To Tame a Highland Earl (47 page)

How does a woman tell her betrothed that she
murdered her first husband?

Shipwrecked in the Scottish Highlands,
American heiress Elise Kingston quietly plans revenge for the
deaths of her daughter and the brother who sacrificed his life to
save her.

When Marcus MacGregor, Marquess of Ashlund,
returns to his Highland home to discover a stunning American woman
has been taken in by his clan, his attraction is instant and he
resolves to make her his--no matter what secret she's keeping.

Elise is shocked by her need for Marcus and,
too late, discovers that her feelings make him a target of her
enemy--a man powerful enough to destroy even a Scottish
nobleman.

Chapter One

America

Winter 1825

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh
away."
Or so her eulogy would begin.

The heavy gold wedding band clinked loudly in
the silence as he grasped the crystal tumbler sitting on the desk
before him. He raised the glass in salutation and whispered into
the darkness, "To the dead, may they rot in their watery graves."
He finished the whiskey in one swallow.

And what of that which had been hers? He
smiled. The law would see that her wealth remained where it
should—with him. A finality settled about the room.

Soon, life would begin.

Solway Firth, Scottish-English border

Elise jumped at the sound of approaching
footsteps and sloshed tea from the cup at her lips. The ship's
stateroom door opened and her grip tightened around the delicate
cup handle. Her husband ducked to miss the top of the doorway as he
entered. He stopped, his gaze fixing on the medical journal that
lay open on the secretary beside her. A corner of his mouth curved
upward with a derisive twist and his eyes met hers.

With deliberate disinterest, Elise slipped
the paper she'd been making notes on between the pages of the
journal and took the forestalled sip of afternoon tea. She
grimaced. The tea had grown cold in the two hours it had sat
untouched. She placed the cup on the saucer, then turned a page in
the book. As Robert clicked the door shut behind him, the ship's
stern lifted with another wave. She gripped the desk when the stern
dropped into the swell's trough. Thunder, the first on the
month-long voyage, rumbled. She released the desk. This storm had
grown into more than a mere squall.

Robert stepped to her side. "What are you
doing?"

"Nothi—" He snatched the paper from the book.
"Robert!" She would have leapt to her feet, but her legs were
shakier than her hands.

He scanned the paper, then looked at her.
"You refuse to let the matter lie."

"You don't care that the doctors couldn't
identify what killed your daughter?"

"She is dead. What difference can it possibly
make?"

Her pulse jumped.
None for you. Because
you murdered her.

He tossed the paper aside. "This has gone far
enough."

Elise lifted her gaze to his face. She once
thought those blue eyes so sensual. "I couldn't agree more."

"Indeed?"

The ship heaved.

"I will give you a divorce," she said.

"Divorce?" A hard gleam entered his eyes. "I
mean to be a widower."

She caught sight of the bulge in his
waistband. Her pulse quickened. Why hadn't she noticed the pistol
when he entered?

Elise shook her head. "You can't possibly
hope to succeed. Steven will—"

"Your illustrious brother is in the bowels of
the ship, overseeing the handling of the two crewmen accused of
theft."

Her blood chilled. When her father was alive,
he made sure the men employed by Landen Shipping were of good
reputation. Much had changed since his death.

"One of the men is wanted for murder," Robert
said.

"Murder?" she blurted. "Why would a stranger
murder me?"

Robert lifted a lock of her dark hair. "Not a
stranger. A spurned lover." He dropped the hair, then gripped the
arms of her chair and leaned forward. "Once the board members of
Landen Shipping identify your body as Elisabeth Kingston, the
stipulation in your father's will shall be satisfied and your stock
is mine."

The roar of blood pounded through her ears.
If he killed her now, he would never pay for murdering their
daughter. And she intended that he pay.

Elise lunged for the letter opener lying in
one of the secretary compartments. The ship pitched as her fingers
clamped onto the makeshift weapon. As Robert yanked her to her
feet, she swung the letter opener. Bone-deep pain raced up her arm
when the hard mass of his forearm blocked her blow. The letter
opener clattered to the wooden floor.

She glimpsed his rage-contorted features
before he whipped her around and crushed her to his chest, pinning
her arms to her sides with one powerful arm. He dragged her two
paces and snatched up the woolen scarf lying on the bed. In one
swift movement, he wound it around her neck.

Robert released her waist, grabbed the
scarf's dangling end, and yanked it tight around her neck. Elise
clawed at the scarf. Her nails dug into the soft skin of her neck.
Her legs buckled and he jerked her against him. His knees jabbed
into her back and jolts of pain shot up both sides of her spine.
She gulped for air.

His breath was thick in her ear as he
whispered, "Did you really think we would let you control fifty-one
percent of Landen Shipping?" He gave a vicious yank on the
scarf.

No!
her mind screamed in tandem with
another thunder roll. Too late, she understood the lengths to which
he would go to gain control of her inheritance.

The scarf tightened. Her sight dimmed. Cold.
She was so cold.

Amelia, my daughter, I come to you
—the
scarf went slack. Elise dropped to her knees, wheezing in
convulsive gasps of air. Despite the racking coughs which shook
her, she forced her head up. A blurry form stood in the doorway.
Steven.

The scarf dropped to her shoulders and she
yanked it from her neck. Robert stepped in front of her and reached
into his coat.
The pistol.
He had murdered her daughter—he
would not take Steven from her. Elise lunged forward and bit into
his calf with the ferocity of a lioness.

Robert roared. The ship bucked. Locked like
beast and prey, they tumbled forward and slammed against the desk
chair. The chair broke with the force of their weight. The
secretary lamp crashed to the floor. Whale oil spilled across the
wooden floor; a river of fire raced atop the thin layer toward the
bed.

Steven yanked her up and shoved her toward
the door. Robert scrambled to his feet as Steven whirled and rammed
his fist into Robert's jaw. Her husband fell against the doorjamb,
nearly colliding with her. Elise jumped back with a cry. Robert
charged Steven and caught him around the shoulders, driving him
back onto the bed.

The ship bucked. Elise staggered across the
cabin, hit her hip against the secretary, and fell. The medical
journal thudded to the floor between her and the thick ribbon of
fire. Her heart skipped a beat when Robert slammed his fist into
Steven's jaw.

She reached for the open book and glimpsed
the picture of the belladonna, the deadly nightshade plant. Fury
swept through her anew. She snatched up the book, searing the edge
of her palm on the fire as she pushed to her feet. Elise leapt
forward, book held high, and swung at Robert with all her strength.
May
this
belladonna kill you as your powdered belladonna
killed our daughter
. The crack of book against skull penetrated
the ringing in her ears. Robert fell limp atop Steven.

The discarded scarf suddenly blazed. Elise
whirled. Smoke choked her as fire burned the bed coverings only
inches from Robert's hand. Steven grabbed her wrist and dragged her
toward the door. He scooped up the pistol as they crossed the
threshold and they stumbled down the corridor to the ladder leading
up to the deck.

"Go!" he yelled, and lifted her onto the
first tread.

Elise frantically pulled herself up the steep
ladder to the door and shoved it upward. Rain pelted her like tiny
needles. She ducked her head down as she scrambled onto the deck.
An instant later, Steven joined her. He whirled toward the poop
deck where Captain Morrison and his first mate yelled at the
crewmen who clung to the masts while furiously pulling up the
remaining sails and lashing them to the spars.

Steven pulled her toward the poop deck's
ladder. "Stay here!" he yelled above the howling wind, and forced
her fingers around the side of the ladder.

The ship heaved to starboard as he hurried up
the ladder and Elise hugged the riser. A wave broke over the
railing and slammed her against the wood. She sputtered, tasting
the tang of salt as she gasped for air.

A garbled shout from the captain brought her
attention upward. He stared at two men scuttling down the mizzen
mast. They landed, leapt over the railing onto the main deck and
disappeared through the door leading to the deck below. They had
gone to extinguish the fire. If they didn't succeed, the ship would
go down.

Elise squinted through the rain at Steven. He
leaned in close to the captain. The lamp, burning in the binnacle,
illuminated the guarded glance the captain sent her way. A shock
jolted her. Robert had lied to the captain about her—perhaps had
even implicated Steven in her so-called insanity. The captain's
expression darkened. He faced his first mate.

The ship's bow plunged headlong into a wave
with a force that threw Elise to the deck and sent her sliding
across the slippery surface. Steven shouted her name as she slammed
into the ship's gunwale. Pain shot through her shoulder. He rushed
down the ladder, the captain on his heels. Another wave hammered
the ship. Steven staggered to her side and pulled her to her feet.
The ship lurched. Elise clutched at her brother as they fell to the
deck. Pain radiated through her arm and up her shoulder. The door
to below deck swung open. Elise froze.

Robert.

He pointed a pistol at her. Her heart leapt
into her throat. Steven sprang to his feet in front of her.

"No!" she screamed.

She spotted the pistol lying inches away and
realized it had fallen from Steven's waistband. She snatched up the
weapon, rolled to face Robert, and fired. The report of the pistol
sounded in unison with another shot.

A wave cleared the railing. Steven
disappeared in the wash of seawater. Elise grasped the cold wood
railing and pulled herself to her feet. She blinked stinging
saltwater from her eyes and took a startled step backwards at
seeing her husband laying across the threshold. Steven lay several
feet to her right. She drew a sharp breath. A dark patch stained
his vest below his heart.
Dear God, where had the bullet
lodged?

She started toward Steven. The ship listed
hard to port. She fought the backward momentum and managed two
steps before another wave crested. The deck lurched and she was
airborne. She braced for impact against the deck. Howling wind
matched her scream as she flew past the railing and plummeted into
darkness—then collided with rock-hard water.

Cold clamped onto her. Rain beat into the sea
with quick, heavy blows of a thousand tiny hammers. She kicked.
Thick, icy ribbons of water propelled her upward. She blinked.
Murky shapes glided past. This was Amelia's grave. Elise surfaced,
her first gasp taking in rainwater. She coughed and flailed. A
heavy sheet of water towered, then slapped her against the ocean's
surface. The wave leveled and she shook hair from her eyes. Thirty
feet away, the
Amelia
bounced on the waves like a toy. Her
brother had named the ship. But Amelia was gone. Steven, only
twenty-two, was also gone.

A figure appeared at the ship's railing. The
lamp high atop the poop deck burned despite the pouring rain. Elise
gasped. Could he be—"Steven!" she yelled, kicking hard in an effort
to leap above another towering wave. Her skirts tangled her legs,
but she kicked harder, waving both arms. The man only hacked at the
bow rope of the longboat with a sword. "Steven!" she shouted.

The bow of the longboat dropped, swinging
wildly as the man staggered the few steps to the rope holding the
stern. A wave crashed over Elise and she surfaced to see the
longboat adrift and the figure looking out over the railing. Her
heart sank. The light silhouetted the man—and the captain's hat he
wore. Tears choked her. It had been the captain and not Steven.

Elise pulled her skirts around her waist and
knotted them, then began swimming toward the boat. Another wave
grabbed the
Amelia
, tossing her farther away. The captain's
hat lifted with the wind and sailed into the sea. She took a quick
breath and dove headlong into the wave that threatened to throw her
back the way she'd come. She came up, twisting frantically in the
water until she located the ship. She swam toward the longboat, her
gaze steady on the
Amelia
. Then the lamp dimmed… and winked
out.

Chapter Two

Scottish Highlands

Spring 1826

England lay far behind him, though not far
enough. Never far enough. Marcus breathed deep of the crisp spring
air. The scents of pine and heather filled his nostrils. Highland
air. None sweeter existed. His horse nickered as if in agreement,
and Marcus brushed a hand along the chestnut's shoulder.

"It is good to be home," Erin spoke beside
him.

Grunts of agreement went up from the six
other men riding in the company, and Marcus answered, "Aye,"
despite the regret of leaving his son in the hands of the
Sassenach.

He surveyed the wooded land before
him—MacGregor land. Bought with Ashlund gold, held by MacGregor
might, and rich with the blood of his ancestors.