She had first seen a colored drawing of this rose in Gerarde's Herball, then she had acquired a cutting from Rose two years ago and rooted it. Her friend was an avid rose collector and went to the continent often to obtain new plants from rose breeders. France, in particular, was a favorite destination.
Elspeth's rose had bloomed for the first time the year before. One bloom. The bush was now covered with dark buds the color of blackberry jam. She could not wait to see more of them unfurl.
"I'm glad you're being more generous with me this year." She sniffed at the flower again and sighed as the delicious scent washed over her. 'Twas indeed heavenly.
"Who are you talking to?" a deep male voice demanded behind her.
Chapter Sixteen
Alarmed, Elspeth leapt up and spun around. Cyrus stood a few yards behind her within the walled garden. She let out a breath and placed her hand over her racing heart.
"Must you sneak up on me like that? You near scared the life out of me."
"What are you doing out here?" He glanced around at the corners and along the tops of the walls. "And who were you talking to?"
Was it as she'd feared—since they'd been intimate, would he start making demands of her? His line of questioning certainly made it seem so. The passionate lover of the night before was a thousand miles away. He seemed harder and more severe in the early morning light. Obviously, he was pretending naught had happened. Was he angry at her, or at himself, for losing control? It mattered not to her. She was finding it far easier than she'd expected to face him this morn.
She glanced away, recalling what he'd asked her. Even if he hadn't been in a surly mood, she would not have told him she talked to her plants. He would think her fit for Bedlam. "I was talking to myself and... admiring the roses. What has gotten you riled up?"
"Come inside and I'll tell you." He glared at the walls again. "I don't ken how secure this area is. The walls are low."
They were at least ten feet tall, but she knew most fortified castle walls were much taller and far thicker.
"Very well." She glanced one last time at her beloved rose, deciding she would have to return in the evening and again in the morn, so she could see it completely open and indulge in the scent yet again. Plus, see if any others had unfurled. She hastened out of the garden and made certain Cyrus closed the gate behind them.
They went in through the back entrance and climbed the servants' stair to the hall.
"After the arrow struck you, I would think you would be more cautious about going outside." Cyrus headed toward the study.
She followed him, though she was irked at his chastising tone. "I wasn't outside when I was struck."
After they were in the room, he closed the door and gave her a sidelong glance. "You ken what I mean."
"I wanted to visit my garden." She shrugged. "I suppose that makes me reckless."
"Aye, and so is Fraser." At the hearth, Cyrus stabbed at the glowing embers with the fire poker.
"What do you mean?" She sat down on the chair near him.
"He rode off to Rebbie's. Alone." Cyrus's frown was especially fierce as he tossed a stick of wood in.
"He didn't even take a guard?"
"Nay. Generously left them here for us. Imbecile." Cyrus clenched a jaw and arose to glare into the flames. "He left a note in the gatehouse."
Ice ran through her veins. "Good heavens! If he's hurt, 'twill be my fault."
He scowled at her. "Nay. Won't be your fault. He's always doing daft things and taking too many risks. He's been that way the whole of his life."
Still, she felt panicked, as if Fraser were her own brother. "We should go after him."
"I've sent two of the guards."
"Surely, they'll find him. Why did the front gate guard allow him to leave alone?"
Cyrus explained to her how Fraser had tricked the guard.
"What a wily fox. I hope they find him and escort him safely to Castle Rebbinglen."
"Aye, well, they're amongst the best guards in the Highlands. I expect them to be successful." Cyrus's dark and serious gaze ran over her. "How are you feeling this morn?" He lifted a brow as he observed her.
Heat singed her face and throat. Was he indeed asking how she felt after their wild and wanton bedsport?
"How is your arm?" he clarified.
"Oh. 'Tis a bit sore, but naught to worry over. What about your shoulder?"
"That wee scratch won't even leave a scar."
He was a tough bear of a man, wasn't he? Unwilling to show any weakness. He certainly hadn't been weak last night when he'd held her against the wall and done things she'd never imagined possible. Suddenly, she felt the urge to fan her face. Overheated as she sat by the newly stoked fire, she arose and paced across the room to the window.
"Reid couldn't find me," Cyrus muttered.
She turned. "What do you mean?"
"Before daybreak." He glanced at her. "Reid looked for me in my chamber when Fraser was leaving. If I had been there instead of in the tower, I might have stopped Fraser from striking out on his own."
"Oh." And... what? He held her responsible for diverting his attention, for sidetracking him when he should've been guarding his brother?
"I blame myself," he growled.
"'Haps you wish to blame me as well," she challenged.
"Nay. 'Tis on me alone."
She stepped toward him. "'Tis not your fault Fraser makes rash decisions."
"I've had to keep an eye on him since he could walk. He's always gotten into one scrape after another. He has no fear."
She sat down across from him. "Sounds like you."
"I take calculated risks but have never been reckless. Except for mayhap... last night." He lifted a brow, sending her a dark and mysterious glance.
Heat rushed from her face down her chest, but she refused to avert her eyes. She would show no shame or weakness before him. She knew their indulgence had been irresponsible. But they couldn't go back and change it... nor would she want to. It had been one of the most astonishing experiences of her life.
"'Twas reckless. Imprudent and..." She pressed her lips closed and stared into the fire, just as hot as their tryst. She could think of many words to describe it but should keep them to herself.
"And?" he prompted.
"'Haps I should stop there. You well ken what happened."
"Indeed." The most extraordinary bedding ever. Cyrus observed Elspeth, wishing she would say more. He yearned to know what was in her fascinating mind and what she had thought of their erotic encounter. 'Twas obvious she'd enjoyed it. Her eager responses to him played out in his mind, her sweet female moans and gasps. He had never heard such arousing sounds coming from one of his lovers. Hell, he couldn't even remember who his past lovers were. She had erased them from his memory.
She arose to her feet and headed toward the door. "I'm growing hungry. Would you like to break your fast?"
"Aye." Cyrus followed Elspeth out the door, glad in one way that she'd changed the subject. But in another, their attraction was too intriguing to ignore. Finding his attention drawn to her swaying hips, he remembered the soft, smooth skin of her supple derriere. Sharp arousal spearing him, he forced his eyes upward, focusing on a point over her head as they entered the hall.
As well as her luscious physical attributes, he admired her strength and composure since her injury. In such a situation, a lot of the women he knew would've wrung every last drop of sympathy from those around her, regardless of how minor the wound had been. But Elspeth was a survivor, ready to charge after Fraser to bring him to safety. Prior to last night, he might have wondered if it was because she was enamored with Fraser and his flirtatious charm. Now, Cyrus was near certain she was not. He hoped she looked upon Fraser as a friend or brother.
Brother? Why the devil had that word popped into his head? Fraser would never be her brother by marriage. Cyrus had to stop thinking of such ridiculous things.
After she bid Gracie to bring them porridge,
bread, butter, and jam, he sat down beside her at the high table.
When he'd talked to Fraser about staying away from Gracie, his brother said he hadn't realized the serving maid was so young. He hadn't seemed overly interested in the lass anyway. Cyrus figured his brother simply had a habit of staring at any pretty female.
Thankfully, before he left, Fraser had also seemed to give up on seducing Elspeth. Sitting beside her now, felt right and comfortable to Cyrus.
He didn't want to think about the night before. Though he knew 'twas lunacy, he was finding it hellish yearning for someone he could never touch again.
As they ate, he could hardly keep his attention on his bowl of porridge. With a small knife, she spread dark brambleberry jam on the bite of buttered bread, then ate it and licked her enticing lips. How could he have become so dull as to enjoy watching a woman eat?
"Saints," he hissed under his breath.
Her gaze flew to him. "What?"
"Naught. Just cannot believe how daft Fraser has been."
"I ken you're worried over him. I am too. He reminds me of my brother, Jack, a bit."
Cyrus's mood brightened. He was glad to know his assumptions had been correct. "He does?"
"Aye. Headstrong. Adventurous. 'Tis why Jack wished to go into the Royal Scots Navy. To see the world and have new experiences."
The elder Dalacroy likely helped with the commission, but Cyrus wouldn't ask her about it now. 'Twould make her uncomfortable.
"Although my father wished Jack to be a merchant like he was, Jack always resisted. He considered it too tedious. I was the one fascinated by it."
Cyrus enjoyed the way her eyes lit up when she talked about being a merchant. "I've never known a woman who's interested in business. Did your father teach you?"
"Aye, although 'twas not his intent. He was trying to train Jack, who showed no interest. I watched him, paid attention and asked questions. At first, I learned it to help my brother. Da would explain the numbers or additions to me and then have me tutor Jack. A few years later, Da was astonished to find I knew almost as much as he did, while Jack was out with his friends engaged in pretend sword duals."
Imagining it, Cyrus smiled. He had never considered that he might find a clever, educated woman intriguing. Suddenly, he realized he might enjoy having stimulating conversations with Elspeth. She was no flighty lass, but a woman full grown.
"I hope he's enjoying his naval career," Cyrus said.
"Oh, aye. He is. He has written to me a few times."
"And what of your sister?"
"Emmaline married the son of a successful shipwright. Young Peter will one day inherit the trade."
"Sounds like an ideal match."
"Indeed."
Cyrus could not help but think of the possible match with Lady Lily. A dark annoying feeling bored into his stomach. He did not ken why the lovely lass gave him such a bad feeling. Well, mayhap 'twas because when he glanced aside at Elspeth, he had the opposite feeling—a light, uplifted feeling of hope. What would she think of Teasairg Castle in the rough and craggy Highlands? Would she find it barbaric and behind the times? Or would she love it as much as he did?
Why the devil did he care what she thought of it? She would likely never see it.
The events of last night blazoned through his mind yet again, encroaching on his thoughts as they had all morning. He'd never been one to act on a whim. He always followed plans he had previously thought out very carefully, considering all the possible outcomes. His inability to make a definite decision about what came next annoyed the hell out of him. He had always been clear-sighted and purposeful. And though he could not see his way out of this quandary as of yet, he needed to tell her of an important decision he'd made.
"I would like to discuss something with you after the meal," he murmured for her ears only.
She gave him a wary glance. "Very well. I'm finished."
They made their way into the study again.
"About last night," he began, once they were seated. "I just want to reassure you that if a bairn results, I'll take full responsibility. I'll provide anything you or the child might need."
Her face coloring, she stiffened and stared into the fireplace embers. "'Tis very generous of you, but I'll be fine. I've raised one child more or less on my own, with my servants' help. As long as I keep the businesses and my home, things will go well."
"Aye, I'm certain 'tis true, but I would never abandon one of my offspring or his or her mother. I lost control last night, and I'll always hold myself to blame."
"Blame?" She frowned. "You act as though I had no say in the matter."
"Nay. Of course you had a say. If you'd told me nay, I would've left the room, no matter how much I wanted you."
I wanted you. Those words hung in the air for a few moments during the silence. He recalled exactly how badly his craving for her had been. Even now, a renewed need for her burgeoned, growing stronger with each moment that passed. Damnation! He did not ken how to fight it off. 'Twas a futile battle. Though he forced himself not to look at her, he smelled a delicate whiff of her appealing scent blended with the wood smoke from the fireplace. Arousal curled through him.
Muttering a curse, he arose and took up the fire poker. With near violence, he stabbed at the embers, then tossed in a chunk of wood.
"Please do not concern yourself with it." She shot from her chair. "'Tis doubtful I'm with child, anyway."
He turned, gauging her defensive expression. "Why would it be doubtful? You have one child. Clearly, you're not barren."
"And clearly you're angry with me. I don't wish to discuss it anymore." She strode toward the door.
"Elspeth, wait."
She halted facing the door. "What?"
"I'm not angry with you."
She blew out a breath, turned her head and glared at him. "What do you call it then?"
"I'm angry with myself," he growled.
"Because of me."
"Nay."
"You're lying to yourself."
Not so much lying as trying to convince himself. Why the devil couldn't he sort through his own emotions? Why couldn't he stop obsessing about last night and wanting to indulge again... even when she might already be with child, and his plans for enriching his clan were floundering in the gutter?
"You make everything muddled." He ground his teeth.
"Indeed?" Her gaze speared into him. "Well, I'll make it all clear and simple by staying away from you. I'll not touch you and you promise not to touch me."
"Nay." The word burst out before his mind could even mull that over. He mumbled a curse.
"What? You're the one who's muddling things."
'Twas true, but what could he do about it?
"I see what the problem is," she snapped, her eyes darkening in a passionate anger that only fired his blood all the more. "You're carnally drawn to me, but I'm not good enough for you, am I? A mere merchant's daughter and former mistress of a peer. Nay, you know with your mind that you still want to marry Lily, but with your baser man instincts, you want me instead. So... you're torn. 'Tis why many men have mistresses. But I'll tell you now, I'll never be a mistress again. Nor will I marry. I'm perfectly happy being on my own. I may be the only woman you've ever met who has no need of a man." She opened the door and slammed it on the way out.
"Damnation!" Cyrus muttered into the silence. That woman's temper made him so hot-blooded and aroused he could hardly even think. He held onto the mantle so he wouldn't go chasing after her.
Everything she'd said was true.
Closing his eyes, he propped his forehead on his fist. Their encounters against the wall and in the bed of the tower room played through his mind. He remembered the seductive scent of her throat, the sweet taste of her mouth as she opened for him, the soft suppleness of her curvy hips in his hands, the drenching heat of her as she eagerly accepted him into her depths. He had not sensed any hesitation. She'd seemed as hungry as he had been.
AFTER FRAS
ER, MACNEIL, and Irving had traveled several more miles, Fraser again heard the pounding of hooves approaching from the rear. He glanced back. Half a dozen horses were quickly advancing toward them. The riders wore the gray livery of a Lowland aristocrat's guards. Were they strangers, or the lackeys of that Henry bastard Cyrus had told him about? Had they been watching when Fraser or the guards had left?
Regardless, they were outnumbered. His main objective was arriving at Castle Rebbinglen to send back help for Cyrus.
"Faster!" Fraser commanded MacNeil and Irving. He dug his heels into his mount's flanks. The horses flew along the road, their hooves flinging a spray of black mud.
Fraser narrowed his eyes, then peered back. The whoresons were gaining ground. 'Slud, his horse was getting winded and couldn't maintain this speed much longer.
"We'll have to fight!" Fraser told his two companions. Three against six weren't good odds, but all the MacKenzie men had excellent training; Cyrus made sure of it. "Up ahead, dismount in the wood. We'll use the element of surprise like we did in that skirmish near Loch Shiel."
"Aye!" MacNeil yelled.
"At least one of us must survive and go for help." Fraser slowed, leapt off and slapped his horse on the rump, sending him fleeing to safety.
He, MacNeil and Irving drew their basket-hilt swords as they moved into the dense undergrowth of the forest. The blackguards would be forced to fight on foot in this uneven terrain. He doubted they would be as accustomed to it as Highlanders were.
"Cowards!" the enemy leader called out from the road. "Come out and fight like men."
The Lowland imbecile didn't understand how Highlanders fought. Being canny, they preferred stealth. Why be daft and walk out like a target? Especially with them being outnumbered. Instead, the knaves would have to prove their mettle. Did they have the stones to charge into the dark forest where Highlanders might lurk among the hummocks, ready to dirk them at any moment?
Fraser peered from behind a large pine trunk and emitted a sea eagle cackle, just to taunt their foes.
The men dismounted, murmuring amongst themselves. "I saw only two leave the house, but now there are three. They picked up one along the way."
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