by Jackie Ivie
“Thank you,” she said calmly, and then she smiled her society smile at both ladies.
“Oh, your dress will be payment enough, I’m sure.”
Sophie burst into laughter at the end of her words. It was ringing in Elise’s ears as she hailed a footman to show her to the library. She’d never been in Barrigan’s library. She was rarely in anyone’s library. The Dowager Duchess of Wynd had little use for books.
“Her Grace, the Duchess of MacGowan.”
The footman announced it loudly as he opened the door. Elise made a fist. She listened for the door closing.
“Elise, my dear, take a seat.”
The duke had glanced up from a desk before looking back down again. Elise watched him as she waited what seemed an interminable amount of time for his attention. The drapes had been opened behind him, and sunlight highlighted Barrigan’s grounds, where she could swear she saw the top of an Oriental gazebo. She swallowed in reaction to the sight.
Colin was dressed in a rich, brown tweed jacket, white shirt, and brown leather pants, which were tucked into his boots. He wasn’t sitting at the desk, either. He was perched on his haunches while he wrote. That maneuver was spreading his arms wide and easily showing the size of him. He had leather epaulets sewn onto his jacket shoulders. They perfectly matched his trousers. His hair really was the color of roasted chestnuts, and it was curling upon his collar. She knew exactly how it felt between her fingers, and for some reason her fingertips tingled at the thought.
She cleared her throat. “Was that a request; or an order, Your Grace?”
“That’s too formal, Elise. You have to start calling me Colin. And it was a request.”
He still wasn’t looking up at her. She dropped her eyes to the list he was looking over. His penmanship wasn’t the best, and she couldn’t decipher it upside down.
“Your—Colin, I need to speak with you.”
“I’m listening.”
She took a deep breath. “I can’t go to Scotland,” she said.
“It’s na’ open for discussion.”
Elise’s eyes widened at the same angle as her mouth did. He scribbled some more, as if she’d disappeared. She took several calming breaths before trying again. She guessed he was treating her like he would a member of his regiment. She didn’t like the feeling.
“You don’t understand,” she said.
“No, you doona’ understand, Elise.” He looked up then and frowned, putting two furrows into existence in his brow. “You should take more time with your attire, my dear. You’re barely proper.”
“I beg your pardon?” she responded.
“Unless you wished to look like you’d just come from a good tumble. That should certainly put some truth to what they’re saying about us. I believe I stand corrected. You did well. I applaud you.”
Elise felt the blush clear to the roots of her hair. She glared at him and couldn’t think of one witty, demeaning, or biting thing to say. He went back to his paper. She watched as he dipped his quill into the ink pot and began writing again. She knew what he was doing. He was listing necessities for his journey. Elise choked on the angry words she longed to screech at him, swallowed, took another breath, and tried again.
“You’re wasting your time and mine, Colin. I don’t like you. You don’t like me. Remember? Stop this farce before it goes any further. I’m not going to Scotland. I refuse.” Her voice wasn’t as calm and cool as she was trying for, but it wasn’t full of anger, either. She was proud of that.
“You have nae choice, Elise. You’re mine now. Mine.”
“I am not!”
“Oh, but you are. You said so yourself. A magistrate heard you. Your feelings doona’ matter with it, although it would be nice if you felt something besides dislike for me, I think. Perhaps na’. It might actually be better this way.”
She was choking and couldn’t blame it on anything but the shock of what he said and the way he said it.
He ignored her reaction. “Either way, it does na’ matter. You are my wife. I’m leaving for my home. So are you.”
“You can’t just abscond with me. You can’t.”
He sighed, those shoulders moved with it, and Elise’s mouth was failing her as it dropped open. Then he carefully put down his quill and stood, making the library look very small and cramped. She watched as he smoothed out the wrinkles in his leather pants where they were molded to his thighs, before looking back toward her.
“Very well. I’ll try this your way. Doona’ push it.”
“My way?”
“The English way,” he replied snidely.
“And what way would that be?”
“With words.”
She frowned, but at least her mouth closed.
“You expect an explanation. Very well. I’ll do a bit of them. I’m needed at my home as the Laird of the MacGowans. That’s quite a responsibility and goes back centuries in tradition, in case you missed your history lessons. Everything with a Scot’s clan hinges on the laird. Everything. I’ve been shirking returning to it for a reason ... a very good one. I dinna’ wish to wed the MacKennah lass. Now that I’ve been freed of the obligation, I’m ready to return.”
“Your ... obligation? The MacKennah lass?”
Her voice was starting to crack. Colin smiled. She was afraid it was because he’d spotted the emotion she was hiding.
“The eldest MacGowan was betrothed to Mistress Mary MacKennah at a ceremony nearly a score ago. You, Elise, are my salvation. You have my eternal gratitude, too.”
“You—you said we were wed... in order to escape a betrothal?”
Elise stumbled before collapsing onto the edge of a wingback chair. Her legs were giving her trouble again. She, who had never experienced a moment of the vapors, thought she might actually need smelling salts. Colin didn’t say anything for so long, she had to look to see why. He was silhouetted in the sunlit window, with both hands on his hips, lifting the jacket ends effortlessly as he studied her.
“Dinna’ I protect you?” he asked softly.
“But he was hardly injured!”
“You’re correct. In fact, Easton has already been sent back to his abode in London. I dinna’ want him near you, just in case.”
“You tricked me!” She was losing the battle with her own body. Elise couldn’t stop the panic from coloring her voice.
He moved to one side of the desk and placed one leg atop the corner as he studied her. Then he shrugged. He was too much man, arrayed too handsomely. It caused wondrous things to happen to her pulse and a whole slew of other horrid things.
“Perhaps, but I prefer to think of our marriage as a mutual agreement. It has a nicer ring to it.”
“Mutual agreement?” She bit back all the rest of it, but it was difficult. Her fingernails were biting into her palms.
Colin acted like he knew it, too. His hazel eyes didn’t move from her. Elise had to look away first. He was right about her attire, too. She wasn’t properly dressed. The pearls weren’t fastened from the elbow to her wrist on the right arm.
“I don’t want to be your wife.” She spoke the words to her arm.
“Is it that you doona’ want to be a wife? Or just mine?”
How am I supposed to answer that? Elise had never had to think it through before. The silence grew. She actually began wishing he’d go back to his writing again. She undid the fists her hands were in and started fastening the pearls one at a time, as though that’s all she had to do all day.
“Very well, doona’ answer. Sometimes, that’s answer enough. Besides, it’s too late.”
“You’re not aware of my reasons.”
He sighed again loudly. “Well, let me list some of them, then. You’re a very beautiful woman, Elise. So beautiful it takes a man’s breath away; but you know that. You’ve always known it. That’s why you dress as you do, act as you do, and set up everything like you do. You want to order and control everything and everyone. You’re missing something, though. You doon
a’ seem to have a heart anywhere in that perfect body of yours. Am I getting warm?”
The pearls shimmered. Elise shrugged very, very carefully.
“And you’re a tease. You play the courtship game without a hint of the consequences. Last night showed me. You treat men like playthings, without any care to what you do and who you hurt. You’re called The Ice Goddess in those cartoons. You probably know that, too. You seem to be punishing all men for something. It makes me wonder which of your legions of lovers hurt you that badly.”
Elise wasn’t in control of her fingers anymore. She was focusing all her attention on each pearl. It was the only way she could stop the tremor of her fingers.
He snorted, and she heard the desk creak as he relieved it of the burden of his weight. “Or you are a consummate actress. I’m beginning to think it will prove highly interesting to find out which it is. Lord knows my home can get boring, if you let it.”
“I have another reason that makes me unsuitable, Colin.”
“Too late.”
Elise glanced from beneath her lashes at him. He had his back turned to her and was looking out at the lawns, ignoring her. After saying what he had, he ignored her? She’d caught her breath when he’d first started talking. He’d called her beautiful. Perfect. The twinge had come so swiftly and brutally, it was almost painful. Then he’d kept talking, stealing her breath, making her nose run, and hurting her chest.
She’d never felt the like. It was taking all her will to keep him from guessing how his words had affected her. She’d give anything to keep it her secret.
“Colin?” she whispered to her hands.
“Too late,” he answered.
“You won’t listen?”
“Too late.”
“But you don’t understand! I have to tell you—”
“We leave tomorrow morning,” he interrupted her. “And I shall na’ enjoy having to force you. This conversation is over. You may leave.”
Chapter 9
He didn’t have to force her.
As cowed as she felt, he didn’t even have to send his man Mick to escort her. She’d have gone without him. Elise glanced sidelong at Colin’s man and looked away before he caught her at it.
She was paler than usual, and that made the blue of her eyes look darker. Her reflection had already shown her how spectacular she looked in the fox-trimmed traveling ensemble. Hadn’t she chosen the russet-dyed silk, interwoven with golden threads, for just such an effect?
It wasn’t wasted. Elise had borrowed Lady Beth’s maid, and she had to admit the woman possessed an artist’s touch when it came to hair arrangement. There were no less than four wraps of her pale-blond hair encircling her head, while ringlets fell down her back. The maid had entwined miniature red roses throughout Elise’s tresses. She thought it was a nice touch.
Apparently, it was going to be a beautifully calm morning, so she wouldn’t have to shroud her head with her hood, either. Her toilette had taken up a major portion of the morning. Elise hoped that His Grace was annoyed at the wait, but there wasn’t any sign of him.
Elise made her farewells to the staff and Lord Barrigan’s guests. She was reminded of her promise to Sophie of the daygown amid the other woman’s giggling, and then she was ready. Another of Colin’s footmen assisted her into the carriage. Elise ignored him and occupied herself with arranging her skirts.
“Your reticule, Your Grace.”
She thanked the servant with a stiff smile. Normally, Daisy would have possession of her purse, jewelry, and such. Elise would just have to make do without her maid’s services.
“My thanks for the stay, Lord Barrigan. I shall not forget your hospitality,” she said.
“We’ll not soon forget it, either, Elise, my dear! I vow we’ve not been so entertained in many a season. Remind your new husband of his promise of a berth to me should I ever venture that far North, will you? And tell him of my chagrin. I knew there was a man out there to melt your heart, I just wish it hadn’t been a bloody Scotsman.”
The man’s voice hadn’t lost any stridency. Elise winced before she caught the action. They were all laughing at her. There was more said, but Elise didn’t want to listen, so she didn’t. She pulled back into the coach and dropped the curtain, shutting out the entire thing.
There had been at least a dozen outriders milling about the ducal carriage when she’d been escorted in. Elise hadn’t seen Colin, but that was no guarantee of his absence. She hoped he’d choose to ride outside with his entourage. She wasn’t certain she could maintain her ice goddess facade with as little sleep as she’d received.
That was her fault, too. She sighed, lost in the remembrance.
She could have stayed alone in her new chamber, dressed in what wardrobe was available to her, gone to bed, and slept. That’s what she was supposed to do, but she was finished with doing what she was supposed to do as the Duke of MacGowan’s newest property.
Property. How Elise hated the word! Why, if she hadn’t sent Daisy on a desperate mission to fetch Rory the moment she’d arrived back in the bedchamber yesterday morn, the maid probably wouldn’t be allowed to follow Elise’s orders, either.
Colin hadn’t had one more word to say to her yesterday in the library. Elise had clamped her lips tightly together to keep the shrieks in as she’d left him. He hadn’t even turned around.
He’d force her! She’d repeated it in her thoughts until her head ached worse than any headache powder could cause. He’d force her? Everything that was being done to her was forced! Why should this be any different?
He hadn’t known how she’d raced back up Barrigan’s stairs. He wouldn’t have guessed that she’d dodge around the room where Sophie and Lady Beth were still sipping tea. Why, Colin shouldn’t have known anything his new wife was doing. So how had he known she’d try to flee him last night?
Elise had forced herself to wait until the hall clocks were chiming one-thirty in the morning before sneaking from the room they’d given her, which was directly connected to The MacGowan’s. It hadn’t been an easy wait. She’d paced her room. She’d found her young gentleman’s costume, dressed in it, checked and then rechecked it. She’d pouted and complained about everything and to everyone with whom she came into contact. She had been wrapped in an already hated, large, red, green, and black plaid robe about the whole of it, and when left alone, tossed it all off to recheck her costume.
She’d guessed there would be more staff, due to the prowler story, so she’d avoided the main stairs. This time she’d been much more careful, too. She’d checked the halls first. There wasn’t any large, lurking guards about. Then she’d used the servants’ stairs, clung to the walls, and tiptoed through the entire house. All she’d had to do was get to her own carriage. She hadn’t known until later that Colin had sent it back to Wynd, along with her servants, while he replaced them with his own; but that wasn’t what had made her escape fail.
Barrigan’s house party had continued, unabated, and with more ribaldry than earlier. She hadn’t been allowed to attend, even if she’d wanted to. She wasn’t being allowed to do anything other than what he said. She was as much a prisoner as she’d been the first time she’d wed.
The ignominy of it made her grit her teeth, but Elise wasn’t sitting still for it. She knew how to sneak about. She’d been doing it for years. She was surprised that Colin hadn’t checked her trunks before having them moved. If he had, he would have known there was a young gent’s pants, shirt, hat, and overcoat in one of them. He’d also have known exactly what they were for.
Now, in retrospect, she guessed that he had checked them.
Elise hadn’t even made it to the kitchen, when Colin’s big, hulking mass of a personal servant blocked her path. He hadn’t said anything, he’d simply put up his finger and wagged it back and forth. Elise’s snarl of anger hadn’t done anything except bring a smile to his face.
That she could do without. She hadn’t needed his escort back up the staircase, either
. Elise had heard the distinct sound of a lock when she got back there, too.
Then she’d tried the window, although it was a full two stories above the ground. Two dark-clothed men had looked up as soon as she pulled the casement open. The duke was having her guarded there, too! That was truly too much.
Elise longed to forget the entire episode, but it was lonely in the carriage. She couldn’t stop remembering. Her mind kept replaying it for her, and each time it was more mortifying.
After seeing her guards beneath the window, she’d slammed the window shut and used a string of the basest words she knew in her anger.
“Elise ... my dearest, I’m shocked.”
Elise had pivoted to face him. Colin was leaning on the wall, next to the open door, wearing what could be the same robe he’d been in when declared wed last night, and from the looks of it, not much more.
“I’d nae idea you had a penchant for strolling about in the dead of night. Although, now that I think on it, last night should have educated me, should na’ it?” He’d reached over with an arm and flicked the door closed, belying the weight and unwieldiness of it with the nonchalance of his motion.
“What do you want?” she’d asked.
“No social pleasantries? No warm-sounding, but false, words on my appearance?”
Elise had smiled tightly, although swallowing had been a chore. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I’m quite overwhelmed at your appearance, and in dishabille, too. I’m speechless, I am.” Elise had placed a hand to her throat. Her stomach had actually roiled when she came into contact with the gentleman’s stock she’d tied at her neck.
“I believe you’re the one in costume, and I always dress this way when I’m preparing for my bed. Your answer now, please.”
“You can’t sleep in here.” Her voice had given her away, almost as much as her trembling.
“Why na’? It’s part of my chamber, you’re my wife, and you’re avoiding my unspoken question.”
“I’m not... I can’t... I won’t—” Her voice had just stopped, annoying her, as well as embarrassing her.