Elise

by Jackie Ivie

  She and Colin had been given adjoining state bedrooms on the second floor. It was quite an honor. Elise prepared herself as quickly as possible, for the Quorns had assembled a small soiree for the evening on behalf of their guests.

  Elise had been grateful Colin had kept to his own room. She needed the privacy. Although the Marquise had donated the services of a maid to her, it had still been after eleven when Elise descended the steps, clad in the next-to last evening gown she’d had with her.

  Colin’s attire couldn’t be faulted. It was difficult to believe he had this type of wardrobe available to him from the one trunk she’d seen. He’d exchanged his brown traveling suit for black pants and a matching jacket. The cummerbund about his waist was of a distinctive red and green plaid on a background of black. Elise remembered it from Colin’s dressing gown. She wondered if that was the only color of plaid he had with him.

  He should have looked outlandish amongst the local gentry, but he didn’t. He looked just like a Scottish laird in English attire would.

  Now, accompanying Colin into the conservatory, she wondered about that. What would those clansmen and women of his think of such a wardrobe on their laird, if they’d fault her the jewels she wore?

  Storth Hall actually had more than a conservatory. Quorn had been remarking on it at dinner. He was trying for a topiary garden, where one shaped the trees and shrubs as they grew. She could see what he meant the moment they entered. Glass walls about the room let in the moonlight, so the little globes of light dotted about the walls weren’t really necessary.

  Elise held her breath. She’d gone straight from the luxury of an English manor to what was, in essence, a rain forest. Beside her, she felt Colin’s surprise, too.

  “The Marquis has every right to be proud of this.”

  “It quite takes the breath away, doesn’t it?” she replied.

  “That and more. It looks like the perfect spot for a kiss. I doona’ suppose you’d oblige, would you?”

  “You’d best be joshing with me, Colin.”

  He sighed beside her. If she could have seen well enough, she’d have sworn he looked heavenward for a moment before returning to look at her.

  “Give me your hand.”

  “Why?”

  “So I doona’ lose you, why else?”

  “It’s not that dark.”

  “You are na’ still afraid of me, are you? I thought we’d settled that this afternoon.”

  The soft Scottish burr he spoke with tightened her throat. Elise shook her head and changed the subject.

  “I’ve noticed that you wear the same plaid every time, Colin. Isn’t there another color scheme you’d wear?”

  “Of course na’. These are my family colors. All my clansmen wear the same. I happen to like it. The pattern goes back so many centuries, I’ve lost count. My Aunt Lileth can enlighten you, though. As the Matriarch of Clan MacGowan, she weaves the ceremonial sett after checking the placement on the castle’s muckle wheel.”

  “Are you talking in a foreign tongue, Colin? I didn’t follow any of that.”

  “Another of your non-talents? They seem to be multiplying.”

  “Fine, don’t tell me.”

  “Every clansman is recognized by the plaid he wears. This is the MacGowan sett. Every MacGowan clansman wears these same colors. I’m required to do so. It’s tradition. I’m the laird. As such, my clan owes me their fealty; in return, I owe them my protection.”

  “I know what a clansman is,” she said, trying not to sound defensive.

  “My apologies. What dinna’ you understand, then?”

  “The muckle-thing. What is that?”

  “A muckle wheel is used for holding the spun wool before it’s woven into the plaid. Always the same. Same width of bands. Same positioning of colors. The pattern of any plaid is called a sett. The privilege of weaving ceremonial setts goes to the matriarch of the family. Aunt Lileth is the matriarch, since she’s my father’s only surviving sister.”

  Elise was beginning to understand Evangeline’s situation even more. With such old-fashioned customs, no wonder she’d been beneath consideration to wed into their clan.

  “Is everything so ... rigid, then?” she asked.

  “Aye, you’ll probably have to don the colors, too, Elise. On ceremonial occasions, anyway.”

  “Black has never been a good color for me. It’s quite theatrical with my coloring.”

  “Does na’ matter. It will be expected.”

  She sighed. “How many of them are there, then?”

  “Ceremonies? Three, four a week. Sometimes more.”

  “What?” Her voice rose with the word.

  “I’m teasing with you, Elise. You may wear whatever you like, whenever you like. I’d prefer it that way, actually. I would na’ change anything about you.”

  She had to turn aside so he wouldn’t see any part of her face. They’d been strolling about a huge statue of some mythological god in the middle of Lord Quorn’s indoor garden. There were some Grecian-inspired benches along the wall, too. She wasn’t surprised to be led to one. She was actually grateful. Her knees felt quite weak and shaky at what he’d said.

  Colin sat beside her and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. He wasn’t touching her, but it felt as though he was. He clasped his fingers together, and then he sighed.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Quorn has designed a masterpiece. I’m quite envious. Na’ that I can na’ build my own at Castle Gowan, you understand. It will take time, though, and I have na’ much of that. I have na’ even gotten you to agree to the six weeks, yet.”

  It felt like her heart was the lump that lodged in the base of her throat. She had to clear her throat in order to speak. “Yes, it is lovely, isn’t it?”

  “It’s beautiful, peaceful, and romantic, Elise. If I look at it just right, those trees there resemble a garden in Darjeeling. I used to go there when I was na’ on duty. If the moon was full, anyway.”

  “Darjeeling?”

  “It’s a city in India. Sorry, I was rambling.”

  “No, please, tell me more.”

  “Why?”

  “Something to do. I don’t know.”

  “I’ve got better things in mind if that’s your worry.”

  “No. Wait.”

  Her words stopped. He was turning toward her. She knew he was putting an arm along the bench behind her at the same time. She was trying to concentrate on how to divert him. Then his knee touched hers. Elise knew then that her gown wasn’t made of thick enough material. It couldn’t be, or she’d not feel the warmth spreading up her leg.

  “Colin.” She was supposed to be strongly protesting, not whispering the name with a voice she didn’t recognize.

  “Did you wear lip rouge tonight?”

  “I can’t—”

  His arm pulled her to his chest, and the rest of her sentence failed her. She didn’t know how the ruffled front of his shirt would feel against the skin above her bodice; nor did she guess how heated the hand he raised her chin with would be. He didn’t give her any time to assimilate any of it, either.

  Colin murmured some strange words against her mouth. Elise started shivering. She couldn’t understand a bit of it, but she didn’t need to. The gentle tone of them touched her heart and started a stab of tears to her eyes.

  Her hands had stabilized her against him; her fingers gripped to the plaid wool of his belt. She could feel the ridges of muscle in his stomach flinching against her knuckles. Then his lips took hers.

  Her mind stopped. Elise moaned, but it was covered up by the sound of his. Fast-moving waves crashed into her stomach, and then flooded right from there to her breasts. She couldn’t stop them as he moved his lips against hers. She could hardly believe they existed.

  More of his soft-sounding words were mumbled against her cheek as he moved his kiss to her throat. She tipped her head up to let him. She’d never felt such trickles of emotion as the ones that took th
e place of the wave, sensitizing her breasts and belly. It was incredible.

  And it was wrong.

  “Stop, Colin. We must... we can’t—Colin, stop, please.”

  Elise moved her hands from his cummerbund and pushed at both humps of his chest. It was against every instinct she had. She longed more to hold to him and never let go.

  He lifted his head and looked somewhere above her. Elise’s eyes widened at the heaving of the chest in front of her. It took an act of will to remove her hands from it. She watched him through a gloss of tears. She was afraid to blink.

  He was still looking above her head, but his arm loosened. Elise had to will herself to move from him. She stood on legs that resembled sticks of wood and met his eyes. What emotion she was holding in check stalled as drops of moonlight touched the moisture on the surface of his eyes. Elise licked her lips with a dry tongue. His jaw was set, his lids were narrowed, and he didn’t look at all gentle.

  “Do you treat all of your lovers to this torment?”

  She made some sound he could take for whatever he wished and turned her back to him. “You don’t understand,” she whispered to the statue.

  “Try me.”

  He was right behind her. She could see his shadow on the tiled floor beneath her; it began climbing the base of the statue. The hairs at the nape of her neck were telling her, too.

  “I don’t want to love you, Colin.”

  “Is it that you doona’ want to love anyone? Or just me?”

  Elise pushed her fingers into her mouth to still the cry. Colin came from around her, and she didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching her. Elise willed herself to tell him the secret. It was the perfect time, but the words wouldn’t come. She knew why. She may not want to love him, but it was too late.

  “You’re na’ going to answer that, are you?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Are you still so scarred by Wynd?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Then what is it? You confuse the hell out of me. I’m fairly certain I doona’ like it, either.”

  “I’m . . . sorry.”

  “Your body begs for my touch, your eyes plead with me for it…your lips definitely answer mine. Yet, when you have all that, you push me away. Why?”

  It was no use. The tears slid from her eyes and she bit on her fingers to still the sob. She couldn’t tell him, yet. She didn’t wish to see him turn from her, like Evan had her very own sister, and his unborn son. She didn’t think she could bear it. Then she knew the truth: She knew she couldn’t bear it.

  Stupid girl! She called it silently to herself. She was no more suitable to be the wife of a MacGowan than her sister, Evangeline, had been. The worst part was, she’d known it beforehand.

  “Here. Doona’ cry, Elise. I think I’ve made you do that enough for one day.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “As you already said that, and in a convincing enough tone, I have nae choice but to believe it. Here.”

  He was handing her his handkerchief again. Elise pulled one hand from her mouth and took it.

  “I’ll have to stock more at the rate you’re starting to go through them.”

  “I’m sorry for that, too.” She mopped at her face as she spoke, and then sniffed. She hadn’t resorted to any cosmetics. With the amount of emotion Colin was raising in her lately, it was a very good thing, too.

  “Doona’ be. I’ve an army of seamstresses to sew more, if need be.”

  “It’s a good thing, too. I’ve not much talent with a needle.”

  “So I noticed,” he said wryly. “You’re very talented at some things, though, I must admit.”

  “What things?”

  “Human conditions. Hardly worth mentioning.”

  “Human ... conditions?”

  “Lust. Desire. Want. Need. Heat. Those kinds of things.”

  Each word made her eyes widen further, and the sob caught in her throat. He sighed heavily.

  “Come along, Elise. The night is na’ getting any longer, and we’ve a full day ahead of us. Quorn has promised me a grouse hunt on the morrow. If we’ve any luck, we’ll feast on them for supper. He’s also scheduled a ball in our honor. Surprisingly generous of him, considering how much he dislikes us.”

  “A ball? I can’t attend one.”

  “Why na’? I’ll bet if you were in town, you’d be attending several.”

  “I don’t have enough wardrobe for a ball.”

  “Spoken like a true woman. Na’ to worry. I’ve seen to it already.”

  “I’ve more luggage arriving? Perhaps my maid . . . uh, Daisy, has arrived?” Elise tried not to stumble over the name but failed.

  “Na’ to my knowledge. I’ve simply arranged for a gown for you. It should be ready afore you are.”

  “You—?”

  “Got you a gown? Yes.”

  “Of all the nerve! You don’t know my tastes, you don’t know my accessories, and you don’t know my measurements.”

  “Oh, please, Elise. I’ve seen almost all of you and envisioned the rest. I know the width of your waist is less than my hands can encircle, and you’ve got softness and womanliness right where you’re supposed to. Blast! Stop me before I turn into a maudlin pup, like that poet fellow.”

  “I thought I didn’t have enough meat for your taste.”

  “First impression. Taken out of context.”

  “I was there. I heard you.”

  He groaned. “I got into this conversation because you asked of your new gown, and here it is turned on me. Do you wish to know or na’?”

  “Very well, finish.”

  “What I meant was, it was na’ difficult to get it sized. It was harder to find the talent to get it sewn as I designed it.”

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  “Why not tell me now?”

  “It will give you something to dream about.”

  She didn’t need any ideas on what to dream about. That much was certain. Ever since she’d met him, she’d thought of little else.

  “Come, I think it’s time I escorted you to your chamber.”

  He held out his arm, and she tucked her hand into the crook he’d made. He matched his steps to hers, although she was taking two to his every one.

  “Will you do me a favor before you retire, Elise?”

  A frond was shading his face when she glanced up at him. She should have known that what light there was would fall on her. He licked his lips as she nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

  “Lock the connecting door between us. And take the key.”

  Chapter 15

  “You look very nice, Your Grace.” Jane, the maid who Elise had borrowed for the evening, smiled and bobbed her head while she gave her opinion.

  Very nice? Elise wondered. Jane needed a larger vocabulary if that was the best she could do. Elise thought she looked ethereal, innocent, and very fragile. She wondered where Colin could have found such material. She was also questioning why he had gone to such lengths to make her look akin to a vision come to life. No other phrase fit. She didn’t have anything else to compare herself with.

  The state bedroom mirrors were large, but they weren’t showing her enough. She stood between two mirrors and held a smaller one in her hand; she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She knew now that, despite the expenditure in the past, she hadn’t come close to showing herself to full advantage.

  It was surprising that Colin had known how.

  Elise wasn’t a tall woman; she barely grazed Colin’s shoulder when standing beside him. Yet, with what the hairdresser had done, her neck had never looked longer, and she had never looked so regal.

  It had come at a cost, though, and she rubbed her neck with the instant memory. She’d spent the better part of the day sitting patiently while the hairdresser woman sent up from the village worked magic.

  Daisy never would have been abl
e to accomplish it. Elise’s hair had been pulled back to the crown of her head and crimped into such a mass of curls, it looked like a veil down her back. It was totally against the fashion mode. She wondered if Colin had ordered such an effect. She didn’t look sophisticated or grand, or anything like the Dowager Duchess of Wynd; instead, she looked excruciatingly young.

  Colin also had sent several strands of tiny diamonds, six in all, and it had taken over an hour just to entwine and pin them into place throughout the curls. The effect had taken her breath away, but that was before she saw her gown.

  She couldn’t imagine where Colin had found such material. Elise was familiar with real silk from the Orient, and had worn it before; but this silk was different. It was softer and less wrinkled. The only stiff sections of it were where the artist had woven star-shaped motifs into it. Elise had never thought of the people who wove cloth as artisans. She’d never thought of them at all.

  She looked so different, and so amazing, that she was afraid to leave the chamber. Her dress was stark in design, barely claiming a bustle at the small of her back. Colin hadn’t been perfect with the size, but he’d been close. It had only taken a bit of sewing to fit it exactly to her. She felt nearly naked, though. The only difference was that it looked like liquid silver skimmed her without the slightest offsetting color to distract it.

  “They’ll be expecting you by now, Your Grace.”

  Elise put the hand mirror down and smiled uncertainly. It was going to be impossible to miss her. She looked like she was encased in a streak of moonlight, and whichever way she turned, she sparkled. If there was such a creature as an ice goddess, she certainly looked the part.

  “The duke has asked me to see that you attend him in one of the salons when you’ve finished.”

  “Can we get there ... unseen?”

  “We can take the back stairs, but it’s not proper.”

  “Forget propriety, just get me to the duke. I can’t face anyone looking like this. It’s too strange.”

  “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but you don’t look a bit strange. You look very nice, very nice, indeed.”

  Jane really did need more descriptive words. She was one of Quorn’s maids, a little slow, but efficient enough. She also helped Elise reach the salon down the servants’ stairs, something an older, more experienced maid never would have allowed. Once there, Elise had to take several calming breaths before letting the girl open the door for her.