She shuddered at the unusual sound of thunder during a snowstorm. Was it an omen of things to come? When she looked back at the rise of the hill, Lucius was no longer there.
"Elizabeth!" Her father's voice was harsh beside her. "Lord Carrick is arrived. You must go to him."
Elizabeth looked up at her father in wild protest. "Tonight? In this storm?" The land was cloaked in shadow. The wind tore at her hair and flattened her shawl against her chest.
"Aye. Tonight. My debts have already been paid by the former Earl of Carrick, which makes you the new earl's possession now."
"But we've not yet been wed."
"A mere formality. The terms are already arranged and executed. The longer you put this off, the harder it will be. And we cannot risk the new earl pulling out of the agreement."
"Can it not wait until morning at least? He just arrived. Perhaps he wishes time with his sisters."
Her father shook his head. " 'Tis done. Let it be over with. Off you go."
"Will you not go with me?"
He shook his head. "You are best rid of me as I am of you."
His words brought tears to her eyes that were quickly slapped away by the wind. She should have been used to the bite of his tongue and his neglect. The only time he was ever pleasant to her was when he was in his cups, or gaming, and he was neither of those things now.
Elizabeth drew herself up. Her father's debts had been paid. His life was renewed. For her, the payment of that debt had only just begun. Her father's mind was made up. "I shall go, if that's what you desire." Her voice was uneven and she had to steady it before she continued. "Might I at least take the wagon?"
He nodded. "If you're quick about it. I want Farnsworth to return with the horses before the snow gets any deeper."
Elizabeth nodded numbly as she moved back toward the structure that was her home no longer.
It took Elizabeth's father's only remaining servant, his steward, a short while to pack her clothing into her trunk and strap it to the wagon. With a final nod, her father sent her out into the darkness to travel the short distance to Midwick Manor.
If only I could put this off until tomorrow. Or forever. Elizabeth drew a ragged breath and willed her heart to slow as the wagon pulled to a stop in the drive of Midwick Manor. A single stable boy came out to assist her. The young boy and her father's steward settled her trunk near the door. With a bow, Farnsworth returned to the wagon and set the horses in motion, leaving her standing beside the stable boy.
Elizabeth held her tears in check. It would not help her to spill them now. Her father cared nothing for her. His delivery of her unto her bridegroom was proof of that. She suspected that by the end of the week, instead of attending her wedding, he would be on his way to Edinburgh and the nearest gaming house to spend what little remained of her wedding price.
Drawing in a breath, Elizabeth steadied herself. Her father and Huntingdon Hall were her past. The doorway leading inside Midwick Manor was her future, and she would make the best of the situation. She was away from her father's gaming, and his foolishness. She should find relief in that fact and make the very best of the situation at hand.
She had to succeed here. Lucius had to marry her. If he did not… She forced the thought away. There was no going back for her.
"Are ye ready tae go inside?" the stable boy asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"Oh aye, forgive me. I was just taking a moment to gather myself." Elizabeth ran a hand through the wild tangle that was her hair. Her fingers tugged against the knots the wind had created. She hadn't even had time to prepare herself. Her father had been in such a hurry to get her away from Huntingdon Hall. She frowned into the darkness. Her old gown, tangled curls. What a beguiling bride she made. Assuming Lucius…Lord Carrick…would have her.
She straightened. He would accept her. He had to. She'd been waiting her whole life to have the kind of home she'd always wanted. Mustering her resolve, Elizabeth nodded to the young man beside her. He opened the door, then waved her inside.
"Wait here, milady. I'll get Marie for ye."
Elizabeth waited in silence for several long moments before a portly woman with silver-brown hair and rosy cheeks hustled toward her from the back of the house. "Oh goodness," the woman said, her kind eyes growing wide. " 'Tis you!"
"I do apologize for this inconvenience. My father felt it urgent I come to you this evening." Elizabeth gripped the handle on her trunk. She lifted the edge, then dragged it farther inside.
"The master is home, he is. Though I'm nae certain this was the wisest way tae—"
"I'll take care of this, Marie."
The familiar male voice was hard and cool. A shiver went down Elizabeth's spine. The trunk slipped from her hand and hit the stone floor with a thud that echoed in the deathly stillness of the hallway.
Marie bowed, then with a last look of concern fled the scene.
Elizabeth dropped her gaze to the floor, to the black boots not two feet from her. She'd known this moment would come. She'd dreaded seeing Lucius again after they'd parted on such bad terms. She'd rehearsed in her mind so many ways she should respond to him: with cool aloofness in one scenario, with meekness in another. Neither of those practiced responses came to her now.
He was dressed in a dark tunic and breeches that were slightly rumpled, as though he too had not had time to refresh himself since his arrival home. It took everything she had to look him in the face.
"Are you so eager to marry the lord of this manor that you had to come tonight?" His words were harsh.
Looking at him now, at the barely concealed anger that flashed in his eyes, she knew that time had not dulled the way in which they'd parted five years earlier. "My father insisted."
"Well, at least you've learned how to obey in the years we've been apart." He glared at her.
"Don't you dare look at me that way. I'm not entirely at fault for how we parted." Elizabeth started pacing as her fear vanished. "Or for the situation we find ourselves in now. You could have…"
His hand gently clasped her wrist, stalling her movements. "I could have what?" His tone was soft.
Heat rose to her cheeks. The tension between them became palpable. You could have fought for me. She met his gaze directly. "It's in the past." She was spared from explaining further when a ruckus erupted from the ladies' parlor. Squeals of delight and laughter mixed with the scamper of feet. Lucius's fingers vanished from her wrist. A moment later she found herself enveloped in the arms of his five sisters.
"You're here!" Heather cried, breaking out of her usual shyness. "Let me take your cloak." The young woman had the garment off her shoulders before Elizabeth could even agree.
"You're just in time for supper." Camellia smiled. "Please, sit by me, Miss Huntingdon. Tell me everything you know of…well, anyone! We've had so few visitors in the past months."
Rose squeezed Elizabeth's arm affectionately. "Having both you and our brother here will make everything better for all of us." At Elizabeth's doubtful look, she added, "I know it to be the truth. You'll see."
Elizabeth could only nod in reply. Why were they all being so nice to her? She'd been so worried that they would feel threatened or even resentful of her coming to take over the manor when the older girls were coming of age to do so themselves. She drew a sharp breath as she studied Rose's face. There was no animosity there, only relief.
The youngest girl, Lily, put her hand in Elizabeth's and offered her an innocent smile. "Our new sister has arrived, just as we requested," she said, her tone filled with awe.
Instead of the harsh response Elizabeth had expected, Lucius smiled.
He ruffled Lily's curly hair. "And here I thought you all as guileless as lambs. Instead you're plotting to snare me."
In the presence of his sisters, Lucius had transformed back into the man she remembered from her youth. He was alive again. All coolness had vanished. Or so she thought, until in the next heartbeat he turned to her. "We are not done with this conversation. Join us for
supper, but after that you and I shall talk in private. Agreed?"
She nodded. It wasn't important that he love her, only that she be allowed to remain. "I'll not go home."
"We'll see about that," he said, then surprised her by offering his arm. After a slight hesitation, she placed her fingers on his forearm. She was suddenly conscious of the solid warmth of his body, the narrowed intensity of his eyes as he studied her. His anger vanished, replaced by a momentary smile.
Her breath stilled. She remembered that smile, the one that had warmed her clear to her toes and had made her reckless. Elizabeth flexed, then relaxed, her fingers on his arm, praying the sizzling sensation he'd sparked in her would dissipate. It didn't. But the knowledge of her continued attraction to the man steadied her resolve as she allowed him to lead her to the hall. She had no choice but to marry him. She'd already been sold to the Earl of Carrick to pay for her father's mistakes. She had no choice but to give this man her body as was his right by marriage, but her mind, her will, and most definitely her heart were her own.
All through the meal Lucius had been conscious of a change in Elizabeth. Something within her had shifted, taken on strength over the years they'd been separated. It bothered him, though he wasn't sure why.
Her delicate features had become more pronounced over the last five years. As a young girl she'd been attractive, with her wide brown eyes dominating her face. Now, she was a true Scottish beauty. The evening's candlelight revealed a heart-shaped face with a delicate jaw. Her lips were full and darkly sensual. Her tawny hair was a riot that looked as though it refused to be tamed. For a heartbeat he was glad to be free of his Templar oath of chastity.
Lucius frowned at the thought. Elizabeth might be beautiful, but she was not for him. He set his goblet on the table and rose to his feet. "Miss Huntingdon, Elizabeth, we must talk."
Elizabeth nodded as she stood, then bade his sisters good night. She drifted toward him, her posture rigid, her chin held high. A pillar of strength in a delicate package. He led her through the hall and into the solar. At the doorway he stopped. This room had always been his father's private chamber. The furnishings were just as they'd been when Lucius had left. For a moment he forgot all about Elizabeth and drifted into the room.
His father's desk. His fingers traced the polished surface. Behind the desk stood a shelf filled with the estate's accounts. To the left of the desk leaned a cane. His father's favorite. Lucius clamped his jaw against a rising tide of unwanted emotions. The man was gone. As was his brother. The estate and the welfare of his sisters were in his hands now.
He twisted back to Elizabeth. "Sit," he commanded, and directed her to the elaborately carved wooden bench near the shuttered window. He stood before her, towering over her. "I have no wish to marry you," he said bluntly. "As I am sure you have no wish to marry me."
She studied her hands, folded neatly in her lap. "In that you are wrong, my lord. My father and your brother have determined our fate. There is no going back."
"God's teeth!" Lucius erupted. "You'll cry off this betrothal at once."
Her gaze shot to his face. "It is impossible."
"Why? You don't care about me. 'Tis Marcus you loved." She paled ever so slightly, no doubt at the mention of her lost lover.
"You know little of my heart." She shifted her gaze to a point over his shoulder. "If the marriage does not occur, my father will be ruined."
He frowned. "How can that be?"
Again her gaze met his, and this time he saw something that hadn't been there before: fear. "Your family paid my father's debts. There is no possible way for us to pay you back. And no other future for me."
He turned away from her and walked behind his father's desk. His desk now, he amended. "Keep the money. I don't need it."
"That cannot be done."
" 'Tis a business arrangement. We shall make another one where you cry off and I make a gift of the funds to your family."
"If this marriage does not go through, I'll be destitute," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He hardened his heart to the sweet sound of her voice, which made his every nerve stand on end. "I don't care what becomes of you, just as you did not care about my feelings that day in the garden when I caught you and Marcus together."
"You saw what you wanted to see. Marcus surprised me. I did not return his kiss." She clutched her hands together, yet he noted how her fingers trembled regardless.
"You appeared to be enjoying yourself."
She remained silent.
"I would have stayed away from here forever."
She brought her gaze to his. "Then why did you come back?"
"Because I care what happens to my sisters."
"So do I." She straightened, and all her nervousness vanished. "You might think I have nothing to offer you in this marriage, but I do. I have many connections with the local clans. I can use those connections to help your sisters make agreeable matches. Without such guidance, they will likely end up in miserable situations or not married at all, and become old maids. Is that what you want for them?"
Cold, dark fury ate away at him as he glared at the woman who had fallen for his brother instead of him.
Despite his angry assault, her features softened. "No one asked you if you wanted this, Lucius, I understand that. No one asked me either. Marcus and my father swore to honor the pact. Not us."
He released a harsh breath. "So what are we to do? How do we undo what others have done?"
"We honor the betrothal."
"That is not acceptable."
"You've just arrived home. Will you not think on this for even one night? Please, Lucius, I beg of you."
"Is that why you came tonight instead of tomorrow? To force me into this decision all the sooner?"
Elizabeth paled. "I came because my father made me. As I am of no further use to him, he wanted me gone."
Lucius frowned. Obviously much had changed between Elizabeth and her father since her mother had died six years ago. "Very well," he said. "We will leave things as they are for tonight. But in the next four days I shall make you see all the reasons this marriage should not go through." He turned away, thinking he had the last words.
"And I have four days to make you see it should."
Chapter Three
The blackguard has come home. Horatio Carr thrummed his fingers against the stout table in the common room of the Beardsman Inn, where he'd been forced to lodge. He should have been in the master's chamber at Midwick Manor instead of at this lowly inn on the outskirts of Newcastleton.
Why hadn't the French eliminated Lucius as they had his brother Peter? Better the French take the young heir than that the killing fall to him. But now he'd be forced into the deed if he wanted what should have rightfully been his: Midwick Manor and the earldom.
All around him the din of many conversations added a sense of confusion. He pressed his fingers against his temples in an attempt to gather his thoughts. He needed a plan.
Horatio frowned down into the empty mug that had only a short while ago been filled with ale. How could he force the boy back toward the Templars? If his nephew renounced the title, everything would fall into place. Then Horatio could begin his future as the Earl of Carrick. At the thought, his chest warmed. It had been so long since he had the kind of respect he deserved. How could being born a mere two minutes behind his brother separate the heir from the spare? Damn the system that had denied him his due.
Horatio increased the pressure of his fingers against his forehead. He'd already stolen away most of the staff in hopes the estate would cease to function. He hadn't expected the servants who'd remained to increase their efforts tenfold to keep that from happening. Though the estate was not thriving, it limped along. He could afford to cripple the estate during the winter season. But he would have to succeed by the growing season, or the failure of the estate would become his problem.
Time was of the essence here.
And in order to succeed, h
e needed another tactic, something far more devastating, something that would cut the young pup to the quick. Then an idea formed. The perfect solution to Horatio's problem. He knew Lucius's weakness. It was the reason he'd returned home.
His sisters.
Horatio closed his eyes, trying to block out the laughter of the woman sitting behind him and the shouts of the two men near the fire who wrestled each other like they were playing out of doors. The thump of a body against a wooden table made him startle.
He stood and backed into the shadows of the chamber as other men joined the fray. Horatio watched the ruckus, and as he did, his plan took on dimension. He needed at least two of these thugs as part of his plan.
The girls were the key. Lucius would return to the Templars or die. Horatio cared not which.
He pressed himself against the rough stone wall in the shadows. His cheeks heated, his fists curled and uncurled as hatred seethed green and evil within him. He would use the girls to get everything he wanted. Everything.
Lucius stretched in the chair he'd slept in by the hearth in the great hall, trying to work the kinks out of his neck. He'd slept in worse conditions, but never in his own home. He had a perfectly good bed waiting for him upstairs, yet he hadn't been able to bring himself to sleep in it or the chamber that had belonged to his father, and to Marcus after that. There were too many memories lingering abovestairs, memories he wasn't prepared to confront just yet.
Lucius stood and stretched again and noted the light seeping through the shutters was brighter than normal. He crossed the chamber and threw the shutters open. A blast of cold air greeted him, as did the sight of the estate blanketed in snow that had fallen during the night.
"Did you sleep well, my lord?"
At the sound of Elizabeth's soft voice, he tensed. "You used to call me Lucius."
"With your permission, I would be delighted to do so once more."
He closed the shutters. "You don't need my permission." A frown tugged at his mouth as he turned to face her. She was dressed in a dark woolen dress and a cloak, and held a second cloak draped over her arm. "You are leaving."
Border Lord's Bride Page 2