How to Catch a Sinful Marquess - Amy Rose Bennett Page 0,103
his flesh. “When I was about fifteen, I began to fill out. Grow stronger. And my father sent me away to Eton. When I came home during the holidays, he began to leave me alone. Little did I know that when I was away he was taking his pent-up frustrations out on Mother.” Hamish caught Olivia’s shocked gaze. “She’s endured far too much. And there isn’t a day that my heart doesn’t weep for her.”
Olivia nodded. “She told me that she and your father had a terrible fight the night of the fire. But she doesn’t recall everything.”
“Aye. I was twenty at the time and home from Oxford. My bedchamber, Isobel’s, and Angus’s were all located in the wing adjacent to the south tower and our parents’ suite. I’d retired to my own room for the evening to watch a summer storm roll in across the Minch, but when the argument began, my father’s thunderous voice was so loud, I could hear him even from afar. I couldn’t stand by. I couldn’t stay away. I knew he’d been in a filthy mood all afternoon, brooding and stacking up his anger like the storm clouds of the oncoming tempest. But I was ready for him . . .
“You see, I’d taken up boxing and wrestling at university, and because of my size, I was getting damn good at both. My father was a tall man, too, and, like me, as muscular as an ox. But that summer, I wasn’t intimidated by him anymore. And when I heard the shouts and curses floating down the gallery to my door, I was just spoiling for a fight. I was ready to take my father down a peg or two. Make him pay for all the beatings and whippings I’d taken in the past. To punish him for all the terrible things he’d done to our mother.”
Hamish swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “And then everything changed when my mother screamed in a way I’d never heard before. It was bloodcurdling. It will stay with me until the day I die.”
He glanced at Olivia, and her expression was fearful yet unwavering. “What happened, Hamish?” she asked gravely. “But tell me only if you can bear it.”
He nodded, grateful that she seemed to understand how difficult this was. That he felt as though he were in the process of scourging an old, festering wound deep within his soul. “By the time I got to my mother’s room, it was already on fire. I don’t know what happened exactly, but the bed hangings were ablaze, and my mother was knocked unconscious. When I burst in and my father saw me taking everything in, he gave an almighty roar and charged at me. I swear there was murder in his glare, Olivia. And we fought.”
Hamish wiped a shaking hand across his jaw. “It was messy and vicious, and at one point we tumbled down the spiral stairwell at the end of the gallery. Because my father took a blow to the head and seemed dazed, I seized the opportunity to rush back to my mother’s room. By that stage, the room was well and truly alight, and thick with smoke. How I managed to pull her from the burning bed, I’ll never know.”
“But you managed to get outside,” said Olivia. “To safety.”
“Aye. However, the winds blowing in from the sea had fanned the flames, and when I turned to see whether my father had emerged, the tower was completely ablaze. The servants, as soon as they’d smelled the smoke, had roused Isobel and Angus and taken them outside, thank God.”
“You saved your mother, Hamish.” Olivia’s voice was soft with compassion. “I still don’t see why you think you’re deeply flawed and dangerous.”
This would be the hardest part to confess. Hamish drew a deep breath into his lungs. He’d never told this to anyone else, ever before. “What you don’t know is that when I was carrying my mother down the stairs, my father roused as I passed him. He grabbed at my ankle, trying to trip me, I suspect. And I kicked out at him. Not just because I was desperately trying to get away, but out of spite and white-hot anger. He’d tried to kill my mother. Burn her alive.”
“Oh, Hamish . . .”
“I didn’t look back. Not once as I rushed down the stairs. And I knew I’d hurt him. I heard the crack clearly as my boot connected with his jaw. And I was glad