My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (3 page)

Elise grimaced, then straightened in an
effort to shift from the sword hilt digging into her back.

"What's wrong?" He leaned her back in his
arms and gazed down at her.

She stared. Robert had never looked so—she
sat upright. "I've simply never ridden a horse in this manner."

"There are many ways to ride a horse, lass,"
he said softly.

Elise snapped her gaze to his face, then
jerked back when her lips nearly brushed his. She felt herself slip
and clutched at his free arm even as the arm around her crushed her
closer. Her breasts pressed against his chest where his shirt lay
open. Heat penetrated her bodice, hardening her nipples. A
surprising warmth sparked between her legs. She caught sight of his
smile an instant before she dropped her gaze.

* * * *

Their ascent steepened. Marcus closed the
circle of his arms around the woman's waist. She leaned into him.
It was a shame she wore a cloak. Without it, her bare arms would
lay against his chest. He hardened.
Bloody hell.
Shift even
a hair's breadth and the challenge he'd seen in her gaze an hour
ago would resurface, accompanied by a slap across his face.

She had betrayed no fear when he came upon
her—other than her open assessment of his weapon. Odd his sword
should be what frightened her. She must have known if he meant
mischief, he needed no weapon save his body. An erotic picture
arose of her straddling him, breasts arched so he could suckle each
until she begged him to lift her onto his erection.

He forced back the vision and focused on her
determination to defend the children with her life… or perhaps, her
body. He smiled, then gritted his teeth when he further hardened at
the memory of her leaning over Tavis's shoulders as she scanned the
forest for the riders he'd sent. Hands braced on her knees, her
posture revealed the curve of a firm derriere.

When she turned at their approach, the wind
had blown her brown hair about her shoulders, bringing his
attention to the sensual curve of modest breasts visible just above
the edge of her bodice. He envisioned hips tapering into long legs
and wondered what those legs would feel like wrapped tightly around
his waist while he thrust deep inside her.

Her accent had caught him off guard. What was
an American woman doing on MacGregor land, and how had she come to
know Tavis and Bonnie well enough to track them through the woods?
Hot fury shot through him. The little fool. Had the wrong man come
upon her, she might well have ended up like Katie.

The majestic heights of Brahan Seer's west
tower abruptly loomed in the distance. Marcus's steed unexpectedly
faltered, then steadied. The woman tensed and Marcus's body pulsed.
He closed his eyes, breathed deep of her hair, then looked again at
the tower. For the first time in his life, he regretted the sight.
His ride with her cradled in his arms would soon end.

Higher they climbed, until Brahan Seer's
walls became visible. The gates were open. At their approach, his
captain Daniel hailed from the battlements. Marcus nodded as they
rode through the entry. Inside the courtyard, he halted and Daniel
appeared at his side.

"Elise," he addressed the woman, surprise
apparent on his features. He glanced at the children, his gaze
lingering on Bonnie. His mouth tightened. "Mayhap Marcus can take a
hand with you, Tavis. Get along, and take your sister. Your mother
will be worried."

Marcus handed Elise down to him. Before
Marcus's feet touched the ground, she had started toward the
castle. He dismounted and clasped Daniel's hand while watching from
the corner of his eye the sway of her cloak about her hips as she
answered a welcoming smile from two of his men headed toward the
stables.

"What were they doing out alone?" Marcus
demanded of Daniel.

"I've ordered the boy not to go wandering the
woods," he replied.

"And Bonnie?"

"This is the first. I imagine she chased
after her brother."

Elise turned the corner around the castle and
Marcus cut his gaze onto her the instant before she disappeared.
Lust shot to the surface and tightened his shaft, but he turned
back to Daniel. "Why is Shamus letting his children run wild—never
mind. I'll speak to him. You look well."

Daniel hesitated, then said, "Chloe is with
child."

Marcus smiled in genuine pleasure.
"Congratulations, man."

Daniel smiled, then took the reins as Marcus
turned toward the castle.

Through the busy courtyard, he answered
greetings, but his thoughts remained on the image of Elise as she
vanished from sight. She had a forthright, strong quality. Yet—he
bent his head to breathe her lingering scent from his clothes—the
lavender bouquet in her hair was decidedly feminine. It would be
some time before he forgot the feel of her buttocks across his
thighs. But then, perhaps he wouldn't have to. Marcus entered the
great hall to find his father sitting alone in his chair at the
head of the table.

Cameron brightened. "So, ye decided to come
home?"

Relaxing warmth rippled through Marcus.

"Tired of wandering the land?" Cameron made a
wide sweeping gesture.

"You knew I was on my way, but, aye." He
stopped at the chair to his father's right and lowered himself onto
the seat. "I am pleased to be home."

"How is my grandson? I see you did not bring
him with you."

Marcus sighed. "Nay, Father. You knew I
wouldn't."

Cameron snorted. "We would not want to offend
the mighty Sassenach."

"Father," Marcus said in a low tone.

Cameron shook his head. "The clan never asked
you to concede to the English, you know. I never asked for it. Did
you ever wonder if the sacrifice is worth your son?"

"Aye," Marcus murmured. He'd wondered.
Politics had ruled the MacGregor clan for centuries and that wasn't
easily changed. He paused. "Have I been gone too long, or is
something different about the great hall?"

"You have the right of it, lad." Eyes that
mirrored his own looked back at him. "More than you can
imagine."

Marcus looked about the room. "I can't quite
place it. What's happened?"

Cameron took a long, exaggerated draught of
ale.

"Cameron."

"Enough of your looks, lad. They do not work
with me." He chuckled. "I taught them to you. Remember? It is no
mystery, really. Look around. When did you last see the tapestries
so bright, the floors so clean?" He motioned toward the wall that
ran the length of the room, framed by stairs on either end. "When
have you seen the weapons so polished?"

Marcus scanned the nearly two hundred
gleaming weapons mounted across the wall. He rose and walked the
wall's length, perusing the weapons. Each one glistened, some
nearly as bright as newly forged steel. He glanced at the floor.
The stone looked as if it had just been laid.

He looked at his father. "What happened?"

"The women came one day—or rather, one
month—and swept out the cobwebs, cleaned the floors, the
tapestries, weapons."

Marcus rose and crossed the room to the
kitchen door where the women worked. The housekeeper sat at the
kitchen table. Ancient blue eyes, still shining with the bloom of
youth, smiled back at him. Winnie had been present at his birth.
Marcus knew she loved him like the son she'd never had. He, in
turn, regarded her with as much affection as he had his own
mother.

She turned her attention to the raw chicken
she carved. "So, you've returned at last."

"Aye, milady."

A corner of her mouth twitched with
amusement.

"I am looking forward to the company of some
fine lasses tonight," he said. "'Tis a long and lonely trip I've
had. Perhaps next time I shall take you with me." He gave her a
roguish wink before striding back to his seat in the hall.

Marcus lowered himself into the chair he had
occupied earlier. "Must have taken an army just to shine the
weapons alone. Not to mention the walls and floors."

"It did. You will see the same throughout the
castle. Not a room went untouched."

"Whatever possessed them to do it?"

"It was the hand of a sweet lass," Cameron
replied.

"Which one? Not Winnie—"

"Nay. The lass Shannon and Josh found washed
ashore on the coast. They brought her when they returned from the
south."

"Washed ashore?"

"An American woman. Her ship perished in a
fire."

"American?"

Cameron scowled. "Are you deaf? Shannon is
the one who discovered her at Solway Firth."

"What in God's name was she doing there?"

Cameron gave his chin a speculative scratch.
"Damned if I know. They were headed for London."

"London? Sailing through Solway Firth
requires sailing around the north of Ireland. That would add a week
or more to the journey."

His father's mouth twisted into a wry grin.
"You know the English, probably got lost."

"I thought you said she was American."

"English, American, 'tis all the same."
Cameron's expression sobered. "But dinna' mistake me, she is a fine
lass. She came to us just after you left for Ashlund four months
ago. You should have seen her when they brought her here. Proud
little thing."

"Proud, indeed," Marcus repeated.

"'Tis what I said." Cameron eyed him. "Are
you sure something isn't ailing you?"

Marcus shook his head.

"At first, she didn't say much," Cameron went
on. "But I could see a storm brewed in her head. Then one day, she
informed me Brahan Seer was in dire need of something." He sighed
deeply. "She was more right than she knew."

Marcus understood his father's meaning. His
mother's death five years ago had affected Cameron dramatically.
Only last year had his father finally sought female comfort. The
gaping hole created by her absence left them both thirsting for a
firm, feminine hand.

"It's a miracle she survived the fire,"
Cameron said. "'Course, if you knew her, you would not be
surprised."

"I believe I do," Marcus remarked.

"What? You only just arrived."

"I picked up passengers on the way
home—Tavis, little Bonnie, and an American woman." Marcus related
the tale. "I recognized her accent," he ended. "Got accustomed to
it while on campaign in America."

Cameron smiled. "Elise is forever chasing
after those children."

"Why?"

His father's expression darkened. "Shamus was
murdered."

Marcus straightened. "Murdered?"

"Aye."

"By God, how—Lauren, what of her?"

Sadness softened the hard lines around his
father's mouth. "She is fine, in body, but… her mind has no' been
the same since Shamus died. We tried consoling her, but she will
have none of it."

A tingling sensation crept up Marcus's back.
"What happened?"

"We found him just over the border in Montal
Cove with his skull bashed in."

"Any idea who did it?"

"Aye," Cameron said. "Campbells."

Marcus surged to his feet. He strode to the
wall, where hung the claymore belonging to his ancestor Ryan
MacGregor, the man who saved their clan from annihilation. Marcus
ran a finger along the blade, the cold, hard steel heating his
blood as nothing else could. Except… Campbells.

Had two centuries of bloodshed not been
enough?

Fifty years ago, King George finally
proclaimed the MacGregors no longer outlaws and restored their
Highland name. General John Murray, Marcus's great uncle, was named
clan chief. Only recently, the MacGregors were given a place of
honor in the escort, which carried the "Honors of Scotland" before
the sovereign. Marcus had been there, marching alongside his
clansmen.

Too many dark years had passed under this
cloud. Would the hunted feeling Ryan MacGregor experienced ever
fade from the clan? Perhaps it would have been better if Helena
hadn't saved Ryan that fateful day so long ago. But Ryan had lived,
and his clan thrived, not by the sword, but by the timeless power
of gold. Aye, the Ashlund name Helena gave Ryan saved them. Yet,
Ryan MacGregor's soul demanded recompense.

How could Ryan rest while his people still
perished?

Marcus removed his hand from the sword and
faced his father. "It's time the MacGregors brought down the
Campbell dogs."

Feminine laughter spilled from the kitchen
into the great hall during the evening meal. Marcus sighed with
contentment. Light from sconces flickered like a great, filmy
curtain across the room. Two serving girls carrying trays of food
stepped from the kitchen, and the men, who blocked the doorway,
parted. The sense of contentment came as an almost unconscious
realization. He had missed sharing the evening meal with his
clansmen. Marcus leaned forward, arms crossed in front of him on
the table, and returned his attention to the conversation with
Cameron and Daniel.

"We will be ready at first light, laird,"
Daniel said.

"The Campbells will not be expecting
trouble," Cameron put in.

"If word has reached them that I've returned,
they may be," Marcus said.

Cameron grunted. "Lot of good it will
do."

The feminine voice Marcus had been waiting
for filtered out from within the kitchen. "Easy now, Andrea," Elise
said.

The conversation between his father and
Daniel faded as Marcus watched for her amongst the men who crowded
between the door and table. The thought of seeing her beautiful
body heated his blood. Elise stepped from the kitchen, balancing a
plate of salmon. She passed the table's end where he sat and
carefully picked her way through the men until reaching the middle
of the table. She set the oval platter between the chicken and
mutton.

"Beth, place the carrots to the left.
Andrea—" She took the plate of potatoes from the girl, then set it
to the right and turned toward the kitchen.