My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (38 page)

A murmur circulated through the men. Surprise
flickered across Price's impassive face. Marcus had the sudden urge
to slip the knife from his boot and throw it at him. However, the
mental image of Price's fine white shirt darkening with his blood
dissipated when Brentley said, "As it is, I will have to satisfy
myself with the punishment allowed by the law. As you may know,
Judge Quinley and I are well acquainted. I will see to it he takes
a personal interest in this case. I have always known you were a
scoundrel, but this"—Brentley faltered—"this goes beyond anything I
could have imagined."

He shook his head, his blue eyes clouded with
disbelief. "The things Elise claims in this document…" He paused
and held Price's gaze. "It's a wonder the girl survived." He looked
at Marcus. "You have my deepest sympathies, Lord Ashlund."

Marcus's gut twisted. What more was wrong
with Elise than Steven had admitted? What had Brentley seen that
the younger man hadn't? Marcus gave a single nod and, once again,
everyone began talking. He glanced at Ardsley. Price met his gaze
with the same unruffled expression he always wore. A chill passed
through Marcus. He turned and left the room.

A moment later, Marcus and Steven stepped
from the mansion out onto the front steps. Marcus looked from the
boy who stood at the bottom of the stairs holding his and Steven's
horses across the trees surrounding the mansion to the sky that
hinted at dawn. He and Steven strode down the steps, mounted their
horses and urged them into a walk. They rode in silence until
passing from the gates.

"Elise is safely sailed on the Surrey?"
Marcus asked.

"Justin smuggled her off the
Josephine
. An easy feat with the Surrey docked only two
slips down. I watched the ship sail. No one suspected a thing,
including Brentley and the others."

Marcus allowed the first breath of relief
since Elise had gone missing. Autumn was just beginning. The
journey would be an easy one. "Steven," he said in a quiet voice,
"is she truly well?"

"As I said, her shoulder is dislocated and
she hasn't bathed since leaving Scotland."

"Otherwise?"

Steven hesitated, then said, "In a way, she's
the Elise I knew; in a way, she isn't." He paused. "She has passed
through fire since I last saw her, but losing Amelia changed her,
and there is her marriage to you."

"We were wed but a night when Price took
her."

Steven blew out a breath. "You didn't mention
that."

Marcus looked at him. "She is my wife. It
doesn't matter whether for a day or a year."

"I suppose not." Another moment of silence
passed and Steven said, "She had no idea you were coming for
her."

Marcus jerked his gaze onto Steven.

"I believe she had hoped you wouldn't
come."

"Bloody hell," Marcus burst out. "Why?"

"It's easy to see she lied to you."

"She didn't tell me about Ardsley."

"Neither did she tell you she shot
Robert."

"Nay," Marcus replied.

"She saved my life. You think she knew about
the bounty on her head?"

"How could—" Marcus stopped, remembering the
night at Michael's when she laid the onion before Michael
after
removing his copy of the
Sunday Times
—the copy
Erin had brought.

Everyone in Brahan Seer knew how Michael
loved reading the newspaper. Anyone passing through Edinburgh
brought a copy at least as far as the
Glaistig Uain
. From
there, the copy, eventually, made its way to Michael. Elise lived
at Brahan Seer for four months before Marcus returned. All that
time she had been going to the cottage and searching the paper for
news. By God, on his return from London the last time, he had
brought a copy of the paper. It still sat on his desk.

"Why not simply ask to have the paper brought
to Brahan Seer?" Marcus whispered.

"What?" Steven asked.

"I thought I had never met a woman more
stubborn."

"And something has altered your
assessment?"

Marcus smiled, but the smile faded as quickly
as it appeared. He looked past the trees that lined the road up to
the sky. The ship he was to sail on awaited him. Three more weeks
would pass before he got his answers. His gut tightened another
notch. He had enough answers to last a lifetime. Elise hadn't
wanted him to come for her. Did he need more?

"She asked about you," Steven said.

"What?" Marcus looked at him, startled.

"We had no time for discussion." Steven gave
a mirthless laugh. "Seems that's how it has been with us for some
time. Had I taken more time—never mind. We had a devil of a time
convincing her to get on the ship this morning. She didn't want to
leave without you."

Relief mingled with frustration. "By God,"
Marcus muttered.

Steven laughed in earnest this time. "Surely,
you expected no less."

"I expect her to have some common sense."

"What is common sense, Ashlund? Well, never
mind. She's made a mess of things and knows it—"

A shot rang out.

A bullet whizzed past Marcus's ear. His horse
lunged forward. Marcus yanked on the reins, following Steven, who
already galloped for the cover of trees. Another shot resounded and
Marcus saw wood splinter in the tree he sped past. He pulled his
horse up alongside the place Steven had leapt from his horse.

"
Price
," Steven hissed.

He yanked the pistol from his waistband and
crept toward the edge of the trees. Marcus jumped from his horse
and started after him. Steven halted just before the trees gave way
to the road, then darted from the cover of the forest.

"Steven!" Marcus shouted, and raced after
him.

Marcus's heart hammered against his chest. He
dove into the trees across the road and came to a skidding halt at
seeing Steven, pistol raised and aimed at Kiernan.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Steven yelled, and squeezed
back on the trigger.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Marcus paused on the deck of the
Dauntless
, one foot on the gangplank, and scanned the
Edinburgh dock. It was not quite noon, yet storm clouds filled the
sky, casting dark shadows reminiscent of nightfall. The docks
teemed with activity. Bales of dry goods and crates of supplies lay
stacked on the boardwalk. Sailors and dock workers hurried to load
them onto ships before the rains fell. Marcus spotted Erin near a
crowd of sailors.

Erin caught his gaze, and Marcus nodded, then
started forward. He avoided a man carrying a bag of provisions on
his shoulder and stepped onto the dock. For the thousandth time,
Marcus swore an oath to go to the grave before setting foot on
another ship bound for America. He had been forced to make too many
hard choices these last three months—more than enough to last a
lifetime. Elise might never forgive some of the choices.

He stopped before Erin, who was looking past
him. "What is it?" Marcus demanded.

"I don't see Kiernan."

Marcus's throat tightened. "Kiernan—"

"Father!"

He turned at hearing his son call.

The boy was hurrying down the gangplank. He
dodged his way through the people and passing hackneys before
reaching Marcus.

"Kiernan," Erin said with obvious relief.
"Your grandfather sends word you are to come immediately—"

"Kiernan will be going straight to London,"
Marcus said. "I will deal with my father." Marcus looked pointedly
at Kiernan.

"Yes, Father. Directly to London."

"Do not return to Brahan Seer until I send
for you."

"That's rather unreason—"

"You have no say in the matter," Marcus cut
him off.

Kiernan sighed. "As you say, Father."

"If I hear you have left London before I give
permission to do so, I'll come for you myself."

"So you have said," Kiernan replied.

"Then you comprehend the situation."

"I do."

Marcus gave him a curt nod. "I assume you can
make your way from here?"

"Of course."

The sailors who stood nearby suddenly let up
a cheer and several among their ranks jostled Marcus and Kiernan.
Marcus motioned Kiernan and Erin to follow. He strode several paces
from them, then stopped and faced the two young men.

"It's early yet," he said to Kiernan, "you
can cover at least a third of the journey if you start
immediately." Marcus looked at Erin. "You brought three
horses?"

"Aye. They are at the Bliney tavern."

"Good. Kiernan, you may have lunch before
leaving. Erin and I will begin straightaway for Brahan Seer."
Marcus started in the direction of the tavern but stopped when Erin
said, "Laird." He turned. Neither of the young men had moved. "What
is it?"

"Lady Ashlund is not at Brahan Seer."

"Not at—where the bloody hell is she?"

"Ashlund."

Marcus frowned. "Is something amiss at Brahan
Seer?"

"Nay," Erin quickly assured him. "She simply
refused to go there."

"Has my father seen her?"

"He is at Ashlund."

Erin reached into his pocket and produced a
note. Marcus recognized the paper his father used on the rare
occasions he wrote missives. He took the letter, tore open the
seal, and read.

Marcus,

Elise is safely in Ashlund. When she refused
to come to Brahan Seer, I left for Ashlund. She gave me your
letter. I read it, then read it to her, but only after she
confessed to me what she says is her entire story. It seems she
knew nothing of your travels in America. I believe the danger you
faced genuinely upset her. That is only right.

I thought it better not to force her to
return to Brahan Seer, so we await you in Ashlund. Bring my
grandson with you.

Cameron

Ashlund lay a three-hour hard ride away. He
would see Elise before the evening meal.

Three hours later, Marcus and Erin rode into
the stables at Ashlund. The stables were empty when they arrived,
so Marcus left Erin to attend his horse and hurried to the mansion.
His butler met him.

"Welcome home, Lord Ashlund," Nelson
cried.

"Nelson." Marcus smiled. "Where will I find
my father?"

"He is in the library, I believe."

"And my wife?"

Nelson looked thoughtful. "She planned to go
to the solarium."

Marcus didn't move.

"Was there something else, Lord Ashlund?"
Nelson asked.

"Nay," Marcus replied, and strode down the
hall toward the solarium.

Marcus jerked open the solarium door with
unexpected violence. He paused, startled at the intensity of
feeling, then, regaining his composure, stepped inside and closed
the door softly behind him. He had a clear view of the aisle ahead
of him and Elise wasn't in sight. He started forward, scanning the
foliage and flowers that separated the aisle he walked down from
the other aisle. Suddenly, he caught sight of her through the
calanthe rosea. She stood gazing out the window, her back to him.
The small lavender orchids snaked up their fragile vines, framing
her body between their branches.

He halted. The lush hair that hung loosely
about her shoulders didn't hide the thinness of those shoulders and
arms. He detected a difference in her stance. Gone was the lofty
air. In its place was a stronger sense of being in the here and
now. Steven was right; she was the same yet wasn't.

Marcus continued forward. When he reached the
end of the aisle, Elise turned as if she heard his approach. The
faint smile on her face snapped into a gasp as their gazes met. She
gave a cry and collapsed onto the stone bench beside her. Her hand
flew to cover her heart and her wide eyes remained fixed on him. He
halted a few feet from her. He discerned dark smudges beneath her
eyes—eyes that weren't the clear brown he remembered. They wore a
haunted look, one that perhaps mirrored his own. No joy shone in
her expression. That, too, he knew, mirrored his own. Still, she
was beautiful. Damn her—damn her beauty.

During the month-long trip to America he had
remembered every lovely line of her face, the soft timbre of her
voice and sweet gestures that had enchanted him so. Upon arriving
in Boston, his thoughts had been consumed with finding her and
bringing her safely home. Those months had distanced him from the
goddess she had become in his mind and she had become the woman who
stood before him now—more flesh and blood than angel.

As if reading his mind, she said, "I told you
that you couldn't know."

"I could have, had you told me."

Elise dropped her gaze. "So easy to say now.
I couldn't be sure—there was no time—"

"How much time would have been enough,
Elise?"

She looked at him and he saw the tears
pooling in her eyes.

The sadness in her expression deepened.
"You're right." She turned so that her profile was barely visible
to him and he realized she fought tears. "I cannot believe you're
here," she said in a whisper. "Cannot believe I am here. You should
have left me there. Were you hurt?"

"Look at me and see for yourself." Her head
jerked up and he locked her gaze. "Do I look well?"

"I—"

"Do I resemble a man who has lived the past
three months in wedded bliss?"

"I know I endangered you," she replied.

"And Kiernan."

She blanched. "Yes, Kiernan—and the others. I
didn't intend on returning. I wouldn't have done that to you."

"Wouldn't have done
that
to me?" he
thundered. "Instead, you would have left me in misery the remainder
of my days?"

"If I am here, you are in misery; if I am
gone, you are in misery."

"Misery of your making."

Elise shot to her feet. "I am aware of my
mistakes. I've had plenty of time to recount them."

"Aye," he replied. "And did you recount the
biggest mistake of all?"