Highlander Mine. Juliette Miller

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      CHAPTER TWO

      I SUPPOSE I shouldn’t have been overly surprised that Hamish and I were subjected to a careful—and quite thorough—search, not only of our bag but also our clothing before we were allowed into the carriage. This inspection was carried out by several of the guards, at Lachlan’s command. He appeared to be the highest-ranking of these men, and they obeyed his directive without question. “A routine exercise,” was Lachlan’s gruff comment on the subject, although I couldn’t help wondering how regularly they came across wandering, unchaperoned young women in these parts. Maybe it happened all the time.

      “I’ll exercise you,” I muttered inaudibly, as Lachlan’s men patted the shape of my legs through my dress, to ensure that I carried no weapons, presumably.

      “Pardon, milady?” Lachlan said. “Did you say something?”

      “Nay,” I replied innocently. “Nothing at all.”

      Darkness had settled by the time we began our journey to Kinloch.

      The luxurious carriage was fitted with clever seats that reclined to form beds. Velvet curtains had been drawn to create partitions between the beds. And the bedding itself was as soft and plush as any I had ever seen.

      I lay for a time before I slept, considering this unusual turn of events and all that had happened in the short space of several weeks. Here we were, ensconced in deluxe accommodation, making our way with a group of warriors and noblewomen to a mythical Highlands keep where we would be greeted by the laird of their clan. It was so far removed from the backstreets of Edinburgh I almost wondered if I was in fact dreaming, if the harrowing events of recent weeks hadn’t got the better of me. I blinked and took in my surroundings, fingering the fine thickness of the soft fabrics.

      Hamish was curled up, already asleep, along the edge of my haven. I tucked the fur blanket more tightly around him.

      I removed my dress to sleep in my shift, folding it carefully, knowing this was the only suitable gown I had at my disposal. But then I remembered that I wouldn’t be expected to have a change of clothes—all my belongings had been stolen by a band of murderous thugs. I couldn’t precisely tell whether our story had been convincing—or whether we had merely piqued their suspicious curiosity. Either way, Lachlan had not balked in the slightest at the thought of continuing through the night. He either knew our tale was fictitious or had such confidence in his own skills and those of his men that he was completely unperturbed by the possibility of conflict.

      Time would tell whether our lie would catch up with us. I wondered if the esteemed Laird Knox Mackenzie was a clever and intuitive man. Would he be easy to deceive? Or would he see right through me and order me gone at his first opportunity? I would find out soon enough. For now, despite—or maybe because of—the gentle lull of the moving carriage as it pulled us through the night, safe and warm, I fell asleep more easily than I had in many months. But then the memories began to haunt my dreams, creeping up and closing in.

      He was there, behind me. I could feel his presence like a tightening grip around my neck. I turned to him, all black eyes and evil intention. He was not an especially handsome man but it was true he had an air of importance, with his well-fed, well-dressed appearance and his smoothed dark blond hair. Beneath the glossy, urbane exterior lurked a vile soul. I was aghast but not surprised when he made a gloating announcement.

      “I’ve taken a financial interest in your family’s establishment, Amelia.” The sound of my name, spoken in that dark, ominous voice, caused the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to rise. “In fact, I have just purchased a very decisive controlling share. Which means that you are now my employee. It is therefore my responsibility to ensure that you are suitably engaged, and as useful as you might possibly be.” I flinched back from the coldness he seemed to emit, but his hand stole to a loose curl of my hair, with which he played with two fingers. “I gave you several opportunities to act in your family’s best interest.”

      I glared at him, and it was this defiance that challenged him. He was accustomed to fear, and obedience. That he could detect neither in me, I knew, provoked him. And fascinated him. I could see it there in his pitiless eyes: he wanted to break me. Each time I refused him, he upped his game. My determination to avoid him was having the opposite effect, miring me deeper into the control he was determined to gain.

      “In other words, my dear Amelia, I now own the majority of this club.” And you along with it, was his unspoken implication.

      “Congratulations,” I said. This was the worst news he could have delivered, but I’d be damned to the fiery depths of hell before I let him see any hint of weakness in me. That would be his victory.

      “You could easily have relieved your family of their debts without forcing me to play this particular hand. I’m surprised you continue to refuse me. I’ve had to take somewhat excessive measures just to get your...undivided attention.” His gaze was chilling, but his tone was deceptively light. “And you look lovelier tonight than ever. Like a nymph with a siren’s tendencies. Worth the price, I daresay.”

      I glared at him, taken aback by his inappropriate flattery. Whatever I looked like, I was entirely innocent. I—and my sister, it had to be said—intended to keep it that way for some time to come. My mother’s sense of propriety, for better or worse, had manifested itself tenfold in my sister; she watched me like a hawk and refused to allow any man to court me, perhaps because the selection of suitors we were exposed to were, more often than not, married and cheating, destitute, drunk or wanted by the law. “There are more important things than money,” I said. “I would rather starve than give myself unwillingly to any man.” Especially you.

      This made him smile, and it was a smile that sickened me with fear. “Is that so?” he purred. His eyes were uncannily emotionless.

      I willed myself to hold my ground. Fear was not something that troubled me often, but Sebastian Fawkes seemed to bathe me in it. His presence clouded my confidence. Whenever he darkened our doorstep, it was as though doom lurked around every corner, waiting to ooze in and take hold.

      “You know how wealthy and powerful I am. You know how much of Edinburgh I own. Yet you refuse to grant me one simple request. My patience has grown thin. I have more important things to do than chase after a stubborn, down-on-her-luck virgin. Yet regrettably, my desire for you consumes me. And so I have taken matters into my own hands. You will be mine. Tonight.”

      God help me. Logic was telling me to submit to his dark requests, but all I felt was fury at his insults. “I’m not down on my luck,” I seethed, glancing at my surroundings, which suggested otherwise, a detail that only enraged me further. “And I have no interest or intention of submitting to you, Mr. Fawkes. I’m sure there are countless women who would jump at the chance to bed you. I’m simply not one of them.”

      His voice was low, laced with anger. Awful and severe. “I’m afraid I simply will not accept nay for an answer.”

      A wash of terror chased up my spine as he eyed his hulking, ever-present bodyguards, considering. My courage was false, but it was better than nothing; I forced a chuckle just to annoy him. “I’d rather bed the devil himself.”

      “Since he’s not available tonight,” he replied, his eyes simmering with frightening anticipation, “you’ll have to make do СКАЧАТЬ