Chapter Four
To be bitten in the dark.
Marcus glanced at Elise. Moonlight filtered in dim rays through the trees, making it impossible to distinguish her features atop the mare. He slid his gaze over her figure. It was a shame Erin had a mare she could ride.
“Marcus,” she broke into his thoughts.
He checked the surge of eagerness that leapt to life. “Aye?”
“Why does your son live in England?”
“Politics, love.”
“Ah,” she replied. “I see.”
He was sure she didn't but was pleased nonetheless.
“Having your son living amongst a people so different from your own can't be easy.”
“Nae?” They moved out of the trees into pale moonlight and he discerned an indulgent smile on her face.
“I'm not ignorant of the differences between the Highland life and that of London.”
“You have been to London?” he asked.
“No, but where I'm from can't be much different.”
“Where might that be, lass?”
“Boston.”
“Do you miss it?” he asked.
“No.”
He wondered at the quick answer, then his gaze caught on her mouth.
What would it be like to kiss those lips?
Moonlight glistened on the dark hair that cascaded down her cloaked shoulders.
She straightened in the saddle, sharpening the curve of her breasts.
He imagined his hand sliding over them and downward to the soft curls nestled below.
Marcus shifted in the saddle to accommodate his growing arousal.
Elise shook her head and ran a hand through her hair.
What would she do if he took her now? Just when he'd convinced himself she wouldn't resist, his mind snapped to attention at hearing an unexpected noise.
“Do you—” she began.
“Hush,” Marcus commanded in a whisper.
He reined in alongside her. Grabbing her mare's bridle, he pulled both horses to a stop.
He dismounted, then hauled her down from the saddle and drew her close to whisper in her ear, “There is a hill just ahead.
I'm going for a look. Do not move.” He shoved the reins into her hand and slinked into the darkness.
Near the top of the hill, Marcus crouched, then finally went to his knees, crawling the last few feet to the crest. Between the hill where he crouched and the opposite hill, three men on horses picked their way across the rocky ground.
Their colors were indistinguishable, but he knew they were Campbells.
When he had demanded Shamus's killer be turned over to him, John Campbell had complied after Marcus and his men threatened to take John in his kinsmen's place.
The fact the man was turned over to Peter McKinlay of the Glasgow police for a proper trial made no difference. John Campbell had been furious.
The men disappeared into the trees, and Marcus hesitated. The keep was another ten minutes' ride. Could he send Elise on alone? He remembered Katie MacGregor and cursed. He couldn't gamble with Elise's safety.
Marcus quietly made his way back down the hill and, minutes later, distinguished her form in the darkness. “Elise,” he called in a whisper.
Her head jerked in his direction, but she didn't cry out. After another instant, he reached her side. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her close, whispering, “We must ride—and fast.” She started. “All will be well.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You ride with me. Can you stay in the saddle?”
She nodded.
“Good lass.” He reached for the reins
She grabbed his arm. “What's happened?”
He hesitated. “Campbells.”
She glanced at the hill. “So close to Brahan Seer?”
“Aye.”
Marcus vaulted into his stallion's saddle, then extended a hand toward her.
Elise yanked her skirts thigh high, grabbed his hand, and jumped nimbly up behind him as he pulled.
She wrapped her arms around his midsection.
The soft contours of her breasts pressed into his back.
He gritted his teeth and nudged the stallion into a quiet walk, keeping the mare close until they were well out of earshot of the small camp.
Then he urged the stallion into a gallop.
The men on the castle walls sprang to life at their approach half an hour later. Marcus brought their horses to a skidding halt before the gate. “Open!” he shouted. “'Tis me, Marcus.”
The gate creaked open and he drove the horses through before the doors had swung wide. He halted amongst the gathering warriors and brought his leg over the horse's head, sliding from the saddle.
“Marshall,” he called to the nearest man as he pulled Elise from the saddle, “find Daniel and have him gather twenty men. We ride in ten minutes. Where is my father?”
“I dinna' know,” Marshall answered. “Mayhap the great hall?”
Marcus started off, then stopped and whirled to see Elise standing where he left her. “Go to your cottage,” he ordered then, cursing the powers that be, set out after his father.
* * *
Elise glanced at Michael, who rode alongside her.
His gaze remained directly ahead. The rigid set of his mouth indicated he was still angry with her for coming alone to his cottage.
Guilt unsettled her. His anger was born out of concern, and he was more right than she cared to admit.
To make matters worse, the trip had been a waste.
He hadn't received a recent copy of the Sunday Times.
Birds abruptly took flight in the trees up ahead. She gave a small cry. Michael shot her a look that said, Not so sure there aren't any Campbells on MacGregor land, are you?
Heat warmed her cheeks and she looked straight ahead.
The Campbells had eluded Marcus that night three weeks ago.
No further trace of them or their kinsmen had been found since, but Marcus was on a mission to discover who had trespassed onto his land.
As a result, she wouldn't be able to ride more than an hour without encountering one of his men.
Damn him. If not for his watchful eye, she would be on a ship to America.
The night he fetched her from Michael's, she had decided not to return to Brahan Seer but to continue to Glasgow and chance the first ship away from Scotland.
The wanted notice had been in the Sunday Times dated three weeks prior, but Price could have given up since then.
She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes.
Price stared back at her from behind her father's mahogany desk at Landen Shipping.
MacGregor men wouldn't crawl the land like mice much longer.
Soon she would return for the man who had put her mother in an early grave, then quietly took part in her daughter's murder.
Her heart constricted. Steven was a casualty of her making—a casualty she knew Price Ardsley relished. Elise forced back tears.
Beware, stepfather. I will return.
“Will you come to the great hall?” Elise asked Michael when they passed through the castle gates.
“Aye,” he replied shortly.
“Michael,” she began, but he pulled his horse to a halt beside her and dismounted.
He came around to her and helped her from the saddle. “Go on.” She hesitated, and his eyes softened. “I'll be along after I have seen to the animals.”
She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You're a good man, Michael MacGregor.”
He shook his head, but she could see that he was pleased.
He limped off leading the horses, and Elise headed for the great hall.
At the postern door, she entered and saw Marcus standing near the hearth.
He broke off his conversation with the two men who stood with him and glanced over his shoulder.
The drawn look on his face snapped into a dark scowl.
He started forward. Elise faltered when she saw he meant to intercept her.
His companions disappeared up the nearest staircase and a hum of apprehension began deep in her stomach.
Marcus rounded the table and reached the midway point when she blurted, “Good afternoon, Marcus. How are you?”
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“I—” She fell back an unsteady step when it seemed he would ram into her. He halted three feet from her. “I have just returned from visiting Michael.”
“So I was told,” he replied curtly. “Winnie's warning did nothing to deter you?”
“Winnie's warnin—” Elise recalled her encounter with Winnie that morning. Good Lord, Winnie had told him she saw her leave.
Marcus's eyes narrowed. “Aye, you remember. Fortunately for you, I only just discovered your absence. Unmanageable wench,” he added in a dark voice.
“You have your answers,” she shot back. “Why bother asking?”
“Because I couldn't believe you were traipsing about the countryside.”
“I was not traipsing about the country. Not that it's your business.”
“It is my business—and I will see to it you no' do it again.”
She ignored the warning bell the definite hardening of his brogue set off inside her head. and said, “You're insane if you think I'll be ordered about.”
“Ye will do as you're told,” he said in a quiet voice that was perversely more unsettling than a shout.
“I come and go as I please, just as everyone else at Brahan Seer.”
A keen light shone in his eyes. “If you will note, the women are staying close to home.” His expression hardened. “At the express command of their men.”
Elise gasped, then glanced past him, gauging the distance between him and the freedom the kitchen offered.
He stepped closer and her temper flared.
She raised her hands to shield herself from his advance and her palms met the unexpected warmth of his chest. She gaped at her fingers splayed across tanned skin where his shirt lay open, and her senses reeled at the raw power in the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
“Lord,” she whispered, and yanked her hands away.