Elise (6 page)

“Surprised? Doona’ be. You’re fairly transparent. You wanted to make Easton jealous so he’d propose. I understand this courtship game. I doona’ like playing it, as anyone in my old regiment could tell you, but I do know how. You will na’ like it if I start, either. Trust me.”

“I play no game.”

“Right.”

The one word made it sound like she never told the truth. Elise stiffened, and then she knew what was worse, as every bit of her came into contact with every bit of him. Even through her riding habit, gloves, and buttoned boots she felt him. Her heightened senses made certain of it, as hard humps of chest smashed further against her bosom, an entwined conglomeration of ropelike stomach pressed against hers, hard hips supported hers, while legs resembling iron bars were locked so effortlessly about hers it might as well have been a permanent condition.

“I suppose you’re going to say this is na’ a game, either?” he asked, his breath catching strangely midway through the words.

Elise forced herself to relax every part of her body that was touching him. “Let me up, please.”

“I’m na’ holding you.”

Beyond the thinning of her lips, she let that one pass. “Please?” She tried again.

“Explain yourself, first.”

“What?”

“The courtship game. Why are you still playing it with me?”

Elise looked heavenward before returning to his face. “Just because Sir Roald came upon me doesn’t mean I’m playing anything.”

“Then why did you set it up ... and turn him down?”

“That isn’t what happened.”

“I already told you, I heard it. I trust my own ears more than a woman’s lies. I just doona’ understand why you did it. Enlighten me.”

“I don’t have to say another word to you.”

“Do you wish to be free?”

The fingers locked further on both of her hands, imprisoning her against his queue. Her eyes went wide before she could help it. Then she had to shutter them and blink before he saw it. She’d been stupid earlier, she realized. Instead of trying to work her fingers loose without disturbing strands of his hair, she should have been pulling them out.

“Were you trying to make him pant for you more than he already does?”

“I beg your pardon!”

He grinned, and the gesture destroyed every bit of her constructed personae. She knew he saw it, too. He wasn’t leaving her in any doubt as he winked. “Trust me, lady. You heard it exactly as I said it.”

“If you say another word, I’m going to hit you.”

“With what? I’ve got your hands.” He tensed the one hand behind his head again, proving it.

“My knee.”

She went to move it, but the legs she’d already compared with iron bands flexed, sealing off any move. That put everything that was male about him against everything that was female about her. Elise’s gasp wasn’t heard above the absolute roar of sound in her very own ears.

“Care to try again?” he asked. His eyebrows were raised, and when he was amused, his eyes were definitely more green than brown.

Elise swallowed, but it was more a gulp.

“So ... are you ready to enlighten me?”

Tell him about their siblings and Rory?
Now?
Elise nodded. She gulped the excess moisture from her mouth, then had to suck more moisture in when it dried too much to speak.

There was another loud shout, followed by several more. The duke moved his head, craning his neck to listen, moving Elise with it. Her eyes fell to where his button placket had come undone. He was a tan color, even where the skin disappeared beneath his shirt. Something happened. Something twinged deep inside her, and Elise surprised herself by actually catching the gasp that was accompanying it. She’d never felt the like, but if it was what she suspected it was, there was absolutely nothing worse in the world that could happen!

He had bands of sinew going from his jawline, down his neck, and right into where his shoulders were still hidden beneath his shirt and jacket. Elise went limp before she embarrassed herself forever by putting her lips to the flesh he was displaying for her.

“You keep looking at me like that and we’re going to be in an even more compromising position when we’re found.”

Like what?
She instantly wondered it, but already knew.

His voice had echoed from the chest she was perched atop. Everything in her wanted to put her head down, snuggle against that neck, bury her nose against the heartbeat she could see pulsing through the skin, and experience everything he’d made her feel the first time he’d kissed her. None of which she was ever going to show.

Elise closed her eyes, found the core of strength she’d always had deep inside of her, and counted to ten before opening her eyes. She was labeled The Ice Goddess for a reason. She looked into those greenish brown eyes with the coldest expression she could manage and hoped it worked.

“I don’t think I like you very much, Your Grace,” she said.

“The feeling’s mutual. Does this mean you will na’ be expecting a proposal of marriage after this ravishment?” he asked.

Marriage proposal? Ravishment? Her mind replayed the words. Her heart decided it would continue beating, and she’d have given anything to be able to stop the blush that was heating all the way to her forehead and back.

“Oh, I forgot. It’s unequivocally, inescapably, and a few other fancy, big words . . . no.”

“I’ll . . . never marry.” She had a voice. It was breathless, young, innocent sounding, and everything she’d destroyed when she married the first time. She frowned. “I mean . . . remarry.”

“Right. Why, please?”

“Why?” she repeated automatically.

“Yes, why? Women marry. Men get trapped. Good God, this is na’ a trap, is it?”

He lifted his head, instantly releasing her hands. The look of shock was back. Elise giggled, then felt him go taut beneath her, making her body rise a bit with the movement. That was interesting, she decided. Almost as much so as the flush infusing his cheeks and making the flecks in his eyes even more green-looking as he stared at her.

“I’ll never consider remarriage, Your Grace. It’s the one thing I won’t do.”

“Truly?” He relaxed, moving her body again with that motion, and then he blew the sigh over his forehead. All of which she was extremely aware of. “That does leave other options I’ll have to think over. You’d na’ think it amiss if I escort you to dinner again?”

“I’m not in need of an escort. I believe I already have one.”

He snorted. “Let’s run along and see if Sir Roald will mind, then.”

Elise frowned. “In that event, I think I’ve quite lost all appetite, Your Grace. I believe I’ll dine in my rooms tonight.”  

“Alone?”

“Hardly. I have my maid with me.”

“No one will think it amiss if I attend you, instead. Order it.”

“In my rooms?” Elise asked, showing every bit of her own shock. “I’m certain my maid will,” she answered finally, with a choking voice.

“We’re about to be discovered.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You should try to look a bit disheveled from your fall and na’ my lovemaking.”

Elise had to look away. She was afraid he’d spot the sudden moisture in her eyes that she couldn’t staunch quickly enough. “I’ll do my best, if you’ll let me up.”

“There’s naught holding you,” he answered.

“Your arm?” she asked. “Your legs?”

“How the devil did that happen?” His voice was quite merry as he lifted his arm from her and opened his legs.

Elise pulled away from warmth and didn’t enjoy the tremors being away from it caused. She went onto her heels to look down at herself. Strands of ash-blond hair were trailing about her face, showing the condition of her coiffure; there were more rips in her habit than could be repaired, mud about her elbows, and lip rouge on Colin’s lips. Elise found her handkerchief and handed it to him.

“I need this?” he asked.

“Not unless your lips are always that red.”

“You use that kind of artifice? Too?”

“Of course. Doesn’t every woman?”

“Na’ the ones I grew up with. Is it gone?”

Elise couldn’t prevent the snort. He’d smeared it worse than before. She held her hand out for the cloth. Colin gave it to her. “Hold out your tongue,” she commanded.

“Why?”

“Must everything be explained to you first? I can’t get the rouge off without moisture.”

“You lick it off, then.”

Elise pulled back as though stung. “I... can’t,” she whispered, finally.

“Why na’? You put it there.”

Elise set her jaw, wrapped the handkerchief about her finger, and put it to her mouth. He stopped her with a quick hand and pulled the handkerchief away from her lips.

“Against the rules, Elise,” he said, clicking his tongue, and his eyes were as cold brown as they’d been the first time she’d seen him. “I said lick it off.”

“What rules?”

“The courtship game. I told you I knew how to play it.”

“You can’t possibly mean ...” Her voice stopped exactly when her thoughts did.

“Oh ...and can na’ I?”

Shouts and calls carried to her, and they both heard them. They were closer. Colin hadn’t changed position, but she could swear he’d gotten larger. Elise shut her eyes, but when she opened them he still hadn’t moved. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“I thought... you didn’t like me,” she said.

“I doona’. Much.”

“Then why must you make me do this?”

“Let’s just call it payment for a bit of lampooning I’ve had to endure. And it’s rather amusing, I think. Doona’ you?”

She closed her eyes again and took several calming breaths. There hadn’t been one gentle line to his body when he’d said it, either.

“You can open your eyes, too. I’m na’ going anywhere.”

She did. If anything, he’d gotten closer when he lifted his head atop his bent arm.

“That’s better. Really, woman, you doona’ have much time. We’re about to be discovered, and I’m covered with your lip paint. I’m fairly certain they’ll know how it got there.”

“So? I’ve been whispered about before.”

“Well, I have na’. My reputation is impeccable. Until my name got linked with yours, anyway.”

“That’s the price of a title, Your Grace.” She shrugged and tried to look at anything except him.

“Do you know what you’re about, Elise? You claim you doona’ want a marriage proposal? Very well. Get on with it. You know you can na’ just compromise an eligible bachelor and expect to get off with a by-your-leave. We’re both too well-known. I’ll be forced to offer you my hand in wedlock. Or is that what you want?”

This isn’t happening to me!
She was not being threatened with marriage by the Duke of MacGowan, she just wasn’t.

“Oh, Christ! It is, is na’ it? I had the clue in my hands and dinna’ even see it. I’m more dense than a sweep! That was the reason for your note, and the acting last night, and this! You expect a proposal from me. Not him. Me. Damn you.”

She swallowed hard. “Just shut up, Your Grace.”

“Give me the rag.” He didn’t wait. He reached over and plucked it from her, licked it, and slashed it across his lips. His eyes never left hers, and there wasn’t a bit of green to them.

Chapter 6

“Up you go now. Don’t mind this steed, my lady. His Grace has him in hand. Your Grace?”

Elise couldn’t share her inner anguish with anyone, so she simply let herself go limp as Barrigan’s groom lifted her up to the duke’s arms. It was more of her rotten luck that her gelding had returned rider-less to the stables after her fall, and that MacGowan’s had stopped the moment his rider jumped from his back.

“Relax. Pretend you enjoy this. I know I am. Pretending, that is.”

“Why?”

“Why am I pretending, or why should you, also?”

Elise put her teeth together. She didn’t answer. It didn’t matter.

“I’m pretending I enjoy it because it was my rescue. You were in distress. That’s an oddity none can believe. Or so they keep saying. I like that. Colin MacGowan, chivalrous rescuer of maidens in distress. Oh, pardon. You’re nae maiden. I keep forgetting.”

She stiffened further, but that just made her back ache more.

“And you should pretend to enjoy it, because it appears to fluster your man-friend.”

“You’ve a lot of gall, Your Grace.”

He chuckled above her head, and the chest she was staunchly keeping away from moved with the motion. “That I have, to be sure.”

Elise sat with her legs overlapping one of his. He had the reins in his left hand and his right about her waist to steady her seat. She wished it didn’t feel as warm and right and safe as it did.

Four of Barrigan’s grooms were accompanying them, along with Barrigan, Sophie’s viscount, and Sir Roald Easton. The last, Elise was studiously ignoring. Nothing about him appeared to be flustered.

The sun was directly above Barrigan’s lodge, making every shade of color almost painful to look at. Colin felt hard and sturdy beside her, and the horse’s rocking motion made her back ache unduly from the taut posture she was forcing on it How she longed for the luxury of a good cry! She sniffed and hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“You can lean back. Nae one’s looking, and I will na’ take it as a personal insult.”

“Everything you do is an insult, Your Grace.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me thus far.”

“You’ve gained full measure for any slur to your name that my presence has caused you. Does that satisfy you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “You’re the one setting the scenes. You tell me. I’ve yet to compliment you on today’s effort.”

“I had nothing to do with nearly being trampled!”

“You put your horse directly in my path. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Is that what you think of me?” she asked, in a little voice she hated the moment she heard it.

“I doona’ think of you at all.”

She sat stiffer at his words. The horse slowed. Elise wiped quickly at a tear. She was stupid to allow self-pity now, besides, it would make her blackened eyelashes a mess of wet soot. It was because she was suffering from reaction, that’s what it was. That’s all it was.

“That’s all what is?” Colin asked, as if she’d spoken aloud.

“I—I don’t believe I’m ever speaking to you again, Your Grace. You may unhand me.”

“If I were to do so, you’d likely fall again. Why dinna’ you tell us you could na’ sit a horse?”

“I sit a horse just fine. I wasn’t expecting stallions to come leaping from the sky.”

“Nor a gallant gent to rescue you, either, I presume?”

“Is that what you call a rescue?”

“Actually, it was more along the line of a lesson.”

“I don’t need, or want, any lesson from you, Your Grace.”

“Just settle back like a good lass, will you? I’m having a bit of trouble with Thunderbolt here.”

Elise tightened her lips but knew he wouldn’t spot it. The horse wasn’t giving anyone any trouble. She shut her eyes and allowed herself to lean a bit against him. Colin’s chuckle greeted her action.

She sniffed again and turned her face away.

“You still have your handkerchief?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Good. I doona’ like to be wet with woman-tears.”

“You need to worry more about being blackened, I should inform you,” she answered.

“You use artifice there, too?”

“There’s not much of me that isn’t artifice, Your Grace.”

“Hmmn, interesting thought. Is that a challenge?”

“To what, pray tell?”

“Find out.”

The pillow that was his chest moved as he reached about her, pulling her more securely against him. This sort of intimacy she could do without. She’d sworn it after watching Evangeline cry her heart out for a man who could not care less about her. Elise would never let that happen to her. She’d vowed to die a virgin. She’d sworn never to feel anything for a man. And never, ever, to be near enough to one to feel anything. Especially a MacGowan.

~ ~ ~

She lay abed after dining in her chamber, much later than usual. She’d had only Daisy for company, because His Grace, the Duke of MacGowan, had seen her to this chamber, and then ordered it that way while he told all who would listen that she had to recuperate from her ordeal. She didn’t want him seeing to her well-being. She didn’t want anything more to do with him... and she still hadn’t told him of Rory!

“Damn him, anyway!” she swore, then smacked the covers.

“What was that, Elise?” Daisy looked up from her sewing to ask it. Elise looked away.

“I’m talking to myself. Pray, don’t pay me any mind.”

She didn’t need the extra coddling Colin seemed to have ordered for her, either. She didn’t need or want his horrid lesson. She especially didn’t need the recollection of how warm and secure he’d felt. She only wished she could banish that memory.

‘‘Will there be anything else, then?”

“How about a sleeping powder?” Elise asked.

“Does your back hurt you that much?”

“Actually, it’s another part of my anatomy with the larger bruises, Daisy. And, no, I was teasing. I don’t need my head to ache all day tomorrow, should I take one now. You know how they affect me.”

“Are you certain you don’t wish me to sleep here tonight? I can have the trundle set up again in no time.”

She gestured to the connecting door and Elise glanced that way. Roald wasn’t interested in her anymore. The duke’s behavior seemed to have settled that

“As long as you’ve locked my door, there’s no need,” she replied.

“Sleep well then, Elise.”

“I shall sleep soundly and well, I assure you.”

“No adventures, mind. And no mad dashes about the countryside in breeches. Nothing of that nature?”

“I’m far too tired and bruised for such tomfoolery. Trust me.”

“You’re certain you wouldn’t like me to stay? His Grace said you might need—”

“Off with you, Daisy,” Elise interrupted her. “Get your own rest. We’ve a long day tomorrow. We’ll leave early. I have things to see to. Wake me early.”

The door closed, taking the light with it. Elise snuggled down into Barrigan’s feather mattress and fell asleep again to images she’d never tell a soul about.

“Elise?”

The drunken whisper filled her bedchamber, arousing her instantly. “Are you awake, my love?”

“Get to your own rooms, Roald. Let me be.”

“Not this time, my fine lady. Oh no, not this time.”

The bed gave slightly as he fell onto it. Elise struggled out the other side simultaneously. Her limbs weren’t awake yet, and the clumsiness was hampering her search in the dark for her dressing gown before she gave it up. It was delaying her too long.

“Elise? Wait! Damn!”

He swore and lunged at her, trapping her with fistfuls of her cotton nightgown in his hands. Elise pummeled him and swung her face away from the kiss he was trying to give her.

“No, Roald!” She screamed. She felt the nightgown ripping from her shoulder as he tossed her to the bed.

She was hitting at him and struggling, and he acted like it was nothing.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment, Elise! You’ve . . . no idea.”

His open, wet mouth landed on her collarbone and a shudder of revulsion filled her, draining her strength for a moment. It was getting dim. She saw him as a darker blackness than the room as he lifted himself above her. Then she was swinging at him again.

“Stop that! I won’t hurt you. I only want to love you. You’ll enjoy it. I promise. Now stop! I’m going to make love to you, Elise. Then I’m going to marry you! And then we’re going to spend the Wynd fortune!”

She heard his clothing rustling through her frantic breathing as she inched her way from him to the headboard, and then to the lamp. She’d noticed how heavy and awkward it was earlier. It was all she had. They’d been stupid. They’d locked Roald’s door, but she hadn’t been safe. They hadn’t locked the other door.

“All I ever wanted was for you to love me, Elise. I swear it! I’ve waited, postured, and pleaded. I can’t wait any longer. Tonight, I’ll force you, by God!”

He was shouting it as he fell onto her legs. Elise slammed the lamp onto him. He didn’t know what hit him. She pitched the lamp from her with both hands, and then had to contend with his weight. There was warm, sticky liquid everywhere. She seemed to be covered with it. It got worse as she pushed and struggled to get free. The thump as she fell from the bed was loud. Then she was on her feet and she was shaking. There wasn’t a sound from Roald.

“Oh my God! I’ve killed him!” What started as a whisper, ended in a shriek as Elise wrapped her arms about herself and continued, “What can I do? Where can I go? Think, Elise, think!”

She could leave. She could get a groom to saddle a horse and race for London. No, that wouldn’t do. She had to find Daisy. She had to have help to escape. It’s all she could think of. She’d have to run. There was too much blood in her chamber. She didn’t need to see it. She could still feel it on her nearly everywhere.

“Oh, God, help me. Help me!”

She was whispering the prayer over and over as she went through the connecting door into Roald’s chamber. She didn’t think beyond her objective, and she didn’t question why. She had to get to Daisy.

She knew where the servant’s quarters were, although she’d never been there. The hall was empty and frighteningly dim, with soft, yellowish light glowing slightly from each oil globe. Elise stumbled once, and then forced her body to hold the shock inside where it wouldn’t show. She wasn’t going to be able to save herself if she gave into hysterics. She took a deep breath and ran to the door leading to the stairs that the servants used. She opened it.

Then a large body was there, blocking her, and arms wrapped about her torso as she was lifted. Elise was struggling and pummeling again, and for the same reason.

“Stop that, Madame! Stop!”

A door was kicked open, and Elise was shoved into the light of an unfamiliar bedchamber and lowered onto her feet, although he kept her locked in his arms. Elise’s heart was beating so loudly and in such a disjointed rhythm, it was hampering her own breathing.

“What the devil is this?”

Elise’s heart ceased pounding and felt like it moved to lodge in her throat as she recognized MacGowan’s voice.

“I caught her running the halls. In this.”

“Just this?”

Elise forced herself to turn her head. The duke hadn’t been sleeping. He’d been sitting, contemplating a deck of spread cards, and he was wearing a red, green, and black plaid robe that actually reached the floor when he stood, knocking over his chair.

Then he was looming, all towering strength and anger. Elise actually hugged into the man still holding her.

“What have you got to say for yourself?” he asked in an ugly tone.

Elise turned around.

“What the hell?” he burst out.

“I—” Elise opened her mouth, but little more than that came out.

“What happened?” He was asking the man holding her.

“I told you, Your Grace. I caught her at the servants’ stair, like this.”

“You’re both covered in blood. Explain. Now!”

“I did as you said. I watched. She was out, like you said she might be. I caught her.”

“Then, whose blood—?”

“Roald,” Elise answered, interrupting them as they just got louder and louder, with angry words that seemed to swirl above her head.

“Easton?” He lowered his head and asked it, and nothing about him was soft or caring, or anything other than intense and brutal and frightening.

She nodded. She didn’t think her voice would work.

“What happened? Quickly! I can na’ do something about it if you doona’ tell me.”

“I—” Elise stopped; a sob stilled her voice as trembling overtook her for a moment. She watched his face harden further. “I...I have killed him. Dearest God ... I’ve killed him.”

“What? Why?”

She watched him shove the robe off, imprinting a large, extremely defined masculine span of chest and belly onto her eyes, and then he was shoving his arms into a black coat. Then he was covering the whole with a black cape and lifting the hood to shadow his features. Elise wondered stupidly, if he was trying to disguise himself. It wasn’t going to work if he was. There wasn’t another on the estate his size.