Connie Mason (6 page)

“Aye,” Nan agreed. “’Tis only Elissa who gets his dander up.” She chuckled. “Ye both are stubborn as mules.”

Elissa bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Figure it out for yerself, lass. Eat yer food. I had the devil’s own time smuggling it out of the kitchen without having it snatched away by a hungry Englishman.”

Elissa bit into a bannock and chewed thoughtfully. “What’s going on, Nan? Lord Damian accused me of instigating a rebellion. Where is everyone?”

“Ah, well, they willna cook for nor serve the English lord while yer imprisoned in the tower.”

Elissa smiled despite herself. Though the situation was grave, she’d never been prouder of her kinsmen. “Are there no cooks among the Englishmen?”

“Nay, they’ve no skill in the kitchen. No one can prepare mutton like Winifred, or bake bread like Vera.” She cackled gleefully. “Mark my words, the Demon Knight will relent when his stomach hits his backbone.”

“I pray Nan is right,” Marianne said.

Marianne began to doze. Nan gathered up the dishes and carried the tray away, leaving Elissa alone with her sleeping mother. Reluctant to leave and return to the tower, she sat with her mother while she slept. Not too long ago Elissa feared she was going to lose her only parent, but now Marianne appeared to be rallying. Had Damian wrought this miracle?

Lost in thought, Elissa didn’t hear the door open. A whisper of sound brought her head whipping around. She glanced at the bed, then rose abruptly, meeting Damian before he could disturb her sleeping mother. Compressing his lips, Damian motioned to her with an impatient gesture and waited for Elissa to follow him.

“What do you want?” Elissa hissed.

“This has gone far enough. My men are hungry. Order your kinsmen back to the keep.”

Elissa couldn’t keep the gleeful note from her voice. “Are you bargaining with me, my lord?”

“Nay, I do not bargain with women. I’m telling you how it will be and I expect you to obey.”

He grasped her arm and pulled her into the passageway. “Will you release me from the tower?” Elissa challenged.

“That depends. I need your kinsmen and only you can bring them back. Swear fealty to me and I’ll allow you to occupy your former chamber and move freely about the castle.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do not take this as an invitation to escape. You are but one small woman. There are ways you may not enjoy to keep you inside the fortress and away from Gordon.”

Elissa bit back a scathing retort. Had he discovered the secret tunnel? Surely not, or he would have said something.

“I wouldna dream of escaping, my lord,” Elissa replied, her words dripping with sarcasm, “since I find your company so fascinating.”

“Keep in mind,” Damian warned, ignoring her gibe, “that your mother and sister are entirely at my mercy. Their welfare depends on your obedience.”

“Arrogant bastard,” Elissa hissed.

His smile was far from reassuring. “That is one title I cannot claim, lady. My parents were happily married. Will you or will you not guarantee your kinsmen’s loyalty?”

Elissa’s eyes fixed on his hard face. “I canna vouch for my people, my lord.”

“Then I cannot guarantee your family’s safety.”

His harsh words brought her gaze up to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat as something insidious and mesmerizing flared between them. She looked away before her expression revealed something she didn’t want discovered. Elissa had no idea what was happening, but when her gaze involuntarily fastened on his mouth, she couldn’t help remembering how those full lips felt on hers, how utterly transfixed she had been when he’d kissed her.

She shook her head to clear away her disturbing thoughts and concentrated on what was important: getting herself, her mother, and her sister away from the Demon Knight and to the Gordon stronghold. Lora was nearly well, and even Marianne appeared stronger. She’d bide her time and do as Damian asked, she decided, but only until she deemed her family able to travel.

“Well,” Damian said, tapping his foot impatiently. “What is your decision, Elissa?”

“I dinna give you leave to use my name,” Elissa said disdainfully.

“I do not need your permission,
Elissa.
Answer my question.”

“Verra well, I’ll talk to my kinsmen, but I canna promise their compliance.”

“Would you prefer that I banished your kinsmen from Misterly and bring families of good, sturdy English stock to till Fraser soil? I will give them the land that belonged to your ancestors. Is that what you want?”

The thought of Englishmen living on the lands that rightfully belonged to Frasers was reprehensible. “Nay, you know ’tisna what I want. I donna want
you
here, either. Why canna you leave Misterly in peace? We were bothering no one.”

“If you wanted to preserve Misterly for your kinsmen, you shouldn’t have conspired with Tavis Gordon. The Crown is simply trying to prevent another uprising in Scotland.”

“You exaggerate, my lord. Tavis Gordon isna planning a rebellion.”

Damian cocked Elissa a skeptical look. “Is he not?”

Elissa flushed and looked away. In truth, she knew Tavis was planning some sort of mischief, and that he needed her kinsmen’s cooperation to succeed.

“You can move back into your chamber as soon as your kinsmen return to their duties in the keep and elsewhere,” Damian continued.

“Am I free to go to the village and speak with them?”

“Nay, you will remain within the castle walls. Furthermore, I’ve decided that keeping you occupied will prevent you from wreaking havoc. A fortress this large can always use extra help. Henceforth, you will work in the kitchen and serve meals.”

“I’m to be a servant?” Elissa gasped.

“Aye, did you not understand me?”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then you’ll remain locked in the tower until you accept my terms.”

“How long am I to be a prisoner in my own home, my lord?” Elissa shot back.

Blowing out a breath of exasperation, he said, “That’s for you to decide. King George is searching for an heiress for me to wed. When she arrives, serve her well and you may remain a part of this household.”

Elissa’s lips flattened. “An heiress. How wonderful for you.”

“Aye. Finally I’ll have everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“I donna suppose it matters who you step on to get what you want,” Elissa muttered, turning her back on him.

Damian glowered at her stiff back. Bloody hell. What was wrong with him? Elissa made him feel as if his world were tilting on edge. His steely control wavered dangerously whenever he was alone with her. He wanted her; that much was clear to him. Even the rigid line of her back appealed to him. His eyes narrowed. Perhaps he should slake his thirst for the little vixen before his intended bride arrived.

He touched her shoulder. She jerked as if he burned her and shied away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Should I be?”

“I’ve never deliberately hurt a woman.”

She whirled to face him. “I donna like that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“As if you…want to kiss me.”

He scowled darkly. Was he that transparent? “Would kissing me be so terrible?”

“’Tisna decent! A
gentleman
wouldna take advantage of my position.”

“I thought you’d have realized by now that I am no gentleman. I am a skilled soldier and ruthless defender of England. They call me the Demon Knight; that should tell you something about me.”

“You
are
trying to frighten me.”

“Perhaps.” He reached for her, bringing her hard against him. “You must know I want you.”

“I know you enjoy tormenting me. What have I ever done to you?”

“You entice me, lady. You tantalize and seduce me with your tempting body and sultry green eyes. I won’t have it, do you hear me? I refuse to be beguiled.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” Elissa defended.

Damian knew he was being unreasonable, but Elissa seemed to affect him in ways that drove him crazy. She tempted him, enticed him, provoked him. He wanted to toss her on her back and drive himself to a thundering climax inside her. What in the hell was wrong with him?

Damian had always prided himself on his control. Even when he’d been without a woman for a long time he could direct his passion as he saw fit. He stared at her lips for a long, tense moment before he turned away.

“Dermot and Lachlan can carry my terms for your freedom to the village. Meanwhile, go down to the kitchen and see what you can do about feeding my men. We brought no cooks with us from London and the culinary attempts of my men are inedible.”

“How do you know I willna poison them?” Elissa charged.

His eyes turned hard, uncompromising. “Because you value the lives of your mother and sister.” Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Damian muttered dark imprecations as he descended the stairs. He wasn’t supposed to be attracted to the Maiden of Misterly. He wasn’t supposed to feel compassion for members of her family. He should have obeyed the king and sent them all to the convent, and his conscience be damned. The Demon Knight wasn’t supposed to have a conscience. What in bloody hell was he going to do now that he’d found one?

Sir Richard hailed Damian as he entered the hall. “Why the dour look, Damian?”

“I’m glad you’re here, Dickon,” Damian said as he sat down at the table and filled a tankard of ale from a pitcher. “Would you fetch Dermot and Lachlan for me?”

“They’re not in the castle.”

“Find them,” Damian growled.

“Of course, I’ll leave immediately. Do you want to tell me what this is all about?”

“I’ve promised to release Lady Elissa from the tower if her kinsmen return to their duties. I need Dermot and Lachlan to spread the word to the villagers. Elissa’s fate is in their hands. ’Tis up to them to decide what is important.”

“What are your plans for Lady Elissa’s future?”

“I truthfully don’t know,” Damian said, scowling into his ale. “For the time being, she’s to help out in the kitchen.”

“In the kitchen! You’re really asking for trouble, aren’t you? I’ve said this before. Rid yourself of the problem. Send her to London.”

Damian’s frown deepened. “I can’t, Dickon. My way is better. She’s where I can keep an eye on her.”

“What makes you think she won’t cause further trouble?”

“Two reasons. Her mother and sister.”

“Two good reasons, I suppose, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. The Maiden of Misterly is no ordinary woman. What do you suppose will happen when your bride arrives?”

“I’ll work it out,” Damian said grimly. “No woman is going to defeat me.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve found the secret tunnel. The entrance is cleverly disguised by stonework beneath the solar staircase. You’re the only one I’ve confided in thus far. As you know, I’ve been searching for just such an escape route since Elissa disappeared. One day, knowledge of an alternate route in or out of the keep may come in handy.”

Dickon grinned. “Good work! Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. I’m off now to find Dermot and Lachlan. Mayhap I’ll encounter mistress Maggie. She’s a winsome lass I’d like to get to know better.”

Damian laughed. “You’re an irredeemable rogue, Dickon. Leave the virgins alone.”

Dickon took himself off just as Elissa entered the hall. Damian’s appreciative gaze followed her until she disappeared into the kitchen. He drained his cup and slammed it down on the table.

This was madness!

He rose abruptly and followed her.

Elissa was up to her elbows in dishwater when Damian arrived in the kitchen. He took one look at the mess the soldiers had left and spat out a curse. Elissa dropped the pan she was scrubbing and whirled to face him.

“What are you doing here? Have you come to help?”

“Leave that for the servants,” Damian barked.

“I
am
a servant.”

“Aye, but not a scullery maid. Leave it, I say.”

Elissa sent him a scathing look and turned back to her pots and pans. Damian took exception and spun her about. Her eyes rose up to meet his, the challenge in them unmistakable.

“Make up your mind, my lord. I am but following your orders.”

Confusion rode Damian ruthlessly. Watching Elissa perform physical labor bothered him. His gaze sought her lips, remembering how soft they had felt, how sweetly they had clung to his.

Before he could call back his words, he said, “I like it when you follow orders. What if I ordered you to kiss me?”

She glared at him. “I would refuse.”

“What if I ordered you to come to my bedchamber tonight?”

Indignation stiffened her shoulders. “That, my lord, will never happen.”

Damian merely smiled as he turned and strode away.

Damian prowled the hall, his patience wearing thin as he waited for Elissa’s kinsmen to appear. If they refused to return to the fortress, he might have to force them to it, but he didn’t really want that. To his relief, people began drifting through the door. Within an hour, villagers were clustered together in the great hall, waiting for Damian to address them.

Damian motioned for silence. “Who is your spokesman?” he asked.

Dermot pushed through the crowd. “I speak for the Frasers, me lord. Ye asked us to come, and here we are. What is it ye wish to say?”

“Only this. I need you, all of you.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “I’ve asked you here to offer a compromise to this impasse.”

“All we want is for ye to free our lass,” Dermot challenged.

“’Tis exactly what I intend to do,” Damian allowed. “Return to your duties in the keep and fields, and Lady Elissa will be given her freedom.”

Hands on hips, Maggie shoved past Dermot. “Freedom to come and go as she pleases, my lord?”

Damian frowned. “I cannot allow her full amnesty. I must obey the king’s wishes. What I meant was freedom within the castle and inside the walls surrounding Misterly. No harm will befall your lady at my hands.”

“Where is our lass?” Lachlan called out.

“I am here,” Elissa exclaimed from behind Damian.

Damian remained watchful as she strode toward him. What she said to her kinsmen would be vital to his tenure as Lord of Misterly.

“Are ye well, Elissa?” Dermot asked anxiously.

“I am fine, Dermot.”

“Tell us what to do,” Lachlan said. “Shall we cooperate with his lordship? Ye have but to say, lass.”

“I donna like being locked in the tower,” Elissa replied, sending Damian an acerbic look.

“As I’ve explained, you have but to return to your duties to win Lady Elissa her freedom.”

“What about Lady Marianne and little Lora?” Winifred, the cook, ventured.

“I will do everything in my power to return them to health,” Damian promised. “Lady Elissa can verify that they have prospered under my care.”

All eyes turned to Elissa.

“He speaks the truth,” Elissa admitted with obvious reluctance.

Damian let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “You heard the lady. As Lord of Misterly, I vow to deal with you fairly and maintain peace for future generations.”

“For
yer
heirs, not ours,” Dermot grumbled.

“There will always be Frasers at Misterly,” Damian maintained. “I give you my word.”

“The word of an Englishman,” Elissa muttered beneath her breath. Fortunately, no one heard but Damian.

“What will become of our lass?” Lachlan demanded.

Damian had no ready reply, for he didn’t know the answer himself. He could only repeat, “I mean her no harm. She will work here among her kinsmen and serve me and my future bride.”

“Work!” Winifred huffed. “As a servant? ’Tisna right.”

“I will work,” Elissa said, sending Winifred a warning glance. “Haven’t I always pitched in where I was needed? ‘Twill be no different now.”

“Are ye sure, lass?” Dermot asked.

Elissa nodded slowly and Damian allowed himself to hope that harmony would be restored.

“Verra sure. Cooperate with Lord Damian until I find a way to return Misterly to the Frasers.”

Damian didn’t like the sound of that. What the devil did she mean?

Dermot’s shaggy brows arched upward, as if he understood perfectly what she had tried to convey. Then he winked at her. None of this was lost on Damian.

“Ye win, me lord,” Dermot allowed. “We will work with ye, but harm one hair on our lass’s head and ye’ll answer to us.”

“I dislike threats, Dermot,” Damian said, “but you force me to issue one of my own. Don’t even think about allying yourselves with rebels and their causes. I have men and arms to retaliate. Now back to your duties, all of you.”

Unseen by Damian, Elissa gave an imperceptible nod. After a moment of indecision, the hall cleared, leaving Damian, Elissa, Sir Richard, and the cadre of soldiers Sir Richard had brought in case trouble ensued.

“That was close, Damian,” Sir Richard said.

Damian gave Elissa a cursory glance. “Lady Elissa was wise to avoid trouble. Send the soldiers back to their duties, Dickon, they won’t be needed today.”

Dickon nodded and strode away.

“You’ve had your way, my lord,” Elissa said. “I hope you are pleased.”

“Peace pleases me. I’m sick of war, tired of killing. Believe me or not, Elissa, I’ve known naught but war and bloodshed for more years than I care to remember. The only home I’ve known since Culloden has been an army tent. A knight’s life is a hard one. I had no land to call my own, nothing but my skill and cunning to rely upon. I want Misterly more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

After telling Elissa more than he’d intended, he clamped his lips together and turned away. What was wrong with him? He was telling Elissa things she had no business knowing. Suddenly he felt open and vulnerable, a sensation utterly foreign to him. The Demon Knight wasn’t a man known for baring his soul. When he’d gained control of himself, he turned back to confront Elissa, but she had slipped away.

Elissa returned to the kitchen with new insight into the harsh reality of the Demon Knight’s mind. When he’d mentioned his former life he’d sounded lonely. But how could it be? Men of Damian’s ilk were never lonely. He was a handsome man, she knew without being told that he did not lack for female companionship. And with friends like Sir Richard, Damian was luckier than most.

Could his lack of land be the driving force behind him? Elissa wondered. All men wanted land of their own. But why did it have to be her land? Once Damian’s bride arrived, an Englishwoman would become mistress of Misterly. It would be a stretch of the imagination to believe Damian’s bride would want Elissa and her family to remain.

Damian lounged against the ornately carved back of his chair, his silver gaze following Elissa as she moved about the tables distributing trays of food. Except for an occasional smile for one of her kinsmen, she blatantly ignored him, though she had to be aware of his intense scrutiny.

She looked tired, he thought, and wondered why he cared. The answer didn’t surprise him: he cared because he wanted her in his bed. He was convinced that having her one time would cure him of the obsessive attraction that existed between them. She could deny it till doomsday, but Damian could tell when a woman was ripe for the taking. Elissa wasn’t immune to him; her mouth had tasted sweetly of surrender each time he’d kissed her.

Damian shifted in his seat. Carrying around a permanent erection was ridiculous. Nothing was preventing him from taking Elissa, so why didn’t he? Bedding the lass would cure him of the uncomfortable itch that plagued him. Mayhap even rid him of the need she inspired in him. He should concentrate on Misterly, and harboring erotic thoughts about the vixen challenged his sanity.

Damian saw Elissa moving around the tables serving ale and lifted his tankard for her to fill. She did as he bade, but when she turned to leave, he grasped her arm, preventing her from moving away.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

“Not yet.”

“What do you want of me?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Damian drawled. “I want you in my bed.”

“Donna shame me before my kinsmen.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Damian defended.

Elissa’s shoulders stiffened. “You canna demand that of me. I am promised to another.”

A hush settled around them as everyone stopped eating to watch the byplay between Elissa and Damian. Damian didn’t want to publicly embarrass Elissa, but neither did he intend for her to refuse him. He was the Lord of Misterly; his word was law. Taking Elissa would harm no one. He would be gentle with her, and make sure she gained pleasure from their mating.

“I do demand it,” Damian insisted. “Go to my chamber and prepare yourself for me.”

Dermot, Lachlan, and several other Frasers glared belligerently at Damian. Damian’s men-at-arms became instantly alert. Damian felt the tension building and realized he had inadvertently created a potentially explosive situation.

“If you wish to avoid trouble,” he whispered in an aside to Elissa, “you’d be wise to obey me.”

“Verra well, my lord,” Elissa said, awarding him with a beguiling smile. She was still grinning when she upended the pitcher of ale in his lap.

“Devil take you!” Damian yelled, jumping to his feet. He reached for her; she skittered away.

Damian started to follow but Dickon grasped his sleeve. “Let her go, Damian. Don’t make an ass of yourself before her kinsmen. I heard you order her to your bed. That wasn’t well done of you. Are you sure ’tis what you want?”

“I’m not sure of anything where the Maiden of Misterly is concerned,” Damian growled. “Just one time, Dickon, ’tis all I ask. She’s not immune to me, and I’ll make it good for her.”

“Take care, my friend. She’ll not make it easy for you. Just look around you. Her kinsmen will defend her should you dishonor her.”

“Elissa is too smart to seek help from her kinsmen. She doesn’t want bloodshed anymore than I do. Her kinsmen are ill prepared for a confrontation with professional soldiers.”

“I wouldn’t discount the lady’s intelligence. I don’t envy you, Damian. Take another woman to your bed, but as a favor to me, don’t set your sights on Maggie.”

Damian’s eyes widened. “So that’s how it is. Maggie, eh, well, you could do worse. She’s a comely lass. Is she interested?”

“Not in becoming my mistress,” Dickon lamented. “But she’ll come around.”

Damian chuckled. “Ever the optimist, eh Dickon? I wish you luck.” He glanced toward the kitchen and wondered what Elissa was up to, but forced himself to finish his meal. It was difficult to swallow when his thoughts were elsewhere and certain parts of his body were hard as stone.

He imagined Elissa in his bed, her naked body revealed to him beneath the luminescent glow of candlelight. He would be gentle but insistent, bringing her to climax despite her inexperience. After one night of bliss in her arms, Damian was convinced that his inexplicable lust for Elissa would trouble him no more.

Elissa cornered Nan in the kitchen. “I need your help,” she whispered.

Nan regarded Elissa through intelligent blue eyes. “So the Demon Knight has finally succumbed to his need for ye.”

Elissa went still. “You know?”

Nan chuckled. “Aye, I dinna know when, but I knew ’twas coming. ’Tis obvious Lord Damian wants ye in his bed.”

“’Tis not what I want, Nan.”

Nan’s gnarled fingers stroked Elissa’s cheek. “Ah, lass, are ye sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Elissa said indignantly. “Lord Damian merely wants me in his bed until his bride arrives. I willna be used like that. Why doesna he send me to the convent?”

“Ye know the answer to that. He canna trust ye to stay there and canna afford to let ye run to Tavis Gordon. Failure to comply with the king’s wishes could cost him Misterly.”

“What am I going to do, Nan?” Elissa wailed. “He expects me in his bed this very night. I fear if I donna comply, he’ll come and get me.”

“Do ye wish Lord Damian’s death?” Nan asked craftily. “Mayhap I can help ye achieve it. I could give ye a potion…”

Damian’s death? “Oh, nay, nay, I donna want his death on my soul! I…I couldna bear it.”

It was true. There was much she resented about Damian, but she didn’t wish him dead.

“There must be another way to stop him from…ravishing me.”

“I could give ye a sleeping potion to put in his wine. It willna kill him,” Nan added when Elissa started to protest, “merely put him to sleep.”

Elissa’s mind raced. “If he drinks enough wine, will he go to sleep before he…he can hurt me?”

Nan searched Elissa’s face. “If that’s what ye want, lass.”

“Of course it’s what I want. How soon can you have it ready?”

“Everything I need is in my chamber. Bring along a pitcher of the good French wine and I’ll doctor it for ye.”

Elissa went immediately to the larder and filled an ewer with the wine used only on special occasions. Then she joined Nan in her small chamber behind the kitchen. Elissa had been in Nan’s room before and knew what to expect. The air was fragrant with the odor of herbs. Bunches of them were suspended from the rafters to dry and others lay on a flat table, waiting to be crushed into various mixtures and potions.

Nan had learned her healing skills from her mother, who had been a highly respected herbalist. Some called Nan a white witch, but no one feared her, for her skills were used with good intention.

Elissa found Nan at her narrow worktable. “Here ye be, lass,” she said, holding up a vial of white powder. “Valerian. It makes one tranquil. Enough of it will induce deep sleep.”

“I hope you’re right,” Elissa said on a fervent sigh.

Nan poured a small amount into the pitcher and gently stirred it with a wooden spoon to mix the flavors. “This will take care of his lordship tonight, but what about tomorrow? Ye canna drug him every night. He wants ye, lass, and he’s not one to give up.”

“I’ll think of something,” Elissa said with false bravado. “Right now, I canna think beyond tonight.”

“Then go, lass. He grows impatient.”

Elissa nodded jerkily and hurried off. Cradling the pitcher against her lest she spill it, she darted toward the tower. Her heart was thundering in her ears as she negotiated the narrow, staircase.
This has to work,
she thought, mindful of the sloshing liquid in the pitcher. She needed every precious drop if she were to escape Damian’s attentions.

Elissa reached the top landing and paused before Damian’s closed door. She dragged in a fortifying breath, lifted her hand to knock but hastily withdrew it when the door opened abruptly. She gazed up into Damian’s face and took a step backwards. Candlelight illuminated his hard expression and a frisson of fear raced down her spine.

“What kept you?” he said, stepping back to allow her to enter. “I was about to come after you.”

She scooted past him and carefully set the pitcher of wine on his desk. “I thought you might be thirsty and went to the larder for a flagon of wine.”