“Lady Elizabeth, are you sure you don’t want to ask Laird Sutherland to join us?” asked Lady Gillian coyly.
“Gillian, he’s wed,” said Lady Margery in a scolding tone.
“Yes, but that’s never stopped me before.”
Elizabeth walked away before Lady Gillian thought of something else to ensnare Ruairi into her lair. Elizabeth took her seat beside Ruairi and across from Ian at the table.
“Was everything all right with Laird Fraser? He seemed distraught.”
Ruairi chuckled. “He was because he traveled all this way to court. When finally granted his audience, he met with the king for less than five minutes.” He lowered his voice. “The lairds all know the king does this. It happens every year. He tries to make us heel because he thinks we are barbarians.”
She tried to wipe the smile from her face. “Well, you all are a bit unruly.”
“Did I hear Grace?” asked Fagan, gazing around the hall. “Did ye hear anything, Munro?”
“Nay. I was too busy being unruly.” Ian glanced over Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I almost did nae recognize Kinghorne without his mother.”
Something clicked in her mind. Lady Gillian and Lady Margery said they were at the tournament early. Elizabeth remembered the sisters mentioning they didn’t see anyone except the men in the competition and their grooms. But Elizabeth realized that she had seen someone else.
Lord Kinghorne.
* * *
“Laird Munro, would you like to escort me for a walk in the garden?”
Ian finished what was left of his mulled wine and smiled. “Aye, I would.” He stood, and when he rounded the table, Ruairi grabbed his arm to stay him. A devilish look came into his friend’s eyes.
“Good luck, Munro.”
As soon as they walked away, Elizabeth took his arm. “What was that about?”
“I’ll tell ye in the garden.”
They walked through the halls and out into the fresh air. The scent of roses wafted in the wind as he ambled along the path with Elizabeth. When he reached down and removed his sgian dubh from his sock, Elizabeth’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing with that?”
He stopped in front of a rosebush, and his eyes darted back and forth. “Ye keep watch.”
“Keep watch? For what may I ask?” He turned around and handed her two red roses. “Ian, although I appreciate the gesture, the gardeners will have your head if they find out you’ve cut the flowers from the palace grounds. Let’s not forget your little attack on the rosebush when you beheaded the blooms at the other end of the gardens.”
He placed his sgian dubh back in his sock. “Then ’tis best if we donna get caught. Let’s keep moving.”
As he walked through the gardens with Elizabeth, he wondered if she’d want him to bring her flowers once they were wed. At that moment, he realized he’d give her anything she asked.
“The Tullibardine sisters are worried for their father. You don’t think Lord Dormer’s killer was his opponent, do you?”
“Nay.”
“Lady Gillian thinks one of the grooms replaced the lance with a sharp point.”
“I donna think a groom would try such a feat.”
A curious expression crossed Elizabeth’s face. “The sisters were at the tournament early and only saw the men in the competition and their grooms.”
Ian remained silent, not willing to offer encouragement.
Elizabeth stopped. “But I saw someone else near the grooms and lances at the tournament. The sisters did not.”
“Who?”
“Lord Kinghorne. He was with his mother.”
He gave her an appeasing smile. “Lass, Kinghorne is ne’er anywhere without his mother.”
“Yes, but what if he’s using his frail mother as a cover to—”
“Kill the members of the council? Elizabeth…” Although Ian didn’t say anything more, his face spoke.
“Well, when you say it like that, it does sound rather absurd.”
He took her by the elbow and led her to a bench. “I know ye’re unsettled over what happened this morning so let me offer ye a distraction.”
“Here, Laird Munro? In the light of day? Even though I wouldn’t mind repeating what happened between us, I think everyone in the garden would be quite surprised, unless that was your intention.”
Seeing the amusement in her eyes, he laughed. “That was nae exactly what I had in mind right now, but I have something to tell ye.”
“What is it?”
“I talked with Ruairi this morn and asked for your hand.”
She gasped. “You did?”
“Ye seem surprised.”
“I didn’t think you’d ask so quickly.”
A shadow of alarm touched Ian’s face. “Ye have nae changed your mind, have ye?”
She gave him a gentle smile. “Of course not. So what did my brother-in-law have to say?”
“He gave me his blessing but said the decision was yours. Nevertheless, I have a confession. Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, I donna like the way, or where, I asked ye.”
He stood, and as he lowered himself on bended knee before her, she blurted out, “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He grasped her hand and gazed into her eyes, refusing to falter. “Lady Elizabeth, I have been a fool. Ye saw something in me that I could nae see in myself. I have to warn ye. Loving me will nae be easy. I ask for your patience and understanding, but know that I’ll ne’er again leave your side because I have been away from you for far too long. I am nae good with flowery words, but I offer ye all that I have. I give ye me, and ye’ll have my love until I draw my verra last breath.”
He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth, would ye bestow upon me the greatest honor of becoming my wife? Am pòs thu mi? Tha gràdh agam ort.”
She sat forward on the bench, and her hand caressed his jaw. “Yes, Ian. I will marry you, and I love you too.” Elizabeth pulled him to his feet and gave him a raking gaze. “If you don’t take me somewhere that I can kiss you, I’m going to have you in the middle of the garden.”
* * *
Ian pulled Elizabeth by the hand as they walked with hurried purpose through the garden. They stepped between two bushes and continued until they reached the garden wall. Ian’s fingers took her arm with gentle authority and turned her to face him. His hand brushed the hair back from her neck as he studied her intently. His nearness was overpowering. At the base of her throat, a pulse beat and swelled as though her heart had risen from its usual place.
“Thank ye.”
“For what, may I ask?” she asked.
“Agreeing to be mine.”
She smiled. “I was always yours, Ian.”
He lowered his head, and the touch of his lips sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl. When he moved to plant a kiss in the hollow of her neck, she felt her knees weaken.
His lips recaptured hers, more demanding this time, and she shuddered. She pulled him close, running her fingers through his shoulder-length hair.
Placing his hands behind her head, Ian deepened the kiss. Instinctively, soft mewling sounds escaped. Rubbing his hands down her back, he pulled her bottom close, letting out a guttural moan as they made contact.
Elizabeth needed more. She rubbed her hands over his chest, feeling the strong, defined muscles that she knew lay beneath his tunic.
He smothered her lips with mastery, and the gentle touch of his fingers sent currents of desire through her. Trailing kisses down her neck, Ian slowly raised his hand to cover her breast. She melted into him and arched her back into his grasp.
She had never felt this…hot. She was burning for him.
When he forced open her mouth with his thrusting tongue, she savored every delicious moment. Her thoughts spu
n, her emotions whirled and skidded, and her body moved toward him instinctively. Her response was so powerful that for a long moment, she felt as if she were floating.
He slowly inched back. “I love ye more than words can say.”
Elizabeth had a burning desire for another kiss. Her betrothed needed to stop…talking. She pulled his head closer, and he gave her the kind of kiss her tired soul could melt into. He slipped his hands up her arms, ever so slowly, while she caressed the back of his neck.
He pressed her even closer, and she could feel his desire hardening against her belly. Blood surged from her fingertips to her toes with a giddy sense of pleasure. An undeniable magnetism was growing between them.
Ian pulled back and placed his forehead to hers. “We need to stop because verra soon I will be unable, and ye will nay longer think of me as a gentleman.” His voice was low and alluring.
An unwelcome blush crept onto Elizabeth’s cheeks as she tried to swallow the lump that lingered in her throat. She was conscious of Ian’s scrutiny. The man must think his betrothed some type of harlot for kissing him so wantonly in broad daylight.
Twenty-two
Ian glanced down at his kilt and then placed his hand on the garden wall. Elizabeth had no idea it took every ounce of his being to stop because he wanted nothing more than to toss her skirts and take her like an animal. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm his ardor.
“Let’s wait here a moment or two longer,” said Ian, trying to think of anything other than Elizabeth’s soft flesh and burying himself in her womanly heat.
“What’s the matter? You look…pained.”
He chuckled. “That’s a good word for it.” He glanced down at his tented kilt, and her eyes widened.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Why are ye apologizing? Ye can see that I’m mad with need for ye.”
She placed her fingers over her lips as if he had told her a secret. If he weren’t watching her, he wouldn’t have believed it. Her expression became hungry and lustful. Lowering her hand, she extended her arm a few inches from his manhood. “May I touch you?”
Ian spoke through gritted teeth. “For God’s sake lass, are ye trying to unman me?”
“Well, perhaps you’ll let me touch you later then.” When her eyes raked over him with a passionate gaze, he spoke in a low tone.
“Be verra careful, Elizabeth. Your innocent words are enough to fire a man’s blood. Furthermore, now that we’re betrothed, I think it would be proper nae to share a bed again until we’re wed.”
Her gentle laugh tinkled through the air. “Surely you’re jesting.” When he didn’t respond, she folded her arms over her chest. “You cannot offer me a gift such as that and then tell me we’ll wait until we’re wed. That will be months. Besides, you have taken my virtue, Laird Munro. I’m afraid I’m ruined for any other man.” She paused, surely thinking of more words to win the argument. “What difference does it make if you share my bed now or wait until after we’re wed? You’ve already bedded me, and we’re still going to be wed.”
“Nevertheless, ye are a lady. I should nae be wanting to ravish ye in the bushes in the middle of the garden at the English court.”
“You wanted to ravish me?” As if she realized what she’d said, she waved her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Never mind my words.”
Pulling her close, he kissed the top of her head and then patted her bottom. “When ye think about what I’ve said, ye’ll see reason.” When he turned to walk out of the bushes, he heard her mumble under her breath.
“We’ll have to see about that.”
* * *
Elizabeth smoothed her hair because she had a feeling her locks were tousled. She didn’t need to look as though Ian had ravished her in the bushes—although, the thought did make her smile. At the same time, she stole a glance below his waist, and everything was back in its rightful position.
“Now I understand why Grace and Ravenna told me to never accept a man’s invitation to walk alone in the gardens, especially at night.”
“Your sisters were giving ye fair warning all right, but they were referring to Englishmen and Spaniards, nae Scotsmen.” He pounded his chest with his fist. “We are honorable men and would ne’er take advantage of a lass—well, an unwilling lass anyway.”
Joy bubbled in her laugh and shone in her eyes. “Is this what I have to look forward to?”
“What do ye mean?”
“Is this what I can expect from you—this jesting? If so, I’m counting the days until we can start our life together as husband and wife.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder in a tender gesture. “I should wish every day to bring a smile to your face.”
Elizabeth jumped when her brother-in-law called out.
“Munro, was your walk everything ye’d hoped it would be?” asked Ruairi as he and Fagan made their way toward them.
Ian smiled, and when he did, he looked ten years younger. “Why donna ye ask my betrothed?”
Ruairi embraced Elizabeth. “I am happy for ye, lass. Congratulations on your betrothal. I’m sure your sisters will be happy for ye too.”
“Thank you.”
“Hell, it took ye two long enough,” said Fagan. “But I’m glad it was worth the wait—and trouble. Ye are both glowing, even the fierce Munro. And now, I believe he’s turning red.”
“Arse.”
“Aye.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth spotted Lady Glamis sitting on a bench alone. “Pray excuse me a moment. I want to see how Lady Glamis fares.”
“We’ll wait for ye here, lass,” said Ian.
As Elizabeth made her way to Lady Glamis, the poor woman sat hunched over on the bench in her green dress, the large hat on her head shielding her face from the sun. Elizabeth sat beside her and gently touched Lady Glamis’s shoulder.
“Lady Glamis, it’s lovely to see you. I’m glad you’re out enjoying this fine weather.”
“Yes, Lady Elizabeth. One never knows how much time is left in this world. I tell myself every day that if I’m able to open my eyes in the morn, it’s a good day.” The woman could barely lift her head, and her legs were shaking.
“I saw you earlier at the jousting tournament. It was an unfortunate turn of events. Poor Lord Dormer, I can only imagine what his family must be feeling.”
“What a horrible tragedy. At least they arrested the man responsible. He deserves what he gets for doing such a thing, especially in front of all those people.”
There was a brief silence, and Elizabeth treaded carefully. “I was surprised Lord Kinghorne escorted you to see the riders and their mounts this morn.”
“Why would that surprise you, my dear? Patrick is a good son. He loves his mother.”
“Of course he does. Was Lord Kinghorne acquainted with Lord Dormer?” All of a sudden, Lady Glamis’s shaking legs stopped moving, and an eerie feeling swept over Elizabeth. When the air stilled, she felt uneasy, as if a spell had been cast upon her. “I would offer my condolences on the loss of his friend.”
“My son was not acquainted with Lord Dormer.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.”
When Lady Glamis’s legs began to quiver again, Elizabeth knew her imagination was getting the best of her. But she needed to make certain her suspicions about the earl were nothing more than foolishness. She gently prodded for the answers.
“Did Lord Kinghorne ever leave your side this morn at the tournament? I wouldn’t have wished anything to happen to you.”
“Lady Elizabeth, how lovely it is to see you on such a gorgeous day. Thank you for keeping Mother entertained in my absence.”
Elizabeth stood and gave Lord Kinghorne a small curtsy. “My lord, it was my pleasure. I didn’t wish for her to be alone in the garden.”
“Yes, well, come along, Mother.” He as
sisted the woman to her feet. “You’ve had a busy day and should lie down.”
“Do not rush me, Patrick.”
“Take your time, Mother.”
“Lady Glamis, it was a pleasure to see you again.” Elizabeth glanced at the earl. “My lord.”
* * *
Patrick Lyon, Earl of Kinghorne, gazed at the slender back of Lady Elizabeth as she walked away. He was no fool and knew to keep a watch on her. After all, her sister and her uncle had been spies for the Crown. The last he needed was to add a meddling Walsingham into the mix. But being that Mildmay was no longer a problem, and Lady Elizabeth’s sister hadn’t accompanied her to court, he assumed it could have been worse.
“What the hell was that about?” he asked.
“She knows, Patrick.”
A shiver ran down his spine. “That’s not possible. I was very careful.”
“She saw us this morning at the tournament.”
He shrugged. “That means nothing. I was able to change the tip of the lance in less than a minute. If anyone had seen me, I’d now be the one in the dungeon.”
“Lady Elizabeth is suspicious. She asked if you had ever left my side during the tournament.”
He gave her a measured look. “And what did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything. You interrupted us. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes, Patrick. It’s about time you clean up your own. I’m leaving this one for you. Do you think you can do that, or will you leave this up to your mother again?”
His face lit up. “I’ll take care of Lady Elizabeth. And you know that I’d do anything for you.”
* * *
Ruairi, Fagan, Ian, and Elizabeth were standing in the hall as a male voice spoke from behind them. Instinctively, Ian rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Laird Sutherland?”
As the king’s secretary stood before them, Ian felt as if the clouds had parted and the sun was finally in sight. He prayed the man came to deliver the news they’d all been waiting to hear since the day they’d arrived at the English court.
“The king will meet with you at noon the day after tomorrow.” He glanced at Ian. “And you as well, Laird Munro.”
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