Kill or Be Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  As she entered the dining room, only Ruairi and Fagan were seated at the table. The way Ian could barely stand last night made Elizabeth think he didn’t have enough energy to pull himself from bed. Ironically, Ian was a pillar of strength, and she was amazed at the effects whisky had on a grown man.

  Ruairi pulled out her chair. “Madainn mhath, Elizabeth.”

  “Good morning to you. Did you both sleep well?”

  Fagan laughed. “Aye. I slept like the dead.”

  “Do I dare ask if either of you have seen Laird Munro this morn?”

  Mistress Betts approached the table and gave Elizabeth a bowl of oatmeal. “Here you are, my lady.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ruairi took a drink from his cup. “Nay. I’ll see to him soon to make sure he’s nae dead. When we last saw him, he was well into his cups.”

  She thought about mentioning that she’d found Ian at her door last night but then decided against it. The last she wanted to do was get him into trouble with Ruairi and Fagan. Not to mention Ian might kill her if she opened her mouth. After all, the men were her brothers-in-law and Ian’s best friends.

  “Are ye ready to return to court, lass, or mayhap ye’ve had enough, eh?” asked Fagan.

  “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t frighten off that easily.”

  Fagan turned to Ruairi as if he was giving up in battle. “Ye can nae say that I did nae try.”

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. “If we could, I’d love to explore more of the palace and the grounds.”

  “Just what we all need, lass, more walking. Did ye nae do enough of that yesterday?” asked Fagan.

  “You’re very comical. I’m certain that’s why my sister married you.”

  “Hmm… For some reason, I donna think that was the reason Grace wed me.”

  When he looked like he was deep in thought, Elizabeth laughed. “I wouldn’t ponder over that too much if I were you. I do hope everyone is having a wonderful time at Aunt Mary’s and Apethorpe Hall. The poor woman could use some cheering up after Uncle Walter’s passing. I know she always loved entertaining a houseful of people. I’m sure my sisters, Torquil, and my cousins are keeping her occupied.”

  “Aye, but let’s hope Torquil and Kat are being helpful and nae driving the poor woman mad,” said Ruairi.

  “I’m sure they’re not, and you know Aunt Mary would scold them if they were.”

  “I also pray that your aunt makes Ravenna rest. Your sister is a stubborn lass and seldom admits she needs to lie down. Ye remember how weary she was when she carried Mary. And speaking of the wee one, I hope she’s nae causing too much grief.”

  “Half of your daughter’s blood is Walsingham, you know. It’s bound to happen at some time or another.”

  “Och, aye. Ye donna need to remind me of that. At least the lassie has nae yet taken her first steps. I can only imagine the trouble waiting to happen once she does.”

  “And I have no doubt her father will be there to save the day. There is a natural bond between a mother and daughter, but I think fathers are very protective of their daughters.”

  “I can nae deny it.” Ruairi lifted his cup to his lips and froze, an amused smile crossing his face. “Munro has certainly seen better days.”

  Ian walked toward the table at a leisurely pace. His hair was more unruly than usual, and his kilt and tunic were in complete disarray. If he had told her that he’d slept in the streets of London last night with no protection from the elements, she would’ve believed him.

  Fagan laughed as Ian pulled out a chair. “Did ye sleep in the stable last eve with the horses? It would nae have been the first time.”

  Although he had not even glanced at her, Elizabeth noted that Ian’s eyes were red. “I awoke in my bed this morn. But I can nae be certain that I did nae pay a visit to my mount in the barn some time during the night.”

  “Are you feeling better, Laird Munro?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Aye.” He briefly met her eyes and then started talking with Ruairi.

  When they finished their meal, Ruairi and Fagan excused themselves from the table, and Ian flew to his feet. She was surprised that he didn’t want to stay and talk with her but didn’t think too much of his actions.

  Elizabeth followed the men up the stairs, and when they reached the hall to their rooms, she gave a few tugs on the back of Ian’s tunic. Looking over his shoulder, he gave her a puzzled gaze.

  “Could I speak with you for a moment?” she asked.

  Ruairi and Fagan entered their rooms, and Ian returned a blank stare. When the doors closed, he asked, “What did ye want to speak with me about?” His flat, unspeaking eyes prolonged the moment.

  “What did I want to speak with you about? I want to talk about last night.”

  He sighed, and then gave a resigned shrug. “Aye, I may have been in my cups a wee bit more than I should have, but Ruairi and Fagan watched over ye. I know they did.”

  Elizabeth hesitated, confused by his odd behavior. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I wanted to speak with you about the kiss.”

  Ian folded his arms across his chest, an irritated expression crossing his face. “What are ye talking about, lass?”

  “The kiss we shared in your chamber last night.” She felt the screams of frustration at the back of her throat as he rubbed his hands over his face.

  “Lady Elizabeth, there was nay kiss in my room. My only bed partner last eve was the uisge beatha. I think that I would remember if a kiss was shared, especially with my best friends’ sister-by-marriage. And besides, ye sought your bed quite some time before Ruairi and Fagan found theirs. I thought we discussed this at Scadbury Manor. Ye said ye were young and foolish when ye fancied me. Why are ye bringing this up again? We were getting along so well.”

  Heaviness centered in her chest, and there was sourness in the pit of her stomach. She’d given the man her heart, and he might as well have impaled it on her dagger. A hot tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. “No, of course you don’t remember.” His eyes remained icy and unresponsive. “I don’t know much about your whisky. I don’t even understand how it’s possible that you can’t recall last night. But I do know that if you’re lying only because you don’t want to address what happened between us, you’re not the man I thought you to be.”

  A muscle ticked at his jaw, and his gaze was unwavering. “Lady Elizabeth, I donna remember ye being in my room last eve, and I certainly donna recall sharing a kiss with ye. If any of that happened, I offer ye my sincere apologies for my lack of—”

  Her voice raised a notch. “If any of that happened?” She brushed past him, opened the door to her room, and shut it in his face.

  * * *

  Ian leaned back against the wall, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. His memories of Elizabeth last night were pure and clear, but his mind had been confounded ever since. Now added to his misery was the expression she’d held on her face only a moment ago. How would he ever forget the look she had given him when he pretended not to remember holding her in his arms? What troubled him even more was the fact that he had one hell of a time denying how wonderful she felt there.

  But he believed the best recourse for them both was to deny everything. After all, Elizabeth’s declaration last eve had made him realize how innocent she still was.

  Love.

  The lass had no clue what she was talking about. He’d certainly bedded his share of women before, but every tupping had the same result. None of the women had stayed around long enough or even held any fondness for him for more than a fortnight afterward. He’d never have the companionship of a woman or a wife, a truth he’d come to terms with long ago.

  Elizabeth had no idea how hard he’d pondered the subject. He couldn’t even sleep last night. But no matter how many times his brain hammered him with possibilities,
there was only one truth he knew beyond a shadow of doubt. Somewhere out there was a better man for the lass.

  She was young, beautiful, and had her whole life ahead of her. Furthermore, he was almost sixteen years older than Elizabeth. He was nothing more than a battle-hardened Highland laird who had nothing to offer a woman, not even a handsome visage. The idea of Elizabeth taking pity on him, something he had always thought she’d done, drove him mad. He refused to have a woman marry him out of sympathy for his looks or lack thereof.

  Mistress Betts cleared her throat. “Laird Munro, I was coming to assist Lady Elizabeth with her gown. Were you waiting to see her? I could tell her you’re wait—”

  “Nay, I was just taking my leave.”

  After making himself presentable for court, Ian met Ruairi and Fagan below stairs. To keep his mind occupied from his earlier encounter with Elizabeth, Ian stepped out to the barn and had the horses and carriage readied while they waited for the lass to dress. As soon as he set foot back in the inn, his jaw dropped at the sight before him.

  Elizabeth’s gown barely covered the parts of a lass that should always be concealed, at least on a lady. Her dress was black with a low, rounded bodice. The swells of her breasts were perched high like they were being offered on a trencher for a meal. His eyes discovered the only item covering her rounded globes was the jewelry that hung on a black, silk string around her neck. A belt encircling her waist displayed its smallness, and he remembered the softness of her milky skin. He was even more annoyed when something moved below his waist on its own accord.

  Fagan elbowed Ian in the arm and whispered, “Lift your fallen jaw, Munro. Ye look like Angus awaiting a meal.”

  “I think we’ll be fending off many a suitor this day,” said Ruairi.

  “Ye’re nae going to let her wear that, are ye?” Ian didn’t realize the edge in his voice until Ruairi’s gaze sharpened.

  “’Tis how most English women dress at court. Ye’ve seen them. Who am I to tell the lass what to wear? I am nae her father nor her husband.”

  Ian gazed at his friend as if the man had lost his wits. “Ye’re her brother-by-marriage, her chaperone. As long as she lives under your roof, she’ll do as ye say.”

  “Ye do remember that she is Ravenna and Grace’s sister, eh?” Ruairi returned a look as though his words explained everything.

  “Is there anything the matter?” asked Elizabeth, lifting her skirts and walking toward them.

  Fagan chuckled. “Munro thinks ye should change your gown before we take our leave for court.”

  “And Laird Munro has no right to tell me how to dress. I’ll be waiting for you in the carriage when you’re ready.” The lass lifted her head in a defiant gesture and walked haughtily out the door.

  Fagan slapped Ian on the shoulder. “Munro, when will ye ever learn? Start this day like ye did the last. Offer the lass an apology for thinking like a man.”

  * * *

  Although Elizabeth had the entire ride to court to calm her fury, as soon as she stepped out of the carriage and saw Laird Munro, that spark of anger that still remained kindled into a raging fire. She was furious at her vulnerability toward the man. She’d dreamed of the moment when Ian would finally take her in his arms and kiss her, but all she was left with now was the reality that he’d never want her. Who in her right mind would’ve pined after someone for three long years? What a fool she’d been.

  When she entered the hall of the palace, a hand reached out to stay her, and her eyes lit up. Lord Kinghorne inclined his blond head and gave her a slight bow. If that wasn’t a sign that she needed to move forward with her life, she didn’t know what was.

  “Lady Elizabeth, how wonderful to see you again.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Gentlemen…” When his eyes returned to hers, he smiled. “I was just going to take a walk in the gardens. Would you care to join me?”

  “I’d love to.” She turned, speaking only to Ruairi. “May I meet you back here in an hour’s time? I promise that I won’t wander off anywhere else, except the gardens with Lord Kinghorne.”

  A male voice spoke from behind her. “You can be assured that Lady Elizabeth will be in good hands. I have to meet my mother within the hour, so I’ll be sure to bring Lady Elizabeth back on time.”

  She saw a slight hesitation in Ruairi’s hawk-like eyes, and just when she thought he wouldn’t give his consent, his words pleased her. “Go on, lass.” He gazed over her shoulder and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, as if Lord Kinghorne needed any warning to behave.

  Elizabeth took the earl’s extended arm and walked along beside him. When they reached the gardens, she took a deep breath. She tried to enjoy the view, wanting nothing more than to banish a certain laird from her mind. The scent of flowers wafted through the air as several men and women ambled along the garden paths.

  “Have you seen this lovely orange blossom?” Lord Kinghorne lifted the bloom from its stem. “It’s quite beautiful.”

  “Yes, the palace gardens are extraordinary.”

  “My mother has a lovely garden,” he said, moving closer to study a rose. “Her blooms aren’t as magnificent as the palace flowers, but they’re beautiful nevertheless.” He placed his finger to his lips. “Shhh… Don’t tell her that I told you that. She’d be cross with me.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I won’t. And is your mother enjoying court, my lord?”

  “Indeed. My father passed a few years ago, and mother has accompanied me ever since. She says it keeps her young. And what of you, Lady Elizabeth? Why aren’t your sisters accompanying you?”

  She placed a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. “My sisters are visiting my aunt at Apethorpe Hall.”

  “My word, was Lord Mildmay your uncle?”

  She gazed down at the grass and couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Please accept my condolences for your loss.” He handed her a long-stemmed flower. “Roses are Mother’s favorite, and I hope you enjoy them too. Be sure not to tell anyone that I picked the bloom from the palace grounds. The king—and my mother—would have my head.”

  “Your secret is safe with me, my lord.”

  “I only knew your uncle in passing, but I know he was favored by the king.”

  “He’ll be sorely missed.”

  Seeing the expression of sadness that crossed her face, the earl placed her hand on his arm and they continued to walk along the garden paths. “The musicians will be playing after supper this evening. Will you stay to dance?”

  “Yes, I should hope so. I’ll have to speak with Laird Sutherland first, but I’d like that.”

  Elizabeth knew there was a gleam in her eye. Her first dance in England would be with a peer of the realm at the king’s court. This was what she’d been waiting for. But a sour expression crossed her face when she realized she’d already had her first kiss with a Scot. That was something she could never take back.

  “Mother loves to dance. She wouldn’t miss it.”

  Elizabeth wondered if the man meant to dance this evening with her or his mother.

  * * *

  Ian didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He was a Highland laird and used to making decisions for the clan. But when Elizabeth had taken the English peacock’s arm, a feeling washed over him that he couldn’t explain. For the first time in his life, he doubted his own judgment. And that frightened him more than anything.

  “I’m surprised ye let the lass go alone,” said Fagan.

  “I think Kinghorne will be the least of our worries. Be thankful ye have an hour to yourself and donna have to follow the lass around,” said Ruairi.

  Laird Fraser and Laird MacKay approached them with wry grins. “I see ye’ve had nay such luck in seeing the king either,” said Laird Fraser.

  “Did ye think we’d be granted a boon so soon?” asked Ian. “Where is the Ross?”

 
“He’s taking advantage of the liberties offered at court.” Laird MacKay gestured down the hall to a group of buxom women. Several “ladies” were running their hands all over Laird Ross, and he looked as though he was enjoying every moment.

  When an elbow poked Ian in the back, he knew that little shove had come from Fagan. He didn’t need his friend encouraging him to sate his needs with some English harlot. Frankly, he wouldn’t have been irked at an idea like that in the past, but the thought of bedding another woman after he’d held Elizabeth in his arms instantly killed his ardor.

  Giddy laughter came from the blond lass who led Laird Ross away, as another one of the women turned and gave Ian what she thought to be a luring gaze. She placed her forefinger into her mouth, sucking, and licking it. To him, brazen women were only good for one task and at the moment, his stomach churned with the thought of bedding a whore.

  He averted his eyes, especially when two of the women started to approach. He’d even briefly thought about fleeing, but he was no coward. The lasses reached Laird MacKay and Ruairi, rubbing their hands over the shoulders of the men.

  “Would you like some company?” a brown-haired wench asked Ruairi.

  “Nay, lass. I am happily wed.”

  Not hearing the answer she wanted, the woman moved behind Laird MacKay. “And what about you?”

  “I’m wed as well.”

  When the woman glanced at Fagan, he held up his hands. “Nay, I’d like to keep my head and the other parts of me where they are. I’m wed too.” He grasped Ian by the shoulders. “But my friend here is nae yet wed.”

  Ian cringed.

  One of the women stood by his side and ran her fingers all over his chest. He stilled her hand in order to deter her affections, and that’s when he caught sight of something from the corner of his eye.

  Elizabeth.

  Her eyes welled with tears.

  Ten