by Carmen Caine
"That is true of any man with half a wit."
Elise couldn't help laughing. "I suppose you're right."
Sophie's expression softened. "You aren't betraying your husband by loving again."
Elise nearly choked. "N-no, of course not."
"There is no one for you to return home to?"
She recalled the blood darkening Steven's coat. "No."
"Your husband's family, what of them?"
"There is no one."
Sophie sighed. "A shame."
"Yes," Elise replied, and couldn't prevent a picture of the two who waited for her at the bottom of the sea. Her chest tightened and she rose. "Would you care for a drink?" She crossed to the sideboard. "Marcus keeps an excellent Napoleon brandy."
"Brandy?"
Elise paused, her hand on the decanter lid, and twisted to look at Sophie. "Don't tell me you're going to lecture me. Are all MacGregors so puritanical?"
Sophie's eyes lit with amusement. "I've heard the MacGregors called many things—bloodthirsty, uncouth, barbaric, ignorant—but never have they been compared to anything so noble. Puritanical, indeed."
Elise couldn't resist. "There is port, if brandy is too strong for you."
"Brandy it is," she said without hesitation.
Elise poured two glasses of the brandy and returned to the divan. She handed a snifter to Sophie, then sat down.
"Did I mention that I tried escaping to Australia?"
"I do not recall the story," Sophie replied with such gravity that Elise couldn't help wondering if someone had indeed repeated the tale in the short time the countess had been there.
"Marcus's men retrieved me," Elise said.
"Retrieved you?"
"It seems strange now that I left," she said more to herself than Sophie.
"What happened when my cousin's men came for you?" Sophie asked.
"Cameron sent them. Marcus wasn't aware I had left. He told me if he had come, it would have gone far worse for me."
"I can well believe that. Why did you leave?"
Elise grimaced. "The reason was sound."
"Do you mean to extract a little revenge now?"
Elise looked at Sophie. "Things aren't always as simple as they seem."
Sophie nodded once. "And often not as complicated as we think. What stops you from leaving again?"
"He would only come for me again."
"But of course," Sophie agreed. "There is nowhere you could hide from him. I do see your point."
Elise looked sharply at her. Merriment danced in Sophie's eyes, and Elise realized she referred to Marcus and not Price, as her imagination had jumped to think. She was hallucinating—either that or drunk.
"Just how rich is my husband-to-be?" The countess's eyes widened, and Elise cried, "Good Lord, that didn't come right at all." She groaned and collapsed against the divan back.
"I imagine you wonder what sort of reception you'll receive once you leave Brahan Seer?"
Elise's heart jumped, but the reaction was stalled by the honesty that shone in the countess' eyes. "I swear, Sophie, as foolish as it sounds, I had no idea he was a duke. Here at Brahan Seer… I knew him as Cameron's son and leader of the MacGregor clan. I knew they weren't destitute, but a duke!" She laid a hand on Sophie's hand. "I am no duchess."
"And I was no countess," Sophie replied.
"What?"
"I was only Lady Ashlund. Of course, my family has money." Sophie's eyes danced. "All Ashlunds have money. But, then, so does Justin."
"Ashlund," Elise repeated. "They are MacGregors?"
"Oh, no. Ryan MacGregor married Helena Ashlund about one hundred and fifty years ago. Helena was an only child, therefore, the dukedom fell to Ryan when Helena's father Coll Ashlund died." Sophie shook her head and a shadow passed over her face. "That was a terrible time. The MacGregor name had been outlawed."
"The clearances?" Elise asked.
"Oh, no. Those atrocities are much more recent," she said. "There was a great deal of political strife"—Sophie laughed—"when hasn't there been political strife in Scotland? In any case, the crown seized MacGregor land, and the MacGregors fought back. It is said in our family that, if not for Helena marrying Ryan, his brand of the MacGregors, Marcus's line, wouldn't be here today."
"Ashlund money," Elise murmured.
"You have it," Sophie said.
Indeed, Elise thought. Now what am I to do with it?
Chapter Fifteen
Much later that evening, Marcus pushed past the cluster of men outside the library doorway watching Elise and Sophie, each with a glass in hand as they sat on the floor in front of the fire giggling like school girls. He stopped and looked from the women to the decanter on the floor beside them. On the sideboard, other decanters sat in disarray. Some had been left uncovered—one actually lay empty on its side. Marcus turned his attention back to the women. He could scarce believe his eyes. They were drunk.
The women looked up as he strode toward them. "I suppose 'tis my fault for not looking for you here first." He stopped before them.
Elise and Sophie looked at one another and shrugged.
"I told you to inform someone of your whereabouts."
"Told me?" Elise's brows rose sluggishly. "I seem to remember you as-as-" Her gaze cut to Sophie. "A difficult word—asking me," she got out in a quick breath, then looked at him again. "But, then, I'm not surprised you remember it differently."
Laughter emanated from the men.
"And in case you hadn't noticed," she went on between hiccups, "I haven't left the confines of the castle." Despite the slight slur in her words, they were said with emphasis.
Another ripple of low laughter came from the men and Marcus shot them a quelling look. Cameron coughed and Kiernan raised a brow while the others' mouths twitched with amusement. Marcus turned his attention to Sophie.
"I see you are introducing my future wife to the niceties of polite society."
Sophie looked at Elise, who said, "I do believe he is blaming you." Leaning into Sophie, Elise added in a loud whisper, "Just like a man, wouldn't you say?"
The gales of laughter that swept the room increased when Elise gripped the seat of the chair with one hand, while clutching her glass with the other, and began scrambling to her feet. Marcus reached to assist her. She batted his hand away and rose onto unsteady feet. She swayed, grabbed the back of the chair, and leveled her gaze on him.
"Now see here, Marcus MacGregor, we'll have none of your lectures tonight." She pushed at his chest with the hand that held the glass. "Lady Whycham and I are enjoying ourselves and we don't need you or anyone else telling us what we should do. Isn't that right, Sophie?"
"Right," agreed Sophie. "We don't need you or anyone else."
"If you will excuse us." Elise reached down and grasped Sophie's hand. She pulled, nearly falling onto Sophie before finally helping her to her feet. Sophie smoothed her skirts as Elise faced Marcus. "Lady Whycham and I are going to see to the preparations for the banquet."
Shoving her glass into his hand, she headed for the door, Sophie on her heels. A picture of the two women falling down the stairs and breaking their lovely necks flashed in his mind, and Marcus sat the glass on his desk and started after them. The men parted for the ladies, stepping back an extra pace when he charged past. He grabbed the women as they reached the stairs, pushing Sophie toward his son and scooping Elise into his arms.
"Put me down!" she sputtered, but he ignored her, hurrying down the stairs and into the great hall. When he reached the table, he dropped her into a chair.
"He's peeved," Elise commented to Sophie, who had been set in the chair beside hers.
"Serves him right," she replied.
Marcus stifled an oath and ordered a kettle of tea. When the strong brew began to clear their senses, he watched with satisfaction as they rubbed their temples.
"Brute," Elise muttered, casting a dark glance in his direction. She rose and headed for the stairs, adding loud enough for
all to hear, "I wager Sophie agrees with me."
"Damnation, Elise," Sophie paused in rising, "must you shout?" She, too, started for the steps.
Elise paused at the stairs and glanced over her shoulder. Marcus met her gaze, but she only shook her head and turned to go up the stairs.
"You're to be married in two days," Sophie said, taking the first step behind her. "Perhaps you should give serious thought to your decision, Elise."
Marcus jumped from his seat at the table. By God, he would strangle her. He strode across the room. Halting at the bottom of the stairs, he called up to them, "Sophie, you would do well to keep your thoughts to yourself." His voice echoed up the narrow staircase and both women halted, covering their ears.
"Of all the nerve," Sophie complained as they started up again. "Marcus, I never knew you to be so perverse. Mayhap you should reconsider, Elise. I wonder if any of us know him at all."
Marcus took the stairs two at a time and, in a flash, reached Sophie's side. "You will retire to your chambers now, Cousin," he growled.
Grasping her elbow, he hurried her up the stairs ahead of him until they reached Elise. Marcus grabbed her elbow with his other hand and forced them up the remaining steps ahead of him. He escorted them down the corridor until they reached Elise's chambers. He shoved Sophie in the direction of her room, opened Elise's door, and thrust her inside.
"Don't leave this room the remainder of the evening. I will have dinner sent up."
Elise mumbled something unintelligible as he clicked the door shut behind him.
When Marcus reentered the hall a moment later, the low laugher of the men cut short. Those sitting at the table seemed absorbed in the odd task of examining the tabletop. Marcus looked closer as he neared them and discerned the collective struggle to keep from bursting into laughter.
"Out with it!" he boomed. "I couldn't live with the guilt of someone bursting a blood vessel."
No one made a peep, and he threw his hands into the air and headed for the sanctuary of his library. When he was halfway up the stairs, the hall filled with laughter. Marcus paused, torn between cursing the men and joining them, then shook his head and hurried up the stairs.
* * * *
At the light tap on his library door, Marcus ceased speaking to Harris. The door opened and Sophie peered inside.
"Oh," she said, "forgive me. I didn't know you were busy."
She started to back away and Harris said, "We can finish later, Marcus. I have enough here to begin work." He lifted his notebook to indicate his notes.
"No," Sophie began, but Marcus waved her in. Harris rose, bowed to Sophie, then left them alone. She seated herself in the chair Harris had occupied, and said, "You seem to have accomplished a great deal this morning." She motioned to the open ledger on his desk.
"I rise early," he replied.
"It is a beautiful morning."
Marcus gave her an appraising look. "I would think after yesterday evening that this morning would not be so pleasant for you."
Sophie smiled. "I have a strong constitution, as you well know." She settled back against the cushion and regarded him. "Do not say you are truly angry with me."
"Shocked. As Justin would be, I wager."
"My God!" she exclaimed. "Mayhap Elise was right."
"Right about what?" he asked sharply.
"She commented on the puritanical characteristic of the MacGregors."
Marcus tossed aside the quill he'd been holding and lounged in his chair. "I assume this is in reference to me?"
"You were the original topic of conversation. But never mind that. I like Elise."
"Aye?"
"Yes. She told me the harrowing story of how she came to be here. I am curious, though, what it is she is omitting."
"What do you mean?"
Sophie's expression softened. "It is plain you care for her."
"Sophie—"
"Don't become annoyed with me, Marcus. We have known one another too long for such foolishness. I am pleased you have found a woman to care for, and approve of the match."
Marcus raised a brow.
She gave him a dry look. "You comprehend what I mean. Now, tell me, what is she hiding?"
He took a deep breath. "I have yet to find out."
Sophie smoothed her dress. "She isn't given to talking about herself, even half in her cups. Which do you think is most likely: that she has committed a crime or has run away from her husband? Either one would allow for her gentle upbringing."
He prayed to God she hadn't run away from a husband. What would he do if that were the case?
"Those are not the only possibilities," Marcus said. "It may be her husband was in debt and she has no means to repay the creditors."
"Quite right," Sophie said. "I hadn't thought of that."
Thus far, his investigations had turned up no record of a ship sinking in Solway Firth, nor had any ship docked in the firth. There had, however, been a terrible storm the day before Shannon and Josh found Elise. The ship may have sunk as Elise said. The report of ships docking in Edinburgh and London gave no clues as to what ship she might have sailed on. The report on ships leaving Boston harbor had yet to reach him.
Marcus focused on his cousin. "I will have no meddling in this affair, Sophie."
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Of course not."
"I am serious," he added.
"Marcus, I don't interfere in the affairs of others."
He gave her a reproachful look.
She screwed one side of her mouth into a wry smile. "Not really, I don't, and you cannot deny that I have never interfered in your life."
"True."
"But that doesn't mean I can't see what is happening. What measures have you taken to discover the truth?"
"That is nothing you need concern yourself with."
Sophie sighed. "I feared you would say that. Marcus. I like the girl. Still, I would ask that you inform me if any… problems arise."
"I will keep your request in mind," he said, and wished her a good day.
* * * *
Her wedding day brought with it all the promise of a hailstorm in June. Wind blew in clouds so dark, it looked as though God's wrath would rain down upon them. Elise sent up a prayer of thanks for Sophie's experienced hands. She held her breath while Sophie deftly fastened the buttons that went from the neckline of the yellow silk gown to the small of her back.
"There." Sophie gave a final tug to smooth out the dress. Elise turned as Sophie reached for the matching lace veil. "Look at this beautiful work."
"Yes," Elise agreed. "Winnie is a master needlewoman."
Sophie smiled and positioned the veil's band atop Elise's hair. The lace fell to her waistline. A lace overskirt continued the illusion of fog amid petals to the floor. Sophie stepped back. Elise watched her soon-to-be-cousin, touched by the genuine pleasure on her face.
"Lovely." Sophie's expression sharpened. "Well, Cousin, you've done it now."
Elise glanced at the clock on her mantel. "I still have half an hour."
"A full thirty minutes in which to explain to Marcus why you changed your mind."
Elise jerked her gaze onto the countess.
"Come now, you know your anxiety is only due to the gravity of the vows you will take." A gleam appeared in Sophie's eyes. "Unless you fear you cannot keep your vows."
"You MacGregors," Elise began, then amended, "Ashlunds," at the look on Sophie's face. "Born troublemakers."
"A long line of troublemakers." Her mouth assumed an impish grin. "Perhaps you are nervous about the wedding night? I have not once seen Marcus making his way to your room."
"Good Lord! Is nothing sacred?"
"No," she said, then picked up the bouquet that lay on the bed.
Elise looked again at the clock, then back at Sophie. "I still have twenty-five minutes. Sophie," she began, but Sophie cut her off.
"I will await you in the drawing room."
Elise smiled her thanks. As Sophi
e closed the door behind her, Elise seated herself on the couch. Twenty-five minutes from now, the key that bound her soul to Amelia and Steven would lay at the bottom of the sea with them. She had considered using her position once she married to quietly bring about Price's fall, but had recalled Marcus's words "The thirst for revenge will eat a man alive." The same was true of a woman.
She was trading Steven and Amelia's rest for Marcus's safety. May they forgive her.
Chapter Sixteen
At sight of Marcus dressed in a new kilt, a crisp, white lawn shirt meticulously tucked into his waistband and buttoned to the neck, and a bonnet cocked to one side, Elise faltered the last few steps from where he stood at the altar. In minutes, this man would be her husband. Her gaze met his and she saw there an intensity that demanded she leap into his arms from across the final precipice that separated them. Her knees weakened. Marcus held out his hand. She flushed and dropped her gaze.
He grasped her hand in a firm grip, turning with her to face Father Whyte. The priest spoke the Latin vows slowly, then patiently waited until she repeated them as he had coached. Marcus repeated his vows and, before Elise realized it, he slipped a large emerald onto her finger. The ring was a size too large, but her heart skipped a beat at the weight of the jewel and the cool of the metal encircling her finger. Father Whyte gave the final blessing and a shout went up when Marcus took her in his arms. Her attention jerked from the emerald to him as he finalized the ritual with their first kiss as husband and wife.
Hand on her back, Marcus guided her around to face the guests who stood cheering. He urged her down the aisle and out the chapel doors. The crowd waiting outside shouted in exultation, and those following joined in more shouts. Waves, squeals, and cries of good wishes followed them to the castle. Marcus opened the postern door and Elise stepped inside.
With a sweep of her gaze, Elise took in the gold and purple swags adorning the walls, the velvet surfaces softening the light cast by sconces burning from holders erected while she slept last night. On the far side of the room, hung on each end of the wall, were two intricately woven tapestries depicting Highland men in battle. The table was laden with food, and serving girls dodged guests who had arrived too late to find space near the chapel. Another cheer went up and several women hurried forward, grasped Elise's arms, and whisked her across the room to a place near the hearth. She was instantly surrounded. Sophie stood among their ranks and she gave Elise a knowing look. Elise turned to see Marcus reach the opposite side of the room, a glass of whiskey already in hand, his friends clapping him on the back.
