Kill or Be Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  “Elizabeth!” He sighed in exasperation.

  “You, of all men, should realize that everyone makes mistakes. I was trying to go after you when you fled from the apartments, and he wouldn’t let me leave until I agreed to his peace offering. Furthermore, this is his last performance playing King Henry for the season before returning to Spain.” She squeezed Ian’s hand. “The twins asked me to attend too. I can’t go back on my word now.”

  “I suppose I can suffer through another performance if I have to. ’Tis the least I can do for my behavior.”

  “I was surprised to learn something else from Lady Margery today.” When Ian shifted on the bench, she added, “Her father is a member of the Privy Council. Needless to say, she worries about her own safety and that of her father in the palace.”

  “I’m sure the king has increased the guards around the members of the council.”

  Elizabeth spotted Lord Kinghorne over Ian’s shoulder escorting Lady Glamis through the gardens. The earl placed a supportive arm around his mother’s back and held her tightly to his side. As they turned on the stone path, he reached down and grasped the woman’s buttocks. If Elizabeth hadn’t been paying attention to poor Lady Glamis, she wouldn’t have believed it. She stiffened in shock.

  “What is wrong?”

  “I saw…”

  “What did ye see?” Ian glanced over his shoulder.

  “Lord Kinghorne in the garden with Lady Glamis.”

  “The woman is feeling better then.”

  “Apparently. You’re not going to believe this, but the earl grabbed his mother in the buttocks.”

  “Tha mi duilich. Dè thuirt thu?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. What did ye say?”

  “Lord Kinghorne grasped his mother’s behind.”

  Ian chuckled. “Lass, ye’re sitting here with me. Ye can nae be sure what ye saw over there on the path. Let me assure ye that nay son would grab his mother in the buttocks. Ye’re mistaken.”

  “I could’ve sworn that he did.”

  “Think about it, Elizabeth. Ye know Lady Glamis does nae get around that well. Mayhap she was about to fall, and Kinghorne’s hand slipped when he was trying to support her.”

  “Munro, Elizabeth did nae kill ye after all. I’m glad to see it.”

  Elizabeth gave her brother-in-law a wry grin as he approached. “Fagan, why are you so cheerful?” The man was smiling from ear to ear.

  “Lairds Ross, Fraser, and MacKay were just granted their audience with the king on the morrow. ’Tis only a matter of time before Munro and Ruairi are called. We will finally be able to take our leave from court and go home.”

  * * *

  Second only to Elizabeth telling him that she loved him, those were the sweetest words Ian had ever heard. Even though he’d had enough of court and couldn’t wait to return to Scotland, his mind was puzzled with new thoughts. Would the lass want to accompany him home as his bride? Then he remembered Elizabeth’s words of wisdom. He would be her friend, and everything else between them would work itself out. Furthermore, thinking too much had gotten him into nothing but trouble.

  He sat beside Elizabeth in the great hall to sup as Lairds Ross, Fraser, and MacKay were knee-deep in their cups. Ian couldn’t say that he blamed them. The men would meet with the king on the morrow and then return home and not look back.

  “The musicians will be playing again this evening,” said Elizabeth. “I do remember you promising me a dance, Laird Munro.” When she smiled, he felt like the clouds had parted and graced him with a sunny day.

  “Och, aye. I remember, but donna say I did nae warn ye. I’m nae verra good.”

  She lowered her voice. “I’ll tell you a little secret. I’m not very good at dancing either. I pretend to know what I’m doing.”

  “I donna think I could even accomplish that, lass.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve seen you dance at Grace and Fagan’s wedding when the bagpiper played.”

  He leaned closer. “Ye do realize that I had consumed more than my share of uisge beatha that eve.”

  “Perhaps, but at least tonight you should be lighter on your feet since most of your hair is gone.”

  He grunted. “I still donna know if I should’ve let Ruairi and Fagan talk me into cutting it. ’Twas part of who I was.”

  An amused look crossed her face. “If your hair was part of who you were, you do realize those tresses were unruly most of the time. What does that say about you, Laird Munro?”

  When she placed her hand in an innocent gesture on his thigh, he was thankful certain parts of him remained hidden from view. Once they finished their meal, the men cleared the tables to make room to dance. Ian stood with the other lairds against the far wall with flasks of whisky in hand. There were so many bodies in attendance that the hall was stifling. As he wiped his brow, he wondered if the sweat was due to the heat in the room or because he was nervous to dance with Elizabeth. Perhaps if he had a few more swigs of whisky and the musicians played the bagpipes, he would feel more at ease. But it was too late now. Elizabeth was pulling him by the hand to the center of the floor.

  “I donna think I’ve had enough to drink to do this, lass.”

  “And if I let you drink more, Laird Munro, you won’t be able to dance.”

  He was unnerved when he glanced over his shoulder, and Ruairi and Fagan held up their flasks in mock salute. If those two knew what was good for them, they’d keep their mouths shut. Ian shook his head when he realized the crazy things men do for love.

  When he bowed, Elizabeth curtsied in return. His hand touched hers in the air, and they turned in a circle.

  “You’re doing very well. You have yet to step on my feet.”

  “Give me time, lass. We’ve only just begun.”

  Elizabeth’s hair was piled in curls on the top of her head. Her figure was slender and regal, and she moved with an easy grace. He found himself drowning in her emerald eyes and had no desire to be saved. She wore a black gown with hanging sleeves, and the embroidered petticoat under her skirts was lined in gray.

  In his eyes, she was everything. There may have been a prettier dress or a bonnier woman at court, but there was only one woman he was drawn to—one woman who held his heart. No other woman would ever make him change the way he felt about Elizabeth. At that moment, he finally understood what she’d meant by her words.

  When the musicians stopped, he simply stood there and gazed upon her, proud that he’d only stepped on her foot once. He lifted his hand to her cheek and gently rubbed his thumb across it. “With ye by my side, lass, I can do anything.”

  “Ian, if you don’t take me somewhere now in order for me to kiss you, we’re both going to be in a heap of trouble in the middle of the great hall.”

  She didn’t need to tell him twice. He clutched her hand, his only intent to race to the gardens to taste her sweet lips and hold her in his arms again. They’d almost made it to the door when Fagan called to him. He’d thought about paying his friend no heed, pretending not to hear him, but the last he needed was Fagan seeking them out among the blooms.

  “Damn. Wait here, and donna move. I’ll be right back.”

  A devilish look came into Elizabeth’s eyes. “Do make haste, Laird Munro.”

  He walked with hurried purpose to Fagan. “What the hell do ye want?”

  “Your dancing skills have greatly improved. How many times did ye step on the lass’s foot?” asked Fagan with a grin.

  “Once. What do ye want?”

  “Sguir. I know what ye’re doing.” Stop.

  Ian gave Fagan a measured gaze. “Then ye’re wise nae to get in my way.”

  “Everyone has seen your display of affection for the lass in the middle of the floor. Be discreet. Ye donna want to ruin Elizabeth’s reputation.”

  “Says the same man who ruined his wife before t
hey were wed.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Aye.”

  “Just use caution, Munro. The last ye need is Ruairi wanting to run ye through. Bi modhail.” Behave.

  He slapped Fagan on the shoulder and spied Ruairi against the far wall talking with the other lairds. “Dinna fash. I’ll follow your example.”

  Ian turned, and he heard Fagan mumble under his breath, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  As he made his way to where he’d left Elizabeth by the door, he had to step around a few men and women huddled in conversation. When he cleared the crowd, he gazed around the great hall. His eyes darted back and forth through the sea of people. She wasn’t where he’d left her.

  The lass was gone.

  * * *

  “Lady Elizabeth, might I have a word?”

  There was a pensive look in the shadow of Mister Condell’s eyes. Perhaps it was simply Elizabeth’s uneasiness toward the man, but she was suspicious about his motives. Why would he want to speak with her after their last encounter?

  “Of course, Mister Condell.”

  “Not here. Let’s go in the hall.” He grabbed her by the arm and led her out.

  When she tried to speak, her voice wavered. “Why couldn’t we speak in the great hall? Is everything all right?”

  He made his way down the hall into a quiet nook and then released her arm. As he stood in front of her, her back was pinned against the wall. This was probably not the best idea since she realized she had no means of escape.

  “I’ve been thinking. Something has been troubling me, my lady, and I must know. Have I done something else to offend you?”

  Elizabeth placed her hand to her throat as she became more uncomfortable by the minute. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “We’ve shared our love of history. We’ve danced. I’ve sent you a flower and written you poetry. You came to see me in the play. Surely, you must know of my attempts to woo you. You had never mentioned your heart belonging to another, so yes, I must know if I’ve offended you in some way…before our kiss.”

  “Mister Condell, please accept my apologies if I’ve misled you. I’ve enjoyed our talks, the play, and seeing Anne Boleyn’s chambers very much, but there isn’t anything more between us.”

  He placed his hand above her shoulder on the stone wall. “So you’ve said. I saw you when you supped with Laird Munro. I watched him touch you after the dance. I can’t imagine that Highlander is the man who holds your heart—yet, you let him touch you like a lover.” His eyes darkened, and his fingers caressed her cheek.

  “Mister Condell…”

  “Do you know what I think?” His body moved closer. “Some women prefer the chase, the excitement of the hunt, the moment when the hunter stalks and finally captures his prey.”

  A warning voice whispered in her head. She needed to get out of there. “Could you please step back, Mister Condell? I need to return. My chaperones will be looking for me.” She instantly felt the hardness of his manhood—or lack thereof—rub up against her belly. He ground himself against her, and she closed her eyes tightly.

  “Do you see what’s become of me, Lady Elizabeth? Do you know what you do to me by denying me? No woman has ever refused to share my bed.” He grabbed her chin and turned her head to face him. When his lips crashed down on hers, she felt bile rise in her throat.

  She tried to push him away, but his weight had pinned her body against the wall with no room to move. “Please, stop! Please!”

  He grabbed her breast hard over her gown, and she gasped in pain. Lowering her hand to her side, she fumbled for her dagger but couldn’t reach it. When he attempted to lift her skirts, she cried out. She decided to take the only piece of advice Ravenna had given her as an infallible way to deter a man.

  Elizabeth wedged her hand between them, and when she felt the hardness that pushed against her, she reached lower and grasped his manhood like a vise. Mister Condell dropped to his knees. She refused to yield, furious at her vulnerability. A steely Scottish accent startled her.

  “Release his bollocks, lass.” Ian’s expression was thunderous.

  As she released Mister Condell, he fell to the floor, and she stepped out of the way. Without warning, Ian pulled the man to his feet. He rammed his fist into Mister Condell’s face, and something cracked under the forceful blow. Blood gushed from the man’s nose. One punch was all it took to defeat Mister Condell and knock him to the ground, but Ian wasn’t satisfied. With one hand, he pulled the man from the floor and landed another blow right in the eye.

  “Mo mhallachd ort! An diobhail toirt leis thu!” My curse on you! The devil take you! Ian wrapped his arm around Elizabeth. “Are ye all right?”

  She nodded and could hear his labored breathing. “I am now.”

  “You broke my nose, and hit me in the eye! I have the final performance in three days.” Mister Condell’s hands cradled his nose as Ian chuckled.

  “Mayhap ye can have Mistress Alexander fix your face, ye seedy bastard.”

  Nineteen

  When Ian saw Condell’s hands on Elizabeth, he felt murderous. Members of the king’s Privy Council were not the only men who needed to fear for their lives at court. Ian’s first thought was to unsheathe his weapon and behead the arse right in the middle of King James’s court. But he didn’t think removing Condell’s bonny head from his shoulders in front of Elizabeth would’ve made her feel any better. Although, he would’ve felt due justice was served.

  As he led Elizabeth away from the bleeding Condell, he spotted the Fraser and called out.

  “Munro. Lady Elizabeth.” Fraser glanced down the hall and then chuckled as Condell hobbled away. “Is that your handiwork?” For a moment, he had a puzzled look on his face. “Nay. The man would nae be alive if ye had a hand in that.”

  “Can ye seek Sutherland and Murray for me? I will stay here with Lady Elizabeth.”

  Fraser eyed Elizabeth. “Aye. Is everything all right, my lady?”

  She gave a wooden nod. “Yes. Thank you, Laird Fraser. I’m afraid that I’ve had more than enough excitement for one eve. I’m weary and ready to take my leave.”

  “Are nae we all? I’ll be right back.”

  “What happened, lass?” asked Ian.

  She spoke calmly. “Please. I don’t want to talk about Mister Condell right now. Could we discuss this later?” She wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his chest, and didn’t seem concerned about who saw them embracing in the hall.

  He rubbed his hand over her back and kissed the top of her head. “Aye. Ye’re safe. Condell is ne’er going to touch ye again.”

  As Ruairi and Fagan approached and saw Ian holding Elizabeth in his arms, their expressions instantly changed, especially when Ian gave them a grave look in return. Ruairi rested his hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, and she gazed at him with tears in her eyes.

  “A bheil thu ceart gu leòr?” Are you all right?

  “I’d like to return to the inn. Please.”

  She pulled away from Ian and, not even waiting for Ruairi’s response, walked away from the men. As Fagan followed her down the hall, Ruairi asked, “What the hell happened?”

  “I donna know the tale, but Elizabeth was supposed to wait at the entrance of the great hall while I talked with Fagan. The next I knew, Condell had his hands all over the lass in a nook down the hall. When I came upon them, she had the bastard by the bollocks.”

  “Does he still live?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I am nay fool. I can nae say that I did nae mess up his bonny face a wee bit, but aye, he lives for the moment.”

  “I’ll talk to Elizabeth when we get back and find out what happened. Do ye think he touched the lass?”

  Ian knew what Ruairi meant. “Nae that way, nay. But I know he forced himself on her and took liberties in ways that nay man should e
ver…” He had to pause and collect himself. “Ye do realize if we were in the Highlands I would’ve cut off the bastard’s hands and handed him his cock before I killed him.”

  Ruairi slapped him on the shoulder. “Aye, and I would’ve helped ye.”

  “Let me be the one to talk with the lass.”

  “I am her chaperone.”

  “Aye, but I am the one who will be her husband.”

  * * *

  Refusing to let anyone ride with her, Elizabeth sat in the darkened carriage alone. All the men had offered to accompany her, but she didn’t feel up to conversing. How could she have been such a fool not to see Mister Condell for who he truly was? Now she knew why Ravenna and Grace had warned her so many times before she’d left for court. Even though they’d told her never to accept a man’s offer to walk in the gardens at night, Elizabeth never suspected anything untoward would have happened within the palace walls.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. When the carriage stopped, she waited until the door opened and then took the coachman’s hand to step down. A male voice spoke from behind her.

  “I’ll send Mistress Betts up to ye. Is there anything ye want or need me to bring ye?” asked Ian with concern.

  “No, thank you. I just want to seek my bed.” When she stepped away, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and turned her to face him.

  “Ye know that I’m here for ye if ye want to talk.”

  She gave him a tired smile. “I know. I’ll see you in the morn.”

  “Sleep well, lass.”

  As soon as Mistress Betts left her chamber and closed the door, Elizabeth blew out the candle and embraced the darkness. Her cheeks ached from where she had rubbed her face raw, wanting nothing more than to remove every trace of that man from her body. She pulled up the blankets to her chin and closed her eyes.

  The memory of Mister Condell’s roaming hands sent a chill down her spine. No woman should be treated that way. Ian was such a strong and powerful man, yet she knew he would never physically harm her. She was sickened by Mister Condell’s behavior, especially since she mulled over the evening’s events. Ravenna had told her that men should never take from a woman what was never offered, even a kiss. Elizabeth hadn’t realized at the time how right her sister was.