Page 35 of Edge of the Wild

“It’s morning,” she hissed.

“Amelia?” Katherine called through again.

There came the soft scrape and click of a key turning in a lock.

“No!” She whipped around, scrambling up on her knees and dragging the covers around in a clumsy attempt to hide Malcolm, though he was twice her size and unmistakeable against the white linen. “Mother, don’t–”

The door swung open. Katherine stepped through, brow crimped with displeasure – and then she froze.

In a rare display of shock, her mouth dropped open.

Silence reigned, save the rustle of sheets as Malcolm sat up.

Slowly, Amelia sat down, legs tucked beneath her. There was no hiding it. Now, she could only face the explosion sure to come.

She said, “Mother.”

Katherine’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. Even now, without highborn witnesses, she didn’t scowl. Her face went white; a muscle leaped in her jaw. She stepped farther into the room, and – without slamming it – closed the door behind her.

Amelia took a breath, and lifted her chin; judging by the way her eyes narrowed, Katherine took it as a challenge. There were so many girlish, defensive things that Amelia could say:I’m sorry; I didn’t mean for it to happen; I can explain. None of those were true; all of them were cowardly.

She said, “Before you accuse me of being a slut, I want to tell you that I love him, and I don’t care about anyone’s approval, not even yours.”

Malcolm sucked in a breath behind her. “Lia,” he cautioned, softly.

Katherine took three quick steps across the carpet, fingers flexing claw-like at her sides. “What was that, Mr. Brown? Speak up: I can’t hear you.” Her voice cracked, each word snapping like the fall of a whip.

More sheet rustling. “Nothing – my apologies, my lady. I’ll–” The mattress dipped as he attempted to get up, but he stopped, and the sheet tugged slightly against Amelia’s thighs. He couldn’t get up and drag it with him, not without leaving her exposed, and he clearly didn’t want to expose himself.

It might have been funny if her marble-faced mother hadn’t been trying to stare her out of existence.

Katherine, “You might as well get up. In fact,doget up. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Malcolm hesitated a moment, then slipped out of bed.

Amelia didn’t turn to watch him, but she heard his bare footfalls hurry across the carpet toward last night’s abandoned clothes.

Katherine closed the last distance between them, reached out – Amelia tensed all over, braced for a slap – and took Amelia’s chin in her hand, her touch gentle even if she bristled with fury. “Can you even begin to comprehend how stupid you’re being?”

“What will you do? Disown me? Lock me in my room?”

In her periphery, she saw Malcolm pull on his boots and then edge closer to them, his jaw set.

Katherine’s eyes blazed. “Your whole life you’ve been obsessed with ruining yourself.”

“My lady.” Malcolm stepped closer, and unlike the duchess, hewasscowling. His hands weren’t claws, but fists.

“Mal, no,” Amelia said, and Katherine’s head whipped toward him.

Somehow, her face paled further. Her hand fell away from Amelia’s face.

“Mal.”

His gaze shifted toward her, then back to her mother. He drew himself up to his full height, and in that moment, backlit by the sun, his tangled hair and scruffy jaw did nothing to lessen the aura of power around him. He was a commoner, and not a noble, like them, but that was only a long-standing fiction that made nobles seem untouchable. He was a man –herman, strong and capable and loyal, title or no.

“I want to say,” he said, voice hard-edged, “that Amelia is respected by her men, and the people of Drakewell, and she’s never done anything toruin herself. I have overreached. If you want to punish someone, punish me.” He gave a quick bow. “My lady.” And took his leave.

Katherine was shaking.

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