Chapter Ten
Elise awoke the following morning, the lingering warmth of Marcus's body from her dream state so real that she jolted awake upon reaching out and touching only cool sheets beside her.
Sadness settled over her. There would be no mornings where they awoke together, no mornings where Marcus pulled her close and kissed her body before slipping inside her.
Tears stung her eyes. This time when she left, there would be no clues, no one to confess that she had gone with Peter McFie.
She didn't blame Winnie. When confronted by her master, Winnie had told the truth.
Elise expected nothing less. She had gambled and lost. She wouldn't lose a second time.
Now, if she could only locate the secret passageway leading from the castle to the outside.
The mantel clock chimed softly. She looked at the clock.
Nearly seven. Elise bolted upright. Marcus had likely already gone to the fields.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed then paused before rising.
He would be preoccupied with final preparations for the celebration starting that night.
If she chose the moment with care, he might not overanalyze her request to go to Michael's.
A pang of guilt surfaced. Was the need to check for the notice in the Sunday Times worth manipulating him one last time?
The question went beyond morality. When she reached Glasgow, if no ship left immediately for America, she might have to go to another port.
London was the best choice. But if the notice was still in the paper could she risk it?
When Elise stepped from the postern door ten minutes later, she spotted Marcus at the front gate.
He stood among a group of men, his horse's reins in hand.
She hurried across the courtyard toward him.
He turned as she neared. A smile spread across his face.
When she came within arm's length, he surprised her by dropping the reins and sweeping her into his embrace, then twirling her about.
“Marcus,” she breathed, “put me down.”
He twirled again. The ground spun around her and she squealed, burying her face in his neck. Her cheek instantly warmed with the contact of his skin. Her breath quickened. Good Lord, she'd forgotten about his open shirt! He stopped and she looked up into his grinning face.
“What brings you here this fine morning?” he asked, still holding her off the ground.
“Put me down,” she said. His grin widened, and Elise felt her cheeks flush even warmer. “People are watching.”
“Lass,” he said, imitating her secretive whisper, “we have no secrets.”
Elise glanced at the men who spoke amongst themselves as though she and Marcus weren't there.
“Have you come to wish me a good day?” he asked.
She looked back at him. “Of course.”
“Then ye mean to leave me with one of your sweet kisses.” He lowered her to the ground.
Her heart sped up.
Marcus's eyes darkened.
There was something warm and enchanting in his humor and, against her better sense, Elise wound an arm around his neck and pulled him to her.
Their lips met. Marcus gave a gentle but firm thrust of his tongue against her mouth.
She jerked, sure every man present knew of the intimacy, but Marcus held her another moment before breaking the embrace.
He nuzzled her neck. “You make me feel as though I err going into the fields today.”
Elise pulled back and gazed up at him.
He smiled. “Surely my time would be better spent with ye in your bedchamber?”
She drew a sharp breath.
“Nae, sweet.” She tried to break away, but he held her fast. “You don't kiss a man thusly and expect him no' to want more.”
Elise dropped her gaze to his chest. Warmth flooded her midsection at sight of the tan chest visible through his open shirt. She had sped past embarrassment into idiocy. Michael MacGregor and the Sunday Times be damned, she should have stayed in bed.
“It was just a simple kiss,” she said.
His masculine laugh rippled through the air. “I would say then that gives me much to look forward to.”
She jerked her head up.
Marcus released her. “I had better go.” He gave her a roguish wink. “Or I won't be going at all.”
“Wait,” she said. “I have a request.”
“A request?” He turned to test the cinch on his mount's saddle.
“Michael hasn't arrived at Brahan Seer as Erin said he would. Lammas begins tonight, and he promised to be here yesterday. I would like to make a quick visit to see if he is well.”
Marcus turned his gaze on her.
“I know there is a lot to do,” she added hurriedly. “But I would only go there and back.”
“Lass—”
“You can send someone with me. I don't mind.”
“'Tis best—”
“You cannot deny me. It isn't right—”
Marcus grabbed her and she yelped as he clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Hush,” he said. Eyeing her suspiciously, he loosened his hold, then removed his hand from her mouth altogether. “I will send Erin to fetch his father.”
“And if Michael isn't feeling well?”
“I will send someone along with Erin. If Michael is unwell, the man can fetch someone to tend him. Erin will accompany me this morning. I'll send him to his father's this afternoon. They will be back in time for the festivities.”
Her heart sank. “I wanted to see for myself that he is well.”
“If he feels too poorly to make the trip, he'll need a more experienced doctor.”
She scowled. “You think yourself clever, Marcus MacGregor.” His mouth twitched and she gave him a dry look. “All right.” Before realizing her own intent, she gave him a quick kiss on the jaw.
Surprise flashed in his eyes.
Elise backed away. “I have work to do.” She whirled and hurried toward the castle.
* * *
A hard day's work hadn't dampened Marcus's anticipation.
He spotted Elise standing on the far side of the courtyard, winding her way through the throng gathered in honor of Lammas.
Her hair, piled atop her head, left the soft contours of her shoulders bare.
With his gaze, he traced the low-cut bodice of the olive green gown that hinted at the tender, creamy flesh of her breasts.
She had adorned herself with MacGregor colors—his colors.
A red and green sash of plaide crossed one shoulder and fastened at her waist. She paused in the crowd to speak to one person, then another.
Musicians struck up, fiddle and bagpipe leading the music, and the crowd cleared the center of the courtyard for those who joined in dance.
Brian MacGregor swept Elise into the barn dance being played.
She threw her head back, her delight in her companion obvious.
Marcus waited a few turns, then caught them as they neared.
“You can't keep the lady to yourself, Brian,” he said.
“Laird,” Brian replied, and released his hold on Elise.
Marcus pulled her close. The music ended. He remained motionless, his gaze holding hers until the band began The Scottish. He realized the quickening of her breath in the rise and fall of her breasts as he swung her to the right in unison with other dancers.
Her gaze broke from his, her lashes dropping demurely.
A tremor passed through him. Was she toying with him?
Her fingers tightened on his shoulder as he executed a quick turn.
Elise leaned into him, her hair brushing his jaw.
She tipped her head up slightly. He felt her breath against his neck.
A tiny smile lifted one corner of her mouth, then her brow puckered.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Nae, love.”
“You seem deep in thought.”
Marcus dodged another couple who strayed perilously close, then looked down at her.
“I was thinking how I would like to take you from here and ravish your sweet body until you cry 'enough!
'“ Her mouth parted in a tiny gasp and he went on.
“Then I would slowly and methodically make love to every inch of your body until you lie exhausted beneath me.”
She stumbled. If not for his tight grasp, she would have fallen. Delighted, he pulled her closer. “I see the idea appeals to you.”
Her gaze dropped. When she brought her eyes back to bear on him, she looked at him through her lashes, a shy expression on her face. “I can only wonder, sir, if you have the strength to fulfill such outlandish claims.”
Deviltry played in her eyes, and Marcus felt his body harden at seeing more than a little curiosity mixed in the bargain. “Aye.” He pressed her more intimately against him. “I have the strength.”
Her intake of breath told him she felt his arousal.
“Do you not agree?” he asked.
She remained silent for a moment. The noise of the crowd filled the air, the music winding between the spaces as if for them alone.
Her eyes darkened, and she said, “It occurs to me, milord, that if you fulfilled such a promise, logic dictates it would be you who lay exhausted on top of me.”
“Indeed?” he said with the raise of an amused brow.
He whirled her into the final spin of the dance before the music ended. The dance crowd dispersed and new couples assembled as the music began again. They stood, still in each other's arms. She moved to step away, but he held her fast. She gave him a quizzical look.
“Come, take a walk with me, love,” he said.
The dancers began dancing around them.
Elise shook her head. “You can't abandon your guests, and I promised Winnie I would help with the food.” She pushed his arms from her and backed away.
A couple danced between them. He saw the bemused look the woman gave Elise and realized she had seen it too. She was clear of the dancers now.
“I had better go see if any help is needed in the kitchen,” she shouted above the music.
Marcus watched her turn and hurry away. So, the little minx had ventured a dip in the waters only to yank her foot back when it had been nibbled. Perhaps next time he would simply yank her in.
* * *