Chapter Thirteen
“What?” Elise asked softly—too softly.
“I'll send for Father Whyte,” Marcus repeated.
“Why?”
“Last I heard, a priest was needed for a wedding.”
Her eyes widened. “Married?”
“I said we would marry.”
“I never agreed.” She looked away.
“You swore not to become my mistress under any circumstances.”
Elise looked sharply at him. “Yes, but—”
“Unless we marry, that is exactly what has happened.”
She jumped to her feet, backing away several paces. “Not so.”
Marcus raised a brow.
Her eyes darkened. “You know perfectly well what I meant when I said that.”
“Aye, just as I have said.”
“No,” she retorted. “I would not be your mistress when you were to marry.”
He lounged back against the cushions. “Interesting interpretation.”
“It is not an interpretation!”
“Surely, you can understand my confusion.”
“You are trying to trick me,” she snapped.
“Nae, love. I only point out the facts. When you thought I was to marry, you left. You now know the truth yet are still here. Do you plan on running away again?”
Elise jerked her chin up with such a defiant gesture he had to stifle a laugh, despite knowing fear was the driving factor in her reaction. She blew out a loud, frustrated breath.
He stretched out a hand. “Come.”
Elise responded with a quick shake of her head.
Marcus repressed a smile. He remembered the last time he'd offered her his hand. Though reluctant, she had accepted it then. Would she do the same now?
“Come,” he repeated.
She again shook her head, but he noted the tiny puckering of her brows. She doubted.
“You fear me?” he asked.
Her brow puckered tighter. “You think you are clever, don't you?”
“Not so clever,” he replied. “Come.”
“I have no intention of being tricked.”
“Aye,” he replied.
“I-I have to go.” She turned.
Marcus dropped his hand to his side. “Where will you go?”
She halted. Relief flooded through him. She wanted him. He stood and crossed to her.
“Come.” He grasped her hand and drew her to the couch.
He sat, then gave a gentle but firm yank to her hand, and she tumbled onto his lap.
“I cannot—” she began, but he cut in.
“Let us be honest.”
“I have been—”
“You say,” he continued, “you will be my mistress now that you know I never planned to marry Margaret.”
“I never—”
“But wouldn't it be more honest to admit you love me?”
Her eyes widened.
“You can trust me.” Marcus discerned a quickening of her breath. He'd hit the mark. “For you know,” he added, “I love you.”
Elise gasped. He felt the muscles in her body tense in readiness to push from his lap and tightened his hold. She thrashed, though without real violence, and he gripped her chin, turning her face toward his.
“Admit you love me.” He kissed her.
She tried pulling away, but he held fast, his mouth gentle until he felt a slight tug when she grasped his shirt. He released her mouth and buried his face in her hair.
“Can you deny what you feel for me?”
“You don't know—can't possibly know—”
“I know all I need.”
She grasped his shoulder and pushed him back until their gazes met. “Today doesn't matter. Tomorrow your fancy may change.”
Marcus stared at her. “I am no young buck. I know what I want.”
She gave a mirthless laugh. “Age has little to do with a man's desire.”
He started to speak, to explain that her younger age might not allow for the understanding of his more experienced wisdom, but he stopped, remembering the empty marriage she'd endured.
“Hmm,” he began slowly. “One day your feelings for me shall fade?”
“You are cruel,” she cried. “You know that is not my meaning.”
Marcus's chest tightened. She hadn't denied loving him. He gently squeezed her hand. “I am not Riley.”
Elise twisted in his arms in an earnest attempt at escape. “You overstep your bounds, milord.”
He barely repressed a sudden laugh when she thumped his arm with a small fist. She shoved at his chest and Marcus hugged her so close their lips almost met.
“Surely, I have proven I am not faithless,” he demanded.
“Faithless? Good Lord, you're lucky I don't sacrifice you for my own selfish needs.”
“Needs? Aye, lass, you need me. Nae,” he added when she opened her mouth to interject. “Don't think I am ignorant of your needs.” He slid a hand into her hair. “They are not unlike my own.”
Marcus kissed her. She breathed deep and he felt his body throb with a need that he now realized had only begun to surface.
What would he have done that first day he saw her in the meadow had he known just how badly he would one day need her?
Send his men away and take her there—leave her no choice, nowhere to go but to him?
Turning and fleeing straight back to Ashlund would have been the wisest course of action.
But he would not have—could not have—even then.
He had loved—or thought he loved—other women.
He had been hurt in the past, but Elise held the power to destroy him.
He slid his mouth down her chin and along her neck to the swell of her breast. Her head fell back onto his arm without resistance.
“You would marry a stranger?” she murmured.
Marcus froze.
“Take a lowly servant girl to wife.”
He jerked his head up. “I wouldn't relegate anyone to that status, least of all, you.”
Her eyes unexpectedly softened. “I know, but that doesn't change the differences in our classes.”
“I care nothing for so-called classes. I care about living life.”
Her expression turned appraising. “Even you did not flout that responsibility. Didn't you marry out of a sense of duty?”
“Aye. Which is precisely why I will not do so again.”
Marcus crushed her lips to his. She didn't protest this time, and he slid her from his lap and onto the couch. Grasping her hand, he slipped it beneath his kilt and forced her fingers around his erection.
Elise started.
“Nae,” he breathed in her ear. “Do not run from me. God, you haunt me at every turn.” Releasing her fingers, he yanked her dress up and reached between her legs. “Your body responds to me without reservation. Let your heart follow. I promise, I will love you.”
He slipped a finger inside her slick heat. Her grip on his shaft tightened convulsively. Marcus drew in a sharp breath, gritting his teeth to keep from spending himself. He removed his hand and slid on top of her, pressing his lips against her ear.
“Guide me into you, sweet,” he whispered. “Let me show you how much I want you. Let me show you what love is.”
She did as he urged, and he caressed her with his movements, his body meeting hers, arching away, then gently thrusting again.
“Is marrying me so terrible?” he asked against her neck.
She breathed deep. “No, but after the fact you”—she gasped when he thrust with a quick motion—”you will regret being chained to me.”
Marcus laughed. “It will be the sweetest of tortures.” He drove deep again.
She cried out as her muscles clenched around him.
“It's not as if you need to marry me.” She blurted in a strained voice. “I have not withheld myself from you.”
Marcus halted. Bracing a hand on either side of her, he looked down at her. “I love you. I want you—need you.” He held her gaze as he moved slowly, nearly filling her, then thrust quickly and pulled back.
“I haven't left you,” she insisted.
“You withhold a part of yourself. If not, you would be dragging me to the altar.”
Elise reddened.
“You don't trust me.” He kissed her ear.
She shook her head. “I cannot believe we are having this discussion in the middle of… that is, I can't believe we are-are doing this in the middle of a disagreement.”
Marcus chuckled. “'Tis a new experience for me, as well. But, if we must disagree, this is a most pleasant way to do so.” He slid his hands beneath her thighs, coaxing her legs around his waist. “Aye.” He buried his face in her hair at the nape of her neck and drove into her.
“I will protect you.” He cupped a breast—she was breathing hard now, she wanted him—needed him.
He thrust quicker. Her breathless response told him she neared her pleasure. “You will be my wife, my marchi—”
“Your servant girl made mistress of the manor,” she said.
Marcus jerked, his thrust going hard and deep. Elise gasped. He remained inside her, full to the hilt. “Why did you allow me to touch you?” he demanded. “Don't say it is because I am lord and you are servant. We both know better. I have the power to care for you, protect you.”
At last, uncertainty shown in her expression.
“As my wife, your security is assured. No Campbells, or anyone else, can harm you.”
“Nothing is that certain,” Elise replied.
“I haven't failed you yet.”
Her mouth parted in surprise.
He kissed her mouth and moved in her again. Kissed her forehead, cheek, then ear. “Admit you want me.” He quickened his thrusts.
Her muscles tightened around him in readiness for her release.
“Admit it,” he pressed. “You want me now and every day and night hereafter.”
Elise hugged him tight. “Yes,” she cried as her climax rolled over her.
“You are mine,” Marcus rasped. “You will not regret the choice.”
* * *
Elise found herself being pulled down the hall of Brahan Seer. Marcus intended to take her directly to his father to announce their betrothal. Her head whirled as much from his lovemaking as his proposal. He picked up speed, nearly dragging her down the hallway.
She needed more time. “Marcus, wouldn't it be wise to give this more thought before telling anyone?”
“Nae.”
“Slow down. I can barely keep up with you.” She tugged on the hand he grasped.
“I can carry you, if you like,” he responded, still striding in long paces.
“Good Lord, no. Marcus.” Elise yanked hard on his hand.
He came to an abrupt halt and she tumbled into his arms.
“Aye, sweet,” he drawled. “You wanted something.”
“Slow down. I'm not a sack of potatoes to be dragged along behind you.”
His gaze dropped to her breasts. “True, and I could easily forget myself even here in the common walkway.”