Kill or Be Kilt (18 page)

“I don't think you have anything to worry about, Lady Margery. The man seems to be pursuing members of the Privy Council.”

“That's part of the reason I'm afraid. My father is a member of the king's council.”

Elizabeth paled.

* * *

When Ruairi spotted Ian, he closed the distance between them, walking with long, purposeful strides. Without warning, he grabbed Ian by the tunic and shoved him against the wall. Neither paid any heed to the widened eyes watching them in the hall.

“I donna care if your damn arse was afire. Ye took your leave. Ye left Elizabeth unattended. If anything would have befallen her—”

“
Tha e ceart agad.
”
You've got it right.
Ian continued to speak in a solemn tone. “I should ne'er have left her. 'Twas a foolish mistake that will ne'er happen again.” Even though he could've easily removed himself from Ruairi's grasp, he stood submissively before his friend, knowing he deserved whatever wrath was placed upon him.

Ruairi held Ian firmly to the wall. “Ye're right it will ne'er happen again. How can I give ye my blessing to woo my sister-by-marriage when your actions are undeserving of such a request?”

Fagan patted Ruairi on the shoulder. “
Fuirich mionaid. Gabh air do schocair.
”
Wait a minute. Take it easy.
“Let him go. Munro knows naught what he does. He acts like a fool in love.”

Ruairi may have released his grip, but Ian wasn't able to escape the looks of death thrown his way. “Ye are my friend, Munro, but if ye ever place the lass in danger again, I will kill ye, and I will nae think twice about it.”

Fagan pushed Ruairi back with one hand and held Ian with the other. “Now there is nay need to kill Munro. He returned to court to offer his apologies to Elizabeth.”

“Why did he leave her in the first place?”

“Yes, Laird Munro. Why
did
you leave me in the first place?”

Ian whipped his head around as Elizabeth glared at him with burning, reproachful eyes. He couldn't stay the sourness in the pit of his stomach. Once again, he'd managed to hurt the lass, and he was entirely at fault. When she turned away without waiting for a reply, Fagan punched him in the arm.

“God's teeth, Munro! Donna just stand here like a dog in the rain. Go after the lass and make amends.”

“Was I ever this way with Ravenna?” asked Ruairi.

“Ye're both idiots with the lasses.”

“I hate ye both,” said Ian.

He ran after Elizabeth through the garden. When he caught up to her, he grasped her arm and spun her around. He had not missed her flare of temper because she threw words like stones.

“How. Dare. You. I will never forget you—”

Before he realized what he was about, he pushed her between two bushes and pressed her back against the garden wall. His lips crashed down upon hers, and Ian silenced her with a brutal, punishing kiss. His mouth did not become softer as he kissed her, and his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth. He pulled her roughly to him in a firm embrace. He wanted her to know what she did to him. No female had ever made him lose such control.

At first, she tried to twist out of his hold. But then the air itself changed. Elizabeth gave in freely to the passion of his kiss.

* * *

Liquid fire fueled Elizabeth's veins. Initially, she wriggled in Ian's arms, arching her body, fighting to become free. He didn't deserve her forgiveness for his careless actions. But he only gathered her closer, his firm hands slipping between her spine and the wall. Instinctively, she placed her fingers against the corded muscles of his chest, and that was her undoing.

His grip tightened, and the warmth of his arms was so male, so bracing. She buried her hands in his thick hair and returned his kiss with reckless desire. Blood pounded in her brain, leapt from her heart, and made her knees tremble.

She drew herself closer, and her desire overrode all sense of reason. She could feel the thrill of his arousal against her, and the knowledge made her feel more wanton, knowing she was the cause. Ian's touch was purely divine.

Without warning, he pulled back. The smoldering flame she saw in his eyes startled her.

“
Tha gaol agam ort.
”

“Heaven help me. I love you too.”

Ian held Elizabeth's hand as they sat on a bench in the garden. As she gazed at their entwined fingers, a troubled expression crossed her face. He knew a stolen kiss wouldn't erase his stupidity. He wasn't sure what to do next but needed to think of something. Looming silence was not working in his favor.

“When I saw ye in the arms of Condell, at first, I was furious. But then when I saw ye kiss, I felt betrayed.”

“Why would you feel betrayed? Mister Condell held me so tightly against him that I couldn't even move, let alone breathe.”

He felt his blood starting to boil and tried to calm his racing heart. “'Tis nae a simple task for me to admit the truth, especially about this, but we promised to have nay more lies between us.” He hesitated, trying to gather the courage to speak the truth. “Condell is fair of face. When I saw your lips on his, I—”

“You assumed that I could be easily turned by a handsome face. You did not trust me, nor did you have enough faith in yourself to recognize that I did not return Mister Condell's favor. I love you, Ian, but I cannot spend the rest of my life convincing you that I do. You turned your back on me. You knowingly left me in the arms of another man.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp. “I was able to deter him, but do you know what would've happened to me if I hadn't been able?” Her eyes met his. “I was alone with Mister Condell in Anne Boleyn's bedchamber, and you
left
me.”

Ian lowered his head.

“Whatever happened to your hand?”

“'Tis naught.” His thoughts hammered him. How could he ever make amends when he turned his back on the woman he loved? Once again, he met her gaze, refusing to falter. “Elizabeth, ye are a beautiful, caring lass…woman. Any man would be lucky to have your love. I need ye to understand why I behave the way that I do.”

He closed his eyes and prayed for strength. “Fagan and Ruairi have always had a way with the lasses, even when we were lads. When they fell in love with your sisters, they already knew how to treat a lass. I'm nae proud to admit that I donna share their experience. I've been with lasses before but ne'er for more than a night or two. I've ne'er loved a woman, and I've ne'er been gifted with one who loved me in return.”

As he searched Elizabeth's face, she gestured for him to continue. “I know this sounds daft, but I donna know how to treat ye properly. How can I ask Ruairi for your hand in marriage when I donna know how to be with ye? I donna know what ye need in a husband because every time I do something, try to woo ye, everything runs awry.”

Elizabeth graced him with a compassionate smile. “You try too hard. I've never asked more from you than you're willing to give. This is why I love you, Ian. I no longer see the burly Highland laird sitting before me, but a man who is honest and true. I need
you
to understand that I don't care about a handsome visage.” A strange look must have crossed his face because she quickly added, “I want you to think of the most beautiful woman you've ever seen.”

“I donna have to think. I'm looking at her.”

She shook her head. “Listen to what I'm telling you. When you picture that pretty woman in your mind, does her image make you change the way you feel about me? Does your heart belong to her?”

“Of course nae.”

“You've just had your first lesson in understanding yourself. Yes, Mister Condell is a beautiful man. But does his handsome face change the way I feel about you? Does my heart belong to him? No. You're the man who holds my heart. The only man who can ever make me alter my views of you is you. And if you stop acting like an arse, everything else between us will work itself out.”

He chuckled in response.

“I want you to keep something else in mind. Have you ever wondered why my sisters and their husbands get along so well?”

“I donna know. I've pondered why Ruairi and Fagan would wed such wily lasses a time or two, especially English ones.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “Lesson number two: you love an English woman. Stop talking about the English.”

“Aye.”

“The reason my sisters get along with their husbands is because they're friends. I don't need you to try and woo me. I want you to be yourself. When you took me to the library, the theatre, we jested between us, even though you slept most of the time. Stop thinking so much, and give me the best part of you…
you
.
Tha ort gaol agam.
”

“
Tha gaol agam ort.
” As Ian corrected Elizabeth's butchering of the Gaelic language, he smiled. “I think 'tis better if ye leave the Gaelic to me, lass.”

“Aye,” she repeated in the same tone he had used earlier.

“Now tell me what happened with Condell.”

* * *

Elizabeth shouldn't have forgiven Ian as hastily as she had, but she wasn't hurt, at least not physically, by Mister Condell. Granted, Ian's actions were all wrong, but once he explained the reasons why he'd thought the way he had, she had to excuse his poor behavior. He'd said the words himself. He'd never had any connection or lasting relationship with a woman. Was that truly his fault? Love was about forgiveness, and even though she'd certainly done a lot of that where Laird Munro was concerned, she recognized that she herself was far from perfect.

As she retold Ian what had occurred with Mister Condell, choosing her words carefully, he sat as still as a statue. She depicted an ease which she didn't necessarily feel. Now that he knew the truth, she didn't want him confronting the man.

“His arrogance is going to get him killed.”

She flinched at the tone of Ian's voice. “Mister Condell should not meet the end of your sword for a single kiss.”

“Howbeit he took what was nae offered.”

“And as I recall, Laird Munro, so did you only moments ago against the garden wall.”

A roguish grin spread across his face. “Your point is verra well taken, lass, but give me your word that ye'll stay away from Condell. Ye donna want to be encouraging his pursuits.”

When Elizabeth tried to speak, her voice wavered. “There was one more detail that I had forgotten to mention.” She chewed on her lower lip and stole a look at him.

“And what is that? Should I be afraid to ask?”

“You'll probably want to kill
me
once I tell you.”

He rubbed his hand over his brow. “What did ye do?”

“Mister Condell apologized for his behavior and did not want to part on unfavorable terms. I promised him that you and I would attend the theatre again in three days.”

“Elizabeth!” He sighed in exasperation.

“You, of all men, should realize that everyone makes mistakes. I was trying to go after you when you fled from the apartments, and he wouldn't let me leave until I agreed to his peace offering. Furthermore, this is his last performance playing King Henry for the season before returning to Spain.” She squeezed Ian's hand. “The twins asked me to attend too. I can't go back on my word now.”

“I suppose I can suffer through another performance if I have to. 'Tis the least I can do for my behavior.”

“I was surprised to learn something else from Lady Margery today.” When Ian shifted on the bench, she added, “Her father is a member of the Privy Council. Needless to say, she worries about her own safety and that of her father in the palace.”

“I'm sure the king has increased the guards around the members of the council.”

Elizabeth spotted Lord Kinghorne over Ian's shoulder escorting Lady Glamis through the gardens. The earl placed a supportive arm around his mother's back and held her tightly to his side. As they turned on the stone path, he reached down and grasped the woman's buttocks. If Elizabeth hadn't been paying attention to poor Lady Glamis, she wouldn't have believed it. She stiffened in shock.

“What is wrong?”

“I saw…”

“What did ye see?” Ian glanced over his shoulder.

“Lord Kinghorne in the garden with Lady Glamis.”

“The woman is feeling better then.”

“Apparently. You're not going to believe this, but the earl grabbed his mother in the buttocks.”

“
Tha mi duilich. Dè thuirt thu?
” He shook his head. “I'm sorry. What did ye say?”

“Lord Kinghorne grasped his mother's behind.”

Ian chuckled. “Lass, ye're sitting here with me. Ye can nae be sure what ye saw over there on the path. Let me assure ye that nay son would grab his mother in the buttocks. Ye're mistaken.”

“I could've sworn that he did.”

“Think about it, Elizabeth. Ye know Lady Glamis does nae get around that well. Mayhap she was about to fall, and Kinghorne's hand slipped when he was trying to support her.”

“Munro, Elizabeth did nae kill ye after all. I'm glad to see it.”

Elizabeth gave her brother-in-law a wry grin as he approached. “Fagan, why are you so cheerful?” The man was smiling from ear to ear.

“Lairds Ross, Fraser, and MacKay were just granted their audience with the king on the morrow. 'Tis only a matter of time before Munro and Ruairi are called. We will finally be able to take our leave from court and go home.”

* * *

Second only to Elizabeth telling him that she loved him, those were the sweetest words Ian had ever heard. Even though he'd had enough of court and couldn't wait to return to Scotland, his mind was puzzled with new thoughts. Would the lass want to accompany him home as his bride? Then he remembered Elizabeth's words of wisdom. He would be her friend, and everything else between them would work itself out. Furthermore, thinking too much had gotten him into nothing but trouble.

He sat beside Elizabeth in the great hall to sup as Lairds Ross, Fraser, and MacKay were knee-deep in their cups. Ian couldn't say that he blamed them. The men would meet with the king on the morrow and then return home and not look back.

“The musicians will be playing again this evening,” said Elizabeth. “I do remember you promising me a dance, Laird Munro.” When she smiled, he felt like the clouds had parted and graced him with a sunny day.

“Och, aye. I remember, but donna say I did nae warn ye. I'm nae verra good.”

She lowered her voice. “I'll tell you a little secret. I'm not very good at dancing either. I pretend to know what I'm doing.”

“I donna think I could even accomplish that, lass.”

“That's not true. I've seen you dance at Grace and Fagan's wedding when the bagpiper played.”

He leaned closer. “Ye do realize that I had consumed more than my share of
uisge beatha
that eve.”

“Perhaps, but at least tonight you should be lighter on your feet since most of your hair is gone.”

He grunted. “I still donna know if I should've let Ruairi and Fagan talk me into cutting it. 'Twas part of who I was.”

An amused look crossed her face. “If your hair was part of who you were, you do realize those tresses were unruly most of the time. What does that say about you, Laird Munro?”

When she placed her hand in an innocent gesture on his thigh, he was thankful certain parts of him remained hidden from view. Once they finished their meal, the men cleared the tables to make room to dance. Ian stood with the other lairds against the far wall with flasks of whisky in hand. There were so many bodies in attendance that the hall was stifling. As he wiped his brow, he wondered if the sweat was due to the heat in the room or because he was nervous to dance with Elizabeth. Perhaps if he had a few more swigs of whisky and the musicians played the bagpipes, he would feel more at ease. But it was too late now. Elizabeth was pulling him by the hand to the center of the floor.

“I donna think I've had enough to drink to do this, lass.”

“And if I let you drink more, Laird Munro, you won't be able to dance.”

He was unnerved when he glanced over his shoulder, and Ruairi and Fagan held up their flasks in mock salute. If those two knew what was good for them, they'd keep their mouths shut. Ian shook his head when he realized the crazy things men do for love.

When he bowed, Elizabeth curtsied in return. His hand touched hers in the air, and they turned in a circle.

“You're doing very well. You have yet to step on my feet.”

“Give me time, lass. We've only just begun.”

Elizabeth's hair was piled in curls on the top of her head. Her figure was slender and regal, and she moved with an easy grace. He found himself drowning in her emerald eyes and had no desire to be saved. She wore a black gown with hanging sleeves, and the embroidered petticoat under her skirts was lined in gray.

In his eyes, she was everything. There may have been a prettier dress or a bonnier woman at court, but there was only one woman he was drawn to—one woman who held his heart. No other woman would ever make him change the way he felt about Elizabeth. At that moment, he finally understood what she'd meant by her words.

When the musicians stopped, he simply stood there and gazed upon her, proud that he'd only stepped on her foot once. He lifted his hand to her cheek and gently rubbed his thumb across it. “With ye by my side, lass, I can do anything.”

“Ian, if you don't take me somewhere now in order for me to kiss you, we're both going to be in a heap of trouble in the middle of the great hall.”

She didn't need to tell him twice. He clutched her hand, his only intent to race to the gardens to taste her sweet lips and hold her in his arms again. They'd almost made it to the door when Fagan called to him. He'd thought about paying his friend no heed, pretending not to hear him, but the last he needed was Fagan seeking them out among the blooms.

“Damn. Wait here, and donna move. I'll be right back.”

A devilish look came into Elizabeth's eyes. “Do make haste, Laird Munro.”