by Scott, Tarah
"Do you—" she began.
"Hush," Marcus commanded in a whisper.
He reined in alongside her. Grabbing her mare's bridle, he pulled both horses to a stop. He dismounted, then hauled her down from the saddle and drew her close to whisper in her ear, "There is a hill just ahead. I'm going for a look. Do not move." He shoved the reins into her hand and slinked into the darkness.
Near the top of the hill, Marcus crouched, then finally went to his knees, crawling the last few feet to the crest. Between the hill where he crouched and the opposite hill, three men on horses picked their way across the rocky ground. Their colors were indistinguishable, but he knew they were Campbells.
When he had demanded Shamus's killer be turned over to him, John Campbell had complied after Marcus and his men threatened to take John in his kinsmen's place. The fact the man was turned over to Peter McKinlay of the Glasgow police for a proper trial made no difference. John Campbell had been furious.
The men disappeared into the trees, and Marcus hesitated. The keep was another ten minutes' ride. Could he send Elise on alone? He remembered Katie MacGregor and cursed. He couldn't gamble with Elise's safety.
Marcus quietly made his way back down the hill and, minutes later, distinguished her form in the darkness. "Elise," he called in a whisper.
Her head jerked in his direction, but she didn't cry out. After another instant, he reached her side. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her close, whispering, "We must ride—and fast." She started. "All will be well." He squeezed her shoulders. "You ride with me. Can you stay in the saddle?"
She nodded.
"Good lass." He reached for the reins
She grabbed his arm. "What's happened?"
He hesitated. "Campbells."
She glanced at the hill. "So close to Brahan Seer?"
"Aye."
Marcus vaulted into his stallion's saddle, then extended a hand toward her. Elise yanked her skirts thigh high, grabbed his hand, and jumped nimbly up behind him as he pulled. She wrapped her arms around his midsection. The soft contours of her breasts pressed into his back. He gritted his teeth and nudged the stallion into a quiet walk, keeping the mare close until they were well out of earshot of the small camp. Then he urged the stallion into a gallop.
The men on the castle walls sprang to life at their approach half an hour later. Marcus brought their horses to a skidding halt before the gate. "Open!" he shouted. "'Tis me, Marcus."
The gate creaked open and he drove the horses through before the doors had swung wide. He halted amongst the gathering warriors and brought his leg over the horse's head, sliding from the saddle.
"Marshall," he called to the nearest man as he pulled Elise from the saddle, "find Daniel and have him gather twenty men. We ride in ten minutes. Where is my father?"
"I dinna' know," Marshall answered. "Mayhap the great hall?"
Marcus started off, then stopped and whirled to see Elise standing where he left her. "Go to your cottage," he ordered then, cursing the powers that be, set out after his father.
* * * *
Elise glanced at Michael, who rode alongside her. His gaze remained directly ahead. The rigid set of his mouth indicated he was still angry with her for coming alone to his cottage. Guilt unsettled her. His anger was born out of concern, and he was more right than she cared to admit. To make matters worse, the trip had been a waste. He hadn't received a recent copy of the Sunday Times.
Birds abruptly took flight in the trees up ahead. She gave a small cry. Michael shot her a look that said, Not so sure there aren't any Campbells on MacGregor land, are you?
Heat warmed her cheeks and she looked straight ahead. The Campbells had eluded Marcus that night three weeks ago. No further trace of them or their kinsmen had been found since, but Marcus was on a mission to discover who had trespassed onto his land. As a result, she wouldn't be able to ride more than an hour without encountering one of his men.
Damn him. If not for his watchful eye, she would be on a ship to America. The night he fetched her from Michael's, she had decided not to return to Brahan Seer but to continue to Glasgow and chance the first ship away from Scotland. The wanted notice had been in the Sunday Times dated three weeks prior, but Price could have given up since then.
She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Price stared back at her from behind her father's mahogany desk at Landen Shipping. MacGregor men wouldn't crawl the land like mice much longer. Soon she would return for the man who had put her mother in an early grave, then quietly took part in her daughter's murder. Her heart constricted. Steven was a casualty of her making—a casualty she knew Price Ardsley relished. Elise forced back tears.
Beware, stepfather. I will return.
"Will you come to the great hall?" Elise asked Michael when they passed through the castle gates.
"Aye," he replied shortly.
"Michael," she began, but he pulled his horse to a halt beside her and dismounted.
He came around to her and helped her from the saddle. "Go on." She hesitated, and his eyes softened. "I'll be along after I have seen to the animals."
She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're a good man, Michael MacGregor."
He shook his head, but she could see that he was pleased. He limped off leading the horses, and Elise headed for the great hall. At the postern door, she entered and saw Marcus standing near the hearth. He broke off his conversation with the two men who stood with him and glanced over his shoulder. The drawn look on his face snapped into a dark scowl. He started forward. Elise faltered when she saw he meant to intercept her. His companions disappeared up the nearest staircase and a hum of apprehension began deep in her stomach.
Marcus rounded the table and reached the midway point when she blurted, "Good afternoon, Marcus. How are you?"
"Where have you been?" he demanded.
"I—" She fell back an unsteady step when it seemed he would ram into her. He halted three feet from her. "I have just returned from visiting Michael."
"So I was told," he replied curtly. "Winnie's warning did nothing to deter you?"
"Winnie's warnin—" Elise recalled her encounter with Winnie that morning. Good Lord, Winnie had told him she saw her leave.
Marcus's eyes narrowed. "Aye, you remember. Fortunately for you, I only just discovered your absence. Unmanageable wench," he added in a dark voice.
"You have your answers," she shot back. "Why bother asking?"
"Because I couldn't believe you were traipsing about the countryside."
"I was not traipsing about the country. Not that it's your business."
"It is my business—and I will see to it you no' do it again."
She ignored the warning bell the definite hardening of his brogue set off inside her head. and said, "You're insane if you think I'll be ordered about."
"Ye will do as you're told," he said in a quiet voice that was perversely more unsettling than a shout.
"I come and go as I please, just as everyone else at Brahan Seer."
A keen light shone in his eyes. "If you will note, the women are staying close to home." His expression hardened. "At the express command of their men."
Elise gasped, then glanced past him, gauging the distance between him and the freedom the kitchen offered. He stepped closer and her temper flared. She raised her hands to shield herself from his advance and her palms met the unexpected warmth of his chest. She gaped at her fingers splayed across tanned skin where his shirt lay open, and her senses reeled at the raw power in the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
"Lord," she whispered, and yanked her hands away.
The vague realization that strong fingers had gripped her wrists was overshadowed by the jolt she felt when Marcus forced her hands back to his chest. Her mind screamed to break free, but the sight of her palms gliding over his dark skin—the need to touch every contour, to know intimately his powerful body—held her rooted to the spot. She tore her gaze from his chest and looked into his eyes. The fire blazing
there drew her—commanded her—and she leaned into him.
"There ye are, lad. I was just look—"
Elise twisted as Cameron reached the bottom of the nearest staircase. He lifted a bushy brow. She looked back at Marcus. His hold loosened and she snatched her hands away. She retreated, stumbling over her own feet. Marcus reached for her, but she dodged his hand with another unsure step backward.
"I-I must go," she stammered, and fled the room.
"Elise—bloody hell!"
Marcus's voice echoed off the stone walls as she shoved through the postern door.
Elise avoided Marcus that night. Yet his memory persisted. Alone in bed, her cheeks burned with the recollection of how he had forced her hands against him in a rough caress. Though only a moment passed between them, her senses had taken in every contour as her fingers glided along the unyielding muscle. The hint of brandy on his breath, the hammering of his beating heart, his hard body—with a flourish, she threw back the covers. Cold air crept over her. Yet it wasn't the cold that made her shiver, but the vision of Marcus's hands touching her as she had touched him. Oh, treacherous body! To be undone by desire.
A desire beyond that which drew you to the man you shot, her mind whispered.
Elise examined her hands in the moonlight that spilled across the bed from the window above her head. It hadn't occurred to her she would touch another man as she had Robert. A porcelain doll, Robert had called her, to be admired but not touched. The fact he had suffered her in his bed only long enough to get her with child had proven even her beauty had been lacking. Yet the memory of Robert's scorn didn't stop the leap of her heart at the thought of Marcus.
Time grew short—shorter than she had realized. Dare she wait another week or even a day before leaving Scotland?
* * * *
Marcus stood on the battlement speaking with Daniel when he spied Elise emerging from the stables astride a horse.
"By God," he cursed.
"What is it?" Daniel looked in the direction Marcus stared.
"Stop her!" Marcus shouted down to the guards, then hurried down the stairs.
Her gaze met his as he leapt from the battlement steps into the courtyard. "Out of my way," she ordered.
"Woman, only yesterday you fled from me as if I were an ogre. Now you dispense imperious orders as though you are a queen. Where are you going?"
"To find Tavis and box his ears. Then I'll drag him and his sister back."
Marcus raised a brow. "Tired of chasing the little fools all over God's green earth? A pity they won't listen to good advice. Come down from there." He reached to pull her from the mare's back.
She slapped his hand. "They purposely sneaked out."
"Disobedient brats," he said.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Never mind," he said.
"Never mind?" she choked. "If I hadn't heard it myself, I wouldn't have believed it." She jerked on the reins. "Out of my wa—" Elise shrieked when he yanked her from the saddle.
Marcus brought her face level with his. "Yesterday, you left against my command. Will you attempt to disobey me again today?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I planned to enlist Brady's help in finding the children."
"And if he's not available?"
"He's the stable master. He is always in the stables."
"Aye," Marcus said. "But if he isn't, you will use good sense and return to the keep?" He added before she could argue, "I'll fetch the children."
Her eyes lit. "I'll wait while you get a horse."
He released her, then pried the reins from her fingers and mounted. "I will go."
"But—"
"Elise," he growled, "are you saying I cannot deal with two errant children?"
"No-no, of course not. It's just that Bonnie is so little, and Tavis—" Her eyes blazed. "The boy is going to get them both killed."
"Why does he take his sister with him?" Marcus asked.
"He doesn't. She's a clever child. She watches, then follows."
"Bloody hell," he said under his breath. "She is but seven."
Elise laid a hand atop Marcus's hand, which rested on his thigh. "Why does Tavis persist in going out like this? I thought you dealt with his father's murderer."
"Revenge is never satisfied," Marcus replied.
Her fingers moved against his and he looked at her hand. His gaze caught on the long, thin scar on the outside edge of her palm. He had noticed it before, had meant to ask her—She snatched her hand back.
Marcus looked down at her and smiled softly. "It is all right, love. I will bring them safely home." He brushed a finger across her cheek.
She looked startled and a blush crept up her cheeks.
Marcus urged his horse forward, satisfied.
* * * *
Two hours later, Elise looked up from her seat in the kitchen to see Marcus enter with Bonnie on his shoulders. A general round of praise went up from the women. He gave a gallant bow, very obviously pretending to forget Bonnie, then grabbed her at the last moment and shoved her back into place on his shoulders.
Warmth rippled through Elise at sight of him pausing to pluck slices of apples from a bowl on the counter. She silently cursed her schoolgirl giddiness. Marcus popped a slice into his mouth, then passed one to Bonnie. Elise's thudding heart kicked up a notch when he looked in her direction. He started toward her and she hastily returned her attention to the potatoes she was peeling. He pulled Bonnie from his shoulders and lowered himself into the chair beside Elise. Bonnie settled on his lap and leaned back in the crook of his arm. Absorbed in her apple, she munched contentedly.
"I think we need not worry any longer about Bonnie running after Tavis," Marcus said.
Elise looked to find a lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, making him look very much like a large child himself. She resisted the urge to smooth the lock back into place.
Focusing instead on her potatoes, she said, "Why is that?"
"Because he won't be taking any more trips."
"How can you be sure?"
"I told him not to."
Elise sighed. The boy would probably obey without even a whimper. She hazarded a glance at Marcus. He was grinning.
Her heart unexpectedly constricted. How would she live without seeing that smile every day?
* * * *
When Elise entered the kitchen the following afternoon, she frowned at finding the room empty. Winnie napped in the early afternoon and several of the younger women tended to their families' needs, but Jinny was usually present, starting preparations for the evening meal.
Jinny's voice abruptly sounded from the eating hall. "Please, milaird, let me go."
"Come now," a male voice boomed, "'tis only a friendly gesture."
A round of riotous laughter followed this statement.
"Nay, laird," Jinny pleaded, "I dinna' want you to be friendly."
"You haven't given me a chance," the male voice began as Elise retrieved a large cast-iron pan from the ten plate stove located against the wall near the hearth. She crept toward the door leading to the great hall and heard, "I can be verra friendly, given the proper incentive."
From the kitchen door, she saw Jinny, held on a man's lap, twist in an effort to avoid his kiss.
Elise stepped through the doorway. "Enough!"
The command rang through the stone chamber, quieting the group.
The brute blinked. "Who might you be?"
"Let her go," she ordered.
He shared an amused look with his comrades, then lifted Jinny from his lap and rose.
"Go along, Jinny," Elise said.
The girl whirled and fled out the postern door. The brute strode to where Elise stood.
He clasped his arms over his large chest and cocked his head to the side. "Now what?"
"You released her. Satisfy yourself you've escaped intact."
"I need a replacement." He reached for her.
In one long movement, Elise swung the pan, bringing the cast iro
n pot across his shoulder. Metal met muscle with a loud crack, and the blow sent the sizeable man tumbling to the floor. He lay sprawled on the floor, blinking up at her.
Elise stared down at him. "Try such nonsense again, and the next one will be across that thick Scots head of yours."
Howls of laughter filled the room from the brute's comrades. He pushed to his feet. "Seems you need a lesson, lassie."
"Nay, Declan," came Marcus's voice behind her.
Elise whirled. Marcus caught the hand holding the pan. She glimpsed Jinny near the kitchen door.
"You won't be needing this anymore." Marcus gently worked the pan free of her grasp.
She looked down at the pan and released it.
Declan grabbed for her, but Marcus pulled her to his side. "No touching the lass."
"But you saw what she did. I willna' hurt her." He gave her an appraising look. "Not really."
Elise shot him a recriminating look.
"You brought this on yourself," Marcus said.
"You aren't taking her side?"
"I am."
"Nay," he said in clear disbelief.
"Aye."
He gave Marcus a dubious look, then grumbled as he retreated to his seat, "Probably not worth the trouble, anyway."
Marcus placed the pan on the counter, then started for the great hall.
"Marcus," Elise said as he brushed past her.
He stopped and turned.
"Keep him away from Jinny."
* * * *
Marcus reached for the pitcher of ale sitting on the table before him and Declan and refilled their glasses. "How many cattle were stolen?" Marcus set the pitcher back on the table. The man to his right snatched up the pitcher and passed it down the table to the men gathered for dinner.
"Thirty or forty head," Declan replied.
"Within two months?" Marcus gave a low whistle. "My guess is Campbells."
"Aye," Declan agreed. "But I havena' been able to catch the bastards in the act."
"We've had Campbells on our land of late."