Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

T he days crept by, and Amelia was torn between the giddy joy of her deepening connection with Hamish, and her fear for the women of the area if Taffington was allowed to get his way. Reports from the village confirmed their suspicions that Taffington was back to his old tricks, staying at the tavern long into the night and attempting to flirt with the barmaids and every woman under fifty who set foot in the place. They were pleased to hear, however, that he wasn’t getting away with nearly as much of his unpleasant conduct as he once had been. There were half a dozen stories of women using what Amelia had taught them to evade him, and it sounded like he was being a little less forceful than he had been, at least when it came to physical altercations.

Unfortunately, he was taking his frustrations out in other ways. According to another letter from Baldric, he had become a moody, sullen presence at the estate, often getting into screaming arguments with Weatherby at the drop of the hat, undermining his authority in front of his servants and generally making his threats to take over the whole place explicit.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Amelia said one morning a few days later, when they’d finished discussing Sir Baldric’s most recent letter. “And I know it makes me sound like a monster. But could we just… kill him? I know how it sounds,” she said quickly, seeing Hamish perform his professional diplomatic trick of keeping his expression completely blank. “But the man has had every opportunity to change his behavior, and it’s pretty clear that that’s not going to happen. So — what if we just — killed him?” She hesitated, taking a beat before she spoke again, knowing that what she was about to suggest couldn’t sound like a flippant idea she hadn’t given due thought to. “I’d be willing to do it myself.”

Hamish was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, and she appreciated that he was giving her suggestion due consideration. “I understand where you’re coming from,” he said softly, and she smiled a little — it was an expression he’d picked up from her. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought a lot about how convenient it would be if an accident befell him on the road somewhere. But the murder of an English nobleman on Scottish lands…” He sighed. “Unfortunately, the English know too much about the situation here for even the most carefully staged accident to be viewed without suspicion. If Taffington dies now, we’re likely to end up in an even more complicated political situation.”

She sighed, nodding reluctant agreement, ready to put the subject to bed. It had been a long shot — she hadn’t really expected Hamish to take her up on her offer of murdering the man in cold blood. But she was surprised when he cleared his throat, a thoughtful look on his face. “That being said,” he said slowly, “there could be another way.”

“Another way?”

“As you well know,” he said, a smile flicking across his face, “I’m technically an English knight.”

Amelia chuckled at that — his knighthood was the subject of much ribbing from his Scottish cousins, and she’d joined in on the good-natured teasing more than a few times. But what did that have to do with Taffington?

“That knighthood gives me access to certain archaic rights… like the right to challenge a man to a duel.”

Amelia felt the smile fade from her face as she remembered the tale of the last duel Hamish had fought — the man he’d killed in revenge for Amy’s death. “You could kill Taffington in a duel without any political consequences?”

He nodded. “Legally speaking, the outcome of a duel is legal, so long as the rules are followed. The problem with challenging Taffington is that it would be Gaunt I’d be fighting, not the Lord. I’d end up going through every retainer he’s got before I actually reached Taffington himself,” he said, grimacing. “Still, it’s something I’m considering, if we can’t find another resolution. At the very least, it might frighten him into marginally better conduct.”

She was still thinking about the rather attractive proposition of Taffington being killed in a duel when they were called to the Laird’s chambers — it seemed that another letter had arrived. She’d expected more news from Sir Baldric, but her stomach sank when she saw the fussy, curly script on the envelope in the Laird’s hand — it was all too familiar, matching exactly the writing on the stack of envelopes that were still stored in her old room.

“I don’t know what to make of this,” Laird Donal said, frowning. “It’s a development, at least, though I can’t tell whether it’s promising or not.”

Hamish and Amelia read the letter quickly, and she quickly understood what had troubled the Laird about it. Taffington was already writing as though he’d taken over the lordship of the area already, although from what Baldric had told them this was far from being the case. But what was truly surprising was the offer made in the letter to negotiate regarding the women of the area. Taffington smugly asserted the right of “the true Lord of the area” to behave as he wished with any woman in the area… however, the letter also indicated that he would be willing to negotiate on an agreement for the Lord to leave the Scottish women alone. But he made the conditions of that deal very clear — he would only negotiate if representatives were sent to the manor to meet with him. And the only representatives he wished to meet with were Hamish MacClaran and Amelia Cosgrove.

“I’m surprised he remembers my name,” Amelia remarked to hide her unease. “He’s been calling me ‘that madwoman’ for so long I thought he’d forgotten it.”

“This is an insult,” Laird Donal said, scowling down at the paper. “But at the same time, it may be our best opportunity to resolve this situation. What’s your view, Hamish?”

It was a long discussion. Amelia could sense that both men were frustrated by the offer, wanting to reject it but knowing that it might be their best shot at making Taffington back down. Finally, after a debate that grew quite heated, they came to a reluctant agreement. They’d give Taffington what he wanted — Amelia and Hamish would ride to the Manor tomorrow. But they’d be taking a letter from the Laird with them, explaining in no uncertain terms that the women of Scotland were not Taffington’s to take and do with as he pleased. If the Lord wanted to have any hope of keeping the area even partially in his own hands, he’d respect that.

“You understand that this could be read as an invitation to war,” Hamish said to Laird Donal when he’d finished reading the letter, his eyes shadowed.

The Laird nodded; his jaw tight. “Aye, Hamish, well aware. There are lines I will not allow to be crossed. I won’t have my people terrorized. A peace earned that way is no true peace at all.”

“We’ll solve it,” Amelia promised, reaching out to put a hand on Hamish’s wrist as she sensed his worry. “We’ll find a way. If Taffington can’t be talked into seeing sense — well, he’s not the only person there, is he? There’s Sir Baldric, and Weatherby — we’ll find a way.”

“I have every confidence in you both,” Donal said.

Hamish looked down at her with a grateful smile that warmed her heart. What she didn’t mention aloud was that both she and Hamish were also well equipped, if the situation didn’t go well, to pursue a more violent resolution to the situation. She’d noticed that Hamish hadn’t mentioned the idea of challenging Taffington to a duel to the Laird, and she’d followed his lead in not bringing it up. Clever, really. What the Laird didn’t know about, he couldn’t forbid… and something told Amelia that they may very well need to draw upon more than just diplomacy to solve this situation.

And so it was that the two of them set off the following day, after a messenger had been dispatched to alert the residents of Weatherby Manor that their kind invitation had been accepted. Hamish had the Laird’s letter tucked among his belongings, but she’d also noticed him packing quite a few weapons, which sent an anticipatory shiver down her spine.

We’ll find a way, she told herself as they passed through the open gates and head down toward the village. Between the two of them, they’d find a way to resolve the situation.

The beautiful weather was almost enough to take her mind off the powder keg of a situation they were riding into. She and Hamish rode in pleasant silence, enjoying the sunshine and the fresh country air. It felt strange to be approaching the manor again, this time on horseback — she was struggling to remember what it had looked like the first time through the windows of the car. That whole section of her life was feeling more and more like a dream, like something that had happened to a different person. It wasn’t, though, she reminded herself firmly. Everything she’d been through had made her into the person she was today — the person who was going to help resolve this awful situation, once and for all. Every woman who’d arrived here before her had also used their own unique skill set to resolve a problem here. She had to trust whatever strange magic or fate had brought her here — and above all, she had to trust herself.

Her gut told her right away that something was wrong. As they rode up toward the familiar facade of the manor, she’d expected to see a few servants waiting to meet them to take their horses and belongings inside — but the men waiting all wore the livery of Weatherby’s guards. They’d also expected Lord Weatherby to be there to greet them — it was technically his invitation that they were accepting, as the actual Lord of the area. She’d been looking forward to seeing Sir Baldric again, too, hoping to get an opportunity to thank him for all his letters. But Weatherby and the familiar shadow of his guard were nowhere to be seen. Instead, it was Taffington standing at the top of the steps, his arms folded over his chest and an unpleasantly wide smile on his face. His nose, she couldn’t help but notice, had set a little crooked, and she hid a smile at the thought that she’d given him a permanent memento of the night he’d tried and failed to lay his awful hands on her.

That feeling of triumph, however, was short lived. Because no sooner had they slid down from the backs of their horses that Taffington called for the guards to seize them.