My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (23 page)

"Elise," he said in a low voice, "how long
since your husband bedded you?"

Her stricken look and the sudden moisture in
her eyes told him all he needed to know.

"Love," he said, lowering his mouth to kiss
her.

She turned her head aside. "Please."

Marcus kissed her neck instead. Not the kiss
of passion he would have given her a moment ago, but a gentle,
reassuring kiss.

"The man was a fool," he muttered, and moved
inside her, slowly this time.

Her hold remained firm, but she shook her
head slightly, refusing to look at him. Marcus lifted his weight
from her, withdrawing slowly, then entering again with a quick but
shallow thrust. He didn't mistake her tiny intake of breath, then
the rise of her body to meet his next thrust. He pulled away, while
running his tongue along the edge of her ear. When he thrust again,
Elise wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her cheek, the
corner of her mouth, then coaxed her to him, kissing her full on
the mouth. She wound a leg around his calf and he thrust hard and
deep before realizing the action.

He stilled. She opened her eyes. He saw no
fear, only the question,
Why have you stopped?
He was a
fool. Marcus moved again and again and again, until her arms
tightened around his back and her walls closed around his shaft as
she cried out in her pleasure. When the blinding light of climax
shot through his body, he poured himself into her and knew he would
never let her go.

* * * *

Elise sat at Marcus's desk in the library and
stared at the wanted notice in the Sunday Times dated the weekend
he had been in London.

American-born Elisabeth Kingston wanted for
murder is believed to have perished at sea off the coast of
Scotland. A ten-thousand-pound reward is offered for information
leading to the whereabouts of her body. Anyone with information
contact Drew Cummins, Attorney at Law…

She closed her eyes, willing her pounding
heart to slow. If this paper had been meant for Michael, why had it
sat folded on Marcus's desk the last four days? The man who had
demanded the Campbells deliver Shamus's killer to him wouldn't
overlook a wife murdering her husband.

Marcus's anger at discovering that the woman
he wanted to marry was a wanted criminal like Shamus's murderer
would be even greater. She had eluded Price these past months.
After what happened between her and Marcus last night, could she
hide from him?

* * * *

Marcus strode across the courtyard toward the
gate. The drizzling rain, which had fallen since dawn, now turned
into the large drops promised by the dark, low clouds. He would be
surprised if Elise had ventured into the village on such a dreary
summer day. In fact, he had expected her to be shut up in his
library. He felt again the acute disappointment at not being able
to make love to her before a low fire as he'd planned.

A moment later, he stood on the battlements,
scanning the path leading into the village but saw no one
approaching. He shifted his gaze to the dark shadows concealing the
secret passage, then turned and surveyed the courtyard. The rain
hadn't interfered with the daily goings on. People traveled to and
from the castle and among the cottages beyond the bailey.

He scanned the grounds, his gaze centering on
Winnie's cottage in the distance. He started to turn from the
deserted-looking building when the door opened and a woman stepped
out. Marcus studied the figure as she hurried down the single step
onto the ground and started in the direction of the castle. He
followed her progress until he discerned Mary's features, then
turned from the wall. Perhaps she knew something of Elise's
whereabouts. A moment later, he pushed through the postern door and
strode through the eating hall to the kitchen. Mary appeared in the
kitchen's back door as he entered.

"Have you seen Elise?" he demanded without
preamble.

The girl paused in the doorway. "N-nay,
laird."

Marcus surveyed the women in the room, all of
whom had stopped their work and were looking at him. "No one here
knows where Winnie is?"

A general "nay" went up and he turned from
the kitchen. Where the bloody hell was Elise? And as for
Winnie…

A cursory investigation of the castle turned
up no sign of Elise. Only three weeks earlier he had been searching
for her in much the same manner.

Her absence then was innocent enough. Yet the
number of times she had gone to Michael's against his express
command, combined with last month's disappearance, unsettled
him.

Two hours later, after a more thorough
search, including the dungeons, Marcus stalked toward Winnie's
cottage. The secret passageway had become his nemesis. At every
turn, he feared Elise had somehow managed to escape through it,
despite the fact he'd had it sealed from the outside.

He found Winnie's cottage empty. Marcus
worked his way through the keep, his temper rising with every step.
At last, he reached Lauren's home. Aye, she'd seen Elise, only that
had been over an hour ago. He strode from her cottage, across the
compound, and into the kitchen. Winnie, this time, sat at the
table, plucking a chicken, just as she should have been.

"So, milady," he said, bringing her attention
to him, along with that of the other women in the room, "you have
returned to the roost."

Winnie looked up from yanking tail feathers
from her victim's rump.

"Have you seen Elise?"

Comprehension shone on her face.

"Don't play games with me, Winnie," he
warned. "You have seen Elise. I can see it in your eyes."

"No need to get testy." She turned to her
chicken. "Try the women's drawing room."

Another five minutes and Marcus shoved open
the drawing room door. The women jumped as the door hit the wall
with a bang. He swept his gaze across the room before settling
dangerously on Elise, who sat on the large couch against the left
wall. No one moved as he strode toward her.

"Good Lord, what in the world is wrong?" she
blurted when he halted in front of her.

With a jerk of his head, Marcus cleared the
room. The door closed with a soft click and he demanded, "Where
have you been?"

She blinked. "I-I have just come from
Lauren's—"

"Not
just come
. You left there over an
hour ago."

"What have I done now?" she retorted in the
same dark tone he'd used.

"It never occurred to you to inform
someone—anyone—where you were going?" Marcus grabbed her shoulders.
"Don't do this again." He hadn't realized until seeing her, just
how far his fear had run. He hugged her.

She wriggled within his grasp.
"
Marcus
."

He leaned back and looked into her face. "The
next time you leave the castle, tell someone."

Her brow furrowed, then her lips pursed. She
wrested herself from his arms and tumbled back onto the couch. "Go
away," she snapped, and reached to smooth her skirts, which had
bunched beneath her.

Marcus sat beside her. "Listen to me. There
is mischief afoot, and I won't live in fear for your safety, even
within the walls of my own home. Do you understand?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me?
I am a veritable prisoner as it is. Now, like some child, I must
ask permission before stepping outside my room?"

"Bloody hell, do you think the Campbells came
here out of boredom?"

"What do you mean?"

"They wanted you."

She snorted. "That's ridiculous."

He raised a brow. "Is it?"

"What are you saying?"

He thought, Who are you? Do the Campbells
want you simply to hurt me? But said, "They wish to hurt me.
Remember, they tried once before."

"True," she agreed. "But why put themselves
in danger in order to kidnap me again?"

"I beg you to trust me," he said. "Allow me
some peace. Your confinement is for a short time, I swear."

Elise studied him. "Your father concurs with
this theory?"

"He does."

"All right."

"There is something else that would ease my
mind."

She sighed. "What is that?"

"I'm planning another trip to London. I wish
to take you."

Surprise flickered across her face, then her
brows rose. "This, after nearly chaining me to the castle
walls?"

"Beware, my sweet. You may yet find yourself
in chains."

"Sounds very nice, indeed," she muttered.

Despite the feminine nonchalance, Marcus
detected caution. Did she suspect what he had in store for her? "I
said your incarceration would last only a short time. I will feel
more secure if you're with me."

"London?" she repeated.

Ah, there it was, a note of interest.
"Aye."

She looked thoughtful, then said, "Perhaps
the Campbells would forget about me in the meantime."

"Perhaps," he said, though a niggling doubt
said otherwise.

"I will go," she said.

Marcus braced himself. "Good. Then I'll send
for Father Whyte."

Chapter Thirteen

"What?" Elise asked softly—too softly.

"I'll send for Father Whyte," Marcus
repeated.

"Why?"

"Last I heard, a priest was needed for a
wedding."

Her eyes widened. "Married?"

"I said we would marry."

"I never agreed." She looked away.

"You swore not to become my mistress under
any circumstances."

Elise looked sharply at him. "Yes, but—"

"Unless we marry, that is exactly what has
happened."

She jumped to her feet, backing away several
paces. "Not so."

Marcus raised a brow.

Her eyes darkened. "You know perfectly well
what I meant when I said that."

"Aye, just as I have said."

"No," she retorted. "I would not be your
mistress when you were to marry."

He lounged back against the cushions.
"Interesting interpretation."

"It is not an interpretation!"

"Surely, you can understand my
confusion."

"You are trying to trick me," she
snapped.

"Nay, love. I only point out the facts. When
you thought I was to marry, you left. You now know the truth yet
are still here. Do you plan on running away again?"

Elise jerked her chin up with such a defiant
gesture he had to stifle a laugh, despite knowing fear was the
driving factor in her reaction. She blew out a loud, frustrated
breath.

He stretched out a hand. "Come."

Elise responded with a quick shake of her
head.

Marcus repressed a smile. He remembered the
last time he'd offered her his hand. Though reluctant, she had
accepted it then. Would she do the same now?

"Come," he repeated.

She again shook her head, but he noted the
tiny puckering of her brows. She doubted.

"You fear me?" he asked.

Her brow puckered tighter. "You think you are
clever, don't you?"

"Not so clever," he replied. "Come."

"I have no intention of being tricked."

"Aye," he replied.

"I-I have to go." She turned.

Marcus dropped his hand to his side. "Where
will you go?"

She halted. Relief flooded through him. She
wanted him. He stood and crossed to her.

"Come." He grasped her hand and drew her to
the couch.

He sat, then gave a gentle but firm yank to
her hand, and she tumbled onto his lap.

"I cannot—" she began, but he cut in.

"Let us be honest."

"I have been—"

"You say," he continued, "you will be my
mistress now that you know I never planned to marry Margaret."

"I never—"

"But wouldn't it be more honest to admit you
love me?"

Her eyes widened.

"You can trust me." Marcus discerned a
quickening of her breath. He'd hit the mark. "For you know," he
added, "I love you."

Elise gasped. He felt the muscles in her body
tense in readiness to push from his lap and tightened his hold. She
thrashed, though without real violence, and he gripped her chin,
turning her face toward his.

"Admit you love me." He kissed her.

She tried pulling away, but he held fast, his
mouth gentle until he felt a slight tug when she grasped his shirt.
He released her mouth and buried his face in her hair.

"Can you deny what you feel for me?"

"You don't know—can't possibly know—"

"I know all I need."

She grasped his shoulder and pushed him back
until their gazes met. "Today doesn't matter. Tomorrow your fancy
may change."

Marcus stared at her. "I am no young buck. I
know what I want."

She gave a mirthless laugh. "Age has little
to do with a man's desire."

He started to speak, to explain that her
younger age might not allow for the understanding of his more
experienced wisdom, but he stopped, remembering the empty marriage
she'd endured.

"Hmm," he began slowly. "One day your
feelings for me shall fade?"

"You are cruel," she cried. "You know that is
not my meaning."

Marcus's chest tightened. She hadn't denied
loving him. He gently squeezed her hand. "I am not Riley."

Elise twisted in his arms in an earnest
attempt at escape. "You overstep your bounds, milord."

He barely repressed a sudden laugh when she
thumped his arm with a small fist. She shoved at his chest and
Marcus hugged her so close their lips almost met.

"Surely, I have proven I am not faithless,"
he demanded.

"Faithless? Good Lord, you're lucky I don't
sacrifice you for my own selfish needs."

"Needs? Aye, lass, you need me. Nay," he
added when she opened her mouth to interject. "Don't think I am
ignorant of your needs." He slid a hand into her hair. "They are
not unlike my own."

Marcus kissed her. She breathed deep and he
felt his body throb with a need that he now realized had only begun
to surface. What would he have done that first day he saw her in
the meadow had he known just how badly he would one day need her?
Send his men away and take her there—leave her no choice, nowhere
to go but to him? Turning and fleeing straight back to Ashlund
would have been the wisest course of action. But he would not
have—could not have—even then. He had loved—or thought he
loved—other women. He had been hurt in the past, but Elise held the
power to destroy him. He slid his mouth down her chin and along her
neck to the swell of her breast. Her head fell back onto his arm
without resistance.