by Tarah Scott
"Do you mean to keep me here while the other women go to the loch?" Her narrowed eyes dared him answer yes.
"John," he called to the nearest guard, "fetch another man and the two of you accompany the women to the loch."
John's eyes widened. He cast a quick glance at Elise, then jerked his attention back to Marcus.
Marcus gave him a dry look. "You are to watch for trouble, John, not the lasses."
Marcus looked back at Elise and stifled a laugh at the tight-lipped look on her face. Apparently she didn't care for being singled out with an escort. Imagine how she would feel when he came for her in a short while. The most important part of the tradition was allowing the women enough time to discard their dresses and frolic in the water. The men later followed to engage them in a sporting game of chase.
Elise abruptly whirled and strode through the gates down the path.
"Hurry, lad," Marcus urged. "She's getting away."
John called to a man on the wall, then hurried through the gates after her.
Marcus turned his attention to Elise's retreating back. "Any antics, lass, and I'll turn you over my knee."
She didn't acknowledge the threat, but he knew she'd heard him. His first wife, Jenna, hadn't been predisposed to clan traditions and never participated in the game. This year, he had reason to participate. Elise disappeared from view down the path. She didn't understand the game. She soon would.
Twenty minutes later, unable to resist the idea of Elise's scantily clad body gliding through the water, Marcus emerged from the trees at the bottom of the mountainside. He hurried across the twenty-foot clearing where he ducked behind one of the larger patches of juniper bushes lining the jagged shoreline.
Peering through the foliage and across the rocky shore, he witnessed the exact scene he had imagined. Elise, stripped to her chemise, dove into the blue waters of Loch Katrine along with the other giggling women. The thin cotton chemise she wore the night he accosted her in his library revealed far more than the heavy flannel the women wore in the interest of modesty during this adventure, but he envisioned the revealing shadows he knew would be visible through the wet material. A giddy anticipation settled in his stomach. She would, at first, be furious. With gentle persuasion, however…
Marcus emerged from his hiding place and strode to the shore's edge. The women splashed one another, the recipients shrieking when their companions' aim found a mark. A woman squealed. He had been spotted. Elise looked his way. Just as he thought, the surprise on her face said she hadn't been informed of this part of the game. He suspected that, if she knew the real reason behind the yearly ritual, she would have declined participation. She insisted on being a part of Brahan Seer; logic dictated that she receive full measure.
Eyes steady on her, Marcus stripped off his boots. He stepped into the loch, his shins, then thighs, slicing through the water as he ventured deeper. The women blazed a path for him, shrieking with delight while Elise remained frozen.
"You had better move, lass," one woman called. "He's coming for ye, and if he catches you…" Peals of laughter followed.
Elise's eyes abruptly shifted and she scanned her surroundings before returning to him. Marcus smiled. Her eyes narrowed, then she dove into the water. He halted, waiting for her to resurface. Seconds ticked by and she didn't reappear. He scanned the water. A sudden round of triumphant shouts went up from the women and he whirled to see Elise rising from the water some thirty feet behind him. She started for the shore, her progress labored through the hip-deep water. By God, he would have to put his back into it to catch her before she reached her clothes! She glanced back, throwing him a satisfied smirk.
Oh ho! She may not have known the game, but she caught on fast. Marcus dove into the water, his strong strokes speeding him through the deeper water until he reached knee deep. He rose, the water no longer a hindrance to his fast pumping legs. His feet pounded onto the shore and, with a burst of energy, he closed the gap between them. In a final sprint, he dove for her, his arms encircling her waist as he brought her to the ground.
Elise sputtered and he realized she had gotten a mouthful of sandy dirt.
"Oh!" she spat. "Let me go!"
Marcus allowed her to thrash in his grasp until she had twisted into a prone position facing him. He settled his weight on her. She beat at his chest. He chuckled and hugged her closer, trapping her arms between them.
"Let me go!" she howled, kicking her heels on the ground like a spoiled child.
Marcus tried looking innocent but knew he failed miserably. "Nay."
"What in God's name are you doing? Why have you attacked me? This is an outrage!" Her voice rose as she twisted in a serious effort to dislodge him.
"Now, why do you say that, love? I am only playing with you."
She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Her eyes narrowed to slits. "One does not attack a defenseless woman."
"Lass, I think you are anything but defenseless. Although, I am enjoying myself at your expense." Marcus bent his head to whisper in her ear, "The women didn't explain the game."
He went on to explain how, each year, the women came to the loch, and their men later followed. Those with wives sought them out, some in sport, some with the intentions of a child arriving nine months later. Those wanting to make a woman their wife came with the hope that the love play would lead to the consummation of a betrothal. When Marcus finished, a blush had made its way from Elise's cheek to the delicate ear he'd been whispering into.
"No," she said, her eyes wide.
Marcus grinned. "Aye."
She looked past him and he glanced over his shoulder to find several women regarding them with interest.
"I would like to get up now," Elise said.
He looked back at her. "Aye." He came to his knees. Before she could rise, he slid his arms beneath her, cupping her to his chest.
She gave him an impatient shove as he rose. "Set me down."
Marcus assumed a thoughtful expression. "Nay. I have won and deserve my reward."
Elise lifted a brow. "Just what reward would that be, sir?"
He grinned. Aye, she had learned the game. He stepped behind the cover of the bushes he had occupied earlier and paused, uncertain what he wanted to do with her. Marcus laughed inwardly. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with her. He simply hadn't decided how to go about it. One thing he did know, however, he was enjoying the feel of her wet chemise against him far too much to release her just yet.
He kissed her. She pushed against his chest and Marcus realized she wasn't about to let him make love to her in plain sight of the other women. He laid her on the ground and came down upon her, gently this time. He tugged her chemise high enough to free her legs and settle between them. Her grip on his shoulders tightened. He kissed her again. Hard. She tensed.
"Shh," he soothed. "Let me please you."
He slid a moist kiss down her cheek, then along her neck. "Just a little love play," he whispered.
He didn't intend on taking her there, tumbling her like a serving wench, but please her, he would. Slowly, he smoothed a hand along her outer thigh. Grasping her chemise, he bunched it until his fingers touched the soft flesh beneath. Elise turned her head, her cheek against his, and placed a kiss on his jaw. Marcus breathed deep.
He slipped his hand beneath her and cupped her buttocks. "I swear to only please you this time."
"We aren't—" She gasped as he lifted her buttocks, meeting her flesh with a gentle rotation of his shaft against her sex.
Her breath came quicker. He caressed her buttocks, her hip. A distant pounding of hooves stabbed through the cloud of desire. He paused, his hand on her pelvis. Again, a distant sound—a roll of thunder? He lifted his head. In a flash, the memory of the dream he'd had while at Declan's washed over him.
Elise's grip on his shoulder tightened. "What is it?"
Shrieks sounded.
The women.
Marcus shoved to his knees. He peered through the bus
hes. Riding like hell hounds toward them were seven Campbell warriors.
Seven, his mind repeated calmly, not an army like that in his dream. Only seven.
He leapt to his feet.
"Who are they?" Elise called.
His hand shot to his side. Bloody hell, he'd left his sword at the keep. Foolish mistake. Marcus swung his gaze to the two warriors sent to guard the women. He made out the red of their plaide behind bushes thirty feet down shore. He glanced up the mountainside at Brahan Seer. Why were no warriors charging down the hill? They must have seen the riders.
Elise scrambled to her feet and Marcus whirled. He shoved her to the ground. "Do not move!" He turned back to watch the Campbells approach.
The women shrieked. Those on the shore raced for the water, joining their comrades who had taken to deeper waters.
"Marcus!" Elise cried.
He looked to see her standing, then glanced at the oncoming men. His heart thumped wildly. Had they seen her? Marcus grabbed her wrist, yanking her back to the ground.
"Nell," she said, struggling to rise and pointing to the right of their hiding place.
Marcus looked. There, sleeping soundly on the shore, lay Nell, a young maid who had only last week begun working in the castle. Despite the ruckus, she didn't stir. Marcus recalled that she was deaf in one ear. His heart leapt into his throat.
"Do not move," he ground out, and turned back to peer through the bush.
The other women had swum safely to deeper waters. Someone cried out Nell's name, but the girl didn't wake. Marcus looked at the Campbells. Two of the seven comrades reached the women's clothes and halted. More shrieks came from the women as they swam farther from shore. The two Campbells scanned the frantic women but made no move to pursue them.
One of the Campbells said something indistinguishable. Marcus strained to make out the other's response but without success. They continued to scrutinize the women, their attention moving farther to the right where Nell lay. They would see her in an instant. Marcus stood and stepped around the bush into full sight. He took two paces in the direction of his warriors' hiding place.
"Look!" one of the Campbells shouted, and the other turned in Marcus's direction.
Marcus spied a large piece of driftwood. He hurried the few paces to the wood and snatched it up. He kept his gaze on the Campbell who had called out as he snapped off two small branches and dropped them. Four of the five remaining Campbells joined their companions.
"Ha!" one of the newcomers exclaimed. "The MacGregor thinks to bring us down with a stick of wood."
The man unsheathed his sword and kicked his horse's belly. The beast lunged forward. The man bore down upon Marcus and swung his sword. Marcus deflected the blow with the driftwood as the horse shot past, and pivoted full circle, hitting the man across the back with the wood. A loud crack sounded and the man fell to the ground limp. Two more Campbells spurred their horses toward him.
He sprang forward, headed for the fallen Campbell's sword. He reached the weapon with a dive, barely missing the sweep of an oncoming rider's sword. The Campbell barreled past while his companion wheeled his horse hard right to intercept. The Campbells nearest the shore shouted and two more of them shot toward Marcus.
Marcus sprang to his feet, his steel meeting that of the man who had cut him off. Marcus faltered a step under the power of his opponent's swing. The man parried left, smiling as though already tasting victory. Marcus saw the man's fingers tighten around his mount's reins and, just as the horse turned, Marcus thrust his sword into his midsection. He twisted the weapon, then yanked it free.
The man cried out. He clutched his belly and slumped forward in the saddle. Blood gushed despite the arm he wrapped around himself. Marcus leapt forward and grabbed his shoulder. The Campbell swatted at him, his blood-soaked arm leaving a streak of blood down his arm, but Marcus's fingers found purchase, and he yanked him from the saddle.
Marcus grabbed the pummel and pulled himself into the saddle in time to see his two men close in on the Campbell warrior who had shot past him. The man gave a violent slap of reins against his steed's rump in an effort to elude them. John lunged forward, swinging the blunt side of his sword across the horse's knee. The horse stumbled, then fell to his knees, throwing its rider. Marcus wheeled his mount around to face the two Campbells who were nearly upon him when the thunder of hooves rolled down the mountainside. He cut his gaze to the left and saw a dozen MacGregor warriors speeding downhill.
A woman cried out, then Elise shouted, "Marcus! They have Nell!"
He jerked his attention to the girl. His gut wrenched when one Campbell rounded his attention on Elise and stared. Marcus yanked his horse's reins to the right. The animal whirled and Marcus dug his heels into its flanks. In four great strides, he met his opponent's sword with his own. The Campbell pulled his mount hard left. Marcus gave his horse a fierce kick. The horse charged and he thrust his sword into the Campbell's side even as the man's gaze met his.
The man's eyes bulged. He reached out as if to grab Marcus. Marcus yanked his sword from the man's body. The man's mouth worked. Marcus whirled his horse toward the warrior who had captured Nell. The guards from Brahan Seer flew across the shore in his path, Erin in the lead.
"Erin!" Marcus shouted, then to one of the other men, "You!" Both men broke from their party and spun toward him. "Take her back to the keep." He jabbed his sword in Elise's direction. "Erin, you're with me."
In an instant, the warrior reached Elise. She shook her head.
"Take her!" Marcus ordered, and slapped the reins across his horse's rump.
He drove his mount, staying a nose ahead of Erin. Nell's heels unexpectedly kicked the belly of the Campbell's horse.
Fight, lass, fight! Marcus urged.
The Campbell's fisted hand rose and he tensed. The fist fell hard and Nell went limp. Marcus's blood froze.
The ground softened as the shores of Loch Katrine changed from rocky sand to marsh. Marcus smiled coldly. One had to know the land well to ride this section of the shore, which the Campbell warrior did not. The man's horse faltered. He glanced over his shoulder, then flung Nell to the ground. Erin cried out. An even darker rage shot through Marcus.
They reached Nell.
"Take her home!" Marcus shouted without stopping.
The Campbell's horse stumbled again, then crashed to the ground, pinning his rider's leg beneath him. The animal struggled to rise, gave a shrill whinny, then heaved his full weight onto the man's leg. The Campbell arched in pain. After an instant's heavy breathing, he craned his head in Marcus's direction. Marcus lifted his sword. In ten seconds, the warrior would be his. The man shoved frantically at the horse's back, his gaze glued on Marcus.
Marcus tightened his grip on the sword. The man's gaze shifted to the raised weapon. He leveraged a foot on the horse's back, pushing with all his might. Marcus discerned strain in his arm muscles as, with one great heave, the man slid his leg from beneath the horse.
The warrior scrambled to his knees, lunging for his sword as Marcus raised his weapon and cried, "Buadhaich!" With one mighty swing of the claymore, Marcus sliced across the man's neck.
Marcus wheeled his horse around and, his gaze straight ahead, tread over the body as he raced toward home.
Chapter Eleven
Marcus closed the door of his library with a deceptively soft click and raked his gaze across the men standing in tense silence. "We have a traitor. When I discover who that man is—" His glare halted on his father, who sat in the chair nearest the hearth. Marcus caught the glitter of Cameron's eyes in the firelight before swinging his attention to Daniel. "You have made the changes in security?"
"Aye, laird," Daniel said, his mouth grim.
"Marcus," his father began.
"Aye?" Marcus took two paces and halted abruptly beside his desk.
Cameron sighed.
"The attack took place during the mid-afternoon change of guard." Marcus's words shook with the rage of self-reproach. "I
should have realized—bloody hell, my thoughts were on what awaited me at the loch, just like those men who were hurrying from their duty at the wall. 'Tis true," he said, the reproach turned to bitterness, "logic bows to a man's cock."
He had always been prepared. The men who guarded the walls monitored the village to the east, the loch to the west, and the valley that stretched for miles to the south. The weight of guilt bore down in greater measure. His people depended upon him. Yet the enemy found a crack in his defenses. A shudder ran through him. Nell had very nearly been a casualty of his carelessness. Had Katie's life been forfeit because of such negligence? Aye, she still lived, her heart beat, she breathed, but her mind had ceased to work. Her spirit lay hidden in some dark corner of her being. He had failed her, as he had nearly failed—
Marcus slammed his fist down on the desk. "Who informed the Campbells of the routine? They attacked our women before our very eyes. Why such a bold move?"
Cameron answered in a low voice, "It doesn't seem strange to ye, lad, that we've had Campbells on our land three times in as many months?"
Marcus's mouth hardened. "Aye. But why?"
"Mayhap the why and who are the same?"
Marcus stilled. "What do you mean?"
They stared at one another for a moment before Cameron said to the men, "Lads, leave me with my son."
The men filed out, the last closing the door behind him.
Cameron looked at Marcus. "You mean to say you don't know?" Marcus only looked at him and his father went on, "You know well enough the trouble began with Elise."
"Aye, they are using her—"
"You are sure it's them using her?"
Marcus started. A surge of anger rammed through him, the first genuine hostility he'd ever felt for his father. "Bloody hell, Cameron, you're saying Elise is in league with the Campbells. They nearly killed her."
"Nay," Cameron replied. "In fact, the lass returned in remarkably good shape."
"The tracks I saw say otherwise."
