Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  “Yes,” he said. “And I thank God for that every day.”

  “Ah, yes,” Eve said. “You did say all along you wouldn’t marry Grace. She clearly was not to your liking. Women like Laura Greenwood are more to your liking, are they not, my lord?”

  Erroll grimaced. “Not more to my liking at all.”

  Anger and hurt sparked in her eyes.

  “What is it, love? Surely, you aren’t still thinking of the fact that she visited me in my hotel in Manchester? I told you there was nothing to that.”

  “How interesting, my lord, that you should so highly prize honesty in your wife, but are incapable of it yourself.”

  “Eve, if Laura said something to you—”

  “I am not such a ninny as to take as gospel anything your past paramours might say to me. Your sister is another story, however. She has given me a glimpse into what it is to have bitterness consume you. I will not allow that to happen to me.”

  “Eve, I will not do that to you,” he said with emphasis.

  “I think I misspoke,” she said, as if not having heard him. “I cannot live with you.”

  “But you said you couldn’t stay here at Ravenhall.”

  She shook her head. “France perhaps, or the Colonies.”

  Erroll startled. “I won’t let you go to France, much less the Colonies.”

  Eve shrugged. “You really cannot stop me.”

  She couldn’t be serious. “You said you were coming to England with me,” he said.

  “Yes, but I spoke in haste. It is only a matter of time before…”

  “You are allowing what Lydia said to sway you,” he insisted.

  She gave a deprecating snort. “Only two hours ago you were returning to London and leaving me here. How can you say that your sister’s words are the thing that swayed me?”

  Guilt stabbed soul deep and fear pumped through him. “Eve,” he began lamely, “I-you were making plans to stay and I...”

  It was a ridiculous response. He hadn’t planned on leaving Scotland for a week, maybe two. In fact, he could have stayed a month before returning to Norfolk to begin work with the thresher. But the truth was, he’d been struck with the fear that she would gladly have stayed in Scotland with his family—without him—so he had…he had been an idiot.

  Erroll reached for her. Her eyes widened and she retreated a step, but he caught her arm and drew her close. Erroll wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. She stood within his embrace, rigid, arms at her sides.

  Erroll closed his eyes. “I made a mess of things, did I not?”

  She didn’t reply and he envisioned her on a ship bound for France, then lost in the Parisian city, beyond his reach. His chest tightened. God help him, in a week’s time, he’d fallen hopelessly and completely in love. Erroll tightened his arms around her. If he stayed in Scotland, would she promise not to leave? Could he rest easy with that promise? What would she do when he returned to England for even short periods of time? Would she leave with him? Would she be here when he returned?

  He would live each moment they were apart in fear that he would return to find her gone. His heart hammered. He couldn’t seclude himself on Mull forever. He had to return to England, had to face his responsibilities there. But an incident like Laura Greenwood coming to his hotel room could drive a wedge between them that could separate them forever—even if they lived in the same house.

  A lump formed in his throat. “Eve,” he rasped.

  She shifted and he grasped her chin and tilted her face upward. She stared, and Erroll found himself lost in her dark eyes…found himself lowering his mouth. Their lips touched and she stiffened, then gasped when he brushed her mouth with a feather-light touch. She gave a small cry and threw her arms around his neck.

  Blood roared through his ears. He slipped a leg between her legs and the heat from her thighs caused his heart to thunder. He tugged down her bodice, then covered one ripe breast with his hand. Gently, he kneaded the creamy flesh until her nipple pressed hard and insistent into his palm. His cock throbbed with blinding need, and when she thrust her tongue into his mouth, desire swamped his senses.

  God, how was he going to show her what was in his heart if he couldn’t think? Erroll sparred with her tongue, thrusting in quick bursts. She drew a stuttered breath and he felt drunk with the knowledge that she wanted him. He rolled the nipple between his fingers. Her hands slid around his back, searing a path downward until they cupped his arse. Erroll undulated his erection against her abdomen. Her fingers tightened into his backside and he feared he would spend himself in his breeches.

  She released his buttocks and slipped her hand between their bodies. Erroll realized she was undoing the falls on his breeches and he stilled, heart thudding until his cock sprang free. When she grasped his engorged member, pleasure rammed through him. Erroll thrust into her slim fingers. He was going to spew his seed into her hand and God help him, he wanted that as much as he wanted to be inside her. But not yet. The resolution didn’t stop him from thrusting again. He would have this from her and so much more in the years to come. This moment, however, was for her.

  Erroll broke the kiss and, in one quick move, tugged her dress and chemise up, forcing her to release him as he pulled the garments over her head. He stared at her, blood heated at the sight of her vulnerability. In an instant, he kicked off his boots and shucked his clothes. Her gaze dropped to his erection and satisfaction pulsed through him when her eyes widened. This was, he realized, the first time she’d taken in the sight of all of him.

  Erroll grasped her hand and backed up, guiding her with him to the bed. His calves bumped into the edge of the mattress and he held her close as they fell backwards onto the mattress. Her body tumbled onto his and he gave her a long, languorous kiss before scooting back on the bed. He pulled her knees up alongside his hips and urged her to straddle him. Eve looked down at him, eyes dazed, hair tumbled across her shoulders.

  He swallowed. She’d never looked more beautiful. Eyes locked with hers, he slipped a finger between her wet folds. She jerked, and seized his forearms. He gently massaged her sex and she began to rock against his finger. Her movements quickened and Erroll yanked his finger away and seized her hips, grinding his rod against her.

  Eve moaned and continued to rock. Pleasure radiated through him as she crashed onto his rod over and over, but he forced back the urge to climax. When she cried out, Erroll arched as she bore down and her heat flooded his member. He bolted upright into a sitting position and hugged her close. She went limp against his chest.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered.

  She pulled back and looked at him, eyes unfocused. Erroll grasped her legs and eased them forward so that she no longer knelt but sat on his lap.

  “Now wrap them around me.”

  She locked her legs around his waist. Erroll grasped her buttocks, lifted her then drove into her channel. She tossed her head back as he lifted, then brought her down onto him over and over again. Blood roared through his ears, but he forced himself to slow, carefully stroking her inner walls with each rise and fall of her body.

  He detected the shift of her hips. She began to pant, and Erroll felt his resolve slip as climax rolled closer and closer to the surface. He couldn’t halt the compulsion and arched as he brought her down onto him, moving faster until she cried out and he exploded with a bone-deep shudder that blocked out all light, all feeling, except for her.

  *****

  Erroll awoke the following morning alone. He rose and searched the suite but Eve wasn’t there. After dressing, he searched the usual rooms she’d frequented the last few days, and found his mother and Grace.

  “Have you seen Eve?” he asked.

  “I saw her at breakfast early this morning,” his mother said.

  “Not since then?” Erroll asked.

  She shook her head. “I assumed she went back to your suite. Is something amiss?”

  “I do not know,” he replied in hon
esty. He hadn’t thought so after what had passed between them last night.

  “Eve often takes walks,” Grace said. “Particularly in the morning.”

  “Perhaps we should help find her.” His mother set aside her embroidery.

  Erroll shook his head. “I’m sure I will find her.” And when he did, he was going to lock them in their suite and make love to her until she was too weak to go anywhere. Apparently he hadn’t accomplished that last night.

  “Have you tried the kitchen?” Grace said. “She has an odd infatuation with that part of the castle.”

  “Yes,” Erroll agreed.

  Minutes later, Mrs. Henderson lowered a cup of tea from her lips when he entered the kitchen. “Morning, Laird. Have you come for tea?”

  “No thank you. I’m looking for my wife. Have you seen her?”

  “Oh, not since breakfast. She asked that a small package of food be wrapped. Said she was going for a ride.”

  “A ride?” he blurted. “Where to?”

  “I don’t know. I was just leaving to tend the garden when she asked. I had Lucy help her, and didna’ stay. Where’s Lucy?” she asked one of the other maids.

  “Gone for the reminder of the day,” the girl answered. “She was off to see to her mother. Poor thing is sick.”

  “Is something wrong?” the housekeeper asked.

  Erroll couldn’t fathom the possibility that Eve had fled as she’d threatened last night. Hadn’t last night meant anything to her? Surely she wouldn’t desert him?

  “Thank you,” he told Mrs. Henderson, then fairly ran to the stables, heart thundering in his chest. He found Pete mucking out the stalls. “Has my wife been here?” Erroll demanded.

  “Aye,” Pete said. “She asked for Belle, and insisted on saddling the mare herself, so I went back to stacking the hay Rob brought.”

  “By God,” Erroll burst out. “You let her saddle her own horse, then ride out of here alone? When did she leave?” he demanded.

  “Can’t be more than an hour ago,” Pete said, eyes wide.

  “Saddle Lord Chesterfield—and if you take time to unload hay before he’s saddled, I’ll beat you.”

  Erroll returned to their suite and made a quick search of Eve’s room for a note, a clue, anything that might tell him where she’d gone. He didn’t find a damn thing. He hurried back through his room and his gaze snagged on the letter from Wiggins sitting on his desk. Eve’s words last night crashed into memory, “Women like Laura Greenwood are more to your liking, are they not, my lord?” and he stopped short. Understanding struck with the clarity of a blind man who could see for the first time.

  He hadn’t thought much of Wiggins’ letter being open when he’d read it, but had thought it a bit odd the seal had been broken on the note from Laura. It hadn’t occurred to him that Eve had read the letter. But she had, and naturally assumed the worst.

  He’d been right. No good deed went unpunished.

  Worse, he had no one to blame but himself for misinterpreting her words.

  By the time Erroll reached Tobermory port, the horse was fagged, and Erroll was shaken that he hadn’t overtaken Eve. She’d had a little more than an hour’s head start and should have been easy to catch. Surely she hadn’t ridden at a gallop as he had?

  Erroll left his horse in front of the harbormaster’s office and quickly discovered that two ships had sailed from port that morning, both cargo ships bound for England, and neither had taken on passengers. The harbormaster had sold no tickets, nor seen a woman matching Eve’s description—or any woman, for that matter—on the docks that morning. But Erroll wasn’t satisfied, and insisted on speaking with the captains of the half dozen ships at port.

  “As ye wish,” the grizzled harbormaster said. “But if you find one of the scoundrels took a woman aboard without my permission, I’ll hang him from the mast.” The old man rose from his battered desk and limped toward Erroll. “In fact, I’ll come with you, and we’ll start with Captain Heller. There’s a man ye can’t trust.”

  They found no trace of Eve, and fear gnawed a hole in Erroll’s gut. Tobermory was the main port on the island and the only port Eve would know of; certainly the only one she would dare ride to on her own. Where else would she have gone? Nowhere, he realized with rising panic. Something had happened to her on the road.

  Erroll stopped at the sheriff’s office and ordered a search of the city, as well as the road. He didn’t wait for the sheriff to gather men, but sped back to the road, looking for any clues that she had ridden along the road or been forced off it. He reached Ravenhall with not one piece of evidence, nerves ragged and fears running amuck.

  He headed for his father’s study, but found the room empty. Then he went to his mother’s chambers, only to find silence there as well. Bloody hell, had everyone deserted Ravenhall?

  He went to the kitchen.

  “Where are my parents?” he demanded of Mrs. Henderson.

  The room went quiet.

  She froze in opening the oven door. “We took tea to them in the drawing room.”

  Without a word, Erroll whirled and headed for the drawing room. In the moments it took to race there, he thought he would lose his mind. He burst through the door and stopped cold. Eve, his mother, Olivia, and Grace sat on the sofa, swaths of fabric spread across their laps. The rest of the family—Eve’s father and Somerset included—were gathered in the room. Everyone looked at him.

  “Erroll, what’s wrong?” His mother set aside the fabric and rose, as did his father and Ash.

  Erroll ignored them and strode toward Eve. “Where have you been?”

  She frowned. “Here? What is amiss, my lord?”

  “You were gone when I awoke.”

  She glanced at his dusty clothes. “I do not understand. Have you been in the fields? What—”

  “Where have you been?”

  She glanced at Ash. “I went riding with Olivia and Ash.”

  “Olivia and—” Erroll looked at his brother. “The three of you?”

  Ash lifted a brow. “Aye.” Amusement twitched the corner of his brother’s mouth. “Your wife didn’t tell you?”

  Erroll swung his gaze back onto her. “She did not.”

  Her expression darkened. “I didn’t realize I had to report my every move to you, my lord.”

  “You do when you threaten to leave for France.”

  She—along with the other ladies—gasped. Ash laughed.

  “By God, Eve,” her father thundered, “if you said—”

  “Not a word from you, sir,” she cut in. “You married me off, so you have no say in my domestic affairs.”

  Tolland’s gaze sharpened. “As you say. Lord Rushton, she is yours to reprimand as you see fit.”

  Satisfaction shot through Erroll. “I have plans for you, madam.”

  She sipped her tea. “What might those be, my lord?”

  “I am certain you would rather I didn’t say in public.”

  Eve snorted a laugh. “As if it won’t get around anyway.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Everything you do has a way of getting around. Don’t you have a ship to catch?”

  The desire to turn her over his knee flared. “Not without you, Wife.”

  The echo of hurried boot steps sounded outside the room. “Move aside, lass,” said a gruff male voice Erroll knew all too well. He whirled as the door opened and Jean appeared with his son, nephew and, glory be, Sheriff Laine.

  “Laird,” Leslie began, but Jean and Laine pushed past her as Tolland and Somerset rose.

  “We came as soon as we heard,” Jean said.

  “What is it?” the marquess demanded.

  “Have you discovered any clues to your wife’s whereabouts?” Laine demanded.

  The unfamiliar experience of embarrassment washed over Erroll. He’d forgotten about alerting the sheriff.

  Jean frowned. “She’s sitting right there. And who is the lass sitting beside her?” Jean elbowed his son, who was already s
taring at Grace.

  She cast him a haughty glance.

  “You found her?” Laine’s eyes shifted onto Erroll. “What happened?”

  “Yes,” Ash said, “what did happen, Rush?”

  A light hand touched Erroll’s arm and he whirled to face his wife who had risen to stand beside him.

  She stared, eyes searching his face. “Never say you were worried about me, sir?”

  His chest tightened. “You threatened to run as far as the Colonies to escape me.”

  “Bloody hell, man,” Jean exclaimed. “You’ve been married three days. What did you do in so short a time to make her want to run away?”

  Eve clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling with hilarity. “I told you everything you did had a way of getting around,” she said through her fingers.

  She was right. News that his new bride threatened to flee the Continent to escape him would be all over the island by nightfall—and would reach London by tomorrow.

  Erroll stepped close and whispered in her ear. “I redeemed the jewels as a favor to a friend. Nothing more. Her note was a fantasy on her part.”

  “Speak up lad, we can’t hear,” Jean said in a loud voice.

  Eve drew back, her eyes fixed on his face, and removed her hand from her mouth. “She isn’t your…”

  He shook his head.

  Her brow furrowed and Erroll’s heart pounded in his chest when he read the uncertainty in her eyes. A mental picture flashed of him one day returning to an empty house with no idea whether she had fled to France or the Colonies. He deserved nothing less, but wouldn’t survive the loss.

  “Eve, I swear, I broke it off two weeks past,” he said. “Come, read my response to her letter.”

  “Damn it,” Jean cursed. “Do ye know what they are talking about, Ash?”

  “What in hell is going on?” Laine demanded. “Are ye saying she was never missing?”

  “Not for a moment,” Ash said.

  “You have caused more than enough trouble in the few days you’ve been here,” Laine grumbled.

  “Leslie,” the marquess said, “see to it that the sheriff is fed and send him home with ample provisions for his family’s dinner.”