Elise (25 page)

She knew she was being carried on a large shoulder. She knew when he tossed her across a horse, for the saddle horn bit into her side, and she knew when her captor mounted beside her. She knew it would be Torquil, too.

She was going to make him pay more than threefold.

The blood pounded into her head with each lope of the horse. Her legs swung into it in rhythm, too. The hand at the small of her back, holding her in place, was the most hated object she’d ever felt.

She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this! The moment Torquil released her, she was going to tell him his mistake. She’d been fully prepared to give him a very large portion of her entire fortune from Monte Carlo for helping her gain her freedom. Now, she wasn’t handing over one bent shilling.

She’d make certain he regretted this. Abduction was one thing; commonsense treatment of a prisoner was another. If this was the Scot’s version of capture, Elise would have to amend her viewpoint of Colin’s. She tried to think, but with her head upside down, it was difficult.

Surely they wouldn’t ride through the night. She wasn’t sure she could withstand it. She couldn’t tell what time it was anymore, or how long she’d been pinioned between Torquil’s saddle and the horse’s neck. Horses had trouble carrying double, didn’t they? She wished she’d paid more attention to her lessons. No horse could run all night while carrying two, could it? The gag was getting soaked with spittle, and Elise concentrated on that. It gave her something to do while she planned her revenge.

Before he called a halt, she’d given up thinking of vengeance. She was only thinking to survive the pain of each thud in her temples until the next came. She no longer cared if the gag was wet. She couldn’t stop the tears from dripping down into her hair and her nose from running, anyway. Now, she had some misery to compare with Colin’s treatment. It wasn’t a very pleasant thought.

The horse halted, and Elise was dragged from its back. She fully expected to feel the ground as she fell, but Torquil had as much strength as he looked to have. He swung her back over his shoulder and started walking. She knew he laughed about her, too, especially when he patted her buttocks familiarly.

If Elise hadn’t prayed before, she started then. This was all her fault. Why hadn’t she believed Colin when he’d said it was for her protection? If only she had it to do over again, how much different things would have been. She’d have told him everything the first chance she had, and she would have stayed at his side every moment since.

She was set down carefully. Elise recognized the restraint behind it. The hands about her were kind as the bag was pulled up and over her head, making certain none of her clothing was displaced as they did so. It was Torquil, and it was morning. The mists all about them were hued with a vague, green-tinted light. It was also raining.

“If you’ll na’ scream, I’ll release you. Nod for aye.”

She nodded.

The tie at her wrists was cut, and Elise cried out at the pain throughout her upper arms. She couldn’t even feel her hands.

“Rub them together. It will na’ take long.”

She started rubbing her hands together, although it had taken two tries to connect them. The gag was undone, and she tipped her head forward to spit it out. Her hands were alive with spikes of pain. She gritted her teeth and almost wished for the gag back as the moans escaped her lips.

“I had nae other choice, Elise. I dinna’ know what your husband had planned, or if you’d give us trouble. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Torquil went on one knee in front of her as he spoke. Elise turned her head away. She couldn’t reply. She was afraid the first words would be screams.

“Are you hungry?”

She shook her head.

“We’ve stopped for a bit of rest. We’ll na’ stay long. Your husband is a bright man, and we’re na’ safe here. We’ve two more days afore we reach MacKennah land. Stay here.”

What a stupid statement from an equally stupid man! Where was she going to go? There were yellow-clad men all about her. She didn’t know the country, her hands were barely starting to feel like they still belonged to her, her lower legs felt too weak to stand on, and she had only herself to blame. The last part was the worst. She bent her head and watched the drizzle falling from the ends of her hair to make a small puddle on her skirt.

She was in luck that she’d dressed in a heavy twill skirt and a broadcloth blouse. It was durable enough for her experience. It was quite plain and serviceable, too. She couldn’t have chosen better if she’d known . . . and Colin had called it wanton!

Fresh tears filled her eyes, and she lifted her head to let the rain wash them away.

Chapter 25

They gave her a horse. There wasn’t any way to sit sidesaddle. Elise realized that almost immediately. She hitched up her skirts, ignored the amount of leg she was showing, and picked up the reins. She was afraid of the alternative.

The rain continued throughout the day and she kept her head bowed to it. That way, the moisture drained onto the horse, and from there to the ground. She was directly behind Torquil, but he wasn’t leading; some other yellow-tartan-dressed fool was ahead. She didn’t want to know any of their names. When the time came for her release back into Colin’s care, she didn’t wish any more to come of it. Colin had been right about that, too. If one side didn’t play, the game had to die.

They didn’t stop when they passed Inverness. If Elise hadn’t been such a ball of self-pity, she’d have looked about her and noticed when it happened, instead of having it pointed out to her.

She suspected they were simply making certain of their position, but it felt like an additional insult as far as she was concerned. Elise watched the spires of church buildings and the towers of what was probably the university through the tops of trees. She turned her head away. She’d only pine the lost opportunity if she let herself dwell on it.

She wasn’t going to waste any more time crying. She was going to need every bit of her strength. The weight of her saturated skirt was giving her every indication of it. Hadn’t Colin already warned her of the dangers of Scotland’s damp, and its chill?

There was a bite to the air that raised gooseflesh up and down her back whenever they passed beneath the shade of a tree. She wondered how much colder it would get when night fell. She’d have to request a tartan from Torquil if it was more than she could stand. She should have eaten when he offered it, too. Part of her chill was due to hunger. She only hoped it wouldn’t develop into an illness. She was going to need her health.

She was tired of being her own worst enemy.

She sighed and dropped her head.

~ ~ ~

They didn’t halt until the sun set. Elise knew very well how cold it was going to get now. The reins were hard to hold, and her teeth chattered. When Torquil came for her, she swallowed and told him of it.

“I’ll need ... a tartan, Torquil. It—it’s cold.”

“A MacGowan in MacKennah sett? A fine thing that would be, to be sure. Here, I’ve MacGowan plaid for you. ’Tis more fitting.”

He tossed her a large blanket thing. Elise didn’t know how to wear it, and she ignored their amusement at her efforts to wrap it about herself. She didn’t care. The tartan was as sturdy and thick as it looked. She was still wet, but it was warmer.

“Will you be eating sup?” he asked, when she’d finished.

She nodded.

They’d killed a large deer, and then they roasted it, despite the continual rain. She satisfied her curiosity at how, when Torquil went for her meal. They’d built a small, high-roofed affair of branches directly over the meat and fire. Elise watched them without saying anything. They were in great spirits. She supposed it was due to her capture. Torquil had been right: Abducting the MacGowan Duchess right from beneath the duke’s nose was raising him in their esteem.

Of course, they didn’t know she’d been in on the plot. Nor did they know that the duke had known. She hadn’t planned on accompanying them to their stronghold, either. That hadn’t been in the equation. Nor was anyone to be hurt, Mick included. Men shouldn’t have control of everything. Look at how things turn out.

She wondered how much Colin would have to pay for her, and how much it would cost her to reimburse him. She was going to reimburse him, too. She was not going to have a debt of that sort over her! No man was going to be able to say he’d bought and paid for her! That would be the height of indignity. She leaned against a fallen log and latched her fingers together.

“Here, eat up.”

Torquil held out more meat than she’d seen eaten at a dinner for four. Her slab of venison was hanging from a stick, and Elise’s eyebrows lifted. None of her former society friends would have believed it. If she weren’t watching the others eating, she would have had the same problem. She’d thought them barbaric before? There were no words for what she thought now.

She reached for her portion with both hands and started shoving it into her mouth. Elise couldn’t believe she’d eaten the entire thing, when Torquil returned to her. She actually licked her fingers and debated asking for more as he stood there, watching her.

“You’re raising my esteem of the dreaded Sassenach, woman. Do you ken that?”

“I don’t wish you thinking of me at all,” she replied.

“Fair enough. I’ve plans. Have you any?”

“On what?” she asked.

“What to do once the ransom’s paid?”

“Don’t you understand English? I don’t wish you thinking of me.”

“I’m na’. I’m thinking of the gold. I believe I’ll refurbish the west wing. It’s na’ more than rubble at present. I already ken how much I’ll ask. Do you want to know?”

“No.”

“Too bad. You’re na’ uncomfortable?”

Only a heathen in yellow plaid from a godforsaken country would ask such an idiotic question. Elise bent her head to keep the disdain from showing in her eyes and hoped he’d leave.

“Get some sleep. The trail gets worse tomorrow. Pleasant dreams, Elise.”

The devil’s own nightmare to you, she answered him in her mind. Then she turned her back on him, pulled her knees to her chin for a headrest, covered the whole with the woolen blanket over her head to sluice the rain, and tried to find a comfortable enough spot to support her against the log.

A muted thud woke her. Then vibrations of it were tingling all along the hollow log, into her side, and up her back, before finishing at the base of her neck. Elise raised her head from her knees, parting the fold of plaid over her face, and opened her eyes.

It was a MacKennah clansman that had slammed against her log. Elise blinked as she looked at him. Actually, it was a MacKennah clansman in an unnatural, folded contortion, completely bent at the waist. That was strange, she thought. He couldn’t possibly sleep like that. He’d be a mass of sore muscles when he awakened.

There was another slight sound, like a breath of wind through the leaves, and Elise’s eyes widened as she watched the MacKennah body that was the cause. She gulped and turned her head.

There was still a steady drizzle of rain, which muted everything. There were fingers of mist threading throughout the trees about them and making a thinly veiled whiteness coat the air. Then there was a shadow slipping across the dying embers of their cook-fire, slicing the only available light with the movement. Elise blinked. The shadow shifted again; the complete blackness of it was the only indication of where it was. Then it was gone, swallowed by the ground.

Another MacKennah clansman made a soft sigh of sound, resembling a groan, and spun backward before falling into his own contorted heap. The shadow was there again, showing the reason for the man’s propulsion. Elise sharpened her eyes, bringing what she could see into perfect focus, and then she was wishing she hadn’t

The shadow moved again, thickening for a moment into a mass of depth, size, and volume. Then it solidified into a demon. Then it was gone again. One of Elise’s hands went to her throat to hold the screams in, whereas the other clutched at her plaid to mold it about her skull and tighten the opening about her nose. She didn’t move as another MacKennah clansman landed at the other end of the log, transferring the same tremor to her limbs as before.

It was a nightmare. It had to be.

Elise watched the force of nature that was contained in the one mass of blackness and couldn’t move. Silently, relentlessly, and with a precision that defied the evidence of her own eyes, Elise watched the black mass rotate, swoop, and leap about, each move seeming to result in a MacKennah man’s collapse. Then there wasn’t anyone left in the clearing, save her. The absolute silence was bad, and it was made worse by the way her heart constricted, filling her ears with its pounding and her own gut-choking fear.

The shadow had disappeared again. Elise’s eyes flitted about the clearing, her breathing got hoarser and louder and faster, and her heart’s thumping intensified, until she couldn’t hear a thing over her own body’s responses. Then the mist stirred; the demon at the midst of it rose from the ground to stand, etched by the dim light. Then it was moving toward her, floating through fingers of opacity, and when it got to her, it was opening the blackness enshrouding it and reaching down for her. The screams turned into a choking ball of burning pain right at the base of her throat, and the hand she still had there wasn’t doing a thing to alleviate any of it.

“Oh, good. They gift-wrapped you.”

Elise heard the whisper, and even recognized it, as the ball of shape she’d been in was lifted and held against a very brawny, heaving chest that couldn’t possibly be Colin MacGowan.

Colin MacGowan?

In the nightmarish sequence of events, she’d never allowed that idea entry.

“Hush! We’ve almost a league to make afore they wake.”

He was hushing her for no reason. Elise wasn’t going to give any trouble, such as making any sort of noise. She had yet to force her own throat to swallow. She sucked in on her lower lip and relaxed her fingers from the grip they were still in on the plaid and on her own skin. He started running.

Elise was being held closely against a hard chest she recognized, which was thinly covered with a cotton shirt of some kind that was soaked with sweat and rain. The sound of heartbeats and a steady cadence of breathing got stronger and deeper the longer he ran with her. She put her nose squarely in the center of his chest, supported her forehead on the mounds of chest muscle he had, and stayed there. She had never experienced anything as wonderful.

The sensation strengthened, mutating into something different, something warmer and stronger, thicker and heavier. Elise could feel it, sense it, and taste it. She flicked out her tongue and touched it onto flesh that sparked the moment she did. Elise yanked her tongue back and enjoyed the tingling reaction that was still happening in her mouth.

“Colin?” She lifted her chin, rubbing her cheek along him.

A low growl answered her, and then a curse, and then a resultant slowing of his pace.

“I mean . . . Your Grace?” She tried again.

“Hush!”

“But, I have to tell you—”

“Nae time!”

He shifted her, removing her from the warmth and safety of a place against his heart, to drape her across his shoulders, securing her arms and legs with one arm. Then he started again, at a pace equal to, if not faster than, he’d already been running.

A branch hit her head, and then another, and another, in a never-ending sequence of annoyance. Elise lowered her head to hang it over his shoulder and promised herself to endure without a hint of protest. She even surprised herself by sleeping.

He was walking when she woke. Dawn was graying the skies and putting shape and substance to all the scattered boulders and thigh-high grass he was walking through. It took Elise a few moments to recollect where she was, and longer to recall why she was there. Colin’s shoulders. She was across Colin’s shoulders, and that meant he’d been hefting her all night. He was still breathing in a steady cadence of sound, but it was heavier, if the movement of his shoulders against her tender ribs was any indication.

“Col—I mean, Your Grace?” she whispered.

He cocked his head.

“Thank you.”

“Gift me with such when we’re safe.”

“We’re not safe?”

“Nae.”

He broke into a trot. Elise seized the intake of breath at the pain. She watched the sodden grass flatten and stay flattened as he went through it, making a trail that was easy to follow with the eye.

“Your Grace?”

“Hush!” he answered.

“But you’re making a trail.”

He chuckled. That hurt her ribs worse. She swallowed on the cry to still it but had to clench her teeth together to do so. Then she saw the reason for his amusement, as a herd of sheep entered the meadow, filling the grass with dots of white and easily erasing any sign of passage.

Elise felt like a fool. There was nothing about Scotland that was familiar, or easy to negotiate, or in her realm of experience. She was no ice goddess. Shivers heralded the tears, and she swallowed over and over again to stop them. When that didn’t work, she had to accept the obvious. She wasn’t just a fool, she was a self-pitying fool. The only thing left to her was to keep the knowledge from him.

She lowered her head back against the black material cloaking him and let it absorb the moisture.

At the other end of the meadow, he slowed and had to dodge hardier-looking trees and denser foliage before they were hidden again. It was darker, too. The air was moist with the smell of damp and decay, and the feel of life that he’d tried to describe to her what felt like a year ago.

“We have a moment, Elise.”

“A... moment?” she managed to ask, without alerting him to the clogged nose and face full of tears.