Elise

by Jackie Ivie

  “He did?” The maid’s voice was rapturous. “I take everything back about him. He’s a handsome, manly fellow, with a castle of treasures and a heart of gold. If that man wants you, you’re a very lucky woman, I’m thinking.”

  “He doesn’t want me. Not now.”

  “Oh, dear God. Please don’t tell me that they took you by force. I’ll faint. I swear.”

  “They’re Scotsmen, but they’re still gentlemen, Daisy. I’m bruised a bit, but unharmed. Honest.”

  “I’ll just decide the truth of that, myself. Lie flat. I can’t unbutton you properly if you don’t.”

  Elise rolled onto her stomach. It was getting easier to move.

  “You’ve lost three buttons, and four slipped their holes. You’re nearly naked.”

  Elise giggled again but caught it.

  “And look at the state of your hair. I don’t know if I’ve enough oil to smooth this tangle. What am I going to do about that?”

  “Cut it,” Elise replied.

  “What? Cut it? Did you say ... cut it?”

  “Aye,” Elise muttered, turning her head away from the suffocating softness of her pillow. And then she went perfectly still. She’d answered with a Scottish sound on the word, and it hadn’t been forced.

  “The day I cut one inch from this hair is the day I resign as your personal maid. I’ve a reputation at stake. I’ve an ice goddess for a mistress, and there’s none lovelier, nor with such a shade of glorious hair.”

  “I’m not an ice goddess,” Elise replied. “Not anymore.”

  “Buck up, love. You’ve got an entire castle of folk thinking you are. They’ve read all about you. They can’t wait to see you and meet you, and have their photograph taken with you, and a slew of other things.”

  Elise groaned again. She was finished posturing. She didn’t think she had a bone left in her body that was willing to pretend to be anything other than what she was: a young woman in love who’d hurt the man she loved. She only hoped he gave her the time to explain.

  There was a knock on the door. Daisy covered Elise, and then there was too much confusion and talking and movement as men in MacGowan sett brought in a tub, and then left for the buckets to fill it. There was another man bearing a tray with iced rolls, fresh from an oven; another one with a coffee pot; and yet another with a small silver pot that Elise knew contained her oatmeal. She turned her head aside and concentrated on the tight, fine weave of the linen at her cheek.

  The MacGowan crest was on the end of her pillowcase, embroidered with gold thread, just as it always seemed to be. There were red, green, and black threads entwined at the center of the lion’s feet, and flowing out from there to make ribbons of plaid. Colin MacGowan was rich. He was powerful.

  And he was lost to her.

  Elise caught the sob and forced herself to concentrate on tracing the golden lion, then one ribbon of plaid, then the other. The noise behind her settled, then died away.

  “You can shed that blouse now, young lady, and I never again want to see you wearing a chemise that’s the state of that one. Oh my! It’s ripped. And you’re bruised. Oh dear. Everywhere. This is not good. We’d best call a physician to look at you.”

  “I’m fine,” Elise said, moving into a crouch; from there it was an easy maneuver to sit upright. She helped Daisy pull the blouse from her by putting her arms out straight. The maid was right about her chemise. The little ribbon adornment was hanging by a hair of a thread, there was a tear below her right breast, and the satin was stiff with use.

  “Off with that, too.”

  “They’ll be back any moment with water.”

  “Fine, then. Let them. You’ve a privy screen. Go there.”

  “I’d like a cup of coffee first.”

  “I’ll serve it on your commode table. Come along. Stand up. Let me see to the damage. I’ve not got all day.”

  Elise stilled at the edge of the bed, where she sat preparatory to rising. “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because His Grace wants you up and dressed and ready to converse with him at four. Prompt.”

  “Four?”

  “Seems he’s got a magistrate coming. I don’t know what his plans are, but it’s something to do with your wishes, and his granting of them. Whatever that may mean.”

  Elise’s heart stopped, and then decided it really would continue to pump every ache-filled thud into her body. “It... means he’s ridding himself of me.” The sentence stumbled, but not any more than everything in her life was. She was in luck she hadn’t stood yet; she’d have probably fallen.

  “The nerve! I’ll see him flayed with a cat-o’-nine tails—wait a moment. Isn’t that what we want?”

  “No!” Elise should have kept it to herself, as shivers flew through every limb before centering at her breast; then they did it again.

  “We don’t want to be free of him?”

  “No,” Elise whispered.

  “And why not, might I ask?”

  “Because I love him. I love him, and it’s not a wonderful feeling, at all. It’s horrible. I hate it.”

  “Oh. This is very good news. Very good, indeed. I think I’ll just run along and speak with that Mick fellow after we’ve finished. He’s a font of information that I didn’t think pertinent to hear. Now, I think I’d best hear all of it.”

  “Mick?”

  “His Grace’s man. He came for me. Rode a day to get there, and then all night to get back, almost without stopping. I could hardly get my breath. They are definitely a hardy bunch, aren’t they?”

  “What did he say?”

  “Something about how he knew you were hiding something else, and how he’d been afraid of what would happen, and then you went and exceeded his expectations all the way. Something along that line. It wasn’t meant as a compliment. Quite the opposite. That was when I ceased listening.”

  “He was right,” Elise replied, bowing her head and trying her best to keep the sickness that was curdling in her belly at bay.

  “You want that man, Elise?”

  Elise turned her head and regarded the maid, standing next to the privy screen that she should have been behind by now, shedding what was left of her attire. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Then you’d best not waste a moment. I’ve got a goddess to create, and it’s not going to happen with you sitting and wallowing in self-pity. Get in here. Give me that clothing. Get some victuals down your belly, and then get soaking in that tub. I’ll do everything else.”

  “It’s hopeless, Daisy. Absolutely hopeless.” Elise caught the sob on the last word before it became full-out sobbing.

  “Pish! And stop that! No red eyes! No puffy cheeks! No signs of tears. You hear?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’ve got a scene to set, and you’ve got a part to play.”

  “I’m not playing any part, ever again.”

  “I think I like the new you, Elise. Not that I didn’t like the old you. Bother this. Bad choice of words all the way around. I didn’t mean to play a part. I meant seduction. You’ve got a seduction to plan. Full out. Floral scent... better yet, musky floral. Oiled hair, soft as silk skin. Trust me, love, it’s not hopeless.”

  “I can’t seduce His Grace. I don’t know how.”

  “For some reason I don’t think it’s going to take much effort. Now, get on your feet. What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m not playing anymore, Daisy. I promised myself. I’m not acting, and I’m not posturing, and I’m not anything other than what I appear to be.”

  “And what is that, pray tell?”

  “A woman who just lost the man she loves.”

  “Make that another pish! Off with you. Into the water closet. Toss me that skirt! I’ll see it sent to the compost heap, immediate-like. We’ve got work to do.”

  “I’m not going to do this.”

  “You’re going to show him exactly what you are, and you were a bit off the mark, Elise, my dear.” The skirt came over the privy scree
n. “Very good. Now the chemise. Do you have stockings? If so, hand them over. I’ll burn them.”

  “What exactly am 1?”

  “A woman in love. That’s what you are. We’ve just got to make it easier to spot.”

  “What are you talking of now?”

  “Blindness. On both sides.”

  “What?” Elise peeked out the side to ask it.

  “According to His Grace’s man Mick, that man is so in love with you, he’s been beside himself since you two first met. That doesn’t sound hopeless. That sounds like a bad case of blindness.”

  “He said that? Truly?”

  “Coffee?” Daisy asked.

  “With heavy cream, and a roll, and the oatmeal. I’m starving.”

  “Now, you’re talking.”

  “Oh, Daisy, I can’t believe I almost gave up on him. I can’t. We’ve got to hurry. What time is it?”

  “Half-past.”

  “Half-past what?”

  “Twelve.”

  Elise shrieked. “What? I’ve got less than four hours?”

  “You’ve got less than three, love. We’re calling His Grace for three. I’m not waiting for any magistrate man to put this asunder. I expect you to have that Highland man well under control by the time this magistrate arrives. You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

  “What will I need?”

  “We’ll start with—”

  The knock stopped her. Elise listened as water was poured into her tub, with a resultant cheerful greeting from Daisy. If Elise wasn’t mistaken, it was Mick on the receiving end of it. She’d thank him later. She didn’t have time right now. She had less than three hours.

  Chapter 27

  The room they’d given Elise was constructed of stone. It wasn’t mis-fitted rocks, nor was it small, belying Daisy’s words. It was either a very important guest room, or the maid was determining her definitions on Colin’s Castle Gowan. There was a heavy oaken mantel, topping a large fireplace, which held three large logs, all burning. There was a solid-looking, carved, wood rocking chair to one side of the fireplace, with a braided rug at the hearthstone. There were two plump cushion chairs, facing each other, across a round wood table that had a tatted lace doily on top, with a vase of fresh-cut flowers right at the center of it. The firelight reflected off the vase, if she watched it long enough.

  Elise noted it for the eighteenth time and moved to the next section of interest in her continual circuit of the room.

  The privacy divider, screening off the water closet area, was made of more carved wood, although the woodworker hadn’t been a master. It had a large amount of charm, however, and Elise recognized the tall purple wildflowers from the meadow, even if they were uneven and showed marks where the carver’s knife had slipped. Elise looked it over, noticed the wooden dowels connecting the three sections of it, showing it was a movable piece, and then she moved on. The water closet didn’t hold her interest.

  The bed.

  Elise gulped and turned away. It was twelve minutes past three now, and there wasn’t a sign of Colin anywhere in the room. She checked her reflection again in the enormous mirror to the left of her privy closet. She was wearing a simple day-gown of white, tied at the throat with a blue ribbon, matching the forget-me-knots embroidered all about the bodice, sleeves, and hem. Her face was bare of any cosmetics, and her hair was in a simple braid down to her hips. It was still damp but soft to the touch. The dampness couldn’t be helped. They’d barely made the time as it was. Elise turned away. Now it was thirteen minutes past.

  Dugan had a large hammered shield above his mantel, which was silhouetted against a dark green sett. She wondered if it was the Dugan family sett, and then answered it herself. Of course, it would be. No Highland laird displayed other than his own colors.

  Colin knocked, and then entered. Elise spun about to face him, and then found out she couldn’t. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

  “You sent for me?” he asked.

  She glanced up, memorizing the way he’d tightened his jaw; the way he’d pulled back his wavy hair; the wedge shape of his black doublet that looked like it had been sewn onto his frame, as if to draw every feminine glance; the white cascading lace jabot that set off the outdoor tone of his face, as the lace cuffs did for his hands; the red, green, and black plaid kilt, with a sporran worn low at the hip; the black tassels on his socks; black shoes; and the sword he had strapped to his left side, where his hand negligently lay.

  It was imprinted on her eyelids even when she shut them and looked back down to the floor. Colin MacGowan was a stunning man. He was Scotland at her best. He was every woman’s dream.

  He was her dream.

  Elise welcomed the blush that overheated her throat and her cheeks, and even made droplets break out at her scalp line. She didn’t know what was the matter with her!

  “Well? Did you or did you na’ send for me?”

  “I... did.” The words were stammered and unclear. Elise frowned as she heard them. She didn’t know what she was doing.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Why? she wondered, stupidly tongue-tied yet again! Oh, Lord, to have a ready answer!

  The door opened. The stone beneath her slippers swam with unshed tears as she heard it.

  “Mick! Ready the horses! I’ll na’ be long.”

  The door shut again. Elise sniffed. A log shifted.

  “Do you expect to leave me waiting all day?” he asked.

  She gasped. He hadn’t left. Elise quickly blinked the moisture away and looked back up. He hadn’t moved.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said.

  His face settled into the stone look she’d seen so many times.

  “I doona’ wish to hear any more of your secrets. I’ve something for you. Something you’ll need for your appointment.”

  “Appointment?” she asked.

  “With the magistrate. I’ve taken my statement. There’s been no consummation. You can have your annulment.”

  Elise took a deep breath and blurted it out. “What if I told you I didn’t want one?” she asked.

  That surprised him, for exactly the count of three; then his lip curled.

  “Your maid described my castle to you, dinna’ she? All right, how much do you want?”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “My freedom. From you. Right now. Name it.”

  “You think I... want... money?”

  “Aye, and na’ without cause.”

  That hurt. It hurt so much that there was no stopping the flood of tears that went straight from her heart to her eyes, and then slipped down her cheeks. Elise ignored them. “You think I want money?” she repeated.

  He frowned across at her. “I doona’ ken what you want, Elise. You have me so damned confused, I doona’ ken myself anymore. And you can cease crying. I know it for the act it is, remember?”

  She turned her head aside and bit lightly on the piece of cheek she’d sucked in. What she wouldn’t give for a glass of ice water and a handkerchief! She and Daisy had been lax. They hadn’t seen to the most rudimentary of props in this stage setting.

  “What are your plans for Rory?” she asked the floor.

  “Rory?”

  “He’s my nephew, too.”

  “He’s a MacGowan. He’s my heir. I’m having papers drafted.”

  “Your ... heir?” In all her imaginings, she’d never considered that for the babe.

  “I’ll na’ wed again. I believe I’ve had enough of that state.”

  Elise caught the sob with her own willpower. She couldn’t believe she had the strength for it

  “You sent for me, and you say naught. Verra well, I’ll say it. I’ve known you a bit over a fortnight. I still doona’ ken why it was you. Why? Karma has failed me. I spoke of darkness? Na’ knowing the path? Trust me. It’s darker now than ever. It’s filled with sweet lips spouting false words, while composure and beauty hide ugliness and deceit.”

  “Now, wait a mom
ent,” Elise began.

  “Nae, you wait a moment. You asked to see me. Verra well, see me. See what you’ve created. A man who knows what lurks beneath beauty, your beauty. I fell for you the moment I saw you, Elise Wyndham. I fought it. I dinna’ want it, and I wish I’d had more sense.”

  “This is not all my fault!” Elise said.

  “I beg your pardon?” he replied.

  “You heard me perfectly. Every time I tried to tell you of him, you stopped me! You had me gagged; you nearly hit me. You stopped me.”

  “And yet every time you had a chance with none of that, you stayed silent.”

  “I dinna’ trust you!” Elise replied, lapsing into his own brogue.

  “You dinna’ trust me?”

  That had surprised him. She watched him pull back and glare at her. ‘‘Were you a man, there would be a challenge for such words.”

  “Well, I’m not a man! I’m a woman, and I’m your wife, and you’re not going to be able to change any of that! You hear me, Colin MacGowan?”

  Since she was yelling it at him, she shouldn’t have needed to ask it. He wasn’t glaring at her any longer. He was looking over her head at the high windows of her room. He was breathing heavily, and a nerve was bulging out the side of his jaw.

  “There’s something you need to learn afore you get much older, Elise. You’ve got to learn that you can’t toy with some things. Things like hearts. You can’t play with a man’s emotions and expect to come out unscathed, and them unchanged. That’s what happens. Things change. Feelings mute. Given enough time and pain, everything does.”

  “But I tried to tell you about Rory, and of Evan and Evangeline. So many times I tried to tell you.”

  “Why dinna’ you, then?”

  “I... was afraid.”

  The tears had stopped. She just wished her heart had stopped with them. The look of disgust was back on his face when he lowered it to look at her.

  “I’ve seen you act, Elise. It’s very convincing. Still. Verra.”

  “I’m not acting!”

  “It was most convincing in Barrigan’s chambers, when you claimed me for all to hear and see. I almost believed you. Pray doona’ test my patience more. I wish to be at Castle Gowan tomorrow eve.”