Highland Temptation (3 page)

“ 'Tis no trouble.”

He helped her onto her side and under the covers. Then, to her surprise, he lay beside her. “Sometimes,” he said softly, “when someone is near, it makes everything more bearable. I'm right here beside you, lass. I'll watch over you this night, and nothing bad will happen, because I'm here.” He put an arm around her middle and drew her gently against him. He was warm and strong, and all her tight, overtense muscles seemed to melt at the contact.

“I'm so tired,” she said on a sigh.

“Sleep, then.”

So she did just that.

“I'm going to kill him,” Colin said.

The Highland Knights were gathered around the breakfast table early the next morning, and Colin and the major had brought the others up-to-date on the events of the night before. Lady Emilia still slept, the ladies of the household watching over her.

“That might be a wee bit rash,” Ross said.

Ross, with his curly red hair and fiery temper, was the rashest of them all, so his statement made Colin snort. But before he could respond, the major stepped in. “Aye, you're right,” he said to Ross before turning back to Colin. “We need to ken why this happened, why she came to us.
Then
you can kill him.”

“Some men will use any excuse to beat a woman,” Laurent said. The dark-haired young Frenchman was the only one of them who wasn't a Highlander and who hadn't served in the army. Trained as an English spy, Laurent had perfected the art of slipping in and out of conversations and collecting people's secrets without being suspected. His ability to pass without notice was in direct contrast to the rest of the Knights—all large and intimidating kilt-wearing Highland warriors who couldn't enter a building without everyone inside immediately noting their presence. “She might have blinked wrong at him, for all we know,” Laurent added.

“Aye,” the major said, “that's true. But…there's something different about this.”

Colin shook his head. “I'm not so sure about that. I didna tell any of you this, because it didna seem important at the time. I encountered her walking several weeks ago.” He would not share the circumstances of that particular walk. The demons had been grabbing at his very lungs—when he'd encountered Emilia he'd been sucking in air, certain he was going to perish.

“And?” McLeod asked.

“Something about what she said gave me an uneasy feeling. I told her our house would always be a safe place to her. That if she ever had any trouble, she should come to us.”

“And obviously she met with some trouble last night,” Mackenzie, a broad-chested warrior, said, scowling.

Colin was glad none of his fellow Knights were taking this lightly. None of them could bear the thought of violence against women. It was such a relief to be among like-minded men. To have the opportunity to fight side by side with them, to call them his brothers
.

“Aye, but I feel there's more,” the major mused. “Something else has happened, something she didna wish to speak of. Last night was different. She's been beaten before, but—”

Colin rounded on the major. “How do you ken that?”

The major's jaw twitched, and his eye glistened like hard blue gems. “Claire saw scars in the same location where she was beaten last night.”

Colin shot out of his chair. “That's it. I need—”

“Calm down, man.” Standing, McLeod laid a restraining hand on his arm. “We must learn the details of what happened. We must see if there's anything more to it than the bastard having violent tendencies toward his own child.”

On Colin's other side, Mackenzie also stood, placing a hand on his other arm. “Aye, he's right. There might be more to it.”

“We need to talk to her first,” Ross said. “Hear her story.”

“Nay,” the major said. “
We
dinna need to talk to her. It's clear she trusts you, Stirling.
You
must talk to her.”

Colin's lips went tight. “Aye. I'll talk to her.” He'd get answers about what exactly had happened. What had prompted that bastard to hurt Emilia.

Then
he'd kill the man.

Emilia had risen to find Lady Claire on the sofa, her legs tucked comfortably beneath her as she slowly turned the pages of a book. Sir Colin was nowhere to be seen, so clearly Claire had been assigned to watch over her.

Claire had wished her good morning, then urged her onto her stomach so she could check the wounds on her back. “They're already healing,” Claire assured her, then said she'd return in a few minutes with a dress for her to wear.

Moving slowly and gritting her teeth against the ache in her back, Emilia stood and went to the looking glass that was set over a small table near the door. She looked terrible. Her hair, far too curly and always incorrigible, was a rat's nest framing her face. Her skin, usually pale and clear, was blotchy and red from all the weeping.

She flinched. These people must think her a horrible ninny. Looking down, she blinked hard, the tears pressing against her eyes as if seeking freedom. Not this time. She had no choice. She was here, and she needed to be brave. She needed to find the strength that had brought her this far and hang on to it.

A hairbrush lay near a basin filled with water. She dipped her finger inside and found that it was still warm. She washed her face and then took up the brush and began the painstaking process of working through the tangles in her hair.

She'd barely conquered the first of the tangles when Lady Claire returned, along with a maid. “I brought you a chemise, too, but I don't think you should be wearing stays until you've healed a bit more.”

Emilia nodded, and the two women helped her out of the nightgown and into the chemise and a white muslin wrap dress with cap sleeves and scalloped edging at the hem. Then they had her sit while the maid went to work on her hair.

Half an hour later, Emilia felt mostly human again. Her hair was twisted at her nape with a few curls fashionably framing her face. The dress was cut well and didn't readily reveal the fact that she wasn't wearing stays.

Lady Claire, who'd been chatting away to Emilia as if she didn't realize Emilia hadn't said a word since she'd risen, grinned at her. “You look lovely, my dear.”

“Thank you.” They were the first words Emilia had spoken since last night, and they emerged scratchy and halting.

Lady Claire's smile was so kind. Perhaps she didn't think Emilia was a horrible ninny. Perhaps she understood what Emilia was going through, although Emilia knew that Claire's father could be nothing like her own.

She shuddered.

“Are you cold?” Lady Claire asked. “I've a shawl for you, if you like.”

Emilia shook her head and stared down at her lap, her mind working on the problem at hand. The Highland Knights would have questions. How much should she tell them?

How far could a daughter go in betraying her father? Her own flesh and blood? His very life could depend on her words, on how much she revealed. If he were killed as a result of them, would she be a murderer? Guilty of patricide?

Lady Claire patted her arm. “All right. Would you like me to bring you a tray, or do you want to go downstairs for breakfast?”

She thought of the Highland Knights—if it were only Sir Colin there, she'd hurry down right away. But it wouldn't be just him. It'd be all the Knights. They'd look at her with pity in their eyes and questions on their lips. She'd have to face them at some point, but she simply wasn't ready.

“May I have a tray?” she asked, her voice hollow and cracking.

“Of course.” Lady Claire nodded at the maid, who slipped away. “I'll stay with you until you're ready to venture out. But this is a small room and I imagine you'll wish to leave it eventually. Until then, you must tell me how you enjoy spending your time. What do you like to do when you're cooped up in a tiny room?” Lady Claire's blue eyes twinkled with her smile.

“Well…” Emilia chewed on her lip. “I draw.”

“Oh, do you? What do you like to draw?”

“Landscapes, mostly.” Forests, more often than anything else. Forests in which she always imagined herself hiding within the trees.

“Well, none of us in the house is artistic, so we have no appropriate drawing tools. I'll have someone fetch you some supplies right away.”

“Thank you. That's very kind.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Claire called.

The door opened, and the large body of Sir Colin filled the doorway. Goodness, he was a handsome man. Last night he'd been wearing just his kilt and a linen shirt. He'd had a rough, piratical look about him, his shoulder-length hair loose and his cheeks dark with the scruff of an evening beard. Today, however, he looked official, in a silver-buttoned waistcoat and Argyll jacket, a snow-white cravat tied neatly at his neck. A black leather sporran adorned his kilt. His cheeks were freshly shaved and his hair had been combed and tied in a queue.

He bowed. “Good morning, ladies.”

“Ah, Colin. Here you are,” Claire said.

Sir Colin turned to her. “Would you mind if I spoke to Lady Emilia alone?”

Claire didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked at Emilia. Trying to get in enough air through her tight throat, Emilia nodded. “Very well.” Claire knelt down and kissed Emilia's cheek. “Your breakfast should be here soon. I'll be in the upstairs sitting room with the other ladies. If you need me, you mustn't hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” Emilia pushed out.

Throwing her a final reassuring smile, Lady Claire strode out, leaving her alone with Sir Colin, who clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at her.

“You're looking lovely this morning, milady,” he said quietly.

Heat instantly suffused her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

She took a moment to think about it, then said, “Better.” It was true. Lady Claire's magical salve, the fresh clothing, and having her hair tamed into submission had done wonders for her general state of mind.

He smiled. It was a kind smile, like Lady Claire's, but her smile didn't make Emilia feel as if she were melting.

“Will you sit with me on the sofa for a moment?”

She nodded and took his proffered hand. He helped her up, then sat beside her after she lowered herself carefully onto the lavender velvet sofa cushion. He sat relaxed, his hands resting on his knees. She stared at his hands for a long moment. They were strong and capable, knuckles lightly dusted with brown hair, his fingers probably nearly twice as long as her own.

“I'm glad you came to us last night.” He gazed at her. His eyes, she noticed for the first time, weren't exactly brown, but amber, like God had taken a pair of regular brown eyes and overlaid them with bronze.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “And…I'm very sorry.”

He drew back in surprise. “Why should you be sorry?”

“I…” She faltered. She wished she could get in a deep breath of air, but it seemed too many things were conspiring to steal her breath. “It's just…I was…” Flinching, she looked away. “I didn't mean to be a bother, but—”

“You weren't a bother,” he said quietly. “I told you to come if you had need of us, and I'm glad you did.”

“Thank you. Thank you for telling me that. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't come here.” She squeezed her hands together in her lap and he placed one of his palms over her fingers.

“You did, and that's all that matters. You're safe now. You ken that, aye?”

She nodded, even though she wasn't as certain of it as he seemed to be.

He tightened his fingers over hers. “I'll protect you for as long as you require.”

He'd
protect her, she thought. Not the Highland Knights as a whole, but he, personally.

“But you must tell me how I may best do that.” He waited in silence while she absorbed that, then murmured, “You'll be needing to tell me what happened, lass.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “I…know.”

“We ken he has hurt you before,” he said quietly. “But this time…did something different happen? Is that why you came to us?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Will you tell me what it was?”

She swallowed and opened her mouth, but no words came readily. She licked her lips and tried again. “My father…he is a bad man.”

“Aye.” Sir Colin said it flatly, a statement of fact, but every muscle in his large body was taut and subtly vibrating with energy. Yet she wasn't afraid of him, though she knew he could crush her as easily as an ant.

“It's not just…what he's done to me. But he's a very bad man in other ways as well.”

“What ways?”

“He…” She sucked in a breath. “What happened last night was…I found out about one of those terrible things. When he discovered I knew about it, he…whipped me…and…and he said he'd…he'd kill me if I ever told a soul.”

The sob welled up in her chest, but she battled it back and tried to keep breathing.

“Would he kill you?” Sir Colin asked softly. “Did you believe him?”

“Yes, I do believe him. He wouldn't hesitate to kill me…” Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down hard on it before continuing. “His secrets…” She shook her head. “That's why I came here last night. Because I thought he might kill me.”

“You're a danger to him,” Sir Colin mused.

“I am,” she agreed. “And it's all my fault. I was too nosy. I was looking for evidence against my own father, and what I found…it was trouble.” So much trouble.

“You have information that could hurt his reputation?”

“More than that, Sir Colin.”

“He's been involved with something illegal?”

She nodded slowly. “
Quite
illegal.”

“I see.” He leaned back on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling, seeming to ponder for a moment. “Giving us details might put you in even more danger. He might act upon his threats.”

“Yes.”

“But telling us what he's done will help us bring your father to justice.”

“I…I'm not sure that's what I want,” she admitted.

“You want him to continue engaging in these illegal activities?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “But…I don't want to be the one responsible for destroying him. He is…He is my
father.
” As much as she'd prayed that some other man claiming to be her real father would knock on the door and sweep her out of the nightmare her life had been since her mother had died five years ago.