Prima Nocta,” Laird Donal said, a scowl crossing his face. “I’m glad you haven’t heard of it, Amelia. Tells me that we’ve left some things behind by your time, at least.”

“It’s a barbaric old tradition that gives the Lord of an area certain rights on a couple’s wedding night,” Hamish explained, a taut anger in his voice. “I know it’s technically part of the law in certain areas, but I can’t remember an example of the rights actually being exercised.”

“The rights,” Amelia repeated slowly. “Do you mean…?”

“The Lord is given the prerogative to deflower a bride before her new husband does, yes,” the Laird said through gritted teeth. “I wish I could say that it’s likely just idle chatter on Taffington’s part, but I don’t think he’d mention it if it wasn’t important for us to know and we’ve encountered it before. Some twenty odd years ago, to be exact with Weatherby’s predecessor, if I’m not mistaken.”

His words surprised her and she blinked… “Not one of us…” she started, her eyes going wide at the thought of Audrina having to endure that.

“No, thank God, but her ancestor, Maeve.” Donal shook his head. “Thankfully, he paid for his crimes against us and was replaced by the current Lord Weatherby, not that he’s always been as cordial to us as he has been these past several years.”

Amelia nodded and contemplated who Taffington might be after now. She found herself thinking of Milly, imagining how the girl would react to the news that her wedding night could legally be interrupted by a visit from the most repulsive man in the area, and a shudder ran down her spine.

“We have to stop him,” she said, feeling a little foolish at how obvious the statement was. “I don’t know how, but we can’t let him do this. Can he do this? He’s not even the Lord of the area, is he?” She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t say I liked Weatherby much, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who’d…”

“No, I doubt Lord Weatherby would claim the right for himself, not anymore.” Hamish was rubbing his forehead, looking more exhausted by the minute. “From what Baldric’s said here, I think this is part of a bigger scheme on Taffington’s part. I imagine his failure to get what he wanted from Amelia has made him angry.”

“My compliments on that, Miss Cosgrove,” the Laird said unexpectedly, flashing her a quick smile. “Strictly between us, of course, but the tale of Taffington’s injuries was the best news we’ve received here at the Keep for some time.”

“As much as the man deserved what he got,” Hamish said heavily, “it’s clearly antagonized him into throwing his weight around with Lord Weatherby. This demand to instate Prima Nocta — it’s a play. Reading between the lines, Baldric’s saying Taffington’s offering it as an ultimatum. If Weatherby doesn’t do as he wishes, it’s likely he’ll try to take over the area as Lord himself.”

Amelia’s heart sank. “Can he even do that? I thought… I mean, the manor’s named after him.”

“Without boring us all to sleep with the details of the English government and all its intricate webs of corruption… yes, lass.” Hamish sighed. “Yes, he can. And if he does, it won’t be long before he’s put this barbarous rule into practice on his own behalf.”

“The women of the village won’t stand for it,” Amelia said. “And I’ve taught most of them enough that they can re-break his fingers for him if he tries anything.”

“Aye, I don’t doubt it,” Hamish said with a tired smile. “But if Taffington gets this law instated, then doing that will make these women criminals — and give him even more leverage and power over them and their families. We may end up with men and women having to choose between losing their homes and their livelihoods… or letting Taffington have what he wants.”

She could feel the anger in her, low and cold. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “This — this is all horribly familiar, I’m afraid. Not quite as much has changed in my time as one would hope.”

She tried not to think about all the women she’d known whose careers had been manipulated by crooked managers and industry professionals, men who saw athletic young women like Amelia as little more than products to be bought, sold and pawed at by their filthy hands… she’d always had Carmen in her corner to keep her safe from that kind of crap, but she knew how much it happened, even in the twenty-first century, when they were supposed to be so modern, so empowered.

“We’re going to do everything we can to stop it, Amelia. You have my word as Laird,” Donal said firmly.

“If there’s anything at all I can do to help, please tell me.” She hated how frail her voice sounded; how weak the offer was. What could she do, at the end of the day? If the Laird himself was powerless against Taffington — if Lord Weatherby, Sir Baldric, Hamish, all these men with all this power and influence couldn’t stop him, then how the hell could she?

She spent the rest of the morning brooding on it, running up and down the steps of the Keep with short rest breaks on the windy roof of the castle. From up here, there was a beautiful view of the surrounding area — she knew, now, where to look to spot the village, and beyond that she could make out the massive forest of trees that stood between them and Weatherby Manor. She was glaring at that spot, breathing hard from her latest sprint up the steps, when she heard footsteps behind her and felt a familiar hand touch her shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

She shrugged, knowing from the look on his face that he knew the answer as well as she did.

“I’m sorry, Amelia. It’s a mess. I wish you could have arrived at a less turbulent time.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, glancing sidelong at him. “If Taffington hadn’t been pulling this shit when I turned up, Laird Donal would never have sent for you. We might not have even met until you came back home to visit, and who knows how long that would have been?”

“That’s true,” Hamish said with a soft smile, putting his arm around her shoulders. “I wouldn’t want to have missed a single day with you, Amelia Cosgrove.”

She hummed appreciation, leaning into his embrace — but there was an odd tension in him that made her stay quiet, suspicious that he might have a little more to say.

“I’ll admit, this talk of Prima Nocta has been — of personal as well as political frustration, for me,” he said softly.

“Why’s that?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual as her heart thumped hard against her ribcage. He looked down at her for a moment, a suspicious look on his handsome face that quickly gave way to amusement before he returned those keen blue eyes to the distant horizon.

“Well, if there’s a threat of Taffington interfering with new brides, I can hardly ask you to marry me until the matter’s resolved, can I?”