Cautiously, Elspeth opened her eyes just enough to see her visitor through the veil of her still damp lashes. He was a beautiful man. His long, leanly muscular body was bent over her in a strangely protective way. His face was cut in clean lines and unmarred. A high, wide forehead, high-boned cheeks, a long, straight nose, a handsomely firm jaw, and a well-shaped mouth made for a face that easily took a maid’s breath away. His creamy skin was almost too pale and fine for a man, although many a woman would envy it, and the healthy warmth of it begged for a touch. It was the perfect complement to his deep auburn hair. His eyes, however, were what truly caught and held her attention. Set beneath neatly arched brows and ringed with long, thick lashes, they were the rich blue of clean, deep water—a color she had seen but once before in her life. They were eyes that had filled many a maidenly dream and some that were very far from maidenly.
“Cormac,” she whispered, smiling faintly at the way his beautiful eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“Ye remember me?” he asked softly, a little shaken by the warm look in her rich green eyes and the soft, enticing smile of greeting she gifted him with.
“Ah, ye dinnae remember me. Ye are but tiptoeing through the bedchambers of Duncallie to see if any hold something ye like. I am devastated.”
Cormac straightened up and put his hands on his hips. Her drawled taunt had quickly yanked him free of his bemusement better than a sharp slap to the face. She was even more beautiful close to, and for just a moment, as he had stared into her wide, slumberous eyes, he had been seized by the overwhelming urge to crawl onto that bed with her. The way she had whispered his name in her rich, sensuous voice had reached deep inside of him, dragging his tightly controlled lusts to fierce, immediate life. The feeling still lingered, but now he struggled to cool his heated blood.
“Aye, I recall you,” he said. “Ye are a wee bit bigger and sharper of tongue, but ye are certainly Elspeth—my tiny, begrimed savior from years past.”
Slowly, Elspeth sat up, then knelt on the bed facing him. Some of those not so maidenly dreams she had had about him were crowding her mind, and she fought to push them aside. He had come to rescue her. Elspeth inwardly smiled as she mused that it was a poor time to tell a man that she had loved and lusted after him for ten long years. For all she knew, he was a wedded man with a bairn or two to bounce on his knee. Finding that thought painful, she forced her mind to settle on the matter of rescue.
“And have ye come to be my savior now?” she asked.
“Aye.”
Elspeth smiled and abruptly decided to make at least one small dream into a true memory. Cormac could easily think her next action was simply an impulsive expression of relief and gratitude—or be made to think so. She leaned closer and kissed him. His lips were as soft and as delicious as she had always imagined they would be. If he was wed, this stolen kiss would be but a small trespass.
And then it happened. Her mother had warned her. Elspeth wished she had listened more closely, but she had been too young to be comfortable hearing such words as desire and passion upon her mother’s lips.
He trembled faintly and so did she, but she was not really sure where his shiver ended and hers began. His body tightened and she felt a responsive ache low in her belly. She felt his heat, could almost smell his desire. Cormac gripped her by the shoulders and deepened the kiss. Elspeth readily opened her mouth to welcome the invasion of his tongue. As he caressed the inside of her mouth, she felt as if he stroked her very soul. She wanted to pull him down onto the bed with her, ached to wrap herself around his lean body. Even as that thought passed through her passion-clouded mind, she felt Cormac dredge up some inner strength and start to pull away from her. Elspeth fought the urge to cling to him, to halt his retreat.
Cormac stared at the young woman kneeling in front of him. He fought the urge to vigorously shake his head in an attempt to clear the haze from his mind. It was not easy to cool the fire in his blood as he looked into her wide green eyes, for he was sure he saw passion there. He had to sternly remind himself that Elspeth was a highborn woman—one he owed his life to—and he was not free. He had come to rescue her, not to ravish her.
“Why?” he asked, then hastily cleared his throat to try to banish the huskiness from his voice.
“Why not?” she asked back. “Are ye wed?”
“Nay, but—”
Elspeth did not want to hear the rest, not when her heart still pounded fiercely and she could still taste him. “A rash act, born of my delight to see ye alive and here. I ken that my kinsmen will soon hunt for me, but ’twould be help that would come too late.”
“And if we do not move quickly, my aid could also prove worthless.”
“Ye have a plan, do ye, my braw knight?” She took careful note of the fact that he had not yet released her, but was moving his strong, long-fingered hands over her upper arms in an idle but telling caress.
“I do. ’Tis why it took me near to an hour to come and fetch you,” he replied.
“An hour?” Elspeth muttered, unable to hide her surprise.
“I had to tend to a few matters that will ease our escape ere I could come here.”
“I meant no criticism, Sir Cormac. ’Twas just a wee bit disappointing to me to realize I had spent so long wallowing in my misery. I hadnae thought myself such a weakling.” She frowned when he chuckled. “Ye find my despair amusing?”
“Nay, lass, merely the indication that ye might e’er consider yourself weak.” He took her by the hand and tugged her off the bed. “Ye have ne’er been weak. Nay, not e’en as a wee, muck-smeared bairn of nine.”
Elspeth flushed a little with pleasure over his remarks even though they were spoken in a jesting tone. “What is your plan?”
“Ye are to wrap yourself in this cloak and we will walk out of here.” He handed her a long, heavy woolen cloak he had set on the bed before trying to wake her.
“That is your plan?” she asked as she donned the cloak.
“Simple is oftentimes the best,” he said as he opened the door and dragged her unconcious guard inside.
Elspeth watched as he tied and gagged the man, then tucked him into the bed, pulling the covers up so that only a bit of the man’s black hair showed over the blankets. “I dinnae think that will fool them for verra long.”
“Long enough for us to escape these walls.”
“Are ye truly meaning to just walk out of here with me?”
Cormac tugged the hood of the cape over her head, pulling it forward until it covered her hair and shaded her face. “If any ask what I am about, I shall simply say I am taking my wee cousin Mary for a ride.”
“Do ye really have a wee cousin Mary?”
“Aye, and she is here. She is betrothed to Sir Colin’s nephew John. I brought her here for her wedding. She stays to her rooms, only coming out to dine in the great hall. The next meal isnae for several hours, so this ruse should work.”
As he led her out of the room, then shut and barred the door, she asked, “Would it nay be better to creep away, to keep to the shadows? Mayhap ye ken of a bolt-hole to use.”
“All that would be best but then we couldnae take my horse.”
Elspeth started to say something, then quickly closed her mouth. His plan was fraught with the chance of failure, but she had none at all. He was also right in thinking it best to take his horse. They would not get very far on foot.
“Do we take your cousin’s horse as weel? Or mine?”
“I fear my cousin doesnae have a horse.” He grimaced. “She is a timid lass and willnae ride alone. She travels only in a cart or sharing a saddle with another. All here ken it, too. If I suddenly set Mary on a horse ’twould rouse suspicion. To take your horse would also rouse suspicion. I fear we will have to ride two to a saddle.”
“Riding is better than walking. Faster.”
“Aye, and now I must ask ye to hush.”
“Your cousin Mary doesnae talk either?”
He smiled faintly. “
Nay much, although she and John seem to have a lot to say to each other when they arenae both trying to hide from Sir Colin. Nay, I think ye must remain silent because of your voice.”
“Something is wrong with my voice?”
“’Tis too distinctive,” he replied, but could see by the look on her face that she did not really understand. “Trust me,” he said and tugged her hood more closely around her face.
Elspeth nodded and quelled the urge to talk to him. She threaded her fingers through his, savoring the simple act of holding his hand as they crept through the halls of Duncaillie. It was the only good thing about their walk through the keep, Elspeth thought as she tensely worried about a cry of discovery at every turning. Walking to the stables through the crowded bailey had her stomach knotting with tension so badly it hurt. She stood in the shadows near the door of the stables as Cormac got his horse. She was astounded at the way he spoke so calmly to the men there, as if he did not have a care in the world. He had obviously developed a few interesting skills in the years since she had seen him last.
Cormac set her on his saddle and mounted behind her, still idly jesting with the men. Elspeth fought the urge to hit him and tell him to get moving. When they finally rode out of the bailey, she slumped against him, weak with relief. They were not safe yet, might not be safe for quite a while, but at least they were no longer directly under the gaze of Sir Colin.
“Where do we go now?” she asked. Deciding it felt very good to be so close to him, she made herself more comfortable against his broad chest.
“Since Sir Colin will expect ye to try to get back to Donncoill, I believe we will just continue on in the direction I was planning to go after the wedding.”
“Sir Colin could think ye are also trying to get me back to my clan.”
“Aye, or to my kinsmen, who live both south and west of here. So that gives the mon two or three ways to search for us. He can have no idea of my true destination. I was to stay for my cousin’s wedding, then leave, but I told no one where I would go once the celebrations ended, not even wee Mary.”
“’Tis a good idea, and yet, how then shall I return to my kinsmen? That is where my continued safety lies, isnae it? Aye, and the means to stop Sir Colin, to make him pay for kidnapping me, killing two Murray men, and hurting Payton.”
He noticed that she still refused to consider the possibility her cousin was dead. The Murray clan was obviously still closely bonded. It would probably be best if she faced the cold truth that her cousin was either dead or soon would be, since the cold and a loss of blood would probably finish what Sir Colin had begun, but he found that he did not have the heart to steal her hope away.
“The king’s court is verra near where I must go. We can find someone there who can get word to your clan. If we must, we can set ye under the king’s own guard. Your clan hasnae done anything to hurt your standing with the king, has it?”
“Nay. That will do. In truth, ’tis near as fine as going straight to my fither.”
“It should take us near to a fortnight since we should travel slowly to save our mount’s strength. If luck fails us, and Sir Colin sniffs out our trail, it could take longer. Can ye endure such a long, rough journey?” He frowned slightly as he studied the soft delicacy of the woman in his arms.
“Oh, aye, I am stronger than I look.”
Elspeth sighed when he made no reply, his doubt so strong she could almost feel it. She knew she was small and delicate in appearance, but she was indeed strong. Sir Cormac Armstrong was going to have to learn that one should not always make judgments based solely on a person’s appearance.
Glancing down at his strong, long-fingered hands upon the reins, she found herself wondering yet again if he was betrothed or in love with someone. She needed some information, needed to know if he was free. By the time they stopped for the night, Elspeth vowed she would have it. Then she would have to decide what to do. If he was wedded or betrothed, the next few weeks would be a torment as she tried to hide and even kill all feeling for the man. But if he was free, she had a fortnight to try to make him fall in love with her. That too could prove torturous, ripping her heart and pride to shreds. Fate had been kind enough to give her some time with the man she had adored for so long, but it was obvious that fate had also decided to make her pay dearly for that gift. All she could do was pray that she had what was needed to win the prize.
Chapter Two
“Four husbands?”
As she spoke, Elspeth peered at Cormac around the horse she was wiping down with a handful of weeds and grass. It had taken some effort on her part, but she had finally pulled from him the name of a woman—Isabel. She had felt her heart break as he had told her of the love he had for this woman, of the deep bond they shared. Then, as he told her more and more about the woman, Elspeth’s hurt had begun to change to puzzlement and eventually to anger at Isabel and even some at Cormac for his blind devotion. Isabel’s four husbands were a subject he obviously did not want to discuss at length, but she was determined to bleed out of him every morsel of information that she could.
“Aye,” Cormac nearly grunted his reply as he built a fire.
“Four dead husbands?”
“Aye.”
“Four times wed. Four times widowed.”
“Aye.”
“And such short marriages,” she murmured as she walked over and sat down across the fire from him. “Such an ill-fated lot she was married to.”
Cormac briefly looked up from the oatmeal he was mixing to glare at her. He knew what she was thinking. Others thought it, too. Four husbands and all dying, strangely and quickly, the longest-surviving one not even marking two full years of marriage. To his shame, even he had found himself wondering, doubting, but he would quickly shove that disloyalty aside. Isabel needed sympathy and support, not suspicions.
“Aye, all weak or foolishly reckless,” he snapped, handing her some bread.
Or as blind as you are, Elspeth thought as she took a bite of the bread. “No children?”
“Nay.”
“So, four weak or reckless and, obviously, seedless husbands. Unless ’tis Isabel. She could be barren.” Elspeth heartily hoped the woman was, for although she did not really believe in bad seeds, a child raised by such a woman could easily become as twisted as its mother.
It had struck Cormac as odd that Isabel could share a bed with four men—five if he included himself—and never quicken with child, but he was not about to admit that. He wanted to tell Elspeth to shut up, to stop gnawing at this particular bone. She was doing too good a job of building a case against Isabel, much better than any other had. Others had blatantly accused Isabel and called him a fool for not seeing the truth. Elspeth went at it step by slow step, gently yet persistently, yanking answers from him at every painful step. She was reviving all his doubts and he hated it.
“Who can say?” he muttered.
“Who indeed. Weel, with no bairns to inherit, she must now be quite a rich woman. Wealth can be such a comfort.”
There was a definite touch of sarcasm in her voice, but he struggled to ignore it as he handed her a share of the oatmeal and some cheese. “She isnae poor or landless, though she didnae gain it all.”
“Of course not,” Elspeth murmured as she accepted the rough wooden bowl full of oatmeal. “There were undoubtedly some other males in the late husband’s family who would take quite a bit. Lands especially.”
“But they always want it all. ’Tis they who have spread such vicious lies about Isabel, trying to make a sad tragedy sound like a crime.”
“I see. Did they e’er find the murderer of the mon ye were accused of killing?”
“Once I kenned I was free of pursuit, I fear I gave no thought to it. They must have or I wouldst still be running.”
“Or dead. So they must have finally listened to Isabel’s claims of your innocence.”
Elspeth watched him closely as she spoke. She inwardly sighed when he was suddenly unable to meet her gaze.
It was as sad as it was infuriating. Right from the beginning, Cormac had refused to see the truth about dear Isabel. He obviously knew she had done little if anything to help him, yet he found some reason to explain away that betrayal. It was not going to be easy to open his eyes. Elspeth feared he had either ignored the truth or explained it away for so long he would not recognize it if it fell on him. Isabel was a madonna to him, a beautiful victim, a tortured soul used by her kinsmen for their own gain. Elspeth wanted to gag.
What puzzled her was why Isabel kept Cormac so tied to her. He was unquestionably handsome and might be a very good lover. His kisses had certainly lacked for nothing. Nevertheless, the fact that Isabel did all she could to keep Cormac panting at her heels for ten long years seemed to indicate some twisted form of fidelity or caring, and Elspeth refused to believe that Isabel cared for Cormac at all.
The why of what Isabel did to Cormac and why he had allowed it could be discovered later, she decided crossly. What mattered now was that she loved and desired a man who was enslaved, heart and soul, by another woman. Elspeth had no idea of what, if anything, she could do about that. Cormac desired her. She had no doubt about that. She had felt his desire, tasted it. Although thrilling, his longing did not mean all that much, however. Men desired too easily, too shallowly, and sometimes, too fleetingly.
Still, she mused as she helped him clean up after their meager repast, she might be able to use that desire. He clearly had some doubts about his beloved Isabel. Elspeth suspected that Isabel was his first love, perhaps even the first woman he had bedded, and no other woman had been able to break that bond. He might never have given one a chance to try.
Highland Vow Page 3