My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (40 page)

See that Elise gets the letter addressed to
her.

Take care of her.

Steven

Marcus refolded the letter and placed it in
the envelope with the clippings. He took the letter addressed to
Elise and went to her chambers. He sighed upon finding her room
empty. Perhaps when he returned she would be here and… He left the
letter on her dresser, then headed for the stables.

Marcus heard the approach of footsteps even
as Elise called out his name. He exchanged a glance with Kiernan
before turning from the stall where his son was saddling the
stallion he had chosen to ride. As she hurried down the stable
aisle toward them, Marcus's heart began to hammer out the heavy
beat he had been experiencing more and more of late when in her
presence. He noticed a letter—Steven's letter—tightly clutched in
her hand.

Elise had nearly reached them when she lifted
the letter. "This came today?"

"Aye," Marcus replied.

"Steven says he is fully recovered and out of
the hospital." She stopped beside Marcus. Her expression clouded
over. "Marcus, please, don't lie. How bad was the wound? Is it
possible he truly is out of danger?"

"I told you the truth, love," he said.
Except for the fact Steven had turned at just the wrong moment
and the knife Marcus had thrown pierced the breastbone above the
heart instead of his arm, as intended.
Marcus shuddered
inwardly as he always did when remembering how close he came to
killing his wife's brother—and how close the brother came to
killing his own son.

"The wound wasn't life threatening."
Or so
the doctors said two days later, when Steven began to show signs of
recovering from the loss of blood.
Marcus would have arrived
back in Scotland a week earlier had he not tarried in Boston to
assure himself the boy would recover.

Kiernan stuck his head out the stall. Elise
jumped, bumping into the small table against the wall. The brush
and trimming scissors lying on the table skittered across its
surface. She quickly righted the table before they fell to the
floor and looked at Kiernan. He flushed and Marcus knew his son was
remembering his part in nearly getting killed, and nearly getting
Steven killed. Marcus had also feared Elise wouldn't forgive
Kiernan's part in her brother's brush with death. But she had, or
so her warmth toward the boy seemed to indicate.

Would her warmth eventually extend to him?
Would she forgive him? He wouldn't forget the sight of her pale
face when he told her how Kiernan had saved him and Steven from
Price's assassins, and how Steven had mistaken Kiernan for those
assassins. When Marcus gave her the short letter Steven had written
for her, she noted the shaky hand the letter had been written in
and wouldn't be completely consoled—until today.

She blushed in response to Kiernan's
embarrassment, and Marcus's body pulsed. He suddenly wished his son
far away. Perhaps, if he and Elise were alone, she might allow him
to make love to her. Marcus turned to Kiernan.

"Mayhap you should go on without me." He
looked at Elise. "Will you walk with me?"

She looked as though he had asked her to
puzzle out the secret of the universe, and Marcus repressed a
laugh. He extended his hand. She slipped her hand into his. He
glimpsed a figure entering the door at the far end of the stables
as they turned to leave.

"Silas," he called after the new stable hand,
"see to Alexis. I won't be taking him out as planned." Marcus
turned back to Elise and urged her toward the door at the far end
of the stables. "Did Steven have much to say?" he asked.

"He will return to duty in the Army." She
hesitated. "He mentioned Price is missing."

"He cannot harm us, Elise."

Her gaze swung to his face. Her brow
furrowed, then she nodded. They exited the door and took a few
steps down the path before she exclaimed, "The letter!" and broke
free of his hold on her hand. "I must have dropped it."

"Elise," he called, but she had already
disappeared back into the stables. Bloody hell, at this rate it
would be another six weeks before he got his wife back to the
house, much less into his bed. He strode back inside the
stables.

His heart jumped into his throat. In the
instant before he broke into a run toward Elise, he took in the
sight of Kiernan riding through the stable doors, Silas stepping
from the stall next to the door, knife poised for throwing, and
Elise grabbing the trimming scissors from the table. She hurled
them toward Silas as she had thrown the
sgian dubh
that day
at Brahan Seer.

The scissors hit their intended victim with
deadly accuracy between the shoulder blades. Blood darkened the
dirty shirt he wore. Silas faltered and turned, eyes wide with
surprise. His expression contorted into rage. He roared and lunged
toward her. Kiernan whirled his mount around to face the sudden
commotion. His gaze met Marcus's, then Kiernan shouted and dug his
heels into his horse's ribs. The beast's nostrils flared as he
dipped his head and charged. Marcus forced his legs to pump harder.
Silas would still reach Elise before either of them did.

She pivoted and grabbed the hoof pick hanging
on the wall. The hair on Marcus's neck rose when Silas clutched at
her. She swung the hoof pick. Kiernan reached them as she slashed
Silas's arm. The horse slammed into Silas and he was knocked
forward and into Elise. He grabbed her, but Marcus leapt between
them, shoving her behind him. The table crashed onto its side and
Elise cried out. Marcus seized Silas's collar and pounded his fist
into the man's jaw.

"Father," Kiernan shouted as he leapt from
his horse.

Marcus swung Silas around and sent him flying
through the door of the stall. Silas banged into the wall and
crumbled to the ground. Marcus whirled to face Elise. His breath
came in quick, deep gasps—much like hers. She met his gaze, eyes
blazing. He looked at Silas. The scissors had fallen from his back
onto the straw-laden ground beside him. Marcus looked back at
Elise.

"You never told me where you learned to throw
a knife like that!" he shouted.

She blinked as if yanked from a dream.
"Steven—" her voice caught, but Marcus realized it was the last
vestiges of fear—and rage. "Steven learned as a young boy. I-I
always feared he would hurt himself, so I attended his
practices."

Elise yanked her skirt above her ankles and
strode to the stall opening. She stared at Silas, her hands
clenched on the fistful of skirt she held. She pivoted as Marcus
stepped up behind her and collided with him. He grasped her
shoulders.

She grabbed his arms as though to steady
herself. "Will we ever be free of him?"

In her eyes, Marcus saw the fear he had felt
when he saw Silas poised to murder his son. Marcus glanced around
and spotted the bucket of water he was looking for several stalls
down. He fetched it, then pushed past Elise and Kiernan and threw
the water on the unconscious man. Silas awoke with a sputter.
Marcus seized him by his collar and yanked him to his feet.

"Who sent you?" Marcus shouted.

Silas cowed.

"Tell me or I'll kill you here and now."

"That woman." Silas cringed.

"Woman?" Marcus gave him a hard shake.

Silas went silent.

"Kiernan! Give me your pistol."

"No," Silas cried.

Marcus lifted his fist for another blow.

"Ross!" Silas shouted. "Lady Ross."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Elise stilled at the sound of Marcus's
bedchamber door opening. She rose and stole through the closet
which separated their two rooms, then knocked lightly on his door,
and entered. He looked up from where he stood near the nightstand
on the far side of the bed. Her heart lurched. She had suspected he
kept a mistress, but seeing him now, hair tousled, cravat missing,
the top button of his shirt undone, there was no mistaking the fact
he had just risen from another woman's bed. The mental picture of
Marcus kissing the rise of her breasts, then taking her nipple into
his mouth filled her vision.

"Elise?"

She snapped back to the present. "I—" Her
gaze caught on his hands—hands that had once touched her, had
once—the urge to cry sprang up. No, she wouldn't cry. She had made
her bed. She would live with the consequences.

"I wondered how things went with Lady Ross's
trial," she said. "Is it over?"

Marcus reached around his back and pulled out
the revolver stuffed into his waistband.

Where had the revolver lain when he made love
to his mistress?

"It is over," he replied. "She claims to know
nothing of a plot to kill Kiernan." Marcus glanced at her. "I
suspect she wanted you dead. Though she denies that as well. I
don't know how, but it is clear she was in league with Ardsley.
Margaret had no reason to kill Kiernan."

Elise started to ask how he could be so sure
when he said, "She won't face prison." He gave a mirthless laugh.
"England is not about to put one of her noblewomen in prison, even
if she is Scottish. She is to go to America." Marcus's expression
abruptly darkened. "Do you intend on standing in doorways the
remainder of our marriage?"

She blinked.

"Or is it that you simply find it too
abhorrent to be in a room with me?"

"I… no. I only thought—"

"Thought what?" he demanded.

"I didn't want to intrude. It is late—"

"So it is." Marcus began unbuttoning his
shirt.

"Good Lord," she muttered. "It's not as if
you have invited me into your bed—chambers." She added "chambers"
in a rush, seeing his fingers halt on the third button and the
sudden gleam in his eyes.

His eyes narrowed. "Am I to understand it is
I who have stayed out of your bed?"

"You say that as if you're surprised," she
snapped.

"By God," he thundered. "I will settle this
now." He started around the bed.

Elise rolled her eyes. "You have no energy to
settle
anything."

He stopped short. "What the blazes does that
mean?"

"It means, I have made my bed and I'll lie in
it."
Alone.

Marcus charged across the room. Elise backed
up. He grabbed her and tossed her on his bed before she could
blink. His lips crashed down on hers in a bruising kiss. Shock
ripped through her. Energy pooled in the pit of her stomach, then
between her legs. His hand covered a breast. Elise arched into him.
She wanted him, but could she live with the fact he had another
woman? He yanked up her night rail and reached between her legs.
Yes.
She could live with anything if she had him. His
fingers probed. Marcus abruptly pulled away from her.

He touched her cheek. "Steven is well," he
said. "There is no need to cry."

"Cry?" She lifted a finger to her cheek, but
even as she did, she realized she was crying.

"Unless…" Marcus said.

Elise looked at him.

"You can't forgive me for Steven. I am sorry.
I understood the consequences. I could not change—"

"Forgive
you?
" she interrupted. "You
have done nothing to forgive. It's my fault, even your taking a
mistress. I can't blame you for wanting—"

"A what?" He looked startled.

"What?" she repeated.

His brows puckered in a fierce frown. "We
have been in Ashlund two weeks and already you have me consorting
with other women?"

"There's no better explanation for the late
nights, your state of dishevelment."

"My state of dishevelment?" His gaze swept
across her body. "You seem to have forgotten what my
state of
dishevelment
is like when I make love to a woman." He kissed
her mouth, her cheek, her ear. "When I make love to you," he
whispered.

Elise drew a sharp breath as he rocked
against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"There is no more Margaret," he whispered.
"No more Ardsley, and"—Marcus slid a hand beneath her and lifted
her hips to meet each thrust of his hips—"there is no
mistress."

He pulled his arm from around her, then
reached between them and unfastened his trousers. His erection
sprang free of its constraints and Marcus drove himself into
her.

"There is only you," he said, and began the
rhythm that bound them together as one.

The End

I hope you enjoyed Marcus and Elise's journey
of discovery and love in My Highland Love. Feel free to drop me a
line and let me know what you thought of the book. Next in the
Highland Lords Series will be My Highland Lord, which continues the
saga with Marcus' son Kiernan MacGregor. The boy grew up good.

For your reading pleasure, I have included a
bonus chapters of my Scottish Historical Lord Keeper.

Tarah

Lord Keeper

No man bargains for war when he chooses a
bride, but when he steals her from holy ground, he can expect
nothing less.

Iain MacPherson swore he was nothing like
his father, but his kidnapping of Victoria Hockley, the Countess of
Lansbury is the first step toward the same obsessive jealousy that
fueled his father’s life-long feud against the chief Iain’s mother
loved.

A kiss, a midnight race for freedom, and a
royal missive force Victoria into her captor’s arms. Hallowed
ground can’t save her from the devil that followed her from
England. Yet the Scottish lord who swears to protect her is far
more dangerous.

Chapter One

Scottish Highlands 1508

Iain might have been standing on the edge of
a dream when the abbey door opened and she stepped out into the
morning light. Though separated by a small earthly measure of holy
ground, he sensed her mind to be as far from him as heaven was from
hell. His heart stilled with the sudden blaze of auburn hair
against the Highland sun, and he determined to learn what color
eyes matched such fire.