by Anne Stuart
She turned to leave him, intent on running as fast and as far from temptation as possible, when his hand shot out and caught her wrist, dragging her up against his strong, lean body as his other arm snaked around and imprisoned her.
"Solitude is the last thing I had in mind, Lizzie," he whispered in her ear. "And besides, I know perfectly well that if I were to leave you alone, you would be bound to stick your pretty little nose exactly where it doesn't belong. A place that could bring great danger both to yourself and to me. So you see"—his mouth came hypnotizingly closer to her breathlessly parted lips—"I have no intention of letting you go."
He made no move to kiss her, seeming content to let his mouth hover tantalizingly as his eyes bore into hers, an unreadable expression in their dark blue depths. Elizabeth knew she should offer some token resistance, a resistance she found curiously hard to summon.
"Michael," she said, as his hand reached up and deftly stripped the silver pins out of her hair, letting the waves tumble down her back. "You shouldn't—"
He didn't bother letting her finish the sentence. That tantalizing mouth hovered no longer but swooped down on her like a bird of prey, plundering her soft lips ruthlessly. With a small sigh of despair, Elizabeth slid her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, surrendering to the small death of his kiss.
He moved his mouth a fraction away, letting his lips brush against her closed eyelids, her cheeks, her trembling lips once more, as his strong arms pressed her soft curves closer against the muscular hardness of his body. Elizabeth was shaking from head to toe, and it was with an awed fascination that she realized he was shaking too.
"Lizzie," he murmured against the scented waves of her hair, and his voice was hoarse. "Lizzie, you must listen to me. It's dangerous."
At that precise moment a noise came to their ears, an unmistakable groan. Fraser stiffened, his body rigid, and Elizabeth, with belated good sense, ripped herself out of his arms.
"What was that?"
"It sounded unpleasantly like a groan," Fraser replied dryly. As if in confirmation, another moan issued forth, and Elizabeth took off in the direction of the cry.
"Damn it, Lizzie," Fraser cursed, and followed her into the bushes. "Have you got no sense whatsoever?"
Whatever Elizabeth expected to find, it certainly wasn't Brenna O'Shea sitting in an awkward little heap, her face unnaturally pale, her hand to her tousled head. Elizabeth flew to her side. "Brenna, are you all right?"
Brenna looked up with her customary cool dislike in her green eyes. "Of course I'm not, Elizabeth," she said crossly. "I must have had a fainting spell. My poor head hurts abominably, my dress is grass-stained, and I dislike above all things people making fusses over me."
"I gather you'll survive," Elizabeth observed dryly. "What happened?"
Brenna's eyes flew upward as Fraser appeared on the scene, and the look she cast Elizabeth was decidedly speculative. "I don't precisely remember. I was simply taking the air, when suddenly everything went blank. I found myself lying here with a beastly headache and not the vaguest idea how I got here. Last thing I remember, I was wandering by the east tower. I suppose it was a fainting spell, but I am not accustomed to them."
"You've been under a great deal of strain recently," Elizabeth offered tentatively, and was rewarded with a look of deep scorn from Brenna's sharp eyes.
"I am not the type to faint from a broken heart, Elizabeth," she observed tardy. "Your hand, Captain Fraser," she requested, her voice softening into a beguiling little tone that set Elizabeth's teeth on edge.
Michael complied swiftly, a troubled expression on his face. "You say you were walking by the east tower, Miss O'Shea?"
"That's where I usually walk. I have little doubt this dizzy spell comes from not enough sleep and infrequent meals," Brenna said, smiling wanly at the captain while she ignored the fuming Elizabeth. "I shall feel more the thing once I lie down on my bed for a bit."
"I'll accompany you back to the house," Fraser offered swiftly, and Elizabeth controlled a strong desire to kick him again. She should have slapped his face when she had the chance instead of melting into his arms like a perfect ninnyhammer.
"There's no need, Captain. I prefer to go on my own. Besides, I've already interfered too much in your little assignation. Good morning, Elizabeth," she added, and moved off toward the house with only a trace less than her usual grace.
Once she was out of earshot, Elizabeth rounded on Michael. "She had a bump on her head the size of an egg," she said abruptly. "She may think she fainted, but I am convinced she was attacked."
"No doubt," Fraser said in a distracted tone of voice, his eyes staring off in the distance, directly at the east tower.
Elizabeth's irritation flared. "And you probably were the one who did it," she snapped, all caution thrown to the wind. "You probably found her prowling around the east tower and clubbed her on the head so she wouldn't discover exactly what you're up to, and then you sneak up on me all smiles and flattery, thinking I would fall for it."
This caught his attention. "And did you?" he inquired sweetly. "Fall for my evil stratagems, that is?"
Excuse enough, Elizabeth decided, and slapped him across the face. "Not for a moment."
He didn't even blink, and the faint smile never left his face. "How very devious you are, Lizzie. You had me quite persuaded otherwise."
"Damn you, Fraser!"
"Tsk, tsk. Such language from a vicar's sister," he chided.
"I'm a soldier's sister also," she shot back.
"You don't mean to try to convince me that Jeremy taught you to swear like that?" he inquired incredulously. "I wouldn't have thought it of him."
There was a sudden, deathly silence in the garden, broken only by the early morning cry of the larks. "You know Jeremy?" she asked, and her voice was quiet.
A frown had creased Fraser's brow, and to Elizabeth's observant eyes he seemed irritated with himself. "I've met him," he said briefly. "But that's not what we were discussing."
"That's what I was discussing," she shot back. "That is what I wish to discuss. Where did you meet Jeremy? Have you seen him recently? Oh, Michael, is he all right?"
"As far as Ï know, your brother is enjoying his customary good health," Fraser said stiffly. "I'm far more interested in what caused that lump on Miss O'Shea's head than whatever is occupying your ramshackle brother."
"Ramshackle?" Elizabeth fumed.
"With a definite resemblance to his ramshackle sister," Fraser added deftly. It crossed Elizabeth's mind that he was being deliberately provoking, but she didn't care. She drew back to slap his mocking face again, but she found her wrist caught in a numbing grip.
"You may slap me once, dearest Lizzie, but twice I will not allow. I am very likely to hit back at that point."
"You wouldn't dare," she breathed, outraged.
"Try me, Lizzie," he drawled.
Wrenching her arm free, she gave him her fiercest glare, a look of extreme loathing that left him more amused than moved.
"That's right, my love. I would suggest you avoid me at all costs and hate me to your heart's content. I am a very dangerous fellow, you know. And I'm afraid I don't have time for you right now, much as I wish Î did." His eyes lingered suggestively on Elizabeth's mouth.
There was no way she could control the blush that rose in her face at the deliberate reminder of how completely she'd surrendered to his kiss, and there was no way she could control the fury that raced through her.
"Even General Wingert is more of a gentleman than you," she shot back.
"Very likeiy," he agreed amiably. "I suggest you seek him out."
"Perhaps I shall," Elizabeth said, suddenly struck. "He may be more forthcoming than you are."
"I would sincerely doubt it, Lizzie. But by ail means try," he offered. "I only trust you won't regret it. The general's reputation with the fair sex is unsavory, to say the least. And this time I won't be there to rescue you."
She struggled for a
parting retort, but her mind remained a stubborn blank. She knew far too well that he was right, and she also knew that what she really wanted was to throw herself back into his arms—curse the dratted man! Without another word she flounced out of the garden, leaving him to his nefarious activities. Perhaps Rupert could stop him.
Chapter 14
When Elizabeth entered the breakfast salon two hours later and saw the solitary bewigged figure of Lady Elfreda at the head of the table, she started to beat a hasty retreat. She had spent an unpleasant two hours fuming in her room, and Lady Elfreda was the last person Elizabeth felt like indulging in a tête-à-tête. Unfortunately, her hostess's eyes were eagle-sharp, and she had been lying in wait for her prey that morning.
"Where do you think you're going, Elizabeth?" she demanded.
"I . . . I forgot my reticule," Elizabeth replied, struggling lamely for an excuse.
"You won't need it at breakfast; I have no intention of charging you for the meal. Serve yourself and sit down beside me. We haven't had a chance for a comfortable coze this weekend." This invitation was accompanied by a hideous smile showing all of Lady Elfreda's overlarge teeth, a crocodile smile if ever there was one, but Elizabeth was nothing if not brave.
Filling her plate sparingly, she took her seat with a cautious air. Lady Elfreda was not to be trusted. "Where are the others?" she inquired politely, applying herself to her morning coffee.
"They've all scattered to the four winds. Except for Brenna, who is behaving like an invalid, complaining of a headache caused, no doubt, by a broken heart. Why in the world she should set her heart on your beautiful dim- witted brother is beyond my comprehension."
It was beyond Elizabeth too, but illogically she jumped to Sumner's defense. "My brother is very kind, very good, and very, very handsome. Brenna could count herself lucky to marry him."
"Your brother is a beautiful bore," her ladyship said frankly. "Not that I object. I think that all ministers should be beautiful and boring. It suits 'em. But they're not my idea of entertaining company. You, for all your faults, ain't boring," she conceded handsomely.
"Thank you very much," Elizabeth replied in cool tones. "And I must say I hardly find your ladyship boring either."
Lady Elfreda's heavy jaw snapped shut, and she eyed her impertinent guest with an icy glare. "I did not arrange this so that we should argue, Elizabeth," she said in heavy tones.
"No? Then why did you arrange this?"
"To warn you. I feel it my duty, as the only sensible female of your acquaintance, and in some distant manner a connection, to warn you about Captain Fraser."
Elizabeth's hackles, already alert, rose. Taking a deliberately casual sip out of her hot, sweet coffee, she smiled encouragingly at her hostess. "What about Captain Fraser?"
"An alliance between your family and a man of Fraser's stamp would be very unfortunate, dear Elizabeth. Not that I think it would ever come to that point. But I've seen the way your eyes follow him around the room when you think he isn't looking. It really isn't the thing, Elizabeth, to throw yourself so blatantly at a man."
"I have not!" she said hotly. "As a matter of fact, I find him completely insupportable. He is rude, overbearing, arrogant, and completely odious."
"And you stare at him like a perfect moonling when you think no one is looking," Lady Elfreda snapped. "It's no wonder the man responds. Apart from the fact that he's scarcely been allowed near a properly bred young lady in the last several years. And to top it all off, you bear a striking resemblance to that unhappy girl he married."
"Married?" Elizabeth echoed in faint tones.
"Marianne Kimball. Dolph knew her rather well, I believe. She died in childbirth while he was off in the Peninsula. I believe it was quite a blow to poor Fraser."
"I hadn't realized he was a widower," Elizabeth said slowly, her mind sifting through this latest and unwelcome information.
"I'm surprised Dolph didn't tell you. Or that you strongly resemble the poor girl."
"Perhaps I should ask him.'*
"Don't do that!" her ladyship ordered sternly. "It would upset him too much. He knew her quite well and felt she was treated rather badly. I'm afraid he holds it against Fraser."
Elizabeth looked at the plate in front of her and felt quite ill. The eggs tasted like dust in her mouth, and the coffee was cold.
"I thought you should be warned, Elizabeth," Lady Elfreda continued in a kindly tone. "I would consider myself derelict in my duty to allow you to go on imagining anything might come of this infatuation."
"There is no infatuation!" Elizabeth said sharply.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. In the meantime, I wonder if you might do me a favor. Captain Fraser has gone for a brief ride before morning services."
"Morning services?" Elizabeth echoed uneasily.
"Your brother has consented to give us an informal talk on the scriptures this morning."
"Oh, God."
"Exactly." The old lady nodded her wig benevolently. "But I'm afraid Captain Fraser ran off with my book of sermons. I had promised to show them to your brother before the services this morning. I do so hate to let him down. Would you be a dear and go fetch it? It should be right by his bed; he told me earlier that he read them before he retired. Not that I believe a miscreant like him. But I'm sure the book will be in plain sight, and you wouldn't run into anyone but the maid."
It was on the tip of Elizabeth's tongue to refuse outright, suggest that Brenna could do her ladyship's errands, or suggest that her ladyship go jump in the sea. But her common sense took over as she realized she would at last have a chance to look about Fraser's room for any sign of espionage, deceit, whatever. With proof, she could go to Rupert, lay the evidence before him, and beg for mercy. If Fraser could simply be made harmless, Jeremy and his like would be safe. And Fraser could escape to some place where he could do no damage.
"Certainly," she said affably, pushing away her plate and rising. "A book of sermons, did you say?"
"There shouldn't be more than one by the good captain's bed. Take your time, my dear. We'll all meet in the chapel in another hour."
The hall was deserted as Elizabeth made her way back toward her bedroom. The hidden paper could as easily be in Fraser's room as anywhere else. While he was out riding, she could search through his possessions with no one the wiser.
Fraser's bedroom was slightly smaller than Elizabeth's, with a massive oak bed that was a twin to Elizabeth's, a less attractive view of the countryside, and an anteroom leading off to one side. The door was open, and for a moment Elizabeth thought she heard a noise within.
Absurd, she told herself sternly, shutting his door quietly behind herself and moving on silent feet into the room.
There was no book of sermons on the bedside table or anywhere in sight. All the drawers were empty, and she was halfway through the meager but elegant contents of the wardrobe when a noise directly behind her made her whirl around.
"Would it be impolite to inquire exacdy what you are doing?" Fraser's deep, slow voice was amiable. "Not that I'm not enchanted to have you seek out my bedroom, but in the circumstances I could have wished you'd picked a better time for it."
Elizabeth's tawny skin turned pale and then deep red as she faced the room's inhabitant. He had obviously just stepped out of the bath, for he stood there clad in nothing but a towel knotted around his trim waist, his dark hair dripping onto his shoulders, his broad, tanned chest glistening with drops of water.
Elizabeth stared at that chest in fascination. The only other male chests she had seen unclothed were her brothers' when they were much, much younger, and without question Michael Fraser's made an admirable contrast.
"Well?" he questioned, as the silence lengthened. "Are you going to tell me why you're here? Not, I presume, to accost me in my bath."
"Lady Elfreda asked me to retrieve a book of sermons she lent you," Elizabeth stammered after a long moment.
Fraser's snort was derisive as he took a step close
r. "Surely you can think of a better excuse than that! I'm not a complete flat, you know. Doubtless you thought I'd be out and abroad at this hour and decided to ignore all my previous warnings and scrabble through my clothes in search of heaven knows what. It's not here, you know."
All amiability was gone, and his voice was icy. The dark blue eyes that had been so lazily flattering a few hours earlier were now furious as they bored into her. Instinctively Elizabeth quailed before such unbridled anger, taking an involuntary step backward and nearly falling into the closet.
"It would serve you right," he continued in a dangerous voice, "if I told you exactly what was going on here. You don't seem to have any notion of how dangerous this entire situation is, or if you do, you simply don't care. That could have been you clubbed on the head this morning, instead of Brenna. You're not only risking your own life with your insatiable snooping, but you're also endangering me, your hosts, your family, and the security of this nation."
"Well!" Elizabeth said weakly. "You certainly don't try to minimize the situation."
"I ought to lock you in that closet," he said between clenched teeth, "and not let you out till Monday morning. Then perhaps you might learn some sense."
"My brother would be bound to miss me," she replied. "He's got a sermon all planned for his unsuspecting fellow guests, and if I'm not sitting there to frown at him, he'll go on for at least three hours."
Fraser stared at her for a long moment, and she met his gaze bravely, her face still pink from embarrassment. If only he were fully dressed. It was amazingly difficult to keep her gaze from wandering downward to his broad, bare chest. And the long, bare legs weren't bad, either.
After a moment he sighed. "I wonder what in the world I should do with you, Lizzie."
"Why, nothing at all," she replied brightly. "And now I'm late for chapel, and so are you. Lady Elfreda will be waiting for me." She sidled nervously toward the door.
Fraser let out a shout of laughter. "You needn't look so panicky, Lizzie. I am not about to throw you down on the bed and ravish you. The thought of your brother's disapproving sermon quite unmans me."
