Chapter Twenty-Two
Marcus paused on the deck of the Dauntless, one foot on the gangplank, and scanned the Edinburgh dock.
It was not quite noon, yet storm clouds filled the sky, casting dark shadows reminiscent of nightfall.
The docks teemed with activity. Bales of dry goods and crates of supplies lay stacked on the boardwalk.
Sailors and dock workers hurried to load them onto ships before the rains fell.
Marcus spotted Erin near a crowd of sailors.
Erin caught his gaze, and Marcus nodded, then started forward.
He avoided a man carrying a bag of provisions on his shoulder and stepped onto the dock.
For the thousandth time, Marcus swore an oath to go to the grave before setting foot on another ship bound for America.
He had been forced to make too many hard choices these last three months—more than enough to last a lifetime.
Elise might never forgive some of the choices.
He stopped before Erin, who was looking past him. “What is it?” Marcus demanded.
“I don't see Kiernan.”
Marcus's throat tightened. “Kiernan—”
“Father!”
He turned at hearing his son call.
The boy was hurrying down the gangplank. He dodged his way through the people and passing hackneys before reaching Marcus.
“Kiernan,” Erin said with obvious relief. “Your grandfather sends word you are to come immediately—”
“Kiernan will be going straight to London,” Marcus said. “I will deal with my father.” Marcus looked pointedly at Kiernan.
“Yes, Father. Directly to London.”
“Do not return to Brahan Seer until I send for you.”
“That's rather unreason—”
“You have no say in the matter,” Marcus cut him off.
Kiernan sighed. “As you say, Father.”
“If I hear you have left London before I give permission to do so, I'll come for you myself.”
“So you have said,” Kiernan replied.
“Then you comprehend the situation.”
“I do.”
Marcus gave him a curt nod. “I assume you can make your way from here?”
“Of course.”
The sailors who stood nearby suddenly let up a cheer and several among their ranks jostled Marcus and Kiernan. Marcus motioned Kiernan and Erin to follow. He strode several paces from them, then stopped and faced the two young men.
“It's early yet,” he said to Kiernan, “you can cover at least a third of the journey if you start immediately.” Marcus looked at Erin. “You brought three horses?”
“Aye. They are at the Bliney tavern.”
“Good. Kiernan, you may have lunch before leaving. Erin and I will begin straightaway for Brahan Seer.” Marcus started in the direction of the tavern but stopped when Erin said, “Laird.” He turned. Neither of the young men had moved. “What is it?”
“Lady Ashlund is not at Brahan Seer.”
“Not at—where the bloody hell is she?”
“Ashlund.”
Marcus frowned. “Is something amiss at Brahan Seer?”
“Nae,” Erin quickly assured him. “She simply refused to go there.”
“Has my father seen her?”
“He is at Ashlund.”
Erin reached into his pocket and produced a note. Marcus recognized the paper his father used on the rare occasions he wrote missives. He took the letter, tore open the seal, and read.
Marcus,
Elise is safely in Ashlund. When she refused to come to Brahan Seer, I left for Ashlund.
She gave me your letter. I read it, then read it to her, but only after she confessed to me what she says is her entire story.
It seems she knew nothing of your travels in America.
I believe the danger you faced genuinely upset her. That is only right.
I thought it better not to force her to return to Brahan Seer, so we await you in Ashlund. Bring my grandson with you.
Cameron
Ashlund lay a three-hour hard ride away. He would see Elise before the evening meal.
Three hours later, Marcus and Erin rode into the stables at Ashlund. The stables were empty when they arrived, so Marcus left Erin to attend his horse and hurried to the mansion. His butler met him.
“Welcome home, Lord Ashlund,” Nelson cried.
“Nelson.” Marcus smiled. “Where will I find my father?”
“He is in the library, I believe.”
“And my wife?”
Nelson looked thoughtful. “She planned to go to the solarium.”
Marcus didn't move.
“Was there something else, Lord Ashlund?” Nelson asked.
“Nae,” Marcus replied, and strode down the hall toward the solarium.
Marcus jerked open the solarium door with unexpected violence.
He paused, startled at the intensity of feeling, then, regaining his composure, stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him.
He had a clear view of the aisle ahead of him and Elise wasn't in sight.
He started forward, scanning the foliage and flowers that separated the aisle he walked down from the other aisle.
Suddenly, he caught sight of her through the calanthe rosea.
She stood gazing out the window, her back to him.
The small lavender orchids snaked up their fragile vines, framing her body between their branches.
He halted. The lush hair that hung loosely about her shoulders didn't hide the thinness of those shoulders and arms. He detected a difference in her stance. Gone was the lofty air. In its place was a stronger sense of being in the here and now. Steven was right; she was the same yet wasn't.
Marcus continued forward. When he reached the end of the aisle, Elise turned as if she heard his approach.
The faint smile on her face snapped into a gasp as their gazes met.
She gave a cry and collapsed onto the stone bench beside her.
Her hand flew to cover her heart and her wide eyes remained fixed on him.
He halted a few feet from her. He discerned dark smudges beneath her eyes—eyes that weren't the clear brown he remembered.
They wore a haunted look, one that perhaps mirrored his own.
No joy shone in her expression. That, too, he knew, mirrored his own.
Still, she was beautiful. Damn her—damn her beauty.
During the month-long trip to America he had remembered every lovely line of her face, the soft timbre of her voice and sweet gestures that had enchanted him so.
Upon arriving in Boston, his thoughts had been consumed with finding her and bringing her safely home.
Those months had distanced him from the goddess she had become in his mind and she had become the woman who stood before him now—more flesh and blood than angel.
As if reading his mind, she said, “I told you that you couldn't know.”
“I could have, had you told me.”
Elise dropped her gaze. “So easy to say now. I couldn't be sure—there was no time—”
“How much time would have been enough, Elise?”
She looked at him and he saw the tears pooling in her eyes.
The sadness in her expression deepened. “You're right.” She turned so that her profile was barely visible to him and he realized she fought tears. “I cannot believe you're here,” she said in a whisper. “Cannot believe I am here. You should have left me there. Were you hurt?”
“Look at me and see for yourself.” Her head jerked up and he locked her gaze. “Do I look well?”
“I—”
“Do I resemble a man who has lived the past three months in wedded bliss?”
“I know I endangered you,” she replied.
“And Kiernan.”
She blanched. “Yes, Kiernan—and the others. I didn't intend on returning. I wouldn't have done that to you.”
“Wouldn't have done that to me?” he thundered. “Instead, you would have left me in misery the remainder of my days?”
“If I am here, you are in misery; if I am gone, you are in misery.”
“Misery of your making.”
Elise shot to her feet. “I am aware of my mistakes. I've had plenty of time to recount them.”
“Aye,” he replied. “And did you recount the biggest mistake of all?”
Her eyes blazed with a bravado he believed bordered on hysteria. “Which biggest mistake would that be, Marcus MacGregor?”
“Leaving me before I had the chance to really love you—and be loved by you.”
She faltered as if she would crumple back onto the stone bench.
His hands worked into fists at his sides.
“We are finished with lies. God knows, I'm as guilty as you. I knew you feared something. I have been a fool.” He stared at her astonished face.
“I won't make you a prisoner, but I must know you will use good sense in the future.
Do you understand that, as my wife, you cannot go about like a peasant's wife?”
“I used good sense when I left Whycham House,” she retorted.
“Aye?” He clenched his fists tighter. “You can say that when you knew Ardsley had a bounty on your head? You didn't tell me, the one man who could have—would have—protected you. You married me but didn't trust me. I told you I would not fail you.”
Elise burst into tears and covered her face with her hands.
“Surely, you expected no less?” he pressed.
This, Marcus suddenly realized, was to be his revenge. She would have to live the rest of her life with him loving her, no matter her faults. Mayhap she would love him in return, despite his faults. Love him, aye. Forgive what had happened in Boston… what had happened to Steven? Perhaps not.
She reseated herself. Marcus sat beside her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but he recognized the reaction as fear not loathing.
“I must know what happened,” he said. Then we shall see what you think of my sins.
He waited. Her sobs at last subsided into a deep sigh. She faced him but avoided his gaze. “I left Whycahm Hall. Mary told me—” Her gaze abruptly jerked to meet his. “Oh, Marcus,” she cried in a voice so full of sadness it startled him, “Mary—” She choked.
“Aye,” he said quickly. “I know.”
“No! Mary was the spy. She was giving the Campbells information.”
“What?” Blood pounded through his veins, the rushing sound in his head making it hard to think.