Elise (13 page)

Oh, dear God! How had that happened?

Colin’s rhythmic breathing along her earlobe tickled. Elise scrunched her shoulder up and stirred away from it. The arm about her tightened. Elise held her breath until his breathing pattern resumed.

It would never do to have Colin awaken to this. He’d think things of her that she couldn’t allow. She had to reach her side of the bed, and before much more time passed. With an effort that felt foreign, she turned onto her back, moving as carefully as she could. Colin’s arm rolled with her. She kept her eyes on him, expecting at any moment to see him open that greenish brown gaze at her.

She’d never been so close to anyone in her entire life. From the distance of his forearm, she could pick out each and every eyelash curving on his cheek. He did have a scar on his chin, making a groove that resembled a small cleft just above the square end of it. He also had a vague sprinkling of freckles across his nose. She hadn’t noticed that before. Of course, that was because she hadn’t looked closely enough at him. How could she? He was forbidden. She knew that much from Evangeline.

Elise wished she hadn’t awakened yet. Awareness brought thought with it, and she didn’t want to think. She avoided it at any cost. That was what lightning-fast conversation, expensive parties, wild midnight excursions, and free-flowing wine was for.

She slipped from beneath his arm, pushing into the mattress beneath her in order to do so. Colin groaned and rolled onto his other side. The loss of his warmth chilled her. Elise had to fight the urge to move back against him, and that was what scared her into rising.

The only chair was as hard as it looked. Elise settled into it, pulled her knees to her chin, and stretched her nightgown over her toes. It wasn’t as warm and comfortable as sleeping with Colin’s arm around her had been. She hadn’t known how it would feel. No one had told her, and she hadn’t asked.

Evangeline had been Elise’s only sister. They hadn’t been close. Elise realized it now for the loss it was, with a feeling akin to the force of a stomach blow. It was too late, though. It had been too late the moment Evangeline had come to the Dowager Duchess of Wynd for help. Elise hadn’t been much help. In the predawn light of Ipswich’s guest room, she realized she hadn’t been any help.

Evangeline was supposed to have gone to London for her Season. She was supposed to get only one but had stretched it to three. That was dangerous, as well as stupid. Any woman could have told her that. Evangeline was supposed to do exactly what her younger sister had done. Find and catch a rich husband to support her. That’s what a Season was for.

She certainly wasn’t supposed to fall in love with one of the MacGowan clan. Nor was she supposed to turn to her little sister for solace with a broken heart when Evan MacGowan stomped on it. Evangeline had been so stupid! Women didn’t gain in this world, only men did, and the last thing a woman needed with such lopsided odds was a broken heart and a swelled belly.

By the time Evangeline had come to her, Elise had convinced herself that she didn’t have a heart. How could she have commiserated with anyone? Why, she hadn’t even been there for Evangeline when she’d passed away, at the Wyndham Villa in Monte Carlo, while birthing Rory.

Only a heartless sister would have done that.

Colin snorted something. Elise glanced at him before shying away. She’d superciliously thought Evangeline had deserved everything that had happened to her. You don’t fall in love with a Scotsman, especially with their arrogance, lineage, and sense of tradition. It was the height of stupidity. It was inviting heartache.

How she longed to undo the past! To just once hold on to Evangeline’s hand, look into her eyes, and tell her she understood.

Colin rolled onto his back, turning his profile to her. Elise told herself not to look, but it didn’t work. Dawn light played across the planes of his face, defining it. Either he was getting more handsome, or she was losing sight of reality, despite every trick she’d used.

She didn’t want to be in love with him. She refused! She didn’t want to love anyone. She wanted to be The Ice Goddess, the woman who the press claimed had discarded more lovers than most men claimed. It was simpler that way. She didn’t want the heartache, for Colin MacGowan would find out the same thing his brother had, eventually. He’d find out, and then he’d look at her with something akin to disdain and disgust and rejection, because she wasn’t any more suitable to wed than Evangeline had been.

It was a shame to discover that she really did have a heart.

Elise watched Colin MacGowan sleeping, and her heart lurched fully and painfully, filling her eyes with stupid tears. She couldn’t blink them away fast enough and bowed her head to her knees. No wonder she detested thinking.

She should have already told him of Rory, too. She should have told him everything. Now it was too late.

“Prayers, Elise? I would have thought them beneath you.”

She shuddered through a breath, and then another. The material covering her knees was wet, but it would hide her loss of control well enough. She’d just have to be stronger in the future. She’d just have to withstand an onslaught of a masculinity she hadn’t known existed.

She wasn’t going to stay with him, and when he found out, he’d think she wanted it that way. She was stupid to lose sight of her future. She was heartless, ruthless, and ice cold, wasn’t she? She took a deep breath, held it several seconds, and looked up.

“There’s a lot you wouldn’t have thought of me,” she replied finally.

“Of that, I’m certain. You slept well enough? I dinna’ disturb you too much with my snoring?”

“You ... don’t snore.”

It was harder to answer him when he sat up, tucking the sheets about his waist and acting as if he were wearing full Scot’s regalia, instead of a pair of shortened knickers. Colin MacGowan was a very handsome man, after all. He was also powerful, educated, sophisticated, honorable ... and he was not for her. Elise let the hurt soak in and narrowed her eyes at the sight of such masculine bounty.

“Do you always rise this early? We’ll make verra good time if we manage to get this kind of start.”

“I’ll try not to slow you.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and faced him as squarely as possible.

“You dinna’ mind the bolster? It worked fairly well, dinna’ it? We may have to resort to this type of thing again.”

“It... was an acceptable alternative.”

“Oh, it was more than acceptable.”

He was chuckling as he said it. Elise reddened. He hadn’t known, had he?

“I doona’ suppose you’d turn aside while I rise, would you?” he asked, his voice losing some of its amusement.

“Why? I very much doubt that you have anything I haven’t seen before,” she replied.

“True enough. You have na’ seen me, though, and I could have sworn you quailed at that very thing. I’m only warning you. I dinna’ wear proper attire last eve when I finally gained the bed. I wear verra little when I sleep. You can watch again, if you like. I will na’ mind.”

She lifted her chin and met his look without flinching. It would be petty of her to argue. It was the truth. She’d simply have to endure being with him, and then move on. She unfolded her legs and swiveled on the bare wooden seat of her chair, and that’s when she saw his discarded knickers slung across the dresser top.

She clapped a hand to her mouth.

Chapter 13

“Tell me about your first husband.”

Elise gulped. “Good heavens, no,” she answered, with more strength than she thought she had at her disposal.

“Why na’?”

She decided to be airy and false with her tone. “It’s ancient history, Colin. I’ve quite forgotten him.”

“Interesting bluff and almost believable, if you were na’ clenching your sewing as if it were going to run off, that is.”

“Oh.” It was all she could manage.

“Wynd. Tell me about him.”

“Why?”

“Well... I might decide that I’d like to turn this farce into a real marriage. I’d need to know in that case, would na’ I?”

“Perhaps you should have held out for a real wife, then,” she answered.

“Oh, you are my wife, Elise. It’s as legal as they come. The law was put into effect centuries ago, but never rescinded. Perhaps you should brush up on your history.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“You meant, perhaps, that you dinna’ wish to be anyone’s wife, and therefore are na’ going to be mine?”

“Something along that line,” she admitted.

“You’ve a strange way about you, then.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m just remembering my night.”

She flushed, but since she was looking down at her sewing, she knew he wouldn’t see it.

“So tell me about him.”

“Surely it isn’t far to Storth Hall. I’ve heard the Marquis of Quorn is in residence. I find that strange. I thought he enjoyed the Season.”

“You know…I just finished reading about that scandal. Seems you kept this Marquis Quorn fellow company the entire time he was in London last year. As that’s the case, you should know better than I what he enjoys ... and you’re changing the subject.”

Elise frowned at the mess she’d just sewn before answering. “His home, Storth Hall, boasts a snuff box collection second to none, too. I believe Queen Elizabeth’s historians made note of it.”

“Somehow I doona’ think Quorn’s snuffbox collection was the main topic of your conversations with him when you two kept company, but I could be wrong.”

Elise was silent. It was better to ignore his little insult; but for some reason it wasn’t as easy as it should have been.

“So tell me of Wynd. I’m a captured audience for the afternoon. The least you can do is entertain me.”

“How...do you expect me...to do that?” Elise’s voice stumbled. Her mind had already filled with scenes she’d never admit. His exhibition last night was featuring prominently in each of them, too.

“A bit of pleasant conversation, perhaps? A bit of knowledge about the woman sharing my name? I doona’ know, enlighten me.”

“If this is your idea of pleasantly conversing, I can see some decidedly lonely evenings in your future. Insults and innuendoes are hardly considered proper, you know.”

“Present company only, I assure you.”

“Why single me out?”

“I already told you yesterday.”

“You’re speaking riddles, and you know it. I hope you don’t intend to fill the hours with such drivel. I may scream my vexation.”

“That would be an improvement.”

“My being vexed would be an improvement?”

“Nae, your screaming would be.”

Elise set her lips and frowned. He wanted her to scream? He should have better comprehended what he read about her. She’d never allow such a reaction; it was for the innocent masses that possessed emotions. She’d settled all that with herself this morning.

“An improvement to what, pray tell?” she asked airily.

‘To the fluff-filled, meaningless words you fill everything with.”

“You should have tried poetry, Colin. You’re quite good, you know.”

“I’d be a dismal failure, I’m afraid. My penmanship would scare all but the stoutest heart away.”

Elise fought glancing over at him. She should have known she’d fail at it. He’d crossed one leg over the other, folded his hands over the upraised knee, and raised both eyebrows as if he had nothing better to do than pursue this type of torment.

“Surely you can find something of interest out the window, instead?” she offered.

“Well, since you’ve decided to ignore me, I’ve had little choice. I’m beginning to think the entire countryside is boring, though. I hope my home is still as free of the plow as it was when I left. I’d hate to see the entire landscape riddled with cornrows, too. Na’ that I mind a field or two, but here there’s naught left untouched. Why, everywhere you look anymore someone has been carving up the land or building another estate. It’s quite depressing.”

“Civilization annoys you?”

“Civilization? Nae. Why, I’ve never seen as many people as there are in India. You would na’ believe it. It’s impossible to count how many. And they seem to speak so many languages, all at once, that the marketplace is quite a cacophony of sight and sound.

“Once you leave the cities, though, it’s different. It’s barren and lush, colorful and yet dull at the same time. I’ve seen jungle so thick, you could na’ spot a man-eating tiger from an arm’s length, and I’ve seen desert so vast, it’s like being at the ends of the earth. It’s such a contrast. You can travel for days without sight of another person. I rather liked that. I miss it, too.”

His voice softened as he spoke. Elise swallowed, lifted her sewing hoop, and spoke her next words to it. “I still can’t tell you, Colin.”

“About what?”

“Wynd.”

“That would be a shame, to be sure.” He sighed loudly. “So now that you know of my boredom, what would you like to talk about?”

“For some reason I didn’t think it was the height of my ambition to keep your interest, Colin.”

“Then you should na’ try for such an air of mystery. I’ve already made mention of how intriguing I find you. If you doona’ wish my interest, you’d na’ hide your past so well. It was quite difficult to trace it, you know.”

This time when she swallowed it was more a gulping motion. “There’s nothing remotely intriguing about my past, Colin. It’s quite dull, unless you possess an active imagination. I’d not heard that of you, but I didn’t listen to all your gossip, so I might have missed it.”

“You’re na’ as old as you would like some to think, are you?”

“You’re rather fond of asking questions a lady shouldn’t have to answer, aren’t you? That is distressing. I hope you’ll curb that facet before our next visit with anyone.”

“Doona’ fear, Elise. I would only ask such personal questions to the woman sharing my name. I’d rather na’ know how old most of the Grand Dames in England are. You probably know, though, doona’ you?”

“Today seems such a lovely day to ride. I’m surprised you’d rather stay in this airless carriage with me.”

“Let me just part the curtains here and allow you some air, then. You should have said something earlier.”

He was putting motion to word. Elise gave her attention to shoving the needle into her fabric. She didn’t even care if it was in the right place. She watched him tie open the curtain on the door. He was right about the view. The instant glance she had of the landscape was of little more than harrowed fields.

“Better? Well, now that I’ve solved the airless problem, tell me just how old you are.”

“Colin ...”

“All right, let me answer for you. Let’s say that you are twenty-five.”

Elise snorted.

“Twenty-six?”

She sighed heavily, since snorting hadn’t worked.

“I’m na’ even close? Well, for the sake of my little story, let’s go with twenty-five. Fair?”

She shrugged. “It’s your story. Make it whatever you wish.”

“I’ve heard tell that you’ve been widowed six years. Was I listening to the right gossip on that one?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t do this.”

“No doubt, that’s what makes it so damned amusing. This stretch of road could stand some of that, I think.”

“This isn’t amusing.”

“You’re wrong there. I’m finding it verra much so. It’s entertaining, too, watching you massacre your sewing. You’re na’ much of a seamstress, are you?”

“One of my lesser talents, I’m afraid.”

“So ... what are your higher talents?” he asked.

“Not the ones you’re assuming.”

“Really? And just what is it that I’m assuming?”

Elise looked sidelong at him again. One thing was certain, he did look amused. “You tell me,” she answered.

“Perhaps I’ll ask Quorn. Is he the forthright type?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“You’re discreet. That’s admirable, it really is. That must be one of your talents. Glad to have found one. Where was I, anyway?”

Elise lifted her head to meet his gaze. The laughter showing in those brown eyes was almost more than she could withstand. Nothing she’d said was swaying him from his little inquisition. That much was obvious. She was beginning to think she’d more than met her match. It was an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach, too. She tried to swallow it away. She wasn’t going to be ill, and she wasn’t going to scream. She was going to get through this with her emotions intact. Colin MacGowan didn’t have the right to open closed wounds. No one did. He grinned, and she had to look back down.

“Oh, I remember now. The baiting, hooking, and netting of the illustrious, and very wealthy, Duke of Wynd. Quite an accomplishment, that one was. You must have been about twenty or twenty-one then. It’s rather odd that nae one had heard of you afore your wedding. Why is that, do you think?”

“You tell me,” she said, without any inflection.

“Do you come from the wrong side of the blanket?”

“Am I illegitimate? Not that my parents ever let on.”

This time her voice cracked a bit, despite the effort she was expending.

“Perhaps you were dreadfully poor? That would account for it.”

Elise had to put down the hoop. The knotting was probably permanent. She was becoming too agitated to work at it.

“And nae one had ever laid eyes on you until that wonderful day when Wynd laid eyes on you and made all your dreams come true.”

She was losing. He may have said more, but she wasn’t listening.

It had been twilight, nearly seven years ago. Elise had stayed too long at the vicarage. She and Evangeline had been going there for lessons since they were small. It was a two-mile walk from their home and back, but it was worth it. Sometimes Elise had thought it was the only escape she had.

Evangeline was seventeen then, and so beautiful. She hadn’t accompanied her little sister that day. Their aunt, on their mother’s side, had promised them each a Season when they were old enough. Evangeline had stayed home to put together some sort of wardrobe to travel in.

Elise hadn’t been afraid of the walk home, but she’d hurried. Father would have his whip out if she wasn’t back before dark. In her rush, she’d missed seeing the entourage bearing down on her in the village lane and hadn’t avoided being knocked down by an outrider’s horse. She’d sat in the roadside and stared. She’d never seen a real duke or a ducal carriage. It looked like something the king would travel in.

Then she’d seen him. The Duke of Wynd was ancient; his face was carved into so many lines he looked like he was frowning. He also had the strangest odor emanating from him.

“Come here, child.” He’d commanded it in a frail, shaky voice, and Elise had obeyed. She hadn’t known enough not to.

“I’ve discovered your secret, have na’ I?”

Colin’s voice broke through her nightmarish reverie. Elise stared stupidly at him. “You ... what?” she asked.

“You doona’ pay attention verra well, do you? That is definitely na’ one of your talents.’’

“I don’t want... to talk about... it.” The strain on her voice was obvious now. The last word resembled a sob to her own ears.

“Verra well. Since it is hours yet before we’ll be at Storth, what do you want to talk about?”

“The weather has certainly been nice this time of year, hasn’t it?” She spoke just above a whisper. She couldn’t change it. She didn’t have any moisture in her mouth to swallow with.

“It’s been that, and more. I only hope we doona’ run through a spring snow, or two, but I’m na’ counting on it. We’ve some miles to travel yet. My homeland is na’ known for its mild weather. I’m na’ used to it anymore. I’ll probably need extra woolens. So will you. You were bought, were na’ you?”

“What?” Her eyes were as wide as her mouth.

“Bought. Purchased. You know, as with a bride price. It was a common practice in the past. A comely daughter would bring a large settlement to her parents. That is still how most marriages in India are accomplished. I’m quite familiar with it.”

She was choking and he didn’t even seem to notice.

“You doona’ still communicate with them, do you? I would na’. I’d wish them off the face of the earth. You can tell me. I will na’ be surprised if the answer is nae.”

“My mother’s dead.” So was Elise’s voice. What little sound it made was croaked through the dryness of her throat. It didn’t stop Colin.