Chapter Thirteen #2
Surely, he wouldn't have asked her to marry him if he'd seen the notice in the paper? Could she live with herself for deceiving him? “You needn't marry me,” she said, then silently added, This is your chance, Marcus MacGregor. Save yourself. “I can't refuse you,” she said, “even here.”
His eyes jerked up to meet hers, the amorous light gone. “I believe we were on our way to see my father.” Taking her hand once again, he continued at an even more relentless pace.
Five minutes later, they entered the stables where Cameron stood with the young foal born that summer.
“Father,” Marcus called.
Cameron looked over his shoulder at Marcus, then her.
“We have an announcement,” Marcus said as they drew up beside Cameron.
Cameron's expression turned bemused, but Elise knew better.
“Elise and I are to be married.” Marcus's hold on her hand tightened. “And soon.”
Her heart jumped into a gallop. “No one said anything—”
“Hush,” he commanded, and looked at his father. “Have you anything to say?”
Cameron shrugged. “You are old enough to make your own decisions.”
Marcus grinned, and she muttered, “Bloody idiotic men.”
Both men regarded her.
She looked back at them. How could she explain that the woman he wished to marry was wanted for murdering her husband?
'You see, my husband poisoned my daughter with tiny doses of the deadly nightshade.
The symptoms were subtle, which explains why the doctors couldn't pinpoint the disease.
I never caught Robert in the act, but he knew I knew and tried to kill me.
I shot him in self-defense. Ignore the wanted notice in the London Sunday Times. It will eventually go away.'
Elise regarded Marcus. “As your wife, I am no longer prisoner?”
“You are not prisoner now,” he replied. “You are in the castle for your safety.”
“Safety,” she murmured, then added, “If I wish to go to the village, you will allow it?”
He nodded. “If it pleases you. I have work I can take care of while we are there.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I am no prisoner then?”
“Nae,” he answered innocently, and she knew she would get no more.
He would ensure she was watched every second they were at the village. If she played the future wife, he would soon relax his hold. Pain stabbed at her heart.
She had to be gone before his priest arrived.
* * *
Elise paced her bedchamber. Marcus's son would arrive any hour.
Only two days had passed since she'd agreed to marry Marcus.
Was he hurrying to Brahan Seer to meet the woman who would marry his father, or to expose her as murderess?
How in God's name was she to escape not two, but three MacGregor men?
The fire blazing in the hearth cracked and she jumped. She pressed a hand over her racing heart. Something must be done. She recalled the various decanters of liquor sitting on the sideboard in Marcus's library and hurried to the library.
She opened the door and met Marcus's gaze as he looked up from the work on his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, love?” he asked.
She closed the door and headed for the sideboard. “I need a drink.”
Elise ignored the quizzical lift of his brow as she stopped before the sideboard and surveyed the decanters. She spied the small square decanter filled with cognac. She removed the lid from the decanter, poured a healthy portion into a glass, then emptied it in two unladylike gulps.
She heaved a sigh, then poured another, and finished it just as quickly. She glanced at Marcus and saw he regarded her. “Oh,” she said, “how thoughtless. Would you like one?”
He shook his head.
“Well, I do.”
The glass reached her lips when Marcus's hand covered hers. “Slow down, lass. You're liable to regret this in the morning.”
“Unlikely.” She brushed his hand aside, then strolled to the hearth while sipping the cognac.
“Is something wrong?” Marcus inquired.
“Wrong?” She whirled. A delicious warmth radiated through her body. “A few months ago, I was shipwrecked, left penniless and alone, then, na?ve little lamb that I am”—she narrowed her eyes at the mirth that leapt to his eyes—”I was pursued relentlessly by you.”
“Perhaps what you need is a little comforting,” he suggested.
Elise rolled her eyes. “What I need is another cognac.”
“Nae.”
She gave her head one single slow shake. “Do not think you can stop me from doing as I please. Now or after we're married.”
Marcus caught her arm as she approached the sideboard. “Have you not had enough?”
She disengaged herself from his grasp. “I'm capable of handling my liquor. Be so kind as to move aside.” She placed a hand on his chest and shoved.
He stepped back as she passed. “You're in a fine mood tonight. I have never seen you this way before.”
Elise paused in filling her glass and looked at him. “Regretting your proposal?”
His mouth twitched.
Damn him, she mentally cursed.
“I think I will still wed you,” he replied. “I'm looking forward to ravishing your sweet body every chance I get.”
“I believe I pointed out you need not marry me to do that.” She lifted the glass to her lips.
“Perhaps,” Marcus said. “But it will be my obligation, and I will always know where to find you when my sense of duty calls me into service.”
Elise halted mid-sip and narrowed her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “A wife is always in her husband's bed, aye?” His gaze made a possessive sweep over her body.
She lowered the glass from her lips. “Are you saying you're marrying me to ensure my… my availability?”
His wince and quick “Nae” confirmed the assessment. “I am marrying you because I love you and want you at my side.”
A tremor passed through her at the declaration of love given so naturally, but she gave a feminine snort and retorted, “A masculine play on words.”
“Nae,” he denied even more vehemently.
Elise regarding him more closely. “You're jealous.”
“Jealous?” His expression snapped to a stormy darkness. “Of whom?”