Connie Mason (17 page)

Damian blinked in dismay when Nan seemed to fade away into the gloom. How much of Nan’s warning should he believe? One thing made clear from Nan’s words, however, was that he should take steps to ban all weapons in the hall during the wedding ceremony except those carried by his own trusted retainers.

Elissa was awakened early on her wedding day after a restless night plagued by dreams. Maggie arrived early to direct the placement of the round wooden tub before the hearth, followed shortly afterward by Marianne and Nan with Elissa’s wedding dress.

“’Tis time to dress for your wedding, daughter,” Marianne said. “Into the tub with you.”

Maggie left to fetch Elissa’s breakfast while Nan shook the wrinkles from the dress and spread it out on the bed.

“I’ll leave you in Nan’s good hands,” Marianne said, “if you have no objection. I should help Lora dress.”

“Should you be exerting yourself, Mama? Are you strong enough?”

Marianne’s smile warmed Elissa. “Donna worry, dear one, my health improves every day. This is one wedding I donna intend to miss.”

Elissa stepped into the tub, sighing as she sank into the water. This was her wedding day. It wasn’t too long ago that she had prepared for another wedding, to another man. A man her beloved father had chosen for her. Tears shimmered in her eyes. What would the great Alpin Fraser think of her now? She knew her mother and sister approved, for against all odds they had grown fond of Damian. Even her kinsmen approved of him.

Damian’s many good qualities overshadowed his reputation as a ruthless soldier. The one detriment to their marriage was the fact that Damian didn’t love her. Of course Tavis didn’t love her either, or she him, but she would have had the satisfaction of fulfilling her father’s wish to unite the Gordons and the Frasers had she wed Tavis.

“Out with ye, lass,” Nan said, spreading a large drying cloth for Elissa to step into. “Maggie will be here with yer breakfast soon.”

There was no way to stop the wedding, Elissa realized as she wrapped herself in the soft linen cloth, so she had no reason to dawdle. Her fate was sealed; Damian would not be dissuaded.

Maggie arrived moments later with a tray and placed it on the table.

“Winifred prepared a feast for ye,” Maggie said, whisking off the napkin. “There’s eggs and sausage, fried ham, a small round of goat cheese, and a pot of tea. There’s even berry jam to spread on fresh bread just out of the oven.”

Elissa pulled a chair to the table and stared at the food. Though she was hungry, she had too much on her mind to eat. She took a few bites of egg and ham, picked at the cheese, and drank nearly all the strong, hot tea. Then it was time to dress.

Marianne and Lora returned as Nan was hooking Elissa into her wedding dress. Marianne urged her onto a bench, picked up a brush, and brushed her hair until the glistening strands rivaled last evening’s sunset. The jeweled cap and veil were placed atop her head for the crowning touch.

“Oh, Lissa, you look so beautiful,” Lora gushed. “Donna you think so, Mama?”

“Indeed,” Marianne agreed, fixing her loving gaze on Elissa. “I’ve never seen a lovelier bride.”

“Pinch yer cheeks, lass,” Nan advised. “Yer too pale.” She stared into Elissa’s eyes for a long, tense moment, then whispered, “Beware the Gordon.”

Elissa became instantly alert. “What did you say?”

A knock at the door prevented Nan from responding. Maggie opened the door and Dermot stepped inside, dressed in his best finery.

“Is it time already?” Elissa asked in a quavering voice.

“Aye, Father Hugh and yer bridegroom await ye below,” Dermot said. He held out his arm. “Come, lass, I’ll escort ye to yer wedding.”

“Go,” Marianne said, giving Elissa a fierce hug. “Lord Damian will make you happy if you give him a chance.”

“I…oh, Mama, if Damian loved me I’d be the happiest woman alive.”

“Are you sure he doesna?”

“Are ye ready, lass?” Dermot asked impatiently. “The guests have arrived and grow restless.”

Elissa gave a wobbly smile and placed her arm on Dermot’s.

Damian paced restlessly, his gaze returning to the arched doorway again and again. What was keeping her? Was she going to change her mind at the last minute? Bloody hell! She had to marry him. Didn’t she realize she had no choice? He hadn’t wanted to worry Elissa, but it was possible that once Kimbra reached London and spewed her lies into the king’s ear, the monarch would react with typical violence. Elissa needed his protection whether she knew it or not.

“Calm down,” Sir Richard said, pacing alongside Damian. “Elissa would be a fool not to marry you.” He glanced about the hall, his gaze skimming over the wedding guests who had gathered to celebrate the ceremony. “The Gordon must have decided not to show up. ’Tis a blessing, if you ask me.”

“The day isn’t over,” Damian said grimly. “Have the guests been disarmed as they entered the hall?”

“Aye, just as you ordered, but none of the villagers carried arms.”

A ripple of excitement caught his attention and his gaze found Elissa, poised uncertainly in the doorway. His breath caught in his throat. Elissa was the picture of fragile vulnerability, but he knew differently. She was strong, stronger than any woman he’d ever known. And so beautiful he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The blue gown was becoming, but paled in comparison to the woman wearing it. Her rich burnished hair flowed beneath her shoulder length veil in rippling waves that reflected the glint of sunlight spilling through the windows.

He grinned at her. Her answering smile was tentative. Then Dermot strode forward, forcing her to follow. Moments later she stood beside him. He took her hand from Dermot’s arm and placed it on his own. Father Hugh cleared his throat.

“Are ye ready, my lord?”

Damian shot a glance at Elissa, one eyebrow raised. Her nearly imperceptible nod was all the encouragement he needed. “Aye, begin the ceremony, Father.”

The hall was fair bursting with clansmen from the village and from miles around. The hall buzzed with excitement as they crowded close, eager to hear the vows spoken between their lass and the Demon Knight. Father Hugh signaled for silence.

An almost eerie hush preceded an unexpected commotion at the front entrance.

“Tavis,” Elissa whispered in a strangled voice that raised the hackles on the back of Damian’s neck.

Jealousy reared up like a ravening beast within Damian. He’d known all along that Gordon would show up, but knowing he was actually here made him even more protective of Elissa. His expression turned grim when he saw the color drain from her face and felt her clutching desperately at his arm.

“He’s come to cause trouble,” Elissa hissed. “I donna want him here.”

Relief surged through Damian at Elissa’s words. She didn’t want Gordon here; she didn’t want him at all. Damian had invited the chieftain as a last ditch effort to promote peace at Misterly, but if he were to be honest, he’d admit to a more selfish reason. He wanted Gordon to know that Elissa belonged to him, Damian, and always would.

“What manner of greeting is this?” Tavis Gordon bellowed angrily. “Yer hospitality is woefully lacking. ’Tis inhospitable to confiscate weapons from invited guests. I am here alone, amid enemies and at yer mercy. Are ye going to take advantage of me?”

A path opened up for the Gordon chieftain. Clad in outlawed tartan, he elbowed his way toward Damian and Elissa. Damian felt Elissa trembling and placed a protective arm around her.

“You’re welcome at Misterly, Gordon, as long as you relinquish your weapons. This is a time of joy, not war.”

Gordon clutched his sword, his face a mask of fury. “Ye stole my bride, now ye want to steal my weapons!”

“Your weapons will be returned when you leave. ’Tis your choice, Gordon. Set your hostilities aside as I intend to do and join the celebration.”

Gordon glowered at Elissa. “Elissa was to be my bride. I still want her, even though ’tis common knowledge she spread her thighs for ye.”

Elissa stifled a cry with the back of her hand. Damian wanted to smash Gordon in the mouth for his insult to Elissa but managed to contain his fury. “Why don’t we ask Elissa which man she prefers?” he suggested, feigning a calm he didn’t feel.

Damian realized he was taking a great risk, but he wanted, nay, needed, to hear Elissa’s answer for his own peace of mind. Not that it would make any difference. Elissa would be his wife whether or not she wanted Gordon.

“Verra well,” Gordon agreed smugly. “Ask the lass who she wants to wed.”

Damian grasped Elissa’s shoulders and turned her toward him. “What do you say, sweeting?”

The silence was nearly unbearable as Elissa stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth tremulous. He sensed the tension that held the wedding guests in thrall and felt as finely drawn as a bowstring.

“Elissa…”

“Go ahead, lass, donna be afraid,” Gordon prompted.

When her pink tongue darted out nervously to wet her lips, Damian wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she gave the answer he sought, but he forced himself to wait.

Elissa opened her mouth to speak; anticipation thickened the air around them.

“’Twas my father’s wish that I wed Tavis Gordon,” Elissa began, causing Damian’s heart to sink, “but ’tis not what I want.” Damian began to breathe again. “Tavis, you’ve proven you’re not the man my father thought, nor the man I hoped you’d be.” She reached for Damian’s hand. “I choose Damian.”

“You’ve made a wise choice, my lady,” Damian whispered on a relieved sigh. He turned back to Gordon. “Give over your weapons if you wish to remain for the ceremony.”

Gordon hesitated a long suspenseful moment before he presented his sword and pistol to Sir Richard, who stood nearby, poised to act should Gordon turn belligerent.

“You may continue, Father,” Damian said. It was over, and well worth the risk, he thought, to hear Elissa voice her preference for him.

Father Hugh began the ceremony. Damian spoke his vows, watching Gordon from the corner of his eye as Elissa repeated her vows in a low but steady voice. Minutes later they were pronounced husband and wife; Elissa was his. He turned her toward him and lifted her chin. Her eyes had a dazed, misty look as he dipped his head to seal their vows with a kiss. Deliberately he turned Elissa’s back to Gordon so he could keep the man in his sights, but the moment his lips touched Elissa’s, he closed his eyes to better savor the kiss.

Lost to sensation, Damian was dimly aware that Gordon was speaking, but he blocked out the words. When he opened his eyes he saw only Elissa, her warm body pressed against him. Then, from the corner of his eyes he saw sunlight reflect off something shiny in Gordon’s hand. All his senses, every instinct came alive.

Gordon held a knife in his hand—aimed at Elissa’s unprotected back!

“If I canna have her, neither can ye,” Gordon screamed.

Reacting spontaneously, Damian whirled, taking Elissa with him as he presented his own back for Gordon’s blade. He felt the bite of pain and steeled himself against it as he shoved Elissa into Sir Richard’s arms. A protective circle immediately formed around them. Waves of shimmering red formed before Damian’s eyes as he spun around to confront Gordon.

All Damian saw of Gordon was his back. He was lost amongst the throng of stunned wedding guests pressing forward to get a better view. The confusion and shock that followed the assault had worked to the Gordon chieftain’s advantage. He had created a chaotic situation and vanished out the door before Damian’s men-at-arms even knew what had happened.

Damian took a staggering step forward, remembered he carried no weapon, and asked a man-at-arms to fetch them.

Elissa grasped his arm. “Nay, you canna go! You’re wounded. Let Nan see to your injury.”

“I can’t let the bastard get away,” Damian said. “I’ll chase him to the ends of the earth if I have to.”

“Donna be so stubborn, Damian. Let Sir Richard handle it. You’re bleeding.”

Damian twisted free. “Gordon tried to kill you.”

“Is Damian going to be all right?”

Damian glanced down at Lora. She was gazing up at him through luminous eyes, her fear palpable.

“Aye, I’ll be fine, little one. You shouldn’t be here, though.” He summoned Marianne, who was standing nearby, wringing her hands. “Take the child to the solar, my lady, she is frightened.”

“Aye, Lord Damian,” Marianne agreed. “She’s too young to understand what just happened.” She grasped Lora’s hand and led her away.

Someone handed Damian his sword and he struggled to buckle it in place. “Damn,” he said when his fingers suddenly lost their will to obey.

Elissa grasped him about the waist and he sagged against her. At Nan’s command, Lachlan hurried over to help.

“Sit him down and remove his doublet and shirt,” Nan ordered as she rushed off to fetch her chest of herbs and salves.

Damian resisted. “’Tis but a scratch. I’ve suffered worse.”

Elissa paid him little heed as she peeled off his coat and shirt. “Donna be so stubborn, Damian. Sir Richard is perfectly capable of handling the situation. He’s searching for Tavis even as we speak, but I doubt he’ll be found. The mountains are full of hiding places. Not even Cumberland and his army have succeeded in running him to ground. They finally gave up and pretended he dinna exist.”

“Oh, he exists, all right.”

Elissa carefully inspected Damian’s wound, which was still bleeding profusely. Gordon’s dagger had delivered a narrow slash on the upper part of his back, below his right shoulder, but it didn’t appear life threatening. She wadded up Damian’s shirt and pressed it against his injured flesh.

Suddenly Elissa became aware that the hall was still filled with wedding guests; they milled about, speaking in hushed voices. She had no idea what to say to them, until Damian solved the problem for her.

“Our guests should be celebrating our wedding, not standing around with long faces.”

“They donna know what to do, Damian.”

Damian cleared his throat and asked for everyone’s attention. A profound silence settled over the hall.

“You’ve come for a celebration, and you shall have one. Tables of food have been set up in the courtyard and musicians are tuning their instruments. My bride and I invite you to eat, drink, dance, and make merry.”

“Are ye sure, my lord?” Lachlan asked. “Ye’ve been gravely wounded.”

“’Tis but a scratch. Nan will work her magic and I’ll soon be good as new.”

A cheer followed Damian’s words and a slow exodus from the hall began. Soon the sounds of music and voices raised in laughter drifted to them from the courtyard.

Nan returned with her medicine chest. She placed it on the table and probed Damian’s wound with her index finger. Damian’s muscles clenched and he stifled a groan.

“Ah,” Nan said with satisfaction. “Just as I thought. Yer shoulder bone deflected the worst of it. Ye saved Elissa’s life, me lord. Had Gordon’s blade struck its intended victim, Elissa wouldna have been as lucky as ye.”

Damian shivered. The thought of the dagger puncturing Elissa’s tender flesh made his blood run cold. “Hurry and fix me up, Nan. I must join the search for Gordon.”

“Yer not going anywhere, me lord. Yer wound isna life threatening but ye’ve lost more blood than ’tis good for ye. I doubt ye can mount yer horse and stay on. I’ll brew a concoction of herbs to build up yer blood. A day or so in bed will do ye a world of good. Now sit still while I clean ye up and take a stitch or two.”

“Bloody hell! I can’t sit still while Tavis Gordon is free to wreak havoc on innocent people.”

“Damian, please listen to Nan,” Elissa advised, wringing her hands. “She knows what’s best for you. You donna know these mountains like Tavis. He’s been living as an outlaw ever since his home was destroyed and his lands seized.”

“He tried to kill you,” Damian reminded her. “Do what you have to do, Nan, but a little cut isn’t going to stop me.”

Nan set about cleaning the wound while Elissa watched from the sidelines, determined to keep Damian from leaving the keep until he was healed. She clamped her teeth together and winced when Nan threaded a needle and took the first stitch in Damian’s flesh. Elissa could tell by the set of Damian’s jaw that it was painful, but to his credit, he didn’t flinch.

“There ye be, yer lordship. All done,” Nan said, tying off the knot.

“Good,” Damian said, attempting to stand. He managed to gain his feet and take one step before his legs collapsed. He grabbed the table for support and hissed out a curse.

“I told you, Damian,” Elissa said with asperity. “You shouldna exert yourself. The loss of blood has weakened you.”

“I suppose a short rest won’t hurt,” Damian grudgingly allowed.

He walked off, his gait slow and uneven. Elissa and Nan exchanged glances over his head, then Elissa started after him. Hanging onto the wall, Damian negotiated the stairs without Elissa’s help. She trailed behind him, Nan following close on their heels. When they reached the top, Nan scooted ahead and held the chamber door open. Damian staggered inside and collapsed on the bed.

“I will brew ye a potion for the pain,” Nan said, hurrying off.

“A hell of a way to spend my wedding night,” Damian complained. He extended his hand. “Come lie beside me.”

Instead of taking his hand, Elissa moved to the foot of the bed, grasped his boot, and pulled it off. His second boot was a little more difficult to dislodge, but it finally slid free.

“Raise up so I can remove your breeches,” Elissa said as she reached for the fastenings.

Damian grasped her hand, his voice low and strident. “Touch me there and I’ll have you on your back before you can say my name.”

The breath flew out of her lungs. “You’re wounded.”

He brought her hand to his groin. “Not here.”

“Be serious,” Elissa chided. “You’re weak from loss of blood.”

His eyes darkened to the color of smoke. “I
am
serious. Tonight is our wedding night. I’m not too weak to make love to my wife.”

He grasped her waist and lifted her onto the bed. Then he pulled her beneath him and lowered himself to her. Bending his head, he brushed his lips lightly over hers. Warmed by the tenderness of his kiss, Elissa opened her mouth to taste more of him.

“Elissa,” he moaned against her lips. “My wife.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. None of that, yer lordship.”

Elissa’s gaze met Nan’s over Damian’s shoulder. Damian groaned and slowly lifted himself away from Elissa.

“You could have knocked,” Damian said crossly.

Nan cackled. “Would ye have bidden me enter?”

He glanced down at Elissa’s flushed face. “Nay. Leave us, woman. My wife and I need privacy. If I can’t go after Gordon, I can at least have a wedding night.”

Nan thrust a cup filled with a pungent smelling liquid beneath his nose. “Drink, Lord Damian. ‘Twill ease yer pain.”

“My pain is below the belt and I doubt that vile concoction will ease it,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Nan sent him an exasperated look while Elissa nearly choked on her laughter.

Damian took the cup Nan offered and set it down on the bedside table. “Not now, Nan. Go away.”

“Men,” Nan muttered, shaking her head. “Their brains lie betwixt their legs. Verra well, I’ll leave, but I’m warning ye, tear out those stitches and I’ll not be gentle with ye when I replace them.” She left in a huff, slamming the door behind her.

“Nan’s right,” Elissa allowed. “I’ll see to our guests while you’re resting.”

Damian’s arm held her in place. “Don’t even try it. I might not be able sit a horse, but I can still ride.”

He rose to his haunches and turned her over so he could unhook the back of her dress. “By the way, did I tell you how lovely you look? That gown is perfect for you.”

“’Twas Mama’s. She wanted me to look nice for my wedding.”

“I’ll be sure and thank her.”

Lifting her arms, he slid the sleeves down and pushed the bodice to her waist. A moment later the gown lay on the floor, and a moment after that her shift followed. Then he sat back on his heels and stared at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he said on a groan. “You’re my wife now; you belong to me.”

Elissa caught her breath as his blunt fingers caressed her breasts. Her body tensed with anticipation. She wanted him to touch her everywhere. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She watched in breathless wonder as he rose and removed his trousers. Her gaze roamed over him, and she forgot to breathe as his sex burst free, thick and rigid and turgid with life. She gulped in a tremulous gasp of air, filling her senses with the heady aroma of clean male flesh and the pungent musk of arousal.

“You shouldna exert yourself,” Elissa said. “Your wound…”

“My wound be hanged,” Damian growled. “A little thing like that isn’t going to stop me from making love to my wife on our wedding night.”

Elissa forgot that she hadn’t wanted this marriage as he held her close and molded her body to his. There was no doubting his desire for her, for she felt the solid proof of it throbbing against her stomach. She sighed as his lips moved against her throat, his tongue tracing an erotic pattern along her skin. Could he feel the pounding of her pulse there? His mind-numbing caresses continued, forging a trail to the valley between her breasts. Her fingers twined themselves in the richness of his dark hair and she urged him on with soft sighs of encouragement.

His mouth covered her nipple, and a melting heat radiated through her, centering in that swollen, aching place between her legs. She arched mindlessly against him, her fingers tightening in his hair as his slow assault upon her senses continued, teeth and tongue laving, touching, arousing. He moved lower, his breath whispering sweet seduction against her navel, her abdomen, lavishly bathing her stomach, hips, thighs, then between them with kisses.

“Damian, please.”

“Aye, sweeting, pleasing you is what I intend to do.”

His tongue swirled around her heated core. She cried out his name, writhing against him as his lips and mouth worked their magic upon her swollen flesh. She ached; bliss whirled through her, enveloping her, exploding inside her.

Then suddenly he was atop her, his fingers opening her as he filled her, stretched her, took her. She shuddered, wrapping herself around him as he began to move on her. She closed her eyes, her body taking flight as he took her once again to the heights of rapture. And then her world fell apart, shattering her, bringing with it a pleasure that nearly stopped her heart. Lost in the throes of her own climax, she was barely aware when Damian gripped her hips, lifted her, and sank into her again and again, until he cried out her name and filled her with his wet heat.

He stayed inside her until he softened, then he shifted away and lay beside her, bringing her into his arms. She heard him groan and feared he had reopened his wound.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was strained with anxiety.

“Better than all right.”

“Be serious. Are you in pain?”

He grinned. “Aye, but it was worth it.”

“Roll over so I can take a look.”

“Don’t fuss, Elissa.”

“’Tis a wife’s right. Roll over, Damian.”

Reluctantly, he acquiesced, presenting his back for Elissa’s inspection. The bandage had a small amount of fresh blood on it but not enough to cause Elissa worry.

“Satisfied?” Damian asked. She nodded and Damian cuddled her against him. “Go to sleep.”

Damian hurt like the very devil but it hadn’t stopped him from making love to Elissa. And it wasn’t going to stop him from mounting his horse and going after Gordon. He held Elissa until she fell asleep, then eased away from her and rose stiffly from bed. Music and laughter drifted to him through the open window from the courtyard below, but he didn’t intend to join in the merriment.

Elissa was still sleeping blissfully as Damian pulled on his clothes and snatched up his sword and pistol. The door made a single groan of protest as he opened it and slipped into the passageway. A wave of weakness overwhelmed him and he paused just outside the door, hanging onto the wall for support. When his head had stopped spinning, he descended the curving staircase.

Concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other, Damian finally reached the bottom, but the effort had sapped his strength. His legs were trembling, his vision was impaired, and perspiration beaded his forehead. Wiping away the sweat with the back of his hand, Damian staggered into the hall. His knees suddenly buckled and he grasped the edge of a table for support.

“Damian!”

Elissa burst into the hall, her expression fierce.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“After Gordon.”

“Nay! Look at you.” She touched his forehead. “You’ve a fever. You canna mount your horse in your condition.”

A wolfish smile stretched his lips. “I mounted you, didn’t I?”

“And probably shouldn’t have. Come back to bed, Damian. I’ll fetch something from Nan to ease your fever.”

“Don’t coddle me, Elissa.” His expression hardened. “Gordon tried to kill you. I’m going to hunt him down like the cowardly dog he is.”

Suddenly two Elissas danced before his eyes, both scowling at him. He closed his eyes and opened them again. The two forms melded together into one. Damian shook his head, refusing to accept his weakness. How could an insignificant wound cause so much trouble? As much as he wanted to run Gordon to the ground, he realized he wasn’t going anywhere this night.

Ignoring his feeble protest, Elissa placed an arm around Damian’s waist and turned him toward the staircase.

“Damn Gordon,” Damian muttered. “I hope Dickon finds him.”

“No one will find Tavis if he doesna want to be found,” Elissa replied with conviction. “Tavis knows the mountains like the back of his hand. He will go underground. He’s done it often enough in the past.”