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 l
ook 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.
* * *
Marcus hadn't considered the possibility that Elise would wish to accompany the women the following day on the yearly tradition of swimming in the cool waters of Loch Katrine. Now, the procession had started and, per his order, his guards had stopped her from passing beyond the gates. He grimaced at seeing her agitated pacing as he approached. She stopped and glared at him.
“Do you mean to keep me here while the other women go to the loch?” Her narrowed eyes dared him answer yes.
“John,” he called to the nearest guard, “fetch another man and the two of you accompany the women to the loch.”
John's eyes widened. He cast a quick glance at Elise, then jerked his attention back to Marcus.
Marcus gave him a dry look. “You are to watch for trouble, John, not the lasses.”
Marcus looked back at Elise and stifled a laugh at the tight-lipped look on her face. Apparently she didn't care for being singled out with an escort. Imagine how she would feel when he came for her in a short while. The most important part of the tradition was allowing the women enough time to discard their dresses and frolic in the water. The men later followed to engage them in a sporting game of chase.
Elise abruptly whirled and strode through the gates down the path.
“Hurry, lad,” Marcus urged. “She's getting away.”
John called to a man on the wall, then hurried through the gates after her.
Marcus turned his attention to Elise's retreating back. “Any antics, lass, and I'll turn you over my knee.”
She didn't acknowledge the threat, but he knew she'd heard him. His first wife, Jenna, hadn't been predisposed to clan traditions and never participated in the game. This year, he had reason to participate. Elise disappeared from view down the path. She didn't understand the game. She soon would.
Twenty minutes later, unable to resist the idea of Elise's scantily clad body gliding through the water, Marcus emerged from the trees at the bottom of the mountainside. He hurried across the twenty-foot clearing where he ducked behind one of the larger patches of juniper bushes lining the jagged shoreline.
Peering through the foliage and across the rocky shore, he witnessed the exact scene he had imagined. Elise, stripped to her chemise, dove into the blue waters of Loch Katrine along with the other giggling women. The thin cotton chemise she wore the night he accosted her in his library revealed far more than the heavy flannel the women wore in the interest of modesty during this adventure, but he envisioned the revealing shadows he knew would be visible through the wet material. A giddy anticipation settled in his stomach. She would, at first, be furious. With gentle persuasion, however…
Marcus emerged from his hiding place and strode to the shore's edge. The women splashed one another, the recipients shrieking when their companions' aim found a mark. A woman squealed. He had been spotted. Elise looked his way. Just as he thought, the surprise on her face said she hadn't been informed of this part of the game. He suspected that, if she knew the real reason behind the yearly ritual, she would have declined participation. She insisted on being a part of Brahan Seer; logic dictated that she receive full measure.
Eyes steady on her, Marcus stripped off his boots. He stepped into the loch, his shins, then thighs, slicing through the water as he ventured deeper. The women blazed a path for him, shrieking with delight while Elise remained frozen.
“You had better move, lass,” one woman called. “He's coming for ye, and if he catches you…” Peals of laughter followed.
Elise's eyes abruptly shifted and she scanned her surroundings before returning to him. Marcus smiled. Her eyes narrowed, then she dove into the water. He halted, waiting for her to resurface. Seconds ticked by and she didn't reappear. He scanned the water. A sudden round of triumphant shouts went up from the women and he whirled to see Elise rising from the water some thirty feet behind him. She started for the shore, her progress labored through the hip-deep water. By God, he would have to put his back into it to catch her before she reached her clothes! She glanced back, throwing him a satisfied smirk.
Oh ho! She may not have known the game, but she caught on fast. Marcus dove into the water, his strong strokes speeding him through the deeper water until he reached knee deep. He rose, the water no longer a hindrance to his fast pumping legs. His feet pounded onto the shore and, with a burst of energy, he closed the gap between them. In a final sprint, he dove for her, his arms encircling her waist as he brought her to the ground.
Elise sputtered and he realized she had gotten a mouthful of sandy dirt.
“Oh!” she spat. “Let me go!”
Marcus allowed her to thrash in his grasp until she had twisted into a prone position facing him. He settled his weight on her. She beat at his chest. He chuckled and hugged her closer, trapping her arms between them.
“Let me go!” she howled, kicking her heels on the ground like a spoiled child.
Marcus tried looking innocent but knew he failed miserably. “Nae.”
“What in God's name are you doing? Why have you attacked me? This is an outrage!” Her voice rose as she twisted in a serious effort to dislodge him.
“Now, why do you say that, love? I am only playing with you.”
She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “One does not attack a defenseless woman.”
“Lass, I think you are anything but defenseless. Although, I am enjoying myself at your expense.” Marcus bent his head to whisper in her ear, “The women didn't explain the game.”
He went on to explain how, each year, the women came to the loch, and their men later followed. Those with wives sought them out, some in sport, some with the intentions of a child arriving nine months later. Those wanting to make a woman their wife came with the hope that the love play would lead to the consummation of a betrothal. When Marcus finished, a blush had made its way from Elise's cheek to the delicate ear he'd been whispering into.
“No,” she said, her eyes wide.
Marcus grinned. “Aye.”
She looked past him and he glanced over his shoulder to find several women regarding them with interest.
“I would like to get up now,” Elise said.
He looked back at her. “Aye.” He came to his knees. Before she could rise, he slid his arms beneath her, cupping her to his chest.
She gave him an impatient shove as he rose. “Set me down.”
Marcus assumed a thoughtful expression. “Nae. I have won and deserve my reward.”
Elise lifted a brow. “Just what reward would that be, sir?”
He grinned. Aye, she had learned the game. He stepped behind the cover of the bushes he had occupied earlier and paused, uncertain what he wanted to do with her. Marcus laughed inwardly. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with her. He simply hadn't decided how to go about it. One thing he did know, however, he was enjoying the feel of her wet chemise against him far too much to release her just yet.
He kissed her. She pushed against his chest and Marcus realized she wasn't about to let him make love to her in plain sight of the other women. He laid her on the ground and came down upon her, gently this time. He tugged her chemise high enough to free her legs and settle between them. Her grip on his shoulders tightened. He kissed her again. Hard. She tensed.
“Shh,” he soothed. “Let me please you.”
He slid a moist kiss down her cheek, then along her neck. “Just a little love play,” he whispered.
He didn't intend on taking her there, tumbling her like a serving wench, but please her, he would. Slowly, he smoothed a hand along her outer thigh. Grasping her chemise, he bunc
hed it until his fingers touched the soft flesh beneath. Elise turned her head, her cheek against his, and placed a kiss on his jaw. Marcus breathed deep.
He slipped his hand beneath her and cupped her buttocks. “I swear to only please you this time.”
“We aren't—” She gasped as he lifted her buttocks, meeting her flesh with a gentle rotation of his shaft against her sex.
Her breath came quicker. He caressed her buttocks, her hip. A distant pounding of hooves stabbed through the cloud of desire. He paused, his hand on her pelvis. Again, a distant sound—a roll of thunder? He lifted his head. In a flash, the memory of the dream he'd had while at Declan's washed over him.
Elise's grip on his shoulder tightened. “What is it?”
Shrieks sounded.
The women.
Marcus shoved to his knees. He peered through the bushes. Riding like hell hounds toward them were seven Campbell warriors.
Seven, his mind repeated calmly, not an army like that in his dream. Only seven.
He leapt to his feet.
“Who are they?” Elise called.
His hand shot to his side. Bloody hell, he'd left his sword at the keep. Foolish mistake. Marcus swung his gaze to the two warriors sent to guard the women. He made out the red of their plaide behind bushes thirty feet down shore. He glanced up the mountainside at Brahan Seer. Why were no warriors charging down the hill? They must have seen the riders.
Elise scrambled to her feet and Marcus whirled. He shoved her to the ground. “Do not move!” He turned back to watch the Campbells approach.
The women shrieked. Those on the shore raced for the water, joining their comrades who had taken to deeper waters.
“Marcus!” Elise cried.
He looked to see her standing, then glanced at the oncoming men. His heart thumped wildly. Had they seen her? Marcus grabbed her wrist, yanking her back to the ground.
“Nell,” she said, struggling to rise and pointing to the right of their hiding place.
Marcus looked. There, sleeping soundly on the shore, lay Nell, a young maid who had only last week begun working in the castle. Despite the ruckus, she didn't stir. Marcus recalled that she was deaf in one ear. His heart leapt into his throat.
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