A Temptress in Tartan

by Gerri Russell

  To the younger woman who still hovered near the door he said, “Will you help me get some boiling water so your sister can return to her duties for the inn?”

  With a look of relief, Meg returned to her cooking and Jane hastened to the hearth. After wrapping the handle in a cloth, she retrieved the kettle hanging on a hook above the flames. She brought the boiling water to him along with a bowl. “Will ye teach me how tae brew the herbs?”

  “Are you interested in healing?” Lachlan asked as he measured out equal parts of both the elderflower and peppermint, adding them to the bowl.

  Jane nodded. “It has always been of interest tae me.”

  Lachlan showed her how Vivian had taught him to steep the herbs and strain them. They poured some of the golden liquid into a mug for Mistress Broun. “If you are truly interested in studying the art of healing, I can write to my cousin when I am home and ask her if she would consider taking you on as an apprentice.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “Ye would do that fer me?”

  “If that is what you wish, then, aye.”

  “I wish it with all my heart.” The girl was all smiles as they left the kitchen and returned to the ailing woman’s bedside. Lachlan set the candlestick he carried next to the bedside, casting her face in mottled shades of gray. Mistress Broun’s eyes were closed and her breathing shallow. “Where is her husband?”

  “He always hunts at this time in the mornin’. Whatever he catches becomes the special meal fer the day.”

  “I hope he returns soon,” Lachlan said as he helped to prop the sleepy woman up on her pillows, then instructed Jane how to spoon the cooling liquid into the older woman’s mouth.

  “How will we know if it worked?” Jane looked questioningly at him.

  Lachlan shrugged. “I’m no healer. I only imitated what I saw a real healer do, but I imagine she will be better when her fever breaks and her skin resumes its normal pink tone instead of her current gray pallor.”

  Jane warily placed the back of her fingers against Mistress Broun’s forehead. “She feels less warm to the touch and she looks better to me already.”

  Lachlan studied the woman’s unresponsive face. “I suppose she does.”

  “What are you doing?” a female voice interrupted.

  Lachlan lifted his gaze to see Elizabeth standing inside the curtain, assessing both him and Jane. He inhaled sharply, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. There was something different about the way she was looking at him. No longer was her gaze filled with antagonism and annoyance. Instead, there was a catlike watchfulness, as though she were trying to determine something about him, or was it the beginning of a connection between them? “The innkeeper’s wife took ill.”

  “I thought you were in a hurry to leave this place?”

  Annoyance flared, forcing any connection he might have imagined away. “The woman was alone in the common room. She was helpless. I felt it was my duty to assist her.”

  Elizabeth’s face clouded. “You seem to be very good at helping women in distress.”

  He held Elizabeth’s gaze for a few heartbeats while he tried to discern if she was being sarcastic or serious. Uncertain, he turned to Jane. “I shall leave this good woman in your care since my wife and I must now depart.”

  Jane offered him a hesitant smile. “I’ll do what I can tae help her.”

  “And I will write to my cousin on your behalf.”

  “Thank you, m’laird.”

  He held the curtain aside for Elizabeth to pass through before joining her on the other side. “Come with me to the kitchen. We can break our fast, then be on our way if the wheel is fixed.”

  “Can we not depart immediately?”

  He turned and looked at her in surprise. “Abovestairs you said you were hungry. Famished even.”

  She clasped her hands around her upper arms. A slight shiver moved through her. “I’d rather we be on our way.”

  “You are a very confusing woman.” He blew out a soft, frustrated breath. “I must insist we at least stop by the kitchen and gather a few things we can eat on our way. Will that be acceptable?”

  She looked away but not before he saw a shadow of fear in her eyes. “If you must.”

  “What is wrong, Elizabeth? I know we do not know each other well yet, but you can trust me.”

  “Will you trust me as well?”

  He gave her a soft smile. “That’s usually how this works. I trust you. You trust me.”

  “Then I need you to trust me now and promise not to ask why when I suggest a change to our travel plans.”

  He hesitated. What was she up to? Finally, he nodded. “I am not unreasonable. What do you suggest?”

  “Instead of heading southwest to Kirkcaldy and Ravenscraig Castle, would you head due west for several miles and then turn to the south?”

  The question as to why burned upon his tongue, but he clenched his teeth to keep himself from asking it. He’d told her he trusted her. Now was the time to prove that. He nodded. “If that is what you wish, then that will be the route we take.”

  *

  Elizabeth hugged herself all the harder, trying to still the trembling of her hands. Lachlan had agreed with her plan without question. She had not expected that. Yet he once again disproved what she’d been told about him her whole life: that the entire Douglas clan was unreasonable, diabolical, and cruel.

  Instead, in the time she had known Lachlan Douglas in particular, he had talked her out of taking her own life, had vowed to her father to keep her safe, and hadn’t retaliated against her for trying to slit his throat. Leaving her to wonder yet again what truth to believe about him and his clan. Was Lachlan a saint, a sinner, or somewhere in between?

  She took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she and Lachlan headed for the kitchen. How could she determine for herself exactly who the man she had married was? Would more time together reveal his true self? Should she stay with him and find out or leave right now?

  Her clan could extract her from her current circumstances this very morning if she wanted them to. After Lachlan had left their bedchamber, she’d pushed the shutters back in order to breathe the morning air with the hopes it would clear her head. Instead of clearing her thoughts, they became conflicted when she saw a small army had made camp in the distance, appearing like a blight on the gently sloping hills. Smoke from their campfires came to her like a specter, and the wind carried their voices through the silence of the dawn.

  Elizabeth was convinced it was her father and his men. The thought should have filled her with joy, and yet fear filled her instead. The fresh cut on her palm stung as she remembered her vow to keep Lachlan safe from harm. Which is why she had asked him to change his plans for their travel. Her clan would expect them to take the shortest path along the coast. They would never expect Lachlan to head in the opposite direction, adding miles to their journey.

  Because of her suggestion, both she and Lachlan would be safe for a few hours at least, until her father figured out their deception and pursued them once more. Perhaps in that time she could finally determine what to believe about the man she had married. Was he her nemesis or something else entirely? And if she decided he might not be what she’d always been told, she would have to ask him to trust her once more when she asked him to leave the carriage behind and travel on horseback to escape her own clan’s deadly plans. For she knew her father would kill Lachlan if they caught up to them. Then the Douglases would retaliate, and the feud would continue even though the king had demanded they put an end to it all.

  With a sigh of frustration that she and Lachlan were stuck in the middle of the strife between the two clans, Elizabeth remained at the kitchen doorway while Lachlan negotiated with the young woman about breakfast fare that would travel well. He stood near the hearth, his big body cast in hues of red and gold by the flames. His blond hair held a slight wave that brushed the nape of his neck, and a few errant curls caressed his brow and temples. Despite the fact he had slept in his
clothing from the day before, his snowy-white shirt still looked pristine as did the blue and green fabric of his kilt.

  Even in their less than perfect circumstances, he appeared refined and elegant. With a soft brogue in his voice, he spoke to the young women with both authority and respect. He certainly did not give the impression of someone who was overbearing and ruthless. Or was all this an act to lull her into his web?

  With a start she realized his blue eyes were upon her. He was frowning slightly, no doubt curious to know why she scrutinized him so. Instead of giving in to the desire to look away, she continued to hold his gaze. Who are you, Lachlan Douglas? What will I gain by remaining your wife?

  Chapter Three

  The sky turned a purplish gray as the sun’s rays sank below the horizon. Even in the hazy light, Elizabeth could see the road they followed skirted the banks of the Firth of Forth, until suddenly they turned and started to make their way up a long, winding road.

  The last several hours had been a test not just to her nerves, but also to her endurance as she worried about what lay ahead. Until now she and Lachlan had been alone for the most part. At Ravenscraig Castle, they would be surrounded by many—so many whom she did not know. What kind of reception would she receive at the home of his friend? Would the residents there stare at her and sneer contemptuously just like her kin always did when they spoke of the Douglases?

  They continued climbing the road ahead for what seemed like forever until suddenly the castle was before them, rising from the sheer edge of a bluff. The gray-colored stones stood tall and stark against the dying shades of twilight. The castle had twin round towers joined by saw-toothed battlements. Ravenscraig was not simply a castle. It was a fortress.

  The closer they came, the faster her heart beat in her chest. They passed through the gatehouse, beneath the portcullis, and across a planked bridge before entering the main castle. Its entrance was marked by a torch on either side of double black doors that were opened wide in greeting. As the carriage came to a stop, Elizabeth could hear the murmur of excited voices from beyond the vehicle. When the carriage door opened, she saw several men and women rushing out the castle’s main entrance to greet their guests.

  Elizabeth straightened. “It appears we have arrived.”

  Lachlan looked at her for the first time in hours. “And now that we are here, I need a promise from you.”

  She regarded him coldly. “We already promised to do no harm to each other through the oath we took this morning. What more do you want from me?”

  His jaw tightened. He shifted his gaze from her to the men—draped in tartan cloth dyed in red, green, and blue—who gathered outside the carriage door. Some carried torches, others lanterns, casting the courtyard in both bright yellow-gold light and deep shadow. “I want your promise that you’ll not show if you’ve taken offense to anything that is said here. These people are my friends, and as such, they know my history. Some of them were with me after the death of my parents. Others have grown to hate the Ruthvens because of their many crimes against the king and this country.”

  He turned to face her once again, his blue eyes picking up the shimmering light of the lanterns. “I will see you are safe.”

  The silence between them grew until she was certain he could hear the frantic beating of her heart. She had no idea her clan was loathed by so many in Scotland. “Hate? Crimes?”

  Lachlan frowned. “Aye. They are often reviled.”

  There was something in his simple claim that rocked her. He made her hear a veracity in the words. There had been times she’d wondered when she’d heard whispered conversations that stopped the moment she appeared, and situations that didn’t quite align with what she’d been told . . .

  Her father and her clan had kept her sheltered from the outside world all her life. Everything she knew about the world came from the stories her father or other members of the clan recounted for her. Her perspective about society and the way the world worked had come to her not from her own experience, but filtered through others. Had they told her the truth?

  Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest in a futile attempt to comfort herself. Even while she’d waited at the palace for her wedding to Lachlan, she’d started to notice a different perspective. Her father had always told her the king adored the Ruthven clan and granted them the highest of privileges within his court. But what she’d observed was that even though two of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting were Ruthvens, the king did not approve of them attending his wife. He wanted them gone from the palace and his life. That truth aligned with what Lachlan had told her just now.

  At her hesitation, Lachlan frowned. “’Tis but a simple aye or nay, Elizabeth. What is it to be? Will you promise not to react to any perceived slights?”

  What was the truth and what was a lie? Though her thoughts still spun, she said, “I promise.”

  At her agreement, Lachlan took her hand in his and helped her from the carriage. Immediately upon their descent, they were engulfed by those gathered. The men offered Lachlan handshakes and claps upon the back, while the women hugged him with smiles and laughter. One woman with red hair tugged him farther into the crowd and toward the entrance of the castle, forcing Elizabeth to release Lachlan’s hand until she stood alone outside the gathered group.

  He kept looking back at her with an apology in his eyes.

  She straightened and clasped her hands together, refusing to let anyone see how alone she felt.

  At the entrance, a tall, elegant man stood patiently, bathed in the light that spilled from within the castle. The light revealed a face of stunning comeliness. Every feature on his face came close to perfection and his body brimmed with strength. He wore tan breeches and a dark surcoat with a pristine white shirt beneath. Without even an introduction, Elizabeth surmised this was Cameron Sinclair, the laird of Ravenscraig Castle. Lachlan approached him.

  Slowly the gathered crowd grew silent and turned, watching the reunion of the two men.

  “We were prepared for your arrival yesterday,” Cameron Sinclair said.

  “Our late arrival couldn’t be helped. We had a bit of misfortune on the road,” Lachlan replied as he stood before his friend and struck his chest with his fist once in salute before they came together in a sudden embrace. It triggered an eruption of cheers from those gathered. The red-haired woman once again clutched Lachlan’s arm, keeping him by her side.

  “Well, you’re here now,” Cameron said over a swelling of whispers from those gathered as their eyes turned to Elizabeth, who yet stood alone.

  A chill came over her when she saw she was forgotten no longer as she remained by the carriage where he had left her. The expressions of those gathered ranged from curious to hostile. And the red-haired woman’s lips pulled up in a satisfied smile.

  “It is good to see you, Mariam, but you must excuse me.” Lachlan released himself from the red-haired woman’s clutches and walked back to Elizabeth’s side, offering her his arm. He cast her a smile before guiding her back toward Cameron Sinclair himself. Around them the crowd had fallen silent. “Cameron, may I present to you my wife, Elizabeth.” He turned to her and said, “This is Sir Cameron Sinclair.”

  Elizabeth was all too aware of everyone staring at her. The red-haired woman glared. Ignoring her, Elizabeth looked to the other ladies who were all so regal and elegant, with nary a hair out of place, while she was certain she looked like a wild banshee with her brown hair mussed from their travels. Regardless of her appearance, she curtsied, then straightened, waiting to see along with the others how the laird would respond to a Ruthven in their midst.

  The dark-haired laird studied her intently. He seemed to sense her fear as he took one of her icy hands in his own and lifted it to his lips. The soft salute was followed by a smile. “You are welcome, Elizabeth. Here you will only be known for who you are now, not who you have been,” Cameron said.

  Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed at yet another piece of evidence that her family and their reputa
tion were not as stellar as she’d been taught. Until she learned the truth for herself, she would keep silent. “Thank you, my laird. That is very gracious of you.”

  Cameron looked down at her with compassion in his eyes. “Everyone deserves a second chance. Consider this yours. Lachlan is a good man. He deserves a devoted and loving wife.”

  At his words, Elizabeth’s gaze slid to Lachlan’s. She was neither of those things at the moment. And perhaps she never would be. She had no time to think further on the matter when Lachlan slipped his arm around her waist and urged her forward into the castle and away from the crowd. “Come, let us clean up from our travels, then rest before supper. We have another long day ahead of us on the morrow.”

  Elizabeth allowed herself to be ushered forward. Her body felt heavy and her mind weary beyond words. Her troubles would still be with her in the morning, but mayhap after a bath, a meal, and a night’s sleep she would be better able to face them.

  Inside the castle, Cameron led them along a richly paneled hallway hung with tapestries and portraits of centuries of Sinclair family history. Lachlan and Cameron chatted along the way, but she paid no mind to their conversation as they passed several rooms—a library, a receiving room, a solar, the great hall. At the end of the long hallway they climbed a set of stairs and continued down another hallway until they stopped outside the open door of a large bedchamber. “Your room,” Cameron said.

  As they stepped in, Lachlan turned to her and for a heartbeat she forgot to breathe. The setting sun filtered through the arched window of the bedchamber, giving the large room a strange, yellowish glow. She watched as the light limned her husband’s hair, making it nearly gold where the unruly locks curled against his temple.

  A similar light flared in his eyes. She’d seen that look in the eyes of other men before, and it had always unsettled her, but in this instance, she felt an even greater panic. They would spend yet another night alone together. And this time she wouldn’t be thinking murderous thoughts. If she wasn’t thinking of murder, then what would she be thinking about? Her mouth went dry as she tried not to look at him.