Say Yes to the Scot

by Lecia Cornwall, Sabrina York, Anna Harrington, May McGoldrick

  He brought it closer. This time, the urge to run screaming out of the hovel was not entirely overwhelming.

  “He has none of the adder marks on his back,” he explained. “You see? He has a dark stripe, no black lightning. He can still give you a good bite, but he’s not poisonous.”

  She looked over her shoulder, still wondering if there were more of them. “What is he doing here?”

  “Trying to get out of the rain, like us.”

  Elizabeth shuddered, sure now there would be more unwanted visitors. The Highlander went outside and heaved the snake down the hill.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked, feeling relieved but, at the same time, oddly sorry for the thing.

  “It was you or him. I chose you.”

  The pirate charm. All the talk was true.

  Alexander went back to poking at the struggling fire, and Elizabeth looked down at the revealing rents in her dress. He’d handled her breasts in fetching the snake, but not once had she seen him leer at her or comment on it.

  She clutched the dress over her chest and shivered. She was really cold, but she doubted the muddy wet cloak at her feet would offer any warmth.

  “How long do you think the storm will last?” she asked as he rose to his feet.

  “No way to tell. I’ve seen gales like this take days to blow themselves out. It must have been terrible for the folk inland.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All this water came from upriver. And even if the rain stops now, the flooding could get worse before it recedes. And that’s not even taking into account the tide.”

  Elizabeth considered that. What it all meant was that she and the Highlander were going to spend some time together. Perhaps Nature was giving her the opportunity that she’d lost back at the village. No more pretending. No more lies. Now she had a chance to reason with him, to show him that she’d never make him a good wife. This was her chance to get him to release her from the marriage contract. And her reputation be damned. Enough people witnessed how she’d been caught up in this quandary.

  Piling a few more pieces of splintered wood on the fire, Alexander moved to her dry corner and sat down on the packed dirt floor. Leaning his back against the wall, he kicked off his boots and stretched out his long, muscular legs. She forced herself not to stare.

  “Come and sit.” He patted the ground next to him. “I promise to keep you safe from snakes and any other vermin.”

  “I’m fine where I am,” she replied, not trusting herself. Her voice had taken on a husky tone.

  The night sky outside had developed a strange hue. It was brighter than the blackness of a moonless night. Still, even with the light given off by the flickering tongues of flame, it was difficult to see his face.

  Elizabeth suddenly felt the need to talk. If she was going to make good use of this time together, she needed to correct any misunderstandings now.

  “I want to explain why I came to you at the tavern,” she began. “Why I pretended to be Clare Seton.”

  His gaze was fixed on the fire.

  “It was a foolish plan, I know that now. But . . . but the idea was to make you see Clare and her intended and think she was me and . . . and to make you believe that my heart belonged to someone else.”

  He looked up at her. “Why? What did you hope to accomplish?” His tone was civil, but his expression was indecipherable.

  “I wanted you to walk away from our marriage bargain.”

  “What was wrong with meeting me in person? Why couldn’t you simply tell me?”

  Reason. Of course, that would have been the logical thing to do. But how could she explain to him that such a thing took courage and at the time she didn’t trust him to initiate the break? That the stakes were so high and she wasn’t thinking straight?

  “I should have,” she said finally. “That would have been the wiser course of action. I don’t want to marry you.”

  There. It was out. She’d told him the truth. At least, part of it. She didn’t tell him about not wanting to defy her father, about the future she imagined for herself. He was staring again at the fire. She studied his face. There was no change in the relaxed way that he sat against the wall.

  He glanced up at her, and something in his expression told Elizabeth that the man was relieved.

  “Then . . . you’re fine with this?”

  His eyes sparkled in the dark. “Aye,” he said, lifting a knee and resting an arm on it. “Why do you think I was so impatient to see you these past two days? I even sent a letter to you with my squire this afternoon. He passed you with it when you came into the tavern.”

  “What did the letter say?” she asked, wanting him to say it. She didn’t want to assume anything.

  “I feel no sense of duty toward the agreement binding us together. That deal was made decades ago, and both families have already profited by it. And in return for my freedom, I’ll provide a sizable sum of gold for you to do with as you please.”

  “You don’t want to marry me?”

  “Blast me if I do. You don’t want to marry me, and I don’t want to marry you either,” he responded, looking like he’d just won the prize pig at the fair. “You can choose anyone you please, so long as it’s not Alexander Macpherson.”

  Chapter Seven

  If this were a ceilidh, Alexander was happy enough to lead Elizabeth in a dance that she’d need a fortnight to recover from.

  A moment later, however, his enthusiasm began to wane. She stared at the fire, and he thought perhaps he’d been too abrupt telling her the truth.

  Perhaps it was the timing. For five years now, Elizabeth had been of a marriageable age. But he’d put off going after her. He’d found so many excuses to postpone doing what was expected of him. The fact that he was a Highlander and she a Lowlander was only the beginning of the chasm that separated them. Their traditions, their upbringing, the lives they’d chosen, all set the two of them worlds apart. He knew of too many Highland lairds whom the king had forced into political marriages with Lowland court women. And none of them seemed the happier for it. His betrothal to Elizabeth been arranged by their family, but she’d been reared like the rest of them.

  Odd that the Spey River just below Benmore Castle had been rushing with the spring floods as well, when the Macpherson clan elders had come to speak with him about marriage. As laird, Alexander was expected to produce heirs. He knew what they wanted, but he had no wish to bring an ill-chosen spouse into their midst. And with her courtly upbringing and expectations of luxury, he was certain Elizabeth Hay would never do. Contract or no, the time had come to set the woman free. And so he’d come to Stirling.

  Alexander watched her go to the threshold of the sheepcote with her cloak and shake it ferociously. He told himself that he should be happy. The matter was resolved, and far more easily than he’d expected. As soon as this blasted storm was over, he’d take her back to her life in the queen’s company, finish his other business, and be on his way.

  There were plenty of fine lasses in the Highlands. Far more suitable ones.

  She lifted her face to the unrelenting rain and wind, and Alexander found himself admiring her parted lips, the beautiful lines of her neck. She held the cloak to her chest and he remembered the feel of her silky skin, the fullness of her breasts as he’d pulled that lucky slow-worm from her shift.

  Elizabeth was a striking woman. He couldn’t argue that.

  Still, irritation niggled at him. She’d attempted to deceive him, to trick him into walking away from the wedding.

  Don’t be a fool, he told himself. He wanted to break the contract as much as she did.

  But why should she want to break the agreement? He had a great deal to offer. And it wasn’t only his name and his wealth. Women thought him attractive enough. Blast him if there wasn’t a chieftain’s daughter in the Highlands who wouldn’t gladly come to his bed if he winked at them.

  But Elizabeth was no Highlander.

  By the devil, he’d torn
the front of her dress wide open and not taken her to bed. Her glorious breasts, the dark tips, tilting, begging to be tasted. It had taken a great deal of control to keep his eyes on her face and not on her chest. He’d wanted to toss the worm all the way to Peebles and then come back and press his lips to every curve. What would she do if he licked the salt of the river off every inch of her silky skin? His thoughts about sex, his body’s immediate response to her, had come on too fast.

  As she rolled up her cloak and came back in, a bundle of thatch lifted and blew away, leaving a gaping hole overhead. He hoped the roof would survive the storm. He worried about her. She’d been through a lot already. She didn’t need to spend the night in the rain.

  She stood looking down at the tiny fire. He decided he needed to add more pieces of the broken battens if the flames were to give off any heat. Maybe she would even take off her dress and let it dry. As he began to get up, Elizabeth picked up a handful of thatch and put it on top. Immediately, the fire sizzled and went out.

  She looked at him, alarmed, recognizing her mistake. “Oh my Lord, I smothered it. Can you start it again?”

  It was an innocent mistake. But there was a skittishness about her. He wondered if he was having the same effect on her as she was having on him.

  “It’s no use. Everything is too wet.” He patted the dirt next to him. “This is the only dry place.”

  She walked to the opposite corner of the hut and felt the ground. She seemed determined to be contrary. He frowned. Not a trait he allowed on his ships. Or maybe she was trying to keep her distance. She should know his intentions by now. He wouldn’t take advantage of her if he wasn’t to marry her.

  She reached up to test the roof above her, and a section of it tumbled down on her head.

  “Damnation,” she cursed, jumping back and spitting out dirt and thatch.

  Served her right. Alexander remained silent, watching in amusement as she brushed off her dress and hair, stamping the ground around her for fear of some creature coming down with the rest. Her cloak lay forgotten at her feet. In spite of himself, his eyes lingered admiringly on the front of her dress, torn and hanging open in front. Her gaze caught his as she turned away to gather it. He knew. She remembered what he’d done for her. What his hands had touched.

  He looked up as a gust of wind blasted the building, threatening to tear away what little protection they had left. She picked up the cloak and hurried to where he sat.

  “The storm is not easing, is it?”

  Alexander didn’t answer, nor did he repeat his invitation to sit. She remained standing near him, and he could see her shivering badly. She was sure to get a chill before the night was through.

  Something dropped on her head, and she fell to her knees beside him.

  “What is it?” she cried, batting at her hair. “Please! Get it off of me.”

  He ran his hand over her wet hair and brushed away the piece of straw. He breathed in the smell of rain and earth and woman. Don’t be a fool, he told himself again.

  “What was it?” she asked, straightening up.

  He stared at her trembling lips. “You don’t want to know.” He took her hand in his. It was ice cold.

  “Give me the other one,” he ordered.

  For the first time she didn’t complain and did as she was told. “How could you possibly be so warm?” she asked.

  Settling down next to him, their shoulders barely touching, she let him rub her hands between his. Her fingers were long and elegant.

  “Who is she?” Elizabeth stared at their joined hands. “The woman you’re planning to marry?”

  “There is no woman right now,” he replied. “I wanted to end the agreement between us before deciding on someone else.” He paused but didn’t let go of her hands. “But I’ll have to choose one soon. I have a responsibility to my clan.”

  “Why did you wait so long?”

  Alexander wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t understand what she was asking. The age one married was much more important a matter for a woman than a man. And he should have acted sooner.

  “I was hoping you’d choose to marry someone else,” he admitted. “Decide on a husband from among the men in your circle. Courtiers and knights. Serving Queen Margaret, you must have a constant line of suitors.”

  The words had sounded reasonable a month ago, but now they left a sour taste in his mouth.

  She made a sound that resembled a snort. “And that way, you wouldn’t have to offer a settlement.”

  “You have no reason to think so ill of me,” he protested. “I was and I am still planning to provide for you.”

  She rolled her eyes and pulled her hands away, leaning back against the turf wall. It wasn’t about the money. She’d been well provided for. He’d done her wrong to wait this long. She’d had a right to be set free sooner. He was happy that she didn’t move away.

  “Why not send a letter before?” she continued. “Or a representative from your clan? Why did you come to Stirling without telling me your plans? Everyone is preparing for a wedding.”

  He should have done all that, and long ago. But he hadn’t. Alexander looked at her upturned face. At the direct gaze. At the perfect symmetry of eyes accented by her high cheekbones. Rumors of her beauty had reached him over the years. He had to admit that part of his reason for not releasing her was his vanity. It made him proud that others knew she belonged to him. But there was also his own prejudice regarding what he imagined to be her upbringing.

  That was why he’d come. To see for himself. But her refusal to meet with him—not to even accept a message from his squire—had affirmed his decision.

  “I felt I needed to explain in person,” he told her, unwilling to share all that was in his mind, especially now that he knew how she felt. “And you? You could have sent an emissary or a letter.”

  “I couldn’t openly defy my family’s wishes. And besides, you know as well as I that most bridegrooms would have taken offense at such a rejection. That wouldn’t have made for a comfortable way to begin a marriage, I shouldn’t think.”

  She drew her legs in to her chest, and they sat in silence for a while. She was shivering and Alexander fought the urge to gather her to his side and warm her with his own body. He was the one to speak first.

  “I assume that part of your ruse regarding Clare Seton and Sir Robert Johnstone is true.”

  She nodded. “Aye. They’re to be wed at the end of summer.”

  He hesitated but then decided to ask the question that kept edging into his mind. “Is there someone else that you have set your eyes on?”

  “No one,” she admitted, sounding surprised. “Because our impending union was well known, no one has sought my hand. What Scot would risk drawing the wrath of the Black Cat of Benmore on himself? And frankly, I can’t see such a thing happening now.”

  Now it was Alexander’s turn to be surprised. How else could he describe the strange sense of relief he felt at her words. But at the same time, he would want her to marry, if she chose to.

  “Then what did you have against our marrying?” he asked in spite of himself.

  She rested her chin on the knees and stared out at the driving rain. He needed to know. He refused to doubt his decision. Going their separate ways was easier for both of them.

  “Say what’s on your mind,” he encouraged. “This may be our only chance to clear the air and walk away free people.”

  “I was afraid,” she told him.

  He frowned. “Afraid of me?”

  “Not of you.” She met his gaze and held it. “I was afraid of the change in my life. I am three and twenty and accustomed to the independence I have, to go and do as I wish. I cherish the comfort and freedom that I would lose.”

  The comfort of the court life. He couldn’t give her that in the north.

  “Of course I was afraid of your reputation as a pirate, as well. I imagined you to be a hard man. But I was also afraid of your people. I thought of my future as an unwelcome st
ranger. I know nothing of where you live in the Highlands. I could only imagine my life alone at Benmore Castle, surrounded by hostility, while you sail the seas . . . and perhaps die an early death doing it. What would be my fate then?” She shook her head.

  Although this was a reputation he reveled in, her words hurt. For decades, the men in her family had seen fit to entrust Elizabeth’s future in his hands, pirate or no. But she didn’t share that trust. She didn’t think he was capable of providing for her, protecting her—now or in the future.

  And she knew nothing about the Macphersons, the kindly folk who’d been waiting for decades to welcome Elizabeth to their midst. They knew the rising fortunes of their clan had been founded upon the exchange made with Ambrose Hay’s father. They were eager to accept her on that alone. She clearly had no idea that Benmore Castle was one of the great fortresses of the Highlands. Not modern, to be sure, but still a place that Alexander took pride in. And rightly so.

  Whatever he did, however easy he could make her life in the Highlands, in her mind it would never match the elegance that she’d known.

  “You were afraid you’d be marrying a barbarian,” he said curtly.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You said enough.” Alexander couldn’t hide the tone of disappointment in his voice. This is exactly what he’d feared. Exactly what he’d heard from those lairds who’d ruined their lives with women of Elizabeth’s upbringing.

  “But you’ve not said what you have against me,” she reminded him, in the same sharp tone. “Why didn’t you want to marry me?”

  The bluntness of her words had torn down the curtain of courtesy. Alexander knew he had to say what was on his mind or he’d forever regret not speaking. “I didn’t want to marry you because I knew you’d be unsuitable as a wife.”

  “Unsuitable?” she repeated, her eyes rounding in protest.

  “I knew you’d be unprepared for Benmore Castle,” he asserted. “You’ve lived your entire life in court. I doubted you’d be capable of adjusting to our ways.”

  “You think I’m spoiled and weak.”