by Tarah Scott
Her hands glided down his chest. Ripples of pleasure radiated through him. He hardened more with each inch she descended. She stopped with her fingers clasped around his belt. She slipped the leather from its loop. The clasp clinked in the silence of the room as she unfastened it. The plaid loosened and dropped into a pile at his feet. She didn't move, and he realized her gaze was fixed on the jutting, hard length of him. He didn't move—wasn't about to move. She could stare at him all night and, knowing her eyes were on him, he could maintain his arousal until she tired of the sight. Her gaze did move, though, back to his chest where she placed her palms.
"You're so hard," she said, as though marveling at something she hadn't the slightest notion could have been.
Marcus choked back a groan. He backed her against the bed and she fell onto the mattress. He scooted her farther up onto the bed, then rose over her, holding his body inches above her. He gently kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, her eyelids, cheeks, mouth. Here he lingered, rocking his hips against her in light motions as he drew the kiss out. Elise ran her hands along his back, hesitating at the curve of his buttocks.
"Aye, love," he whispered, placing small kisses at the corner of her mouth, then along her neck. "Touch me as you like."
He rocked again and, this time, her hands continued around and over the curve of his buttocks. Marcus groaned as he took a nipple between his lips. He gently parted her legs with a knee, then eased into her. He moved slowly, drawing out her pleasure. He suckled one breast, then the other until, at last, her fingers tightened on the tensed muscles of his buttocks. He quickened his movements. An instant later, she cried out softly and lifted her hips to meet his movements. Another instant, and he emptied into her. He waited until the throb of his body ceased, then hugged her close and slid to her side.
* * *
Elise relaxed against the carriage's cushion. She closed her eyes, allowing the motion of the carriage to lull her. The journey from Brahan Seer to the lowlands had been easier than expected. The stop at the Green Lady Inn earlier that morning had divided a tedious eight-hour ride into two, more comfortable, four-hour portions. Now, less than two hours from Ashlund, they would first stop at Sophie's estate.
She opened her eyes and looked out the window at Marcus, who rode alongside the carriage. He sat, as always, easy in the saddle. There had been little time to think of him today. Sophie had kept her distracted with plans for Ashlund and the visits they would make to the modiste, as well as a number of other merchants, who were sure to provide what Sophie said she needed to fulfill her role as the new Marchioness of Ashlund.
A tremor ran through her. She shifted her attention to him. Without Sophie's monologue filling her head with visions of jewels and bolts of rich fabrics, and without Mary's enthusiastic contributions as to which dresses and jewelry Elise should wear to the parties, she couldn't deny she was, completely and fully, Elise MacGregor, Marchioness of Ashlund.
Her body warmed. There had been no denying that fact last night when Marcus had bedded her for the first time as his wife. She slid her gaze down his body to the muscled calf visible between kilt and boot. The memory of his thighs between her legs last night, then again this morning, dried her throat. She swallowed. Her throat moistened, but her heart beat faster as if in rhythm with his thrusts when he brought her to climax. How many nights such as that lay ahead of her? Was it possible they could live in peace? Could she make him happy?
"He is a fine male specimen," Sophie said.
Elise jerked her gaze to Sophie, who regarded her from her seat in the far corner. Mary gave a titter of laughter, and Elise scowled. "You must make some people very nervous, Sophie."
"I do, indeed," the countess replied without hesitation. "I am pleased Marcus agreed to stop at Whycham House. You need a rest and I so want you to meet Justin."
"I'm glad as well," Elise said.
The carriage rounded a bend in the road and a rider became visible in the distance. Marcus kicked his horse and galloped to meet the rider. An instant later, Kiernan's horse passed the carriage at a gallop as he, too, sped to intercept the rider.
"What's happened?" Sophie demanded.
"A rider," Elise replied, without taking her eyes off Marcus.
Sophie moved from her side of the coach to sit beside her. Sophie leaned close and they watched as the man stopped and Marcus pulled his stallion to a halt beside him. Kiernan joined them a moment later. They spoke, then Marcus and the man whirled their horses in the direction the man had come and Kiernan spurred his horse back toward the carriage. The carriage halted as Kiernan arrived.
"What is it?" Elise demanded.
"A fire at Ashlund."
Both women gasped.
"It's the stables," Kiernan called. "The horses are safe, but there's been a casualty. My father and Jeremy are riding ahead. I will see you to Whycham House, then follow."
"We are nearly to Whycham House," Sophie said. "You needn't accompany us the rest of the way."
Kiernan shook his head. "Father instructed me to see you safely there." He shouted at the driver to move on.
The coach lurched into motion. Kiernan urged his horse to precede the coach and, twenty minutes later, they arrived at Whycham House. Kiernan waited only until the coach passed through the gates, then whirled his horse before Elise could ask any questions. She emerged from the carriage, her gaze following the boy as he disappeared from sight down the road.
"Don't worry." Sophie rested a hand on Elise's arm. "They know how to deal with such matters."
"But we don't know a thing about what has happened."
"Come along, Mary," Sophie instructed the maid as she hooked her arm through Elise's and started up the walkway of the imposing mansion. "Trust them to deal with the fire." Sophie led Elise across the threshold and into the foyer.
Elise tossed her riding vest onto the bed and crossed to the chair nearest the window as Mary closed the bedchamber door behind them when Sophie left.
"Now, there must be some water here somewhere," Mary said, as she glanced around the room. "There it is." She hurried across the room to the dresser.
Elise seated herself in the chair and bent to unlace her boots. "Freshen yourself first," she said. "I'll rest a few minutes then see to myself."
"I canna' do that," Mary exclaimed. She poured water from the pitcher into the bowl it sat in. "The laird would be displeased."
"The laird isn't here to care," Elise replied. She wondered if Marcus had reached Ashlund yet. The estate lay another hour and a half away by carriage. A fast horse could have gotten him there in half the time.
"Aye," the girl replied with a deep sigh. "It must be difficult for you considering the danger." Mary took a step back and surveyed the dresser drawers. She opened the top right drawer. "Oh, fine," she said, and pulled out a washcloth.
"By the time they arrive to Ashlund, the fire may be out," Elise said.
"Mayhap," Mary said. She dipped the cloth in the water and wrung it out. "Just pray the main house doesna' catch fire in the process."
Elise straightened from her boot. "What do you mean?"
"I'm going to Ashlund," Elise announced an hour later as she entered the drawing room.
Sophie looked up from the tea she was pouring. "Marcus said you were to stay here." She set the teapot down.
"He did not." Elise stopped in front of her. "Kiernan simply escorted us here so he could hurry to Ashlund."
"You know he intended for you to remain here."
"He probably thought I would be more comfortable here and that I might not want to arrive at Ashlund under such circumstances. Had we discussed the matter, I would have explained none of those things mattered."
Had Marcus told her the grove that separated the stables from the house had burned once before, nearly taking the house with it, he wouldn't have been able to keep her away. Winnie's story of how her uncle had burned while asleep in his house came back to Elise with the same horrifying realism it had when M
ary described how the grove burned thirty years ago.
"Why the concern?" Elise said when the furrows in Sophie's forehead deepened. "Daylight will last another two hours. I can reach Ashlund long before dark. I will take the driver, along with the men Marcus assigned to accompany us." Sophie still looked doubtful and Elise added, "Along with two of your men, they can help with the fire."
"Three of our men," she said. "Keep them as long as Marcus needs them. Perhaps I should send more? Oh dear, I should have thought of that earlier. I wish Justin were here. He would deal with this far better than I." She looked at Elise, adding in a hopeful voice, "He should be returning any moment."
"We have all the time in the world to get to know one another," Elise said. "Now, let's have the carriage readied."
* * *
Marcus slowed his stallion as he neared the stables at Whycham House. The boy Samuel emerged from the stables and Marcus came to a halt beside him. Marcus dismounted and tossed the reins to him.
"See to him, Samuel," he said, and started for the house.
He hurried along the footpath. Despite exhaustion last night, he had missed Elise. He entered without knocking and went directly to the drawing room where, as expected, Sophie sat on the couch facing the window overlooking the gardens. Elise, however, wasn't present.
Sophie looked up. Her brow furrowed. "What is amiss?"
"The only thing amiss," he replied, "is that my wife isn't here. Is she still abed? It is nearly—"
Sophie's eyes widened and she gave a soft gasp.
Marcus felt an instant of confusion, then his heart leapt into a furious rhythm. "What is it? Where is she?"
Sophie stood, the needlework in her lap falling to the floor. "She left yesterday, a short time after we arrived."
"What?" Marcus's head spun. "I instructed her to wait until I came for her." He broke from the cold hand of fear and strode to Sophie. She looked up at him, panic on her face. He grasped her shoulders. "Why did Justin allow her to leave?"
"He wasn't here. Elise was concerned about you."
"And you let her go?" Marcus shook her hard enough to loosen several hairpins. Two curls struck her shoulder.
"It was still light," Sophie said, her voice so shaky Marcus realized she was close to tears. "I travel between Whycham House and Ashlund often. Marcus!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "You know it is true. I have never feared traveling on that road, even at night."
Marcus released her, his hands working and reworking into fists.
"She took three of our men," Sophie went on. "I told her to keep them as long as needed at Ashlund. It was early. I had no reason to—"
"No reason to think!" he roared, and stepped closer. She didn't retreat. "She is not to travel alone," he shouted. "There have been threats—"
"Threats?" Sophie's gaze hardened. "Threats you say? I ask you, then, why we weren't told? Should Justin not have been informed? Should not some provisions have been made? My God, Marcus, why have you kept silent?"
He struggled to answer, but the words—his mind—nothing worked.
"What are these threats?" Sophie asked in a voice so reasonable, so firm, Marcus snapped from his indecision.
"There's no time for explanations." Sophie opened her mouth to speak, but he said, "First, we find her."
Chapter Seventeen
Marcus followed Elise's carriage tracks from Whycham House onto the road leading to Ashlund. Where a heavier-trafficked crossroad joined the Ashlund road, a myriad of tracks, all muddied by the night's rain, obscured hers. Marcus ordered Justin to return to Whycham House and check all farms and cottages near the road, while he continued onward and did the same. Two hours passed before he heard the pounding of hooves over the sound of his own mount's gallop. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Justin approaching. Sophie rode alongside and Kiernan followed with a dozen more men behind. Marcus slowed his stallion as they neared. He observed the haggard look on Sophie's face when they came alongside.
They had discovered no news.
"There are four farms between the point you left us and Whycham House," Justin said. "I did not wish to diverge too far off the road until we could better ascertain where she might have gotten lost."
Marcus's head jerked to the side and he glared at Justin. "Lost?"
"You have found nothing?" Justin went on.
Marcus looked forward again. "Nay."
"We are but midway between Ashlund and Whycham House," Justin said. "There is much territory yet to cover."
Two farmhouses down, they encountered a peasant who remembered Elise's entourage.
"When?" Marcus demanded.
"Yesterday," the man replied. "I was returning from MacLellan's down the road. Later afternoon, four-thirty or five, I would say."
"All was well with her?"
"As far as I could see."
"How many were in the party?" Marcus asked.
"I didn't see inside the carriage. Let me see, there was the driver, wheeler," he paused, then added, "there were three or four men riding alongside. Can't say for sure."
"Sounds as if the men are accounted for," Justin said.
"Come," Marcus directed the man, "you will show us exactly where you saw my wife."
They rode a mile south on the road, when the farmer stopped them. "Here."
Marcus dismounted and examined the tracks. "Bloody hell," he cursed. "It looks as though all of Edinburgh has traversed this road." He tried following his line of sight along one set of carriage tracks, only to lose them in the tangled web of another in the moist ground.
"Lord Phillip passed this way," the man said.
Marcus cut his gaze to the man. "Lord Phillip. When?"
"I passed him about two miles north of his estate," the man replied.
"Then you saw Lady Ashlund here?"
"Aye."
Marcus looked at Justin. "Phillip's estate borders mine."
Justin nodded. "Perhaps they passed one another."
An hour later, Marcus departed Lord Phillip's estate knowing nothing more than that the earl had set out to visit a friend to the north before heading south for Edinburgh. Marcus cursed the earl's timing, his absence, and his person.
Marcus glanced at the sky as he mounted his horse. The day had turned to dusk. He had ridden since morning and his mount flagged. He rode to Ashlund and exchanged his horse for a fresh one. He reached the outskirts of Ashlund property and encountered the search party.
"Exchange your horses for fresh ones at Ashlund," Marcus instructed. "I'll speak to the tenants of the two farms to the south."
"Father," Kiernan said in unison with Justin's, "Marcus."
"I left instructions for horses to be readied for you," Marcus said. "You will overtake me soon enough."
* * *
Dusk gave way to night as they extended the search into the countryside to the west. To the east, a high cliff butted the shoreline of an inlet from the bay. Now, they rode fifteen miles south of Ashlund, stopping at every village and home on the road to Edinburgh. The next village lay five miles farther south. Marcus urged his horse into a harder trot and the company following did the same. Sophie rode between Marcus and Justin with Kiernan behind them.
"Marcus," Sophie called above the clatter of hooves.
He looked at her. An overcast sky hid the moon, but four of the twelve men who accompanied them carried torches and he easily made out her strained expression.
Sophie shook her head. "Why didn't Elise—" She broke off with a stifled choke.
Marcus looked straight ahead. "I alone bear the blame. Don't cause yourself any further grief over the matter."
"No further grief?"
Her words hit him like barbs and Marcus snapped his attention onto her.
Her eyes blazed. "You can be an arrogant bastard, Cousin. Whether or not I share blame, I will grieve as I please."
She yanked her horse's reins and Marcus pulled to the right in order to avoid her horse. She circled to the rear of the company an
d brought her stallion alongside Justin's.
A moment of silence passed before Justin said, "Seven men traveled in the company, all trained men of war. Not easy prey."
"Yet they are gone," Marcus said.
"True," Justin agreed, "but there will be news of them somewhere. A company of brigands large enough to take such a large party could not go unnoticed."
"Then let us find that news," Marcus said, and spurred his mount into a full gallop.
The morning sun had only begun to spread across the grey sky when Marcus brought his horse to a halt in front of Ashlund. Justin, Kiernan, and the messenger, carrying news of a priest who said he had knowledge of Elise's entourage, followed Marcus as he jumped to the ground and ran for the porch, then took the stairs two at a time. Pushing past the oak door, they strode down the corridor to the drawing room. Marcus threw open the door to find Sophie sitting on the couch. Beside her sat the priest, Father Fynn.
The priest stood and Marcus hurried forward. "Father," he said, "what news do you have?"
The priest hesitated.
"Tell me," Marcus demanded. "You have news of my wife."
"Forgive me, Lord Ashlund," Father Fynn began, "Yesterday, we found a woman's body washed ashore near Braemer."
Marcus's head reeled. He looked at Sophie, who had yet to rise. He turned back to the priest. "You can't be sure. We found no sign of foul play."
"Lord Ashlund, I wasn't aware you had married, and this woman was a stranger to us. Therefore, we began a search of our own. We traveled upstream and—" he broke off.
"What? What did you find that could possibly confirm your suspicions?"
"A carriage."
Marcus stared. "A carriage means nothing."
"I know the crest. All living in this area know it." Father Fynn pointed at the two-sworded crest hanging over the hearth. "The carriage bore your crest. It lies on the shore near Glenurcom."
Forty-five minutes later, Marcus stood with Justin and Kiernan at the edge of a wooded cliff overlooking Glenurcom. He looked down at a carriage, the front half of which was submerged in water. The horses' bodies were tangled in the mass of leather and iron, which had once been harness and axle. Marcus watched small waves lap at the bloated mass of flesh. He stared again at the broken carriage, then closed his eyes. Even from a hundred-foot distance, there was no mistaking the Ashlund crest.