My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (7 page)

"There ye are, lad. I was just look—"

Elise twisted as Cameron reached the bottom
of the nearest staircase. He lifted a bushy brow. She looked back
at Marcus. His hold loosened and she snatched her hands away. She
retreated, stumbling over her own feet. Marcus reached for her, but
she dodged his hand with another unsure step backward.

"I-I must go," she stammered, and fled the
room.

"
Elise
—bloody hell!"

Marcus's voice echoed off the stone walls as
she shoved through the postern door.

Elise avoided Marcus that night. Yet his
memory persisted. Alone in bed, her cheeks burned with the
recollection of how he had forced her hands against him in a rough
caress. Though only a moment passed between them, her senses had
taken in every contour as her fingers glided along the unyielding
muscle. The hint of brandy on his breath, the hammering of his
beating heart, his hard body—with a flourish, she threw back the
covers. Cold air crept over her. Yet it wasn't the cold that made
her shiver, but the vision of Marcus's hands touching her as she
had touched him. Oh, treacherous body! To be undone by desire.

A desire beyond that which drew you to the
man you shot
, her mind whispered.

Elise examined her hands in the moonlight
that spilled across the bed from the window above her head. It
hadn't occurred to her she would touch another man as she had
Robert. A porcelain doll, Robert had called her, to be admired but
not touched. The fact he had suffered her in his bed only long
enough to get her with child had proven even her beauty had been
lacking. Yet the memory of Robert's scorn didn't stop the leap of
her heart at the thought of Marcus.

Time grew short—shorter than she had
realized. Dare she wait another week or even a day before leaving
Scotland?

* * * *

Marcus stood on the battlement speaking with
Daniel when he spied Elise emerging from the stables astride a
horse.

"By God," he cursed.

"What is it?" Daniel looked in the direction
Marcus stared.

"Stop her!" Marcus shouted down to the
guards, then hurried down the stairs.

Her gaze met his as he leapt from the
battlement steps into the courtyard. "Out of my way," she
ordered.

"Woman, only yesterday you fled from me as if
I were an ogre. Now you dispense imperious orders as though you are
a queen. Where are you going?"

"To find Tavis and box his ears. Then I'll
drag him and his sister back."

Marcus raised a brow. "Tired of chasing the
little fools all over God's green earth? A pity they won't listen
to good advice. Come down from there." He reached to pull her from
the mare's back.

She slapped his hand. "They purposely sneaked
out."

"Disobedient brats," he said.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Never mind," he said.

"Never mind?" she choked. "If I hadn't heard
it myself, I wouldn't have believed it." She jerked on the reins.
"Out of my wa—" Elise shrieked when he yanked her from the
saddle.

Marcus brought her face level with his.
"Yesterday, you left against my command. Will you attempt to
disobey me again today?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I planned to enlist
Brady's help in finding the children."

"And if he's not available?"

"He's the stable master. He is always in the
stables."

"Aye," Marcus said. "But if he isn't, you
will use good sense and return to the keep?" He added before she
could argue, "I'll fetch the children."

Her eyes lit. "I'll wait while you get a
horse."

He released her, then pried the reins from
her fingers and mounted. "I will go."

"But—"

"Elise," he growled, "are you saying I cannot
deal with two errant children?"

"No-no, of course not. It's just that Bonnie
is so little, and Tavis—" Her eyes blazed. "The boy is going to get
them both killed."

"Why does he take his sister with him?"
Marcus asked.

"He doesn't. She's a clever child. She
watches, then follows."

"Bloody hell," he said under his breath. "She
is but seven."

Elise laid a hand atop Marcus's hand, which
rested on his thigh. "Why does Tavis persist in going out like
this? I thought you dealt with his father's murderer."

"Revenge is never satisfied," Marcus
replied.

Her fingers moved against his and he looked
at her hand. His gaze caught on the long, thin scar on the outside
edge of her palm. He had noticed it before, had meant to ask
her—She snatched her hand back.

Marcus looked down at her and smiled softly.
"It is all right, love. I will bring them safely home." He brushed
a finger across her cheek.

She looked startled and a blush crept up her
cheeks.

Marcus urged his horse forward,
satisfied.

* * * *

Two hours later, Elise looked up from her
seat in the kitchen to see Marcus enter with Bonnie on his
shoulders. A general round of praise went up from the women. He
gave a gallant bow, very obviously pretending to forget Bonnie,
then grabbed her at the last moment and shoved her back into place
on his shoulders.

Warmth rippled through Elise at sight of him
pausing to pluck slices of apples from a bowl on the counter. She
silently cursed her schoolgirl giddiness. Marcus popped a slice
into his mouth, then passed one to Bonnie. Elise's thudding heart
kicked up a notch when he looked in her direction. He started
toward her and she hastily returned her attention to the potatoes
she was peeling. He pulled Bonnie from his shoulders and lowered
himself into the chair beside Elise. Bonnie settled on his lap and
leaned back in the crook of his arm. Absorbed in her apple, she
munched contentedly.

"I think we need not worry any longer about
Bonnie running after Tavis," Marcus said.

Elise looked to find a lock of hair had
fallen across his forehead, making him look very much like a large
child himself. She resisted the urge to smooth the lock back into
place.

Focusing instead on her potatoes, she said,
"Why is that?"

"Because he won't be taking any more
trips."

"How can you be sure?"

"I told him not to."

Elise sighed. The boy would probably obey
without even a whimper. She hazarded a glance at Marcus. He was
grinning.

Her heart unexpectedly constricted. How would
she live without seeing that smile every day?

When Elise entered the kitchen the following
afternoon, she frowned at finding the room empty. Winnie napped in
the early afternoon and several of the younger women tended to
their families' needs, but Jinny was usually present, starting
preparations for the evening meal.

Jinny's voice abruptly sounded from the
eating hall. "Please, milaird, let me go."

"Come now," a male voice boomed, "'tis only a
friendly gesture."

A round of riotous laughter followed this
statement.

"Nay, laird," Jinny pleaded, "I dinna' want
you to be friendly."

"You haven't given me a chance," the male
voice began as Elise retrieved a large cast-iron pan from the ten
plate stove located against the wall near the hearth. She crept
toward the door leading to the great hall and heard, "I can be
verra friendly, given the proper incentive."

From the kitchen door, she saw Jinny, held on
a man's lap, twist in an effort to avoid his kiss.

Elise stepped through the doorway.
"Enough!"

The command rang through the stone chamber,
quieting the group.

The brute blinked. "Who might you be?"

"Let her go," she ordered.

He shared an amused look with his comrades,
then lifted Jinny from his lap and rose.

"Go along, Jinny," Elise said.

The girl whirled and fled out the postern
door. The brute strode to where Elise stood.

He clasped his arms over his large chest and
cocked his head to the side. "Now what?"

"You released her. Satisfy yourself you've
escaped intact."

"I need a replacement." He reached for
her.

In one long movement, Elise swung the pan,
bringing the cast iron pot across his shoulder. Metal met muscle
with a loud crack, and the blow sent the sizeable man tumbling to
the floor. He lay sprawled on the floor, blinking up at her.

Elise stared down at him. "Try such nonsense
again, and the next one will be across that thick Scots head of
yours."

Howls of laughter filled the room from the
brute's comrades. He pushed to his feet. "Seems you need a lesson,
lassie."

"Nay, Declan," came Marcus's voice behind
her.

Elise whirled. Marcus caught the hand holding
the pan. She glimpsed Jinny near the kitchen door.

"You won't be needing this anymore." Marcus
gently worked the pan free of her grasp.

She looked down at the pan and released
it.

Declan grabbed for her, but Marcus pulled her
to his side. "No touching the lass."

"But you saw what she did. I willna' hurt
her." He gave her an appraising look. "Not really."

Elise shot him a recriminating look.

"You brought this on yourself," Marcus
said.

"You aren't taking her side?"

"I am."

"Nay," he said in clear disbelief.

"Aye."

He gave Marcus a dubious look, then grumbled
as he retreated to his seat, "Probably not worth the trouble,
anyway."

Marcus placed the pan on the counter, then
started for the great hall.

"Marcus," Elise said as he brushed past
her.

He stopped and turned.

"Keep him away from Jinny."

* * * *

Marcus reached for the pitcher of ale sitting
on the table before him and Declan and refilled their glasses. "How
many cattle were stolen?" Marcus set the pitcher back on the table.
The man to his right snatched up the pitcher and passed it down the
table to the men gathered for dinner.

"Thirty or forty head," Declan replied.

"Within two months?" Marcus gave a low
whistle. "My guess is Campbells."

"Aye," Declan agreed. "But I havena' been
able to catch the bastards in the act."

"We've had Campbells on our land of
late."

"The bastards," Declan said with feeling. He
picked up a piece of bread from one of the platters sitting before
him and stuffed a piece into his mouth. "They get around, eh?" His
eyes gleamed. "If it's a fight they're wanting, I'll oblige."

"That would be nothing to scoff at," Marcus
said.

Declan's own men, plus extended relatives,
rallied a force of six hundred men. Add the MacGregor forces, which
numbered nearly twelve hundred, and they commanded a small
army.

"I can't blame you for wanting to put an end
to the foolishness," Marcus said, "but a little rustling isn't
worth a war." Declan started to reply, but Marcus cut him off. "War
it would be, Declan. There isn't a clan in the district who would
pass up the chance to even the score against the Campbells."

"And the Campbells hold their own grudges,"
Declan put in. "They haven't forgiven you for your assault on
Assipattle two years ago."

Marcus's jaw tightened. They had better not
forget. He hadn't forgotten Katie MacGregor. "The next time they
attack a MacGregor woman, I will raze every Campbell keep from the
border to Assipattle."

Chapter Five

A branch snapped with a loud crack. Elise
jerked her gaze onto her companion Allister, then twisted in the
saddle and peered over her shoulder. A blur of green and blue
plaide shot from the trees at the top of the hill. She gasped.

Campbells.

Elise faced Allister. The young man stared
back at the Campbells, eyes narrow with fury. Dear God, she hadn't
believed them to be a genuine threat, but in an effort to buy time
when she didn't return to Brahan Seer, she had asked Allister to
accompany her to Michael's. If anything happened to him—

He yanked the dirk from the leather scabbard
strapped to his horse and snapped his eyes onto her. "Ride."

She kicked violently into the mare's belly.
The mare lunged forward alongside Allister's gelding. The sound of
pursuing hoof beats bore down upon them. She hugged the horse's
neck, urging the mare into a harder gallop down the
mountainside.

The heaving horses closed in from behind.
Elise's heart thudded in unison with the pounding of her mount's
hooves. Tears stung her eyes as she clung to the horse, the jerky
rise and fall of the animal's neck jolting her body with each swift
stride. Allister's horse nosed ahead and Elise knew the young man
was restraining him in order to keep pace with her.

From the corner of her right eye, she
glimpsed the nose of a horse gaining—then a flash of metal and a
man's cry as Allister's dirk found its mark. The other men shouted
and her heart leapt into her throat. She cracked the reins over the
rump of the horse, then suddenly pitched forward. She tumbled over
the horse's head as the mare hit the ground nose first. Allister
shouted her name.

The mare somersaulted over herself, and Elise
saw the hooves bearing down on her as she and the mare plummeted
downhill. The wind gushed from her lungs, then a splitting pain
shot through her head when she thudded to the ground, grinding her
cheek into the hard, rocky soil. The blurry figure of the horse
landed a few feet away, rolled, then jumped up, and
disappeared.

A shot sounded.

"Bloody animal got away," a man muttered as
horses drew up alongside her.

Booted feet appeared at her side.

"She's broken her neck," another said.

"What of the boy?" another asked.

Fingers gingerly probed her forehead, then
temples.

"Dead."

"She's hit the front of her head," said a
deeper voice—not Marcus's voice, but who—Sudden pain registered
through the fog as she was rolled to her side. She groaned.