Elise (14 page)

“Your father sold you? Your own father?”

Colin’s face glittered through the blur of unshed tears. Elise gagged on a reply. Nothing was going to stop him.

“You were terrified of marrying Wynd, were na’ you?”

“What would you know of it?” She was trying for a cold, unaffected voice, but she sounded like she was chewing on pebbles. Colin understood it, though.

“You were afraid of him, and yet you still wed him? Were you punished? I find that hard to believe. More like you went for the money and ended up paying more than you bargained for.”

“Stop! Please, please stop!” Elise put her hands to her ears and held them there. She’d found her voice, too, for she was screeching. Shuddering filled her. Colin’s eyes had changed, softened somehow, and she couldn’t face him anymore. She stared out the window and let the tears fall.

“You didn’t know my father. You can’t have known how much I hated him. He beat me. Do you hear me? He beat me!” The words were slurred with her anguish. Elise wasn’t in control of it. The young girl she’d been was the one talking.

“I would never have married Wynd! He was old. Do you hear? I hated him. That I was wed with him and had to share his bed... dear God! It makes me ill to recall it!” She was gagging as she said it. “He smelled. The entire room smelled. Don’t you understand? He was an old man!”

“But you wore the strawberry leaves. You were rich; you were a duchess, with an army of servants at your beck and call.”

“You think I cared? If I could have walked after my father beat me, I would have run. I would have done anything. I would have killed myself before I let the duke touch me!”

“Elise ... Elise.”

Colin slid forward from his bench and reached for her. She was incapable of resisting him. She collapsed onto his chest and sobbed into his shirtfront. She couldn’t control the shaking that had overtaken her.

“I dinna’ know. I’m sorry,” Colin whispered.

“They had to carry me to the altar. They had to carry me to the duke’s chambers, too. I didn’t have any fight left in me. I was only fifteen! What did I know of it, anyway?”

“Fifteen? Good God!”

“He died that night, after... I can’t finish, I can’t!” Elise tried to push from the safety of his lap, but he held her too tightly.

“You doona’ have to finish, Elise.”

“Don’t say another word, Colin MacGowan. You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted me screaming? Well, take notes, then.”

“I already said I was sorry.”

“I would have done anything to keep this secret... anything!” She was gripping his shirtfront and trying to shake him. It wasn’t working. “Is this what you wanted, Colin? Well, is it?”

“Na’ especially.”

“Well, you’re going to know every morbid detail now. You’re going to listen through the whole horrible thing, and then you’re never asking about it again. Do you understand?”

“Stop it, Elise.” He may have thought he commanded it, but his voice was too soft and gentle sounding. It didn’t make any difference to her tears or her trembling, however.

“He died. And I watched him do it. I spent my entire wedding night next to a...” She was gagging and had to hold a hand to her mouth. “I couldn’t move. My bandages had come off. I hurt so badly, I couldn’t even move.”

“That’s enough, Elise.”

“I’ll say when it’s enough! You asked for this, remember?”

“I dinna’ know.”

“Of course, you didn’t know! No one does. The entire staff at Wyndham is ignorant of it. Do you know why? Because they’d been ordered to stay away no matter how much I screamed.”

“The bloody bastard!”

Since Colin’s arms about her had tightened, she felt the movement of his chest as he swore. Elise took a gulp of air, and then another
. I am not perched atop Colin MacGowan‘s lap, while he tears my carefully constructed persona apart!
She just wasn’t! It was too strange to consider. Stranger still was the fact that she wasn’t in fear of it.

“I see you dinna’ wear bootblack on your lashes today. That’s a verra good thing for me. I’d hate to arrive at Storth with black stains all down my shirt-front.”

Colin may have been trying to sound his usual, carefree self, but he had to clear his throat midsentence to lower the octave. He let go of her with one arm and began searching the greatcoat beside him. The shifting of his thighs beneath her was startling. Elise shut her eyes and her mind to it.

It wasn’t working. She knew just how muscular his legs were. She’d had a very good look at them last night. She couldn’t believe what she was doing! She should be prostrate with guilt, not thinking of the man beneath her.

“You can put me down now, Colin,” she whispered.

“And you can shush, too. I’ve found it, thank God. I was beginning to think my man absent in his duties. Here.”

Elise had to open her eyes. Colin was proffering his handkerchief. She shoved it to her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me. I understand now. You dinna’ wish to be any man’s wife, again. It would na’ have mattered if it was me or that Easton fellow.”

“I let him die, Colin. I must have wanted him to.”

“The man got nae more than he deserved, if you ask me. Nae, that’s too mild. He should have suffered an agonizing death, na’ one from bedding a beautiful girl.”

His matter-of-fact tone and words were calming her. Elise wasn’t shaking anymore, and the handkerchief was mopping away not only the tears, but the desire to cry. She took another shuddering breath.

“You can set me down now.”

“As we’ve already gone over that particular conversation, I’ll remind you of how dull it sounds when repeated. Perhaps I doona’ think you’re sufficiently recovered to sit by yourself.”

“I am.” She sniffed after saying it, and then moved the handkerchief away to prove it.

“All right, I’ll come up with another reason. There’s the matter of your youth. You had me fooled on that score. I just found out that I’ve nearly a decade of age on you. That will require some adjustment on my part. If you think I doona’ have much experience with society women, you should see my lack of it around lasses as young as you are. You’re barely old enough to be wed.”

“I don’t want a husband, Colin, elder or otherwise.”

“That’s most likely true. Unfortunately, as I’ve told you, you’re already most legally wed ... to me.”

“I can’t consummate it, though, Colin. I just can’t!” Her voice rose and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She refused to meet his look, too.

“Well, that would certainly open the door to an annulment later.”

“You won’t force it?”

“I am neither old, ugly, nor unsuitable bedding material. Of course, I will na’ force it. What do you think me?”

“A man,” she answered.

“True enough. Are you recovered now, then? Good. I’ve quite lost feeling in my lower extremities.”

Elise slid from him, swiveled, and sat on her own bench. She had weeded all but one petticoat from her traveling attire. It made the movement easier. It had also made it easier to feel every bit of him when he’d been beneath her. He hadn’t felt like he’d lost all feeling. He’d felt hard, strong, and warm. She didn’t know what to make of that.

The sewing hoop was still there, and she stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“You’ve been honest with me. I must be the same with you. I’ve already sent news of our marriage to my clan. I’ve nae wish to look a fool, and a cuckolded one at that. May I make a bargain with you?”

“What kind of bargain?”

“Let’s give this charade six weeks, nae longer. At the end, I’ll let you leave Castle Gowan and petition for an annulment if that’s your wish. I can always blame it on the English lack of good sense.”

“Do I have a choice on the matter?”

“Of course. Unlike your prior experiences, I’d na’ force a girl to do anything. It’s inbred. I’m asking you, as a favor to me, to pretend to be my wife. Six weeks. You can na’ have anything more pressing at hand, do you? I’ve gotten a bit of insight into the life you’ve led. It has to be boring at times. Besides, the older you look, the thinner you’ll find the ranks of available men to wreak your vengeance on.”

“I beg . . . your pardon?”

“Forgive me, I’m thinking aloud. Stop me when I’m wrong.”

“Colin—”

“All right, stop me now. I’m due for a bit of a nap, anyway.”

“A nap? After forcing me to tell you about Wynd, you mourn a lost nap? You are unbelievable. Now, you want me to agree to parade as a wife, to God alone knows how many Scotsmen?”

“And Scotswomen. Doona’ forget them. They’ll spot a fraud the moment they see one.”

“I don’t love you.”

“Well, I’ve still some time to make you do so, doona’ I?”

“I—I refuse your bargain, then.”

“Why? I’ll do my best to be charming. You do your best to resist. It sounds verra entertaining and should make the rest of our journey fly by.”

“I won’t do it. I won’t.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”

Yes
, she answered silently. That was exactly what she feared. “I refuse to answer that, because it’s beneath me to do so.”

Elise picked up her discarded hoop and tried to locate her needle. Normally, it would have been easy; she could simply follow the loose thread. Unfortunately, there were no less than four large loops of loose thread, and none of them had a needle attached. Colin had been right about that one, too. Sewing wasn’t one of her talents.

“Coward.”

He didn’t seem to expect an answer, and Elise wasn’t going to give him one. She tried to ignore him as he put on his hat, and pulled the brim forward to shade his eyes. Then he propped himself into the padded corner, which her corset wouldn’t allow her to do, and slept.

Chapter 14

“For some reason I doona’ think Quorn is very fond of you, my dear. I can na’ imagine what you did. You dinna’ throw him over for another, did you? The papers seemed to think quite the opposite.”

Elise smiled behind her gloved hand. “I think it was more because we used to gossip critically of those at court. I believe his story was that he hid his wife away from society so that none others would steal her from him. He never expected me to see the truth. I think that’s more the reason for his behavior toward me today.”

“Well, he has naught to fear from me, I assure you.”

Elise giggled her reply.

“The Quorns do have a spectacular snuffbox collection, though. Now that, he’d best keep guarded.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Elise answered, as she let Colin lead her to the indoor conservatory.

The Quorns hadn’t accompanied them, nor had their other guests, so Elise had Colin MacGowan all to herself.

Almost before his wife opened her mouth, it had been obvious why Quorn preferred the thrill of London. Elise knew Colin had spotted it just as she had, for he’d met her eyes and winked. The Marquise had a spotted complexion, a rotund shape, and rotted teeth. She’d looked incongruous beside the tall, dark, dapper figure of her husband.

When they’d arrived, Elise had been afraid that she’d unseated her hat, destroyed her gown, or at least had dark circles beneath her eyes. She wouldn’t have been able to hide it, if she’d looked worn, wearied, or just plain emotionally drained, for the entire front of Storth Hall was lit. It hadn’t been necessary of yet, because the sun was just sinking. It was probably for the effect.

Colin had assured her she looked fine, and she’d had to trust him. It wasn’t necessary, though. Neither Quorn had glanced her way at all, and the greeting had been curt. Colin had escorted her up the front steps of Storth Hall and into a massive hall. It was very impressive. Elise had to look away when she’d first seen the Marquis with his wife.

Correct social decorum dictated that their hosts bow first. Colin wasn’t having any of it. He hadn’t waited for the majordomo to introduce them, he’d done it.

“Quorn! So nice of you to have us for a visit. I recall Storth Hall from the last time I was here, but that was some time ago. Allow me to introduce my wife, the new Duchess of MacGowan, Elise MacGowan.”

“We’ve met,” the Marquis said coldly.

Elise inclined her head, hid the smile as best she could, and said something inane.

She and Colin had been given adjoining state bedrooms on the second floor. It was quite an honor. Elise prepared herself as quickly as possible, for the Quorns had assembled a small soiree for the evening on behalf of their guests.

Elise had been grateful Colin had kept to his own room. She needed the privacy. Although the Marquise had donated the services of a maid to her, it had still been after eleven when Elise descended the steps, clad in the next-to last evening gown she’d had with her.

Colin’s attire couldn’t be faulted. It was difficult to believe he had this type of wardrobe available to him from the one trunk she’d seen. He’d exchanged his brown traveling suit for black pants and a matching jacket. The cummerbund about his waist was of a distinctive red and green plaid on a background of black. Elise remembered it from Colin’s dressing gown. She wondered if that was the only color of plaid he had with him.

He should have looked outlandish amongst the local gentry, but he didn’t. He looked just like a Scottish laird in English attire would.

Now, accompanying Colin into the conservatory, she wondered about that. What would those clansmen and women of his think of such a wardrobe on their laird, if they’d fault her the jewels she wore?

Storth Hall actually had more than a conservatory. Quorn had been remarking on it at dinner. He was trying for a topiary garden, where one shaped the trees and shrubs as they grew. She could see what he meant the moment they entered. Glass walls about the room let in the moonlight, so the little globes of light dotted about the walls weren’t really necessary.

Elise held her breath. She’d gone straight from the luxury of an English manor to what was, in essence, a rain forest. Beside her, she felt Colin’s surprise, too.

“The Marquis has every right to be proud of this.”

“It quite takes the breath away, doesn’t it?” she replied.

“That and more. It looks like the perfect spot for a kiss. I doona’ suppose you’d oblige, would you?”

“You’d best be joshing with me, Colin.”

He sighed beside her. If she could have seen well enough, she’d have sworn he looked heavenward for a moment before returning to look at her.

“Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

“So I doona’ lose you, why else?”

“It’s not that dark.”

“You are na’ still afraid of me, are you? I thought we’d settled that this afternoon.”

The soft Scottish burr he spoke with tightened her throat. Elise shook her head and changed the subject.

“I’ve noticed that you wear the same plaid every time, Colin. Isn’t there another color scheme you’d wear?”

“Of course na’. These are my family colors. All my clansmen wear the same. I happen to like it. The pattern goes back so many centuries, I’ve lost count. My Aunt Lileth can enlighten you, though. As the Matriarch of Clan MacGowan, she weaves the ceremonial sett after checking the placement on the castle’s muckle wheel.”

“Are you talking in a foreign tongue, Colin? I didn’t follow any of that.”

“Another of your non-talents? They seem to be multiplying.”

“Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Every clansman is recognized by the plaid he wears. This is the MacGowan sett. Every MacGowan clansman wears these same colors. I’m required to do so. It’s tradition. I’m the laird. As such, my clan owes me their fealty; in return, I owe them my protection.”

“I know what a clansman is,” she said, trying not to sound defensive.

“My apologies. What dinna’ you understand, then?”

“The muckle-thing. What is that?”

“A muckle wheel is used for holding the spun wool before it’s woven into the plaid. Always the same. Same width of bands. Same positioning of colors. The pattern of any plaid is called a sett. The privilege of weaving ceremonial setts goes to the matriarch of the family. Aunt Lileth is the matriarch, since she’s my father’s only surviving sister.”

Elise was beginning to understand Evangeline’s situation even more. With such old-fashioned customs, no wonder she’d been beneath consideration to wed into their clan.

“Is everything so ... rigid, then?” she asked.

“Aye, you’ll probably have to don the colors, too, Elise. On ceremonial occasions, anyway.”

“Black has never been a good color for me. It’s quite theatrical with my coloring.”

“Does na’ matter. It will be expected.”

She sighed. “How many of them are there, then?”

“Ceremonies? Three, four a week. Sometimes more.”

“What?” Her voice rose with the word.

“I’m teasing with you, Elise. You may wear whatever you like, whenever you like. I’d prefer it that way, actually. I would na’ change anything about you.”

She had to turn aside so he wouldn’t see any part of her face. They’d been strolling about a huge statue of some mythological god in the middle of Lord Quorn’s indoor garden. There were some Grecian-inspired benches along the wall, too. She wasn’t surprised to be led to one. She was actually grateful. Her knees felt quite weak and shaky at what he’d said.

Colin sat beside her and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. He wasn’t touching her, but it felt as though he was. He clasped his fingers together, and then he sighed.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Quorn has designed a masterpiece. I’m quite envious. Na’ that I can na’ build my own at Castle Gowan, you understand. It will take time, though, and I have na’ much of that. I have na’ even gotten you to agree to the six weeks, yet.”

It felt like her heart was the lump that lodged in the base of her throat. She had to clear her throat in order to speak. “Yes, it is lovely, isn’t it?”

“It’s beautiful, peaceful, and romantic, Elise. If I look at it just right, those trees there resemble a garden in Darjeeling. I used to go there when I was na’ on duty. If the moon was full, anyway.”

“Darjeeling?”

“It’s a city in India. Sorry, I was rambling.”

“No, please, tell me more.”

“Why?”

“Something to do. I don’t know.”

“I’ve got better things in mind if that’s your worry.”

“No. Wait.”

Her words stopped. He was turning toward her. She knew he was putting an arm along the bench behind her at the same time. She was trying to concentrate on how to divert him. Then his knee touched hers. Elise knew then that her gown wasn’t made of thick enough material. It couldn’t be, or she’d not feel the warmth spreading up her leg.

“Colin.” She was supposed to be strongly protesting, not whispering the name with a voice she didn’t recognize.

“Did you wear lip rouge tonight?”

“I can’t—”

His arm pulled her to his chest, and the rest of her sentence failed her. She didn’t know how the ruffled front of his shirt would feel against the skin above her bodice; nor did she guess how heated the hand he raised her chin with would be. He didn’t give her any time to assimilate any of it, either.

Colin murmured some strange words against her mouth. Elise started shivering. She couldn’t understand a bit of it, but she didn’t need to. The gentle tone of them touched her heart and started a stab of tears to her eyes.

Her hands had stabilized her against him; her fingers gripped to the plaid wool of his belt. She could feel the ridges of muscle in his stomach flinching against her knuckles. Then his lips took hers.

Her mind stopped. Elise moaned, but it was covered up by the sound of his. Fast-moving waves crashed into her stomach, and then flooded right from there to her breasts. She couldn’t stop them as he moved his lips against hers. She could hardly believe they existed.

More of his soft-sounding words were mumbled against her cheek as he moved his kiss to her throat. She tipped her head up to let him. She’d never felt such trickles of emotion as the ones that took the place of the wave, sensitizing her breasts and belly. It was incredible.

And it was wrong.

“Stop, Colin. We must... we can’t—Colin, stop, please.”

Elise moved her hands from his cummerbund and pushed at both humps of his chest. It was against every instinct she had. She longed more to hold to him and never let go.

He lifted his head and looked somewhere above her. Elise’s eyes widened at the heaving of the chest in front of her. It took an act of will to remove her hands from it. She watched him through a gloss of tears. She was afraid to blink.

He was still looking above her head, but his arm loosened. Elise had to will herself to move from him. She stood on legs that resembled sticks of wood and met his eyes. What emotion she was holding in check stalled as drops of moonlight touched the moisture on the surface of his eyes. Elise licked her lips with a dry tongue. His jaw was set, his lids were narrowed, and he didn’t look at all gentle.

“Do you treat all of your lovers to this torment?”

She made some sound he could take for whatever he wished and turned her back to him. “You don’t understand,” she whispered to the statue.

“Try me.”

He was right behind her. She could see his shadow on the tiled floor beneath her; it began climbing the base of the statue. The hairs at the nape of her neck were telling her, too.

“I don’t want to love you, Colin.”

“Is it that you doona’ want to love anyone? Or just me?”

Elise pushed her fingers into her mouth to still the cry. Colin came from around her, and she didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching her. Elise willed herself to tell him the secret. It was the perfect time, but the words wouldn’t come. She knew why. She may not want to love him, but it was too late.

“You’re na’ going to answer that, are you?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Are you still so scarred by Wynd?”

She shook her head again.

“Then what is it? You confuse the hell out of me. I’m fairly certain I doona’ like it, either.”

“I’m . . . sorry.”

“Your body begs for my touch, your eyes plead with me for it…your lips definitely answer mine. Yet, when you have all that, you push me away. Why?”

It was no use. The tears slid from her eyes and she bit on her fingers to still the sob. She couldn’t tell him, yet. She didn’t wish to see him turn from her, like Evan had her very own sister, and his unborn son. She didn’t think she could bear it. Then she knew the truth: She knew she couldn’t bear it.

Stupid girl!
She called it silently to herself. She was no more suitable to be the wife of a MacGowan than her sister, Evangeline, had been. The worst part was, she’d known it beforehand.