My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (17 page)

"Perhaps ye had best leave him to his grief,"
Winnie offered.

Elise paused, then disappeared into the
darkness.

Daniel hadn't gone far. She saw him, arm
outstretched on a tree, shoulders shaking with silent tears. She
halted a few feet from him. "Daniel." She heard his quick intake of
breath and stepped closer in order to put a hand on his shoulder.
"Daniel."

His shoulder stiffened beneath her fingers.
She turned him toward her. Without hesitation he fell into her arms
and wept.

"A son," he said between sobs.

"I know," she replied, and his tears fell
even more freely.

At last, he released her and stepped back. He
straightened, again the proud warrior. Elise breathed a silent sigh
of relief. He would recover. Now for Chloe. "Daniel, the loss of
the child is terrible, but you have something else which must be
dealt with now."

"What?"

"Chloe."

"Is something amiss? Winnie said she would
live." He looked as if he would race back to the cottage.

"No," Elise quickly put in, "you
misunderstand. She will live. However…" Elise hesitated. These
Highland men weren't known for having a deep understanding of their
women, and she, a stranger, stood before one of them, presuming to
tell him how to better deal with one of his own.

"Out with it," he growled. "If she is in
danger—" His voice lowered. "Did Winnie lie?" He seized her
shoulders.

Elise laid a hand on his arm. "The danger
doesn't lie with her body, but her heart."

"Her heart?"

"She blames herself. What's worse, she
believes you blame her."

His hands dropped away. "Of course I don't
blame her."

"She thinks otherwise."

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
"She'll think differently tomorrow."

Anger shot through Elise. "You, sir, have no
idea what a woman thinks."

A silence drew out between them before he
said, "What did she say?"

"She didn't tell me outright, but I… I
understand how she feels."

Daniel studied her. "You lost a child?"

"Yes."

He breathed deep. "What's to be done?"

"Go to her. Be with her. Let her know you
still love her. It's you she needs."

He stared for a moment then, without a word,
strode toward the cottage.

Elise watched until he disappeared into the
darkness. A moment later, she heard the shuffle of boots on the
porch. With the click of the cottage door, exhaustion washed over
her. She took three steps to the closest tree and leaned against
the trunk, resting her head. What a fool she was to have become too
entangled with these people. They were no longer faceless
strangers, but named friends whose lives had touched her. Friends
she had deceived—Marcus most of all. She pushed from the tree and
started down the path.

No guard remained to escort her home. The
moon peeked from behind clouds. She welcomed the solitary walk. The
moment the thought formed, tears rolled down her cheeks. Elise gave
her head a hard shake but only succeeded in further blurring her
vision. The moon dipped behind the clouds again and she was plunged
into shadows. Her toe slammed against a rock. She lurched forward.
She thrust her hands out in defense of the fall, but large hands
seized her waist and yanked her against a hard body. Elise opened
her mouth to scream but the arm tightened around her and the scream
emerged a squeak.

"Re-release me you brute!" she wheezed,
giving her assailant a hard kick to the leg.

He cursed softly. Her stomach did a
somersault.
Marcus.

"Brute, is it?" he murmured. A strained note
in his voice said the kick had been successful. "You dare call me
brute when I saved you from a nasty fall?"

Elise sagged against him. "You gave me a
scare." She took a deep breath.

He ran a hand over her shoulder, following
the caress with a kiss to her neck. "'Tis not nice for a lady to
call her lover a brute." Another kiss followed on her shoulder.

"Good Lord." She broke free and faced him,
trying to discern his features in the darkness. When unsuccessful,
she muttered, "You truly are a man."

He chuckled. "That doesn't please you?"
Marcus took her hand and started down the path. "Never mind. It
will soon enough."

They walked for a few moments, then he
slipped an arm around her waist. A shock rippled through Elise,
settling between her legs. This feeling she had to guard against.
When she left—her heart wrenched and she became painfully aware of
his arm around her. His warmth had seeped through her dress,
comforting, offering the promise—Elise clamped down on the
burgeoning desire. She wouldn't hurt him by giving herself to him
then leaving. She had to keep him at a distance for just a little
longer.

"You must be exhausted," he said.

She thought of Chloe. "I'm worried about
Chloe."

"She'll be fine. Daniel loves her."

"Yes. Their love is their salvation."

"'Tis always the case," Marcus stated
matter-of-factly.

Her heart leapt. "Oh?"

"Aye. The love between a man and a woman is
salvation itself."

"Perhaps. However, they will be needing an
extra dose now."

"You don't think Daniel loves her?"

"I believe he will do his best to comfort
her," she replied.

"And who will comfort Daniel?"

"Chloe, of course. Who else?"

"Who else, indeed?" Marcus repeated softly,
and this time she couldn't stop the flutter of her heart.

* * * *

When they entered the castle's kitchen,
Marcus ordered Mary to prepare a hot bath for Elise. She protested,
but he shook his head.

"I planned on going straight to bed," she
complained, as he escorted her through the kitchen.

"Trust me." He forced her to keep pace with
him as they crossed the great hall. "You will thank me in the
morning." They neared the stairs and he prodded her up.

She remained silent until they reached her
door. "Really—" she began.

"Go," he interrupted. "I'll return in a
moment."

Elise sighed but acquiesced.

Marcus strode down the hallway to his room.
He pushed past his bedchamber door and crossed to the sideboard in
the far corner. He poured a brandy and drank it in one swallow. He
grimaced, then poured another and went back to Elise's room.
Pausing at her door, he knocked once then entered. She looked up
sharply, one hand on the remaining boot she was in the process of
removing.

"You might have waited until I gave you
permission to enter," she said, giving him a reproachful look.

"Drink this." He handed her the brandy.

Elise set the boot on the floor, then took
the glass. She sniffed and peered at him over the rim of the
snifter. "Napoleon brandy." She drank it in nearly as quick a
flourish as he had.

Marcus raised his brows. "Careful, lass. One
should acquire a tolerance for spirits before gulping them."

"I wish you'd brought two. Mmm." She stood.
"Makes me feel warm all over."

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," he called.

Elise frowned. "This is my bedchamber," she
said, as the door opened and two men entered carrying the bathtub.
"If you don't mind, I will be the one to allow visitors entrance."
Her gaze shifted to the tub. She thrust the glass forward, bumping
Marcus's chest. He grasped the snifter as she released it and
stepped past him. "Over there," she instructed, "by the fire."

Two more men followed with pails of steaming
water. "Mary said the rest of the water will take a little time to
heat," one man said, as he dumped his pail into the tub.

Elise walked to the tub and peered into it.
"Two pails of cool water will do."

The men nodded and were gone. She faced
Marcus. He gave her a questioning look, knitting his brows as
though not comprehending.

"Marcus."

"Ah, yes." He set the glass on the
nightstand, then came to stand beside her. He grasped her shoulders
and spun her facing away from him.

"Wha—?"

He began unbuttoning the buttons down the
back of her dress.

"Marcus!" She tried to twist free.

"Hold still," he commanded, holding fast to
the dress, "or you'll rip the fabric."

Elise reached back, slapping at him, and hit
the hard muscle of his hip. She instantly snatched her hand back.
He regretted his lack of foresight in not standing closer. An inch
or two more, and she might have managed a nice swat to his
groin.

"Release me," she growled.

"Not unless you intend to bathe in your
clothes." He tugged on the final button, leaving the dress open to
her waist.

She grasped the back of her dress, whirling
just in time to hide her back from the man who entered with the two
pails of cold water she'd requested. She stepped out of his way as
he hurried past her and Marcus to pour the water into the tub. He
turned and left. The door clicked closed behind him. Elise faced
Marcus. He grinned and leaned against the bedpost.

Her eyes narrowed. "Marcus MacGregor."

"I could wash your back—"

"Out!" She pointed to the door.

He sighed, straightening from the bedpost. He
started for the door then halted, and faced her. "Mayhap another
brandy? It would take me only—"

"Ohhh!" She lunged forward and shoved at his
chest.

He took a faltering step back. "It would
relax you, lass. Trust—"

Elise released her hold on the back of her
dress and used both hands to push even harder. He stepped back
several paces until he came up against the door.

"Surely you don't mean to keep all the warm
water to yourself," he said.

She leaned into him. "You want to share the
water?"

His body tensed. "I would gladly share your
bathwater, love."

Elise shoved away from him. "Fine. I will
have it sent to your room when I'm done."

Marcus entered the kitchen an hour later to
find Mary sitting by the fire. "How is Elise?"

"I haven't heard a peep. Should I see to
her?"

He shook his head. "I will go."

A few minutes later, Marcus opened Elise's
door. He froze at the sight of her fast asleep in the tub.
Mesmerized, he tried to throttle the dizzying current that raced
through him. He had held her intimately. Yet those encounters had
not prepared him for the sight of her naked. Earlier, he had teased
her mercilessly, knowing full well she wouldn't give in. Now, she
lay before him in all her womanly splendor, his for the taking.

In his mind's eye, he saw himself lift her
from the water. Her eyes would flutter open to register first
surprise, then desire. Desire streaked through him. A blush crept
up her neck as he slid is gaze to her breasts. When he pressed her
close, the moisture that clung to her skin dampened his shirt.
Water dripped from her body and across the floor as he carried her
to the bed. He laid her on the bed, coming down on top of
her—Marcus jarred from the vision. The throb in his groin deepened
and he couldn't halt his gaze from moving down Elise's body, past
her breasts, along her stomach to the curls below. He closed his
eyes. If he took her now, she might acquiesce but would later blame
him, feeling he had taken advantage in a moment of weakness.

God help him, she would be right.

If he took a single step toward her, nothing
could call him back.

Marcus whirled. Behind him, sweet victory
whispered. Then laughed.

Chapter Ten

Elise awoke the following morning, the
lingering warmth of Marcus's body from her dream state so real that
she jolted awake upon reaching out and touching only cool sheets
beside her. Sadness settled over her. There would be no mornings
where they awoke together, no mornings where Marcus pulled her
close and kissed her body before slipping inside her.

Tears stung her eyes. This time when she
left, there would be no clues, no one to confess that she had gone
with Peter McFie. She didn't blame Winnie. When confronted by her
master, Winnie had told the truth. Elise expected nothing less. She
had gambled and lost. She wouldn't lose a second time. Now, if she
could only locate the secret passageway leading from the castle to
the outside.

The mantel clock chimed softly. She looked at
the clock. Nearly seven. Elise bolted upright. Marcus had likely
already gone to the fields. She swung her legs over the side of the
bed then paused before rising. He would be preoccupied with final
preparations for the celebration starting that night. If she chose
the moment with care, he might not overanalyze her request to go to
Michael's.

A pang of guilt surfaced. Was the need to
check for the notice in the
Sunday Times
worth manipulating
him one last time? The question went beyond morality. When she
reached Glasgow, if no ship left immediately for America, she might
have to go to another port. London was the best choice. But if the
notice was still in the paper could she risk it?

When Elise stepped from the postern door ten
minutes later, she spotted Marcus at the front gate. He stood among
a group of men, his horse's reins in hand. She hurried across the
courtyard toward him. He turned as she neared. A smile spread
across his face. When she came within arm's length, he surprised
her by dropping the reins and sweeping her into his embrace, then
twirling her about.

"Marcus," she breathed, "put me down."

He twirled again. The ground spun around her
and she squealed, burying her face in his neck. Her cheek instantly
warmed with the contact of his skin. Her breath quickened. Good
Lord, she'd forgotten about his open shirt! He stopped and she
looked up into his grinning face.

"What brings you here this fine morning?" he
asked, still holding her off the ground.

"Put me down," she said. His grin widened,
and Elise felt her cheeks flush even warmer. "People are
watching."