Brenda Joyce, Terri Brisbin, Michelle Willingham
Page 10
James was the heir of his father and William Murray needed this advantageous marriage to rebuild his family’s holdings and to make alliances with the powerful MacLerie and Robertson clans. James understood the realities that required this marriage, no matter where his heart wished to go.
Tavis MacLerie had buried one wife and had counted Ciara as a friend, never realizing that her true feelings had little to do with remaining his friend. Elizabeth had lived through every stage of their relationship, from the tumultuous heartbreak when Ciara asked him to marry her and he refused her, to the day she accepted James’s offer of marriage and giving up any hope of marrying Tavis. Though now, from one look at his face, Elizabeth knew he regretted that he had not accepted her offer and her love, for he loved Ciara even if he did not admit it.
So, instead of following their hearts, each of them would honor their loyalties and commitments. Each of them would end up married to someone they did not love, all for the sake of honor.
Elizabeth recognized that even if James were free to marry, she would not be the woman his parents sought for a marriage. Her parents would offer a small dowry and she had not the elevated connections and relatives that Ciara offered.
And, if word of her disgrace from a year ago got out, her shame would keep her from being his. Though Connor had promised to protect her reputation, she worried every day that her behavior and the results would come to light. If James’s parents learned of her fall from grace, they would never allow her to become their son’s wife.
With so much of the outcome inevitable, Elizabeth decided to enjoy the few moments that they could snatch away and to remember them...and him always. The following days’ travel provided her with several special moments, ones she would hold in her breaking heart.
But, when they all reached Lairig Dubh, Elizabeth understood the way things would be, even if her heart refused to accept it.
Lairig Dubh
Lands of the MacLerie clan
WHEN HIS AMBER eyes flashed with anger, James Murray could well understand why Connor MacLerie was still called the Beast of the Highlands. And unfortunately, the Beast’s ire was aimed directly at James.
“These questions are coming very late into things, would you not say, James?” The calm tone of the laird’s voice did nothing to assuage James’s sense of impending doom.
Connor rose then, walked to the large window that faced the yard and stood silent for a few moments. James felt the urge to confess all manner of sins during that silence, but he held his words behind his teeth and waited on the laird. The less said, the fewer transgressions revealed.
“If you have concerns about your upcoming nuptials, just know that many marriages face less than auspicious beginnings,” he said without facing James. “My own, for example, to Lady Jocelyn.”
A subtle description for an event known across the Highlands and most of the Lowlands as well. Having had, as the story went, killed his first wife for not giving him a son, Connor MacLerie forced marriage on Jocelyn MacCallum in exchange for her brother’s life. Inauspicious would not have been the word James would choose to describe that situation, but he did not challenge Connor’s choice.
“Ciara Robertson would not seem too hard a burden for a man to bear. She is lovely, well-spoken, educated, amiable...and wealthy. Most men would fight for her hand in marriage,” Connor said as he turned to face James now. “Before you take any actions, you must be certain about the path you are taking. Have you considered the cost to your family? To your reputation? To the lass’s?”
Was he certain? Could he break the betrothal and face all the ramifications of that action? Would he place Elizabeth in danger of sharing whatever sanctions would face him in this? He was about to nod when the laird asked the pivotal and most revealing question of him.
“There is a woman involved?”
Could Connor read his thoughts? James had shared more details of his quandary with Lady Jocelyn but not with Connor. She’d suggested he speak with the laird to see what could be done. Dare he confess it all to the man who could destroy everything with but a word?
“Elizabeth,” James said quietly before meeting that intimidating gaze once more. Then, he said her name once more making it a declaration for the first time. “Elizabeth MacLerie.”
“Ciara’s closest friend?” Connor asked. James winced at the tone in the laird’s voice as he nodded.
He took no pleasure in knowing that he would hurt Ciara. Truth be told, she was a fetching lass. Intelligent. Skilled in numbers and languages. Trained by the best—her stepfather—to understand financial matters. A gift to the man who would marry her. But during their journey back here to her home, back here to their wedding, his heart had been stolen by another.
Elizabeth was the perfect foil to Ciara—dark hair to her fair, talkative to her quietude, practical to her well-schooled, and in love with him when Ciara loved another. It had taken him longer than it had taken her to realize the feelings that grew between them and the strength of those feelings. Now though, after watching the growing misery in his betrothed’s eyes as their marriage approached and knowing his own, he knew he must take action. No matter the cost.
“Aye, Ciara’s friend. Laird, it was not something we planned—”
“I did not think that,” Connor said sharply. “Elizabeth knows you are here? Speaking to me about this matter?”
Ah, therein lay the problem—he had not consulted Elizabeth yet. They’d spoken of their feelings in hushed tones during the dark of night when they could manage some time together. Or other times during the journey here. He had not pulled his courage together until this morn, with the wedding swiftly approaching.
“I...” He could not think of how to answer. Connor held up his hand to stop him.
“I cannot make this decision for you and will not make it easy for you to do so, either. There will be problems, serious and possibly deadly effects of choosing to ignore your duty to your family and to your honor, James. If my softhearted wife led you to believe I would support you in this, you should know that she was mistaken.”
James’s stomach clenched at the strong words in spite of having considered all those things before stepping foot in this chamber. The lady’s words had sounded promising, or mayhap he had simply heard what he wanted to hear?
“Other men have faced this same conundrum and made their own choices—as you must.”
Connor stood. The discussion was done. Connor MacLerie, the MacLerie and the Earl of Douran, had heard him out and would do no more. James wondered, though...
“Will you speak of this to my parents?” he asked.
“What would I tell them? You came seeking my counsel. No more, no less.”
With nothing more to say, James left the chamber. He had duties to see to and things to accomplish, but more than that, he had a decision to make. As he left the keep and considered his next step, he knew his mind and his decision had been made already.
Now, if only Elizabeth would agree.
CHAPTER TWO
ELIZABETH MACLERIE PACED the small clearing, trying to sort out her feelings and thoughts over the matter of her and James. The guilt in her heart grew each time she looked at him and thought of her closest friend. So much so that she considered going to speak to Father Micheil and confess sins of pride and, worse, coveting and lust, to the holy man. Pushing her hair over her shoulder, she glanced once again down the path for James.
The scene she’d interrupted yesterday had given her, and her desire for him, pause—it was difficult to watch him embrace and kiss the woman he would marry, especially when that woman was not her, but was her best friend, Ciara. If not for the sadness and guilt in his eyes when their gazes met, she would have refused this meeting. She would have accepted that she would have to force the soft feelings from her heart. He’d begged her to hear him out and so she would. Even if it was the end of her dreams.
They were, the three of them, in a terrible situation where none would end up happy,
but where all must carry out their part for the sake of their families and their honor. Ciara, she knew, loved Tavis, but would marry James because of the benefits it would bring to both of their families. James, if his words were true, loved her, but must marry Ciara for the same reasons—family and honor. She loved both her friend and James, and must stand by and watch them wed and face a life of misery watching them make a life together.
It was a hopeless situation that would lead them all to an unhappy life.
She turned at the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and found James there, standing in the shade of a tall tree and staring at her. The serious expression on his face lightened for a brief moment as their gazes met, but was back in place when he reached her side. Elizabeth’s knees trembled and breathing became difficult as she faced the end of things between them.
James took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist and sending shivers through her whole body. She, the one who had counseled Ciara against the need for feeling such things, now fell victim to every sensation that raced through her skin and her blood. He placed another kiss in her palm before entwining their fingers and tugging her along to follow him deeper into the cover of the forest.
Words, the ones she wanted to say and the ones she must, tumbled through her mind as they walked off the path and into the thicker, darker copse that would hide them from sight. Then he stopped and faced her, not releasing her hand. Indeed, he pulled her closer and lowered his mouth to hers. And—damn her!—she lifted hers to accept the kiss. She opened to his tongue and he tasted her deeply. Elizabeth leaned against him, clutching the leather of his jacket with her free hand. When her needy whimper echoed through the trees surrounding them and floated along the glen, she pulled away from him.
Memories of the sight of him kissing and caressing Ciara, much as he did now to her, reminded her of their path. She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to stop the urges his kiss caused within her. She looked at him and saw his chest heaving as he breathed deeply and unevenly, his gaze never leaving her face.
“Elizabeth, I can explain,” he said, stepping toward her again.
“The kissing? The way you touched her?” She could not help the hurt or jealousy that tinged her voice. She was both and would not hide either from him.
“Aye, all that and more,” he said, softly, reaching for her hands. “I have found a husband for you after all.”
The tears burned her eyes and her throat. Ciara had suggested that James find Elizabeth a husband from among his clan so she would stay with them in Perthshire after their marriage. Now, such an offer, coming from him, sounded like blasphemy.
“James, I...” she began. Shaking her head, she tried to form the words.
“Listen to me, Elizabeth,” he said, shaking her hands to gain her attention. “Yesterday was a test. I suspected that there were no feelings between Ciara and I and that kiss proved it to me. Her lips, her body, do not cause what yours do.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her until they both lost their breath. Sliding his hand around until it rested on her buttocks, he pressed her against his body...and the very evident proof of the growing passion between them. She should push him away, but she gave in to the scandalous way he made her feel, rubbing her hips against his strong body. Then, he leaned away, cupping her face in his hands.
“My heart is yours, my sweet Elizabeth,” he whispered. His words, his pledge of love, only served to tear her own heart in pieces.
“But, you cannot...we cannot...” He shook his head and kissed her to stop her words. Then he gazed at her once more.
“Marry me.”
She froze, blinking several times at the unbelievable words he’d uttered. They were a denial of all they lived by, and she could not get her mind to accept such a thing. As though he understood she could not conceive of such a thing, he repeated them.
“Marry me, Elizabeth. Be my wife.”
The moment spun out between them as her heart warred with her mind, even as her heart tried to hope. It could not.
“James, it is worse than folly to think on such things that can never, never be. It is cruel and not something I would expect from you,” she accused. Pulling free, she turned so that he could not see the torment that must be visible in her eyes. “You are betrothed to another and not free to make such an offer.” No matter how much she wanted him to do so.
“And if I were free? Would you marry me then?”
“Do not ask something like this, James.” He strode to her and gathered her in his arms.
“I want to know. Would you?”
It took only a moment to give her answer—the word had been on her tongue since she’d fallen in love with him and only awaited the right time to say it. In spite of the sheer folly and incredible danger of it, the time was now.
“Aye. I would.” Saying the words did not lighten the burden on her heart. Instead guilt assailed her for her betrayal of her friend and her duty to her family. “But, it cannot be. It would be best if we ended this now.” She took the first step away from him, from the love he offered, and back toward the life she would lead without him.
A clean break, one that began at this moment and extended for the rest of her life would be the only way to salvage her honor and her heart. She would decline Ciara’s offer to move with her to Perthshire and be her companion. Since Elizabeth suspected that Ciara had recognized the attraction between her and James, most likely she would not even have to make up some excuse. Her friend would not force her to create a lie to cover the uncomfortable and unforgivable truth between them.
Elizabeth forced one foot to move in front of the other, intent on leaving him now, but his grasp from behind her prevented her from doing so.
“I cannot marry her, not for family nor for honor, when I love you,” he said softly. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. And the words warmed her heart, no matter that he spoke of something that could not be. “I plan to break the betrothal and want you to come with me...away from here.”
She faced him and stared into his eyes, trying to determine if his intent was true. All she could see was love shining there.
But Ciara was the bold one. Ciara was the taker of risks, the one to challenge the way things were done and did things that only men did. Not her. Not Elizabeth. With but one exception, one she had learned a dear lesson from, she followed the rules, she did as she was told. How could she agree to something that would break all the rules and would tear apart her family and loyalties?
“Come with you? Your parents will never allow you to do that.”
“I am not asking them. Though if you agree to my proposal, you take to husband a man who can claim little more than what he carries and who can promise nothing but the love in his heart.”
“Jamie...” she whispered, so tempted to accept his offer. “I canna...we canna...do this.” She could remember no one who had betrayed the laird and not lived to regret it. Worse, they would not be the only targets of the earl’s fury—his clan and her family would bear it, too. “The laird would...” She could not even think of what Connor MacLerie was capable of doing in retribution of such a public act against his honor. Against his plans.
“Elizabeth, ’tis a simple matter now for me. With your consent, we will leave this night, once the keep and village have settled in.”
“This very night, Jamie?” Elizabeth worried her teeth over her lip and shook her head. “‘tis so soon.”
“If you have any hesitation, any reason you do not wish to come away with me and be my wife, say it now. I have spent my whole life living for my family’s plans and will not continue it now if you will be mine.” He smiled then, a slight lift of the corners of his mouth that made it a sad one. “Aye, it must be this night.”
She was torn. Torn between accepting his love and forswearing it. Torn between being bold and courageous and being unable to claim the love, and life, he offered. Torn between always being the one to follow t
he rules and mores and the one to challenge them. Ciara would know what to do. Ciara would...
Instead of answering him with words, she took hold of his shoulders, drew him nearer and kissed him. She knew the moment he understood for that kiss changed to become one of claiming and accepting and a promise. Jamie’s strong arms surrounded her and she melded against his body, opening herself to his mouth and his hands. When his palm covered her breast, she moaned against his mouth and shivered in anticipation. He turned his mouth, slanting his lips and taking hers.
Her body remembered the excitement and thrill of passion and blossomed under his touch. Elizabeth arched against him. Sliding her arms around him, she clutched at the back of his jacket and pressed herself tighter to him. His body roared to life at their embrace and she felt the proof of his arousal against her belly. Heat pooled between her legs and her breathing labored as desire for him burned in her blood. When his thumb flicked over the tightened tip of her breast, she wanted to sink to the ground and pull him on top of her.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered against her mouth. He kissed her lips and cheeks and then her forehead. Tangling his hands in her hair, he smiled at her as he leaned in to taste her one last time before stepping back and releasing her. “I will make all the arrangements. Go about your day as you planned.”
“When will we leave?” she asked, gathering the loosened hair back into a braid. Her body ached for more of him, but this was not the time.
“After the meal in the keep. It will be short and simple fare since there are preparations for the morrow underway.” A shadow of guilt flitted across his gaze and was gone in a moment. “Pack only what you will need for a few days and meet me here.”
“Ciara has asked me to stay with her this night,” she whispered, trying to keep the guilt that assuaged her own heart from showing. Or from stopping their plans.