Connie Mason (11 page)

“If you please, my lady,” Elissa said coolly, indicating that Kimbra should follow her.

“Come along, Daisy,” Lady Kimbra said, speaking to the mousy little maid hovering behind her.

Elissa was aware that Damian had ordered the south tower prepared especially for Lady Kimbra. The keep had been ransacked of all the best furniture to furnish the future countess’s chamber. Elissa had given up the walnut desk that had belonged to her grandmother and Marianne had lost the delicate chaise that once sat beneath her window. Elissa hoped Lady Kimbra appreciated it.

“Your suite has a lovely view of the mountains, and there’s a small chamber close by for your maid,” Elissa said as Kimbra, followed by her maid, swept past her.

“The hillsides are wondrously pleasing when the heather is in bloom,” Elissa continued.

Kimbra stopped so fast her maid bumped into her, her nose wrinkling in obvious disgust. “’Tis hardly up to my standards,” she sniffed derisively. “Is this the best the keep has to offer? I’m accustomed to much better.”

Elissa’s mouth flattened. “Lord Damian had it prepared especially for you.”

“Ah, Lord Damian. I didn’t expect him to be so…handsome. He’s rather fearsome, too, but I like that in a man.” Her eyes glittered. “He’ll be all the rage in London.”

“London, my lady? Lord Damian doesna like London. Misterly is his home. He doesna plan to leave.”

Kimbra’s eyes narrowed on Elissa. “How can you presume to know what Lord Damian is thinking? What are you to him?”

“I am nothing to Lord Damian. Less than nothing. Shall I help your maid unpack your trunks?”

“Nay, Daisy is quite capable. Inform Lord Damian that I wish to dine in my chamber tonight. I’ll send Daisy down for a tray.”

“As you wish,” Elissa said, eager to part company with Damian’s haughty bride.

“Wait!”

“Aye?”

“Inform Lord Damian that I expect a visit from him before he retires. We have much to discuss.”

Indeed, Elissa thought as she took her leave. She could well imagine what would take place in this chamber once Kimbra got Damian alone.

Damian had already left the hall, so Elissa headed for the kitchen. Maggie intercepted her.

“Lady Kimbra will find few friends at Misterly,” Maggie said. “She may be a great beauty, but she has no respect for our land or our people. It doesna bode well for Lord Damian.”

“It doesna concern me,” Elissa said with a shrug. She lowered her voice. “I canna remain at Misterly.”

“How will ye escape? Yer too well guarded.”

“I donna know yet.”

Maggie squeezed her arm. “Good luck to ye.”

Maggie turned away and walked into the solid wall of Sir Richard’s chest. Elissa watched with interest as Dickon’s arms came around Maggie to steady her.

“Sir Richard, is there something ye wanted?” Maggie asked, pushing herself away from him.

“Aye.” His eyes glittered suggestively and his voice lowered, but Elissa could still hear him. “You know what I want, Maggie girl.”

Elissa regarded the couple with speculation. Dickon was a handsome man, but too sure of himself where Maggie was concerned.

“I’m not that kind of a girl, Sir Richard,” Maggie replied.

Richard laughed cynically. “Don’t tell me you’re the kind of woman who is saving herself for marriage.”

Maggie stiffened. “What’s wrong with that?”

“As long as there are willing women around, I’ve no need to marry.”

“I suggest you find one of those willing women.”

“Perhaps I will.” Whirling on his heel, he strode away.

Damian returned to the hall in time to watch the interplay between Dickon and Maggie. From the look of things, his friend was making little progress with the stubborn lass. Ah well, he had his own problems to deal with. His intended bride had arrived and his marriage was at hand.

Damian spied Elissa filling a pitcher with ale and followed her with his eyes. There was much to admire about Elissa besides her beauty, but stubbornness wasn’t among her finer qualities. His expression turned grim when he recalled how she’d come to his bed, then lied about her motive.

Damian caught Elissa’s attention and beckoned to her.

“More ale, my lord?” she asked coolly.

“Nay. Has Lady Kimbra settled in?”

Elissa gave a derisive laugh. “Hardly. Surely you realize Lady Kimbra despises Misterly. She says it isn’t up to her standards. The Highlands isna London, and well she knows it.”

“She’ll learn to like it,” Damian said with more conviction than he felt.

“Your lady asked me to convey a message,” Elissa informed him. “She will await upon you in her chamber tonight.”

Damian nodded. For some reason he didn’t relish the meeting. He was grateful for the king’s beneficence in this arranged marriage, but he feared the cost to his peace of mind would exceed the benefits to his livelihood. What little he saw of Lady Kimbra did not impress him, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Not one to make snap decisions, Damian decided to withhold judgment until he knew his intended bride better. It was unfair to compare Kimbra to Elissa on such short acquaintance.

After the evening meal, Damian conferred with Sir Brody concerning billeting arrangements and provisions for the extra guests. Sir Brody assured him that their guests would not stretch Misterly’s budget.

“May I make a suggestion, my lord?” Sir Brody said.

“By all means,” Damian replied, his curiosity piqued.

“Lady Marianne has made a remarkable recovery. I think it would benefit both her and her kinsmen if she took her evening meals in the hall. The Frasers need to see how well their lady is prospering under your care.”

Damian searched Sir Brody’s face. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

Sir Brody nodded. “Lady Marianne feels she has been isolated too long and misses contact with her kinsmen. She asked me to convey her request to you.”

Damian pondered Lady Marianne’s request. He had no objection and told Sir Brody as much. The width of Sir Brody’s smile told Damian that the lady and his steward had gotten even closer than he had suspected.

Aware of the passing of time, Damian rose and ascended the stairs to Lady Kimbra’s chamber. Kimbra’s timid little maid answered his knock, her smile wavering when Damian strode past her before she had time to announce his presence.

“You may leave, Daisy,” Kimbra said, waving the girl away. Daisy scooted off with remarkable haste.

Damian’s steps faltered when he saw Kimbra draped across the bed in daring dishabille, her generous bosom all but exposed by her low cut dressing gown and one shapely leg bared nearly to her thigh. Dimly Damian wondered why the sight of her lush curves failed to stir him.

“Thank you for coming,” Kimbra purred. “I thought perhaps your fiery little mistress would fail to give you my message.”

“If you’re referring to Elissa, who by the way is
not
my mistress, she did deliver your message. What is it you wish to discuss?”

Kimbra patted the bed beside her, her eyes bright with invitation. “Come sit beside me, my lord. As you said, we should begin immediately to get to know one another.”

Damian perched gingerly on the edge of the bed. This woman was to be his wife, his life’s mate. Why did he feel so uncomfortable around her?

“Now then,” Kimbra began, “shall we discuss our living arrangements? How long must we remain in this savage land,” she asked with a delicate shudder that sent the sleeve of her dressing gown tumbling downward, “before we can take up permanent residence in London?”

Damian’s gaze dropped to her breasts, wondering how many men had been privileged to gaze upon them as he did now. Was he getting an innocent? He wouldn’t be surprised if she cuckolded him before the ink was dry on their marriage papers. He shook his head to dispel his doubts and vowed to be more tolerant of her flirtation. Born and raised in London, she was probably conducting herself according to the behavior she’d learned at court.

“You haven’t answered my question, my lord,” Kimbra said archly.

“I have no intention of taking up permanent residence in London,” Damian replied. “Misterly is now my home.”

Kimbra pouted, then reached for him, running her hands down his chest in a suggestive manner. “I have been known to change men’s minds.”

Damian pulled away. What was wrong with him? Kimbra was a beautiful, sensual woman, he should be quivering with desire instead of shrinking away from her. “You’ll find I’m not easily swayed.”

“I refuse to be stuck away in this godforsaken place after our marriage,” Kimbra proclaimed petulantly. “These people are strange to me. They hate me. My bath water was tepid, the food was disgusting, and your mistress was disrespectful.”

Damian gritted his teeth in frustration. “I repeat. Elissa is not my mistress.”

Kimbra glared at him, her displeasure palpable. “Why is the woman still here if she isn’t your mistress?”

Damian flew to Elissa’s defense. “Leave Elissa out of this, my lady. She has nothing to do with our marriage. I’m sure we will deal well with one another as husband and wife after we get to know one another.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, my lord,” Kimbra persisted.

“Your question is irrelevant, though I suppose I should tell you about Elissa before someone else does. Her father and brothers were slain at Culloden. She and her family were allowed to live at Misterly because of its remoteness and uselessness to the Crown. Then London received word of the intended marriage between Elissa and the outlaw Tavis Gordon.

“I was called to London and given Misterly with the understanding that I would prevent the marriage and hold the land for England. Elissa is but a pawn in a nasty game to unite the clans for another attempt at rebellion.”

“Why is she still here?” Kimbra demanded. “She is a traitor. Send her to London and let the Crown deal with her. ’Tis a fitting end for the Jacobite witch.”

The venom in her voice stunned Damian. He said coldly, “I don’t want Elissa’s death on my conscience. The lady will remain at Misterly until I say otherwise.”

“Lady?
You call that traitor ‘lady’? As your wife, my lord, I have the right to say who stays at Misterly and who goes, and Elissa Fraser will definitely go.”

Damian stood abruptly. He had to leave before he lost his temper along with his wits and ordered Kimbra back to London, which would be a mistake. The king would never stand for that kind of disobedience.

Kimbra must have realized she was treading too close to the edge of Damian’s anger for she sent him a beguiling smile and grasped his arm.

“Don’t be upset with me, my lord. Once we wed you will have no need for a mistress. I will even plead with the king to let us take up residence in London. I am his ward, he has affection for me.”

“We shall see, my lady,” Damian said, pulling free and affecting a negligent bow. “I bid you good night. Breakfast is served early in the country.”

“I rarely rise before noon,” Kimbra exclaimed with mock horror. “I’ll send my maid to the kitchen for chocolate and a sweet bun when I arise.”

“Good luck,” Damian muttered beneath his breath. She was lucky to get weak tea and oatcakes. But that was something his very spoiled, very demanding bride-to-be would soon learn for herself.

Damian strode from the chamber, his opinion of Lady Kimbra quickly eroding. He’d been willing to give her a chance, but despite her great beauty he was not impressed with her. Unfortunately there was little he could do about it. In four weeks he would wed and bed Lady Kimbra and welcome the heirs she bore him.

That gave him pause for thought. For some unexplained reason he had pictured his children with vibrant red hair and green eyes.

Damian made himself scarce the following day. He joined his men at sword practice, met with Sir Brody, and went hunting with Dickon. When he returned to the keep he found a disturbance in the hall that had gotten out of hand. Kimbra and Elissa were squared off against one another, arguing like fishwives. Damian plowed through a crowd of onlookers and stepped between them.

“What in bloody hell is going on?”

Kimbra whirled on him, fury darkening her blue eyes. “Please do not curse in my presence, my lord.”

“My pardon, my lady,” Damian bit out sarcastically. “Perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell me the meaning of this unladylike behavior.”

“With pleasure,” Kimbra said, shooting Elissa a spiteful look. “The Jacobite wench insulted me.”

Damian raised a brow in Elissa’s direction. “Elissa…?”

“I merely suggested that since Misterly was to be Lady Kimbra’s home, she should try harder to get along. Your future bride came storming into the kitchen screaming insults. Then, without provocation, she poured a cup of tea on Winifred’s head, insisting that her orders had been deliberately ignored. She’d sent her maid down for a cup of chocolate and Winifred sent tea instead. Winifred explained to Lady Kimbra that there was no chocolate available. I merely attempted to explain that we had few luxuries at Misterly.”

“I bring great wealth to this marriage, my lord,” Kimbra asserted, “and should be granted whatever I wish.”

Damian stifled a groan. “Make your wishes known to Sir Brody and he will do his best to meet your needs within a reasonable time.”

Kimbra stamped her foot. “I want chocolate now!”

Damian raised his eyes heavenward and prayed for patience. “Do we have any chocolate, Elissa?”

“Nay, my lord. ’Tis just as I said. Chocolate is a luxury the Frasers havena been able to afford. Even if we had any, after this outburst, Winifred would bury it in the garden before serving it to your lady.”

Damian stifled a smile. “There you have it, Lady Kimbra. We shall certainly endeavor to obtain your favored drink in the future.”

Kimbra pointed a finger at Elissa. “I demand that you punish her for her disrespectful behavior.”

“What do you suggest?” Damian asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Kimbra sent him an engaging smile. “A good beating should put her in her place. You need to set an example for the other Jacobites, my lord.”

Damian’s temper dangled by a fragile thread. “I’m endeavoring to get along with Elissa’s kinsmen and you’re not helping. I need them to make Misterly prosper. Not even your wealth will help if there is no one to work the fields, reap the crops, and tend the sheep. You must learn to get along with these people, for they are now your people.”

Kimbra reeled back as if struck. “My people? Hardly, my lord. These peasants are beneath me.”

Damian reacted spontaneously. Grasping her arm, he pulled her away into an alcove where they could be seen but not heard.

“Am
I
beneath you, my lady? Do you consider me inferior to your London swains? I am master here. You will not tell me what to do.”

Damian saw her eyes widen, heard the breath catch in her throat, and felt her fingers dig into his shoulder. But instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer. He gave a snort of disgust, suddenly aware that she was aroused. He had stirred her to passion when he’d hoped for anger, or at least fear.

“Damian, Damian!” she panted. “Oh, God, you’re so masterful. I love strong men. Take me to your bedchamber and make me yours. Now, please, my lord.”

Before Damian could respond, she pulled his head down and pressed her lips against his. Curious, Damian let her kiss him, wondering if her kiss would affect him in the same way Elissa’s did. He’d tupped countless women, shared numerous passionate kisses, but only Elissa made him yearn for something deeper.

Oddly detached, Damian felt nothing but mild disinterest for Kimbra’s kisses. His first thought was that she knew more about kissing than a virgin ought to. Her wicked little tongue probed his mouth as if she knew exactly what she was about. Despite her best efforts, Damian remained unmoved. He broke off the kiss and stepped away.

“Damian, please,” Kimbra pleaded, “don’t you want me? We’ll be married soon, what does it matter?”

“I am but protecting your good name,” Damian hedged. “My wife must be above reproach.”

That seemed to mollify Kimbra, for she favored him with a sultry smile. “Four weeks seems like a long time, but perhaps it will be worth it.”

“Shall we discuss your behavior today?” Damian asked, adroitly changing the subject. “Making enemies of the Frasers will hardly endear you to them.”

“Perhaps I would be more inclined toward tolerance if you sent Elissa away.”

“I will think on it,” Damian replied in an effort to placate her. “Meanwhile, perhaps you’d like to inspect the keep. ’Tis quite impressive despite its great age. I’ll explain the improvements I intend to make as we tour the various chambers.”

Kimbra wrinkled her pert nose. “Some other time, perhaps. If your cook can prepare something to tempt my delicate appetite, I should like to eat. I’ll send Daisy to the kitchen to instruct your staff as to my likes and dislikes.”

“I’m sure they’ll do their best to accommodate you,” Damian said, backing away. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I have accounts to go over with my steward.”

Elissa couldn’t hear what Damian and Kimbra were discussing, but she and everyone else had seen what had taken place in the alcove. The kiss Kimbra and Damian had shared spoke volumes. The passion behind the kiss had been so potent Elissa half expected Damian to drag Kimbra posthaste to his bedchamber. The lady had certainly looked willing enough.

Elissa was more than a little surprised when Damian abruptly broke off the kiss and strode away, leaving Kimbra looking bemused and smugly satisfied. Elissa braced herself when Kimbra sauntered up to her, a condescending smile on her lips.

“I’m hungry,” Kimbra said. “A light lunch will do. Poached fish, vegetables seasoned with a hint of rosemary, and freshly baked bread. Honey instead of butter. See to it at once.”

Elissa was tempted to tell Kimbra to go to hell, but wisely held her tongue. Trouble now bore a new name. Lady Kimbra Lancaster.

The hall buzzed with activity as Damian took his place at the head table that evening. Word had circulated that Lady Marianne would make an appearance in the hall and her kinsmen were eager to see for themselves how their former chieftain’s lady was faring under Damian’s care.

Then Lady Kimbra strolled into the hall and conversation halted. Suddenly she became the center of attention. The elaborate court gown she had chosen for her first meal in the hall was cut low over her breasts and richly adorned with lace and ruffles. Damian thought the ostentatious display far too elaborate for the occasion and vowed to school Kimbra about proper country attire. It was unconscionable to flout one’s wealth when these people had been stripped of everything but their pride.

Damian stood courteously when Kimbra appeared; then he stepped forward, offered his arm, and seated her on his left.

“I hope the food tonight is better than what I’ve been offered so far,” Kimbra commented. “I had to make do with smoked salmon and those dreadful oatcakes for lunch. I fear my delicate stomach won’t tolerate such heavy fare.”

“I’ve found the cooks at Misterly quite satisfactory,” Damian defended. “Take your likes and dislikes up with Sir Brody.”

“Hiring a French chef will be my first appointment once I’m Mistress of Misterly,” Kimbra purred.

Damian felt the beginning of a headache. “I think not, my lady. I’m perfectly satisfied with Winifred and her helpers.”

Kimbra opened her mouth to reply and left it hanging open when Sir Brody entered the hall carrying a fragile but beaming Lady Marianne. Little Lora skipped behind them, dragging the doll Elissa had made for her from rags and straw.

Damian stood. “Welcome, Lady Marianne. We’re pleased to have you join us tonight.”

Lora let loose a shriek and threw herself at Damian. He lifted her high in the air, then seated her on his right.

“Who are these people?” Kimbra asked disdainfully.

Damian ignored her as he bade Sir Brody to seat Marianne next to her daughter.

“That child is too young to eat with adults,” Kimbra complained. “Who are they, and what are they doing at the high table?”

Damian waited until Marianne was seated before offering an introduction.

“Lady Marianne, allow me to present Lady Kimbra, my intended bride. Kimbra, this is Lady Marianne Fraser and her daughter Lora.”

Lady Marianne nodded her head graciously, which Kimbra chose to ignore.

“Since this is to be my home, please explain why these people are taking advantage of my hospitality.”

“Lady Marianne and Lora are Lady Elissa’s mother and sister. This is their home.”

“Why are they still here? ’Twas my understanding that the traitor’s family had been properly disposed of.”

“Look around you, my lady. You’re surrounded by Frasers.”

“But to harbor the wife and children of a known traitor is a treasonous act in itself. Whatever would the king say?”

“Let me worry about the king, Lady Kimbra. Lady Marianne and Lora are recovering from grave illnesses. Getting them well is my prime concern.”

“Why should you care?” Kimbra challenged.

“Be careful what you say, my lady,” Damian warned.

Kimbra assumed a repentant look as she directed her gaze to her plate and folded her hands in her lap, but Damian was not fooled. It was apparent that his volatile bride-to-be was fuming inside. Then he spied Elissa and a devil inside him prodded him to say, “Elissa, there’s an empty seat beside your mother. I think she’d be pleased to have you join us.”

Elissa was startled by Damian’s invitation. Didn’t he know his sudden interest in her would infuriate Lady Kimbra? She considered refusing, then changed her mind. After a moment’s hesitation, she calmly seated herself in the chair Damian had indicated. The food was delicious; Elissa thought Winifred had outdone herself. Those partaking of the meal quickly devoured the first course, consisting of saddle of mutton and sirloin of beef.

A fricassee of chickens and pigeons and spinach followed. The third course consisted of poached salmon, fried sole and sweetbreads, and an assortment of green vegetables. Custards and pies concluded the meal. The great feast had been ordered by Damian to honor Lady Kimbra’s arrival. The lady appeared not at all impressed.

Elissa’s temper ignited as she watched Kimbra push her food around her plate with her fork. Elissa had helped in the kitchen earlier and knew how hard Winifred and her helpers had worked to provide the feast Damian had requested. She wanted to berate Kimbra soundly, but Damian beat her to it.

“Is the food not to your liking, Lady Kimbra?” Damian asked curtly.

“The beef was too well done and the mutton raw. I prefer my sole poached and I do not like salmon at all. The custard lacked sufficient vanilla and was runny,” she added, pushing her plate away for emphasis. “I require perfection in my kitchen.”

“I should like to retire,” Marianne said, forestalling Damian’s reply to Kimbra’s complaints. “’Tis been wonderful sharing a meal with my kinsmen, but in the future, Lora and I will dine in my chamber. I donna wish to cause dissention in your household, my lord.”

Damian rose, waving Sir Brody aside as the steward moved to convey Marianne to her chamber. “I will carry Lady Marianne to her room,” he said. “Come along, Lora.”

He lifted Marianne into his arms and strode off as if she weighed nothing. Sir Brody hesitated a moment, then trailed behind Damian. Lora followed in their wake.

“You should follow your mother’s example,” Kimbra said in an aside to Elissa. “’Twas a most uncomfortable situation. I shall ask Lord Damian to remove all three of you from my home. The king will be displeased to learn that Lord Damian is harboring a traitor’s family beneath his roof.”

“Remaining at Misterly is not my choice,” Elissa explained. “I’ve begged Lord Damian to let me leave, but he refuses.”

“Mayhap I can be of some assistance,” Kimbra whispered slyly. “Let me think on your dilemma.”

Damian returned to the hall and slid into his chair.

“Is Mama well?” Elissa asked anxiously.

“A bit tired, but joining us tonight has been good for her. I told her she is welcome to take her meals with us whenever she feels up to it.”

“Really, my lord,” Kimbra exclaimed, “you are too generous. Harboring political prisoners isn’t in your best interest. Send them away.”

“I will take your advice under advisement,” Damian said in a tone that should have warned Kimbra that she was treading on dangerous ground.

Elissa turned away in disgust when Kimbra smiled at Damian and asked, “Will you escort me to my chamber, my lord?”

Damian rose and offered his arm. “Of course, my lady.”

Kimbra latched possessively onto Damian’s arm and swept from the hall, tossing Elissa a smug look over her shoulder.

Elissa stared moodily into her empty plate, unaware that Dermot had joined her until he spoke.

“That woman is trouble, lass.”

Elissa smiled up at him. “Aye, Dermot, but there’s naught we can do about it. She’s Damian’s woman.”

“His lordship will have another Fraser rebellion on his hands if things donna change.”

“That wouldna be wise, Dermot. At one time I wouldna have hesitated to foster a rebellion, but I no longer believe ’tis for the best. Besides, I donna believe Damian will allow his bride to run roughshod over him or us.”

“Mayhap yer right, lass, but I canna predict how long our kinsmen will stand for Lady Kimbra’s insults. Winifred is ready to quit the kitchen.”

“I’ll speak to Lord Damian. He must be made to realize what’s happening in his own home.”

Dermot took his leave. Her thoughts tumbled one upon another as Elissa climbed the stairs to the solar. Dimly she wondered what Kimbra had meant when she’d said she’d help Elissa leave Misterly. Her short acquaintance with Damian’s English bride-to-be had shown Kimbra to be spoiled, vain, and ruthless. She seemed quite taken with Damian, however, and he with her. How else would one explain Damian’s indulgence for his intended bride? He had never treated
her
with the same patience or consideration, but then, she made no secret of her loathing for Englishmen and their Hanover king.