Kill or Be Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  “’Tis written all over your face, lass.”

  Elizabeth instantly wondered if everything she felt was written all over her face. She averted her eyes and when she did, there was a man staring at her. He was handsome with dark eyes and a secret expression. When he smiled, his teeth, even and white, agreed pleasingly with his dark, tanned skin. His wavy, black hair flowed from his face like a crest to his shoulders, and drops of moisture clung to his damp forehead. There was an exotic look about him that captured her attention.

  He sat very still, and his eyes hadn’t left hers. She instantly became aware of another kind of excitement, one that didn’t involve Laird Munro. The dark-haired man looked away from her, and she watched him as he rose to his feet. He stood there as if he prided himself on his good looks. Her eyes froze on his long, lean form, and his eyes once again met hers. He inclined his head in a deep gesture and with that, he spun and was gone.

  Perhaps fate had granted her a boon after all.

  * * *

  Under a dusk sky, Ian, Ruairi, and Fagan followed Elizabeth’s carriage through the streets of London. Ian’s patience was wearing thin. He’d had enough of the English court and was pleased they were finally returning to the inn. Although he’d rather be on Munro lands and sleeping in his own bed, for now, the accommodations would have to do.

  “What an exciting first day among the English, eh?” asked Ruairi.

  Ian kept his eyes ahead as his mount whinnied, almost as if the animal had responded to Ruairi’s question. “Aye. One hell of a day. I’ve been meaning to ask something of the both of ye.”

  Fagan chuckled. “Munro, have ye nae learned anything from me? I told ye to offer Elizabeth an apology. Beg for her forgiveness.” He gestured to Ruairi. “Tell him that I speak the truth.”

  “I donna know about that. Ravenna is becoming the wiser when I offer her any type of apology. Now she asks what I’m apologizing for, and I donna always have an answer.”

  “My question has naught to do with Lady Elizabeth. I want to know your thoughts on Mildmay.”

  Both men were silent, their expressions guarded.

  “Sutherland,” Ian warned. “I’ve known ye forever. Your attempts at subtlety donna fool me nor do they suit ye.”

  Ruairi hesitated. “I’ve had my doubts, but I ne’er mentioned my views to Ravenna.”

  “Nor I to Grace,” said Fagan.

  Ruairi glanced around, reining in his mount next to Ian. “Even before this man was killed at court, I had a difficult time believing a man as skilled as Mildmay died in a carriage accident because of startled horses.”

  “Did your wife suspect anything untoward?” asked Ian.

  “If she had, she ne’er would’ve let me bring Elizabeth to court. And I think Ravenna was too distraught over her uncle’s death to even ponder the question. Besides, she’s again with child. The spy craft should be left with the spies. I will nay longer allow her to place herself and our bairns in danger.”

  “And what of Lady Elizabeth?”

  “We are nae staying at court, and she has three Highland warriors as chaperones.” A smile crossed Ruairi’s face. “Why do ye ask? Do ye question your prowess?”

  “Nay. I was questioning yours. If I’m nae mistaken, the Gordon is dead, the Stewart is imprisoned, and there have been nay mercenaries as of late to challenge your skill with a blade.” Ian’s expression held a note of mockery. “Ye have nae grown soft in my absence, have ye?”

  “Ye donna need to worry about that, Munro,” said Fagan. “My laird is wed to Ravenna. I’m certain the lass does nae favor her husband growing soft. And being that she’s again with child, evidently she’s making Ruairi practice his swordplay quite often.”

  Ruairi leaned over and punched Fagan in the arm. “Bastard.”

  “Aye.”

  They arrived at the inn, securing the horses and carriage with the stable hands. When Elizabeth stepped down from the coach, she looked tired, worn. She lifted her skirts and walked into the inn as Ian trailed behind her once again today. Mistress Betts greeted them at the entrance with a smile.

  “How was your first day at court, my lady?” The woman wiped her hands on her apron.

  “Lovely, thank you. I’m weary and think that I’ll just retire to my room for the rest of the night.”

  “Do you need anything to eat or drink?”

  Elizabeth returned a tired smile. “No, we dined at court.”

  “Give me a moment to clean up a bit, and then I’ll be up to help you with your dress.”

  “Thank you, Mistress Betts.” Elizabeth turned to Ruairi and Fagan. “Did you want to leave on the morrow after we break our fast?”

  “Aye, but we donna need to make haste. I’m afraid ye’ve worn out Munro from the tour of the palace. He’ll need plenty of rest before he returns to court on the morrow,” said Ruairi.

  Ian placed his hand over his heart. “I’m afraid ’tis true, Lady Elizabeth. My feet nay longer want to carry me.”

  “And I’m certain your feet have nothing to do with the fact that you men will be getting into your cups this eve.”

  “Ye know me too well,” said Ian.

  Elizabeth’s face turned scarlet, and she looked away from him. “I’ll be bidding you all a good night, gentlemen.”

  “Oidhche mhath,” said Ian. Good night. He watched the lass as she climbed the stairs to her chamber. Once she was out of sight, he elbowed Ruairi in the arm. “I need a drink.”

  “I think we could all use many,” said Ruairi.

  They found an unoccupied table in the corner of the dining hall and pulled out their flasks. A young lad with light-brown hair approached the table from the kitchen and placed three tankards of ale on the table. He wrung his hands in front of him in a nervous gesture.

  “For God’s sake, lad. We donna bite,” said Ian.

  “Pardon?”

  Ruairi chuckled. “Donna let the Munro frighten ye lad. He was born that way.”

  “I’m not frightened.” The boy looked terrified. “Is there anything I can bring you?”

  “What do ye have left from this eve’s sup? I could always eat,” said Fagan.

  Ruairi pulled out his flask and took a swig of whisky. “Aye, we know.”

  “There are some biscuits and gravy left.”

  “Aye, my friends and I will take a few of those,” said Fagan.

  “Would you like me to bring you more ale too?”

  The men laughed in response, and Ruairi held up his flask. “Nay. We have all that we need.”

  When the boy walked away, Ian shook his head. “Do ye think there will ever be a time when I donna frighten the wee lads?”

  Teasing laughter answered him, and Ruairi handed Ian the flask. “Have another drink, Munro.”

  “It feels so damn good to sit here with a man’s drink in hand. Did ye see the watery piss they were drinking at court?” He took another swig and then glanced around at the handful of men and women in the hall. Lowering his voice, he added, “The English would nae know something good if it bit them in the arse.”

  “Och, aye. I saw the Fraser empty the contents of his goblet on the floor and pour his own drink into it. The Highland lairds know to bring their own uisge beatha by now,” said Ruairi.

  The lad returned with Fagan’s food, and as soon as the boy left the table, Fagan tossed a biscuit to Ian, which he didn’t even attempt to catch.

  “Are ye going to leave it on the table?” asked Fagan.

  “I donna want to eat. I want to drink myself into a stupor. I think I’ve earned it for spending all this time with the English.”

  Ruairi gave a mock salute, and Ian took another swig. He’d seek his bed when his senses were dulled. And at the rate he was going, it wouldn’t be long.

  * * *

  Elizabeth removed her gown, donned her
nightrail, and washed her face. She didn’t think Mistress Betts had noticed the dagger strapped to her thigh and hidden under her chemise. If the woman had seen anything, she didn’t say, and Elizabeth didn’t take the time to explain. After a while, she’d even forgotten the blade was there. But all she wanted to do now was crawl under the blankets and embrace the darkness.

  As soon as Mistress Betts departed, Elizabeth didn’t waste any time. She climbed into bed and blew out the candle. Wiping the hair away from her face, she rolled onto her side, placing her hands under the pillow. She felt empty and drained. Her last thought before she drifted to sleep was of an exotic stranger who cast a furtive smile from across the table.

  The next she knew, her eyes flew open. The latch was rattling on her door. She sat up abruptly, pulling the blankets up to her chin. For an instant, she dared not breathe. The sound she heard wasn’t her imagination since it happened again. Elizabeth fumbled to light the candle, and once the room was illuminated, she thought she’d feel more secure.

  But she didn’t.

  Heaven help her. Someone was trying to come into her room. Perhaps if she waited silently, one of the men would come to her rescue. When she heard a curse outside the door, she flew out of the bed, thinking she recognized a Scottish accent. How she prayed that voice belonged to Ruairi, Fagan, or Ian, who were coming to her aid. Placing her ear to the door, Elizabeth waited.

  When she didn’t hear anything, she whispered, “Is anyone there?”

  Receiving no response, she donned her robe that rested on the chair. Once again, she paused at the door. God only knew what was on the other side. Slowly, she lifted the latch and stole a peek into the hall.

  Laird Munro sat on the floor with his back resting against the wall. His head was bent forward, and his body was hunched over. What was he doing? She found it difficult to believe the intruder at the door had been strong enough to knock the Highland laird from his feet.

  Elizabeth glanced down the hall. Even though there were two candles lit on the wall, she didn’t see anyone else. She walked out of her room and knelt beside him. When he didn’t move, she gave him a firm shake.

  “Laird Munro.”

  The man jumped to his feet. She lost her balance, falling on her rump in the middle of the hall. She had evidently startled him because when he lifted his arm on the way up, he’d barely missed her face. He gazed around, unsteady on his feet. After a moment, he glanced down and looked at her twice, as if he needed to make certain she was there.

  “Lady Elizabeth, what are ye doing on the floor in front of my room?”

  She could hardly make out his words. The sweet smell of whisky was on his breath. He extended his hand and pulled her up, but then she had to steady his quaking body in return.

  “Your room? I’m afraid this is my chamber, Laird Munro.” Something clicked in her mind. “Was that you grabbing the latch of my door? I thought someone was trying to… You startled me.”

  His words were slurred. “Nay one would dare enter your room with me here, unless they had a wish for death.”

  “Yes, well, let’s get you to the right door, shall we? Where are Ruairi and Fagan?”

  “Bed. They gave up on their drinking hours ago.”

  “And from the look of you—”

  He waved her off. “Donna tell me that I should’ve given up too. I can handle my drink.”

  She laughed. “I can see that. Try to keep your voice down. Everyone is abed.”

  Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Laird Munro’s waist, and he was so close that she could have rested her head on the man’s broad chest. He was only able to take a few tottering steps at a time, but at least he was moving in the right direction.

  When they reached his room, she lifted the latch and pushed open the door. Darkness greeted them. Even the dim flicker of candlelight from the hall didn’t provide much help to see inside.

  “You didn’t think to leave a candle lit?”

  “I donna need to see. I’m going to fall into bed anyway.”

  She sighed in exasperation. “And you’re going to kill yourself getting there. Did you leave the candle by the bed?”

  There was a heavy silence.

  “Laird Munro!”

  “Aye. Aye.”

  The man could barely finish his words, and it took all Elizabeth’s strength not to leave him where he stood. Then again, perhaps she should wake up her brothers-in-law to handle the mess this eve that was Laird Munro. She was certain they wouldn’t be pleased. “Wait here by the door and I’ll light the bloody candle.”

  “Are ye cross with me again, Lady Elizabeth?”

  “Am I… Laird Munro, please do us both a favor. Stand here by the door, and keep your mouth closed. Please.”

  “Why do I feel like I’m being scolded by my mother?”

  “If you wouldn’t act like a child, I’m sure you wouldn’t feel that way.” She fumbled to light the candle and was pleased when it finally lit. “There.”

  She turned, and he closed the door behind him, barely able to stand on his own two feet. As he approached her, she steadied him. He stood at the side of the bed and was gazing down at her when she heard herself swallow.

  “Lady Elizabeth.” Raising his hand, he placed it gently on her cheek.

  She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm. She couldn’t help herself. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her so intensely. His long, red hair fell into his face, and he was so alluring. He had no idea how handsome she thought he was.

  What was she thinking? The man was in a drunken stupor. But that certainly didn’t stop her impure thoughts. She glanced at his full lips, and all sense of reason deserted her.

  “Lady Elizabeth, ye better seek your bed. Ye’re in my chamber.” He gave her body a raking gaze. “And barely dressed.” He pulled her closer and slowly bent his head forward.

  There was no denying that he was going to kiss her. She’d been waiting for this moment. No man had ever touched her, and how appropriate the first would be Ian. The walls could fall around her, but she was determined to make this happen. She closed her eyes, knowing one touch of his lips would change her life forever.

  Elizabeth waited, and nothing happened. When she opened her eyes, he was shaking his head and pulling away from her.

  “I can nae. Ruairi and Fagan are my brothers. They trust me. And ye’re far too young, bonny, and sensible for the likes of me.”

  She stiffened as though he had struck her. “I’m eighteen, and you’re thirty-three. I don’t think you’re too old for me. I’m a woman now, and yet, you don’t see that. All you see is that foolish girl from years ago.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You drive me completely mad. Everyone warned me that you’re nothing more than a brooding laird, but I’ve seen your kindness and compassion. I’ve seen how you defend your closest friends and always stand up to the enemy. If I can see that in you, why can’t you see that in yourself? You say no woman would ever want you because of your looks, but you never give yourself or anyone else a chance. Why do you always push me away when I’m the only one who—”

  Her last words were smothered beneath his lips.

  * * *

  Ian knew he had to kiss Elizabeth when he saw that fire in her eyes and heard the passion in her voice. He pulled her against him, and his kiss was urgent, like that of a hungry lover. Licking her lip, he forced her to open her mouth, and she did not resist. How he wanted to devour her softness, her innocence.

  “Och, Elizabeth.”

  He clutched her as if he could not get enough. His lips left her mouth, trailing down her neck to her collarbone. She moaned at each touch, her mewling sounds firing his passion even more. Trying to maintain some sense of reason, he pulled back, giving her the opportunity to deny him. But she only looked at him with glazed passion.

  Ian molded her to him, his arms wrapping around h
er like a vise. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and he shuddered with desire. She gently pulled away from him, breathless.

  “Laird Munro…” She placed her hands on his arms, and a chuckle escaped him.

  “I would think after that kiss, ye’d call me Ian.” Rather than releasing her as he should, he pulled her close. “We will cease, but let me simply hold ye.”

  Rubbing his hands over her back, he felt her hands on his chest. What the hell was he thinking? He’d almost lost control with Elizabeth. God’s teeth! If the lass would have permitted him, he would’ve taken her standing here. That wasn’t necessarily true. He still had some sense of chivalry left within him. He would have at least thrown her on the bed.

  Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. “Come. I will escort ye back to your room.”

  She couldn’t look him in the eye. “That’s not necessary. It’s late. No one will be in the hall.”

  He placed his hand at the small of her back. “I insist.”

  Neither spoke as he escorted her to her chamber. He did not know what to say. Besides, he was trying too hard not to fall over his own two feet. Opening her door, he waited as she entered her room. She turned around and gave him a tender smile.

  “Ian…” She spoke softly, and her eyes never left his. “I don’t understand what just happened between us, but I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “What do ye mean? I donna understand all of this either, but I assure ye, my intentions are nae to cause ye pain.” At least he spoke the truth because he wasn’t sure what his purpose was in kissing her.

  “I don’t want you to push me away. My heart couldn’t bear it because I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you.”

  Elizabeth slowly closed the door in his face, and Ian paled.

  Nine

  When Elizabeth rose in the morning, she had to pinch herself to make certain last night wasn’t a dream. She brought her fingers to her lips and smiled. No, Ian had definitely kissed her. She was certain of that. As she dressed to break her fast, she pondered if he’d altered his opinion of her. After the beautiful kiss they shared, his feelings toward her must have changed for the better. Furthermore, she wasn’t about to let him change his mind.