My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (29 page)

Her gaze lifted to his face. "Is there
something you want, milord?"

Guffaws followed, along with several
straightforward answers to her query. Marcus noted her chagrin in
the form of pink cheeks. He patted Kiernan's and Declan's
shoulders. They lowered him to the floor while Declan added his
compliments upon Marcus's wisdom if he heeded their advice. The
request they be allowed to remain followed as Elise's attention
settled on Declan. Marcus glanced at Declan, who winked at her, and
Marcus knew Declan was extracting a bit of revenge for the cuff
with the frying pan.

"We have brought your new lord to you, lass,"
Declan said, his deep voice resonating above the general commotion.
"He's a wee bit worn, but you need not worry. He'll have no trouble
wielding his sword for you tonight."

The men fairly shook with raucous laughter.
Elise gave a ladylike sniff, but Declan gave no evidence of
noticing the cool look she sent his way.

She gave Marcus an appraising glance, then
addressed Declan. "He looks worse for the wear. I suggest you put
him in his own chambers. I have no need of a husband who is
useless."

The men succumbed to more uproarious
laughter. All, that is, except Marcus. He stepped forward and,
heedless of her sudden cry and valiant attempt to keep the sheet
wrapped around herself, pulled her to him.

"I assure you, sweet, I am quite fit for
tonight's activities."

Whoops of approval went up as he kissed her
quick and hard. With a jerk of his head, he cleared the room, never
breaking eye contact with his wife. Finally, when everyone had gone
and the last of the suggestions and general advice had faded from
the room, Marcus released her. He stepped back and appraised her.
She kneeled half naked on the bed, hair tousled as he remembered it
on those occasions she had allowed him into her bed.

He wondered if she thought he wouldn't come
to her, then noticed the sleeves of the filmy pale robe and night
shift she wore. A gift from Sophie, no doubt. Did the wearing of
the gift indicate his new wife anticipated his coming? She had
uttered not a word about the discovery of his title, but she had
married him.
Was that enough
? Had she forgiven him?

Marcus hadn't pressed her, fearing he would
further tip the scales in his disfavor. She had gone about the
business of the wedding as any bride might—any bride who considered
marriage a business, that is. She had surprised him, unexpectedly
joining him and his men yesterday when they went to the village.
She had, when he'd made the mistake of addressing her familiarly,
looked as though she would bolt for the castle. The look on her
face then, he realized, wasn't so dissimilar from the look she wore
now.

"Have you come to fear me so?" he asked. When
she made no reply, he added, "You married me, Elise, knowing who I
am."

She tilted her head as though to read his
thoughts. His body pulsed. A wary look entered her eyes and he
could have sworn she had read his mind.

"I have spent many nights in your bed," he
said, adding in a husky voice, "Though, not nearly enough. Tonight
and every night hereafter, you will be in
my
bed."

He waited for no response—needed no
response—other than the reaction he would get when her body
responded to his—and scooped her into his arms. She gave a
surprised cry.

So, she was no mind reader, after all.

Marcus strode through the connecting closet
into his room. He stopped before the massive bed. Her gaze shifted
to the bed, then moved across her new surroundings. Her attention
lingered on the fire burning in the hearth, then flicked upward to
the sword which hung over the mantel.

Elise abruptly looked at him, seeming to have
forgotten she lay in his arms. He kissed her. She wriggled as if to
slip through the miniscule space between his arms and chest. Marcus
flicked his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the motion he would
soon replicate inside her body. She stilled, and he wondered if she
was envisioning the same action.

At last, he broke the kiss. He scrutinized
her face until her gaze fell to his chest. Slowly, he lowered her
feet to the carpeted floor. He pushed the robe and night rail from
her shoulders. His gaze followed the slither of their descent until
they struck the floor.

Marcus tipped her head up until she faced him
and whispered, "Touch me."

Elise didn't move, didn't blink, and he held
his breath.

She shifted, only minutely at first, then
lifted a hand to finger the topmost button still intact on his
shirt. She reached with the other hand and unbuttoned the button,
then the next, then the last. Her gaze remained focused on his
chest. Marcus stifled heavy breaths when she slipped her hands
inside his shirt and slid them up and over his shoulders. He
dropped his arms to his sides, allowing the shirt to fall to the
floor.

Her hands glided down his chest. Ripples of
pleasure radiated through him. He hardened more with each inch she
descended. She stopped with her fingers clasped around his belt.
She slipped the leather from its loop. The clasp clinked in the
silence of the room as she unfastened it. The plaid loosened and
dropped into a pile at his feet. She didn't move, and he realized
her gaze was fixed on the jutting, hard length of him. He didn't
move—wasn't about to move. She could stare at him all night and,
knowing her eyes were on him, he could maintain his arousal until
she tired of the sight. Her gaze did move, though, back to his
chest where she placed her palms.

"You're so hard," she said, as though
marveling at something she hadn't the slightest notion could have
been.

Marcus choked back a groan. He backed her
against the bed and she fell onto the mattress. He scooted her
farther up onto the bed, then rose over her, holding his body
inches above her. He gently kissed her forehead, then the tip of
her nose, her eyelids, cheeks, mouth. Here he lingered, rocking his
hips against her in light motions as he drew the kiss out. Elise
ran her hands along his back, hesitating at the curve of his
buttocks.

"Aye, love," he whispered, placing small
kisses at the corner of her mouth, then along her neck. "Touch me
as you like."

He rocked again and, this time, her hands
continued around and over the curve of his buttocks. Marcus groaned
as he took a nipple between his lips. He gently parted her legs
with a knee, then eased into her. He moved slowly, drawing out her
pleasure. He suckled one breast, then the other until, at last, her
fingers tightened on the tensed muscles of his buttocks. He
quickened his movements. An instant later, she cried out softly and
lifted her hips to meet his movements. Another instant, and he
emptied into her. He waited until the throb of his body ceased,
then hugged her close and slid to her side.

* * * *

Elise relaxed against the carriage's cushion.
She closed her eyes, allowing the motion of the carriage to lull
her. The journey from Brahan Seer to the lowlands had been easier
than expected. The stop at the Green Lady Inn earlier that morning
had divided a tedious eight-hour ride into two, more comfortable,
four-hour portions. Now, less than two hours from Ashlund, they
would first stop at Sophie's estate.

She opened her eyes and looked out the window
at Marcus, who rode alongside the carriage. He sat, as always, easy
in the saddle. There had been little time to think of him today.
Sophie had kept her distracted with plans for Ashlund and the
visits they would make to the modiste, as well as a number of other
merchants, who were sure to provide what Sophie said she needed to
fulfill her role as the new Marchioness of Ashlund.

A tremor ran through her. She shifted her
attention to him. Without Sophie's monologue filling her head with
visions of jewels and bolts of rich fabrics, and without Mary's
enthusiastic contributions as to which dresses and jewelry Elise
should wear to the parties, she couldn't deny she was, completely
and fully, Elise MacGregor, Marchioness of Ashlund.

Her body warmed. There had been no denying
that fact last night when Marcus had bedded her for the first time
as his wife. She slid her gaze down his body to the muscled calf
visible between kilt and boot. The memory of his thighs between her
legs last night, then again this morning, dried her throat. She
swallowed. Her throat moistened, but her heart beat faster as if in
rhythm with his thrusts when he brought her to climax. How many
nights such as that lay ahead of her? Was it possible they could
live in peace? Could she could make him happy?

"He is a fine male specimen," Sophie
said.

Elise jerked her gaze to Sophie, who regarded
her from her seat in the far corner. Mary gave a titter of
laughter, and Elise scowled. "You must make some people very
nervous, Sophie."

"I do, indeed," the countess replied without
hesitation. "I am pleased Marcus agreed to stop at Whycham House.
You need a rest and I so want you to meet Justin."

"I'm glad as well," Elise said.

The carriage rounded a bend in the road and a
rider became visible in the distance. Marcus kicked his horse and
galloped to meet the rider. An instant later, Kiernan's horse
passed the carriage at a gallop as he, too, sped to intercept the
rider.

"What's happened?" Sophie demanded.

"A rider," Elise replied, without taking her
eyes off Marcus.

Sophie moved from her side of the coach to
sit beside her. Sophie leaned close and they watched as the man
stopped and Marcus pulled his stallion to a halt beside him.
Kiernan joined them a moment later. They spoke, then Marcus and the
man whirled their horses in the direction the man had come and
Kiernan spurred his horse back toward the carriage. The carriage
halted as Kiernan arrived.

"What is it?" Elise demanded.

"A fire at Ashlund."

Both women gasped.

"It's the stables," Kiernan called. "The
horses are safe, but there's been a casualty. My father and Jeremy
are riding ahead. I will see you to Whycham House, then
follow."

"We are nearly to Whycham House," Sophie
said. "You needn't accompany us the rest of the way."

Kiernan shook his head. "Father instructed me
to see you safely there." He shouted at the driver to move on.

The coach lurched into motion. Kiernan urged
his horse to precede the coach and, twenty minutes later, they
arrived at Whycham House. Kiernan waited only until the coach
passed through the gates, then whirled his horse before Elise could
ask any questions. She emerged from the carriage, her gaze
following the boy as he disappeared from sight down the road.

"Don't worry." Sophie rested a hand on
Elise's arm. "They know how to deal with such matters."

"But we don't know a thing about what has
happened."

"Come along, Mary," Sophie instructed the
maid as she hooked her arm through Elise's and started up the
walkway of the imposing mansion. "Trust them to deal with the
fire." Sophie led Elise across the threshold and into the
foyer.

Elise tossed her riding vest onto the bed and
crossed to the chair nearest the window as Mary closed the
bedchamber door behind them when Sophie left.

"Now, there must be some water here
somewhere," Mary said, as she glanced around the room. "There it
is." She hurried across the room to the dresser.

Elise seated herself in the chair and bent to
unlace her boots. "Freshen yourself first," she said. "I'll rest a
few minutes then see to myself."

"I canna' do that," Mary exclaimed. She
poured water from the pitcher into the bowl it sat in. "The laird
would be displeased."

"The
laird
isn't here to care," Elise
replied. She wondered if Marcus had reached Ashlund yet. The estate
lay another hour and a half away by carriage. A fast horse could
have gotten him there in half the time.

"Aye," the girl replied with a deep sigh. "It
must be difficult for you considering the danger." Mary took a step
back and surveyed the dresser drawers. She opened the top right
drawer. "Oh, fine," she said, and pulled out a washcloth.

"By the time they arrive to Ashlund, the fire
may be out," Elise said.

"Mayhap," Mary said. She dipped the cloth in
the water and wrung it out. "Just pray the main house doesna' catch
fire in the process."

Elise straightened from her boot. "What do
you mean?"

"I'm going to Ashlund," Elise announced an
hour later as she entered the drawing room.

Sophie looked up from the tea she was
pouring. "Marcus said you were to stay here." She set the teapot
down.

"He did not." Elise stopped in front of her.
"Kiernan simply escorted us here so he could hurry to Ashlund."

"You know he intended for you to remain
here."

"He probably thought I would be more
comfortable here and that I might not want to arrive at Ashlund
under such circumstances. Had we discussed the matter, I would have
explained none of those things mattered."

Had Marcus told her the grove that separated
the stables from the house had burned once before, nearly taking
the house with it, he wouldn't have been able to keep her away.
Winnie's story of how her uncle had burned while asleep in his
house came back to Elise with the same horrifying realism it had
when Mary described how the grove burned thirty years ago.

"Why the concern?" Elise said when the
furrows in Sophie's forehead deepened. "Daylight will last another
two hours. I can reach Ashlund long before dark. I will take the
driver, along with the men Marcus assigned to accompany us." Sophie
still looked doubtful and Elise added, "Along with two of your men,
they can help with the fire."

"Three of our men," she said. "Keep them as
long as Marcus needs them. Perhaps I should send more? Oh dear, I
should have thought of that earlier. I wish Justin were here. He
would deal with this far better than I." She looked at Elise,
adding in a hopeful voice, "He should be returning any moment."