by Tarah Scott
Marcus studied Elise. What had transpired after she'd sequestered herself in her room? What other ridiculous considerations surfaced during those waking hours? She hadn't sought him out to inform him there would be no wedding. Neither had she confirmed there would be a wedding. No note, no message, nothing.
He shifted his attention to his cousin. Sophie, Lady Whycham, was one of the few Ashlund relatives he liked. Though petite, her flaming red hair and voluptuous body had made her all the rage before she wed Justin Ellington, the Earl of Whycham.
She caught sight of him, ceased speaking, and raised a meticulously plucked brow. Elise turned, and he started toward them.
"Sophie," he said as he neared. "What brings you here, lass?"
"Don't play the innocent with me, Marcus MacGregor. You know full well I would not let my favorite cousin wed without me." The keen curiosity in her gaze vanished and her eyes narrowed in a fashion that Marcus knew well. "I am wondering, Cousin," she said, "why it is I read of your engagement in the newspapers instead of hearing it from you."
Marcus looked at Elise, whose impassive expression didn't quite hide the sense that she, too, wondered the same thing.
He slid an arm around Elise. She stiffened. The small hope inside him sagged, but he kept his gaze on her. "When last I visited Ashlund, I had no notion I would marry."
"No?" Sophie said, bringing both their attentions onto her. "Still, you could have sent a personal missive."
He again felt Elise's thoughts echo the question, and he looked down at her. "Forgive me, Sophie," he said, and smiled gently at Elise. "Since Elise agreed to be my wife, I have thought of little else."
"Not so, Cousin," Sophie replied. "You didn't forget the formal announcements."
Marcus shot his cousin a sharp look.
Sophie groaned. "Elise, are you sure you will be able to put up with him for the rest of your life?"
Marcus started. He cursed silently at Sophie, then his future wife when her expression remained unreadable save a hint of curiosity.
"Everyone is speculating about the woman who has captured Marcus's heart," Sophie went on.
"Good Lord," Elise blurted
Sophie laughed. "Didn't you know, my dear? Marcus is a confirmed bachelor."
Marcus stilled as Elise looked directly at him for the first time. "Really? I wouldn't have believed it."
"Why is that?" Sophie asked, the eagerness in her voice so transparent that Marcus wanted to thrash her.
"Because your cousin pursued me with such a vengeance that I would have thought he was desperate for a wife."
Sophie burst into howls of laughter, and his desire to laugh with her forced him to cough loudly several times.
"Does this," he began, but halted abruptly to clear his throat before saying, "Does this mean—"
"This means, sir," Elise cut in, "you should attend to your guests."
He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again.
* * *
Elise opened the door to the library and stepped aside. "Forgive me, Lady Whycham. I hadn't expected company, so the ladies' drawing room isn't ready to receive guests."
"Call me Sophie." She brushed past Elise. "We shall soon be related. No need to stand on formality. Now," Sophie seated herself on the divan and waited until Elise had taken a seat beside her, "tell me what my cousin has done to annoy you."
Elise startled but managed a hasty, "I'm not sure what you mean."
Sophie's eyes twinkled. "I know my cousin." She laughed, a small snort escaping in the process. "Still, he did surprise me with the decision to wed again." She leaned close. "Marcus had formed no lasting attachments since Jenna's death. Though he is no womanizer—he is a remarkably discriminating man—he isn't one to refrain from female company."
"I didn't have the impression he denied himself the company of women," Elise said dryly.
Sophie's eyes widened with mirth and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Elise blinked, then gave into the infectious laughter.
Sophie lowered her hand. "All right, Cousin, what has he done?"
Elise hesitated. How did she explain that Marcus hiding the fact he was a rich and powerful man could prove to be his and her undoing?
When Elise had finished relating the tale of how she had come to Scotland and of Marcus's deception, Sophie took a deep breath. "I suppose learning the man you're to marry will one day be a duke could be a shock. But the fact he cares for you—" Sophie halted, and Elise knew her shock showed.
"You doubt his feelings?" Sophie asked.
She didn't, but she hadn't grown used to the idea, and the fact Sophie had so easily seen it made her want to cry. So, she countered with, "How can any woman know what a man thinks?"
"Come now, you must comprehend that Marcus isn't a man to make a commitment lightly."
"What I comprehend is that Marcus is a man accustomed to having his way."
"That is true of any man with half a wit."
Elise couldn't help laughing. "I suppose you're right."
Sophie's expression softened. "You aren't betraying your husband by loving again."
Elise nearly choked. "N-no, of course not."
"There is no one for you to return home to?"
She recalled the blood darkening Steven's coat. "No."
"Your husband's family, what of them?"
"There is no one."
Sophie sighed. "A shame."
"Yes," Elise replied, and couldn't prevent a picture of the two who waited for her at the bottom of the sea. Her chest tightened and she rose. "Would you care for a drink?" She crossed to the sideboard. "Marcus keeps an excellent Napoleon brandy."
"Brandy?"
Elise paused, her hand on the decanter lid, and twisted to look at Sophie. "Don't tell me you're going to lecture me. Are all MacGregors so puritanical?"
Sophie's eyes lit with amusement. "I've heard the MacGregors called many things—bloodthirsty, uncouth, barbaric, ignorant—but never have they been compared to anything so noble. Puritanical, indeed."
Elise couldn't resist. "There is port, if brandy is too strong for you."
"Brandy it is," she said without hesitation.
Elise poured two glasses of the brandy and returned to the divan. She handed a snifter to Sophie, then sat down.
"Did I mention that I tried escaping to Australia?"
"I do not recall the story," Sophie replied with such gravity that Elise couldn't help wondering if someone had indeed repeated the tale in the short time the countess had been there.
"Marcus's men retrieved me," Elise said.
"Retrieved you?"
"It seems strange now that I left," she said more to herself than Sophie.
"What happened when my cousin's men came for you?" Sophie asked.
"Cameron sent them. Marcus wasn't aware I had left. He told me if he had come, it would have gone far worse for me."
"I can well believe that. Why did you leave?"
Elise grimaced. "The reason was sound."
"Do you mean to extract a little revenge now?"
Elise looked at Sophie. "Things aren't always as simple as they seem."
Sophie nodded once. "And often not as complicated as we think. What stops you from leaving again?"
"He would only come for me again."
"But of course," Sophie agreed. "There is nowhere you could hide from him. I do see your point."
Elise looked sharply at her. Merriment danced in Sophie's eyes, and Elise realized she referred to Marcus and not Price, as her imagination had jumped to think. She was hallucinating—either that or drunk.
"Just how rich is my husband-to-be?" The countess's eyes widened, and Elise cried, "Good Lord, that didn't come right at all." She groaned and collapsed against the divan back.
"I imagine you wonder what sort of reception you'll receive once you leave Brahan Seer?"
Elise's heart jumped, but the reaction was stalled by the honesty that shone in the countess' eyes. "I swear, Sophie, as foolis
h as it sounds, I had no idea he was a duke. Here at Brahan Seer… I knew him as Cameron's son and leader of the MacGregor clan. I knew they weren't destitute, but a duke!" She laid a hand on Sophie's hand. "I am no duchess."
"And I was no countess," Sophie replied.
"What?"
"I was only Lady Ashlund. Of course, my family has money." Sophie's eyes danced. "All Ashlunds have money. But, then, so does Justin."
"Ashlund," Elise repeated. "They are MacGregors?"
"Oh, no. Ryan MacGregor married Helena Ashlund about one hundred and fifty years ago. Helena was an only child, therefore, the dukedom fell to Ryan when Helena's father Coll Ashlund died." Sophie shook her head and a shadow passed over her face. "That was a terrible time. The MacGregor name had been outlawed."
"The clearances?" Elise asked.
"Oh, no. Those atrocities are much more recent," she said. "There was a great deal of political strife"—Sophie laughed—"when hasn't there been political strife in Scotland? In any case, the crown seized MacGregor land, and the MacGregors fought back. It is said in our family that, if not for Helena marrying Ryan, his brand of the MacGregors, Marcus's line, wouldn't be here today."
"Ashlund money," Elise murmured.
"You have it," Sophie said.
Indeed, Elise thought. Now what am I to do with it?
Chapter Fifteen
Much later that evening, Marcus pushed past the cluster of men outside the library doorway watching Elise and Sophie, each with a glass in hand as they sat on the floor in front of the fire giggling like school girls. He stopped and looked from the women to the decanter on the floor beside them. On the sideboard, other decanters sat in disarray. Some had been left uncovered—one actually lay empty on its side. Marcus turned his attention back to the women. He could scarce believe his eyes. They were drunk.
The women looked up as he strode toward them. "I suppose 'tis my fault for not looking for you here first." He stopped before them.
Elise and Sophie looked at one another and shrugged.
"I told you to inform someone of your whereabouts."
"Told me?" Elise's brows rose sluggishly. "I seem to remember you as-as-" Her gaze cut to Sophie. "A difficult word—asking me," she got out in a quick breath, then looked at him again. "But, then, I'm not surprised you remember it differently."
Laughter emanated from the men.
"And in case you hadn't noticed," she went on between hiccups, "I haven't left the confines of the castle." Despite the slight slur in her words, they were said with emphasis.
Another ripple of low laughter came from the men and Marcus shot them a quelling look. Cameron coughed and Kiernan raised a brow while the others' mouths twitched with amusement. Marcus turned his attention to Sophie.
"I see you are introducing my future wife to the niceties of polite society."
Sophie looked at Elise, who said, "I do believe he is blaming you." Leaning into Sophie, Elise added in a loud whisper, "Just like a man, wouldn't you say?"
The gales of laughter that swept the room increased when Elise gripped the seat of the chair with one hand, while clutching her glass with the other, and began scrambling to her feet. Marcus reached to assist her. She batted his hand away and rose onto unsteady feet. She swayed, grabbed the back of the chair, and leveled her gaze on him.
"Now see here, Marcus MacGregor, we'll have none of your lectures tonight." She pushed at his chest with the hand that held the glass. "Lady Whycham and I are enjoying ourselves and we don't need you or anyone else telling us what we should do. Isn't that right, Sophie?"
"Right," agreed Sophie. "We don't need you or anyone else."
"If you will excuse us." Elise reached down and grasped Sophie's hand. She pulled, nearly falling onto Sophie before finally helping her to her feet. Sophie smoothed her skirts as Elise faced Marcus. "Lady Whycham and I are going to see to the preparations for the banquet."
Shoving her glass into his hand, she headed for the door, Sophie on her heels. A picture of the two women falling down the stairs and breaking their lovely necks flashed in his mind, and Marcus sat the glass on his desk and started after them. The men parted for the ladies, stepping back an extra pace when he charged past. He grabbed the women as they reached the stairs, pushing Sophie toward his son and scooping Elise into his arms.
"Put me down!" she sputtered, but he ignored her, hurrying down the stairs and into the great hall. When he reached the table, he dropped her into a chair.
"He's peeved," Elise commented to Sophie, who had been set in the chair beside hers.
"Serves him right," she replied.
Marcus stifled an oath and ordered a kettle of tea. When the strong brew began to clear their senses, he watched with satisfaction as they rubbed their temples.
"Brute," Elise muttered, casting a dark glance in his direction. She rose and headed for the stairs, adding loud enough for all to hear, "I wager Sophie agrees with me."
"Damnation, Elise," Sophie paused in rising, "must you shout?" She, too, started for the steps.
Elise paused at the stairs and glanced over her shoulder. Marcus met her gaze, but she only shook her head and turned to go up the stairs.
"You're to be married in two days," Sophie said, taking the first step behind her. "Perhaps you should give serious thought to your decision, Elise."
Marcus jumped from his seat at the table. By God, he would strangle her. He strode across the room. Halting at the bottom of the stairs, he called up to them, "Sophie, you would do well to keep your thoughts to yourself." His voice echoed up the narrow staircase and both women halted, covering their ears.
"Of all the nerve," Sophie complained as they started up again. "Marcus, I never knew you to be so perverse. Mayhap you should reconsider, Elise. I wonder if any of us know him at all."
Marcus took the stairs two at a time and, in a flash, reached Sophie's side. "You will retire to your chambers now, Cousin," he growled.
Grasping her elbow, he hurried her up the stairs ahead of him until they reached Elise. Marcus grabbed her elbow with his other hand and forced them up the remaining steps ahead of him. He escorted them down the corridor until they reached Elise's chambers. He shoved Sophie in the direction of her room, opened Elise's door, and thrust her inside.
"Don't leave this room the remainder of the evening. I will have dinner sent up."
Elise mumbled something unintelligible as he clicked the door shut behind him.
When Marcus reentered the hall a moment later, the low laugher of the men cut short. Those sitting at the table seemed absorbed in the odd task of examining the tabletop. Marcus looked closer as he neared them and discerned the collective struggle to keep from bursting into laughter.
"Out with it!" he boomed. "I couldn't live with the guilt of someone bursting a blood vessel."
No one made a peep, and he threw his hands into the air and headed for the sanctuary of his library. When he was halfway up the stairs, the hall filled with laughter. Marcus paused, torn between cursing the men and joining them, then shook his head and hurried up the stairs.
* * *
At the light tap on his library door, Marcus ceased speaking to Harris. The door opened and Sophie peered inside.
"Oh," she said, "forgive me. I didn't know you were busy."
She started to back away and Harris said, "We can finish later, Marcus. I have enough here to begin work." He lifted his notebook to indicate his notes.
"No," Sophie began, but Marcus waved her in. Harris rose, bowed to Sophie, then left them alone. She seated herself in the chair Harris had occupied, and said, "You seem to have accomplished a great deal this morning." She motioned to the open ledger on his desk.
"I rise early," he replied.
"It is a beautiful morning."
Marcus gave her an appraising look. "I would think after yesterday evening that this morning would not be so pleasant for you."
Sophie smiled. "I have a strong constitution, as you well know." She settled back
against the cushion and regarded him. "Do not say you are truly angry with me."
"Shocked. As Justin would be, I wager."
"My God!" she exclaimed. "Mayhap Elise was right."
"Right about what?" he asked sharply.
"She commented on the puritanical characteristic of the MacGregors."
Marcus tossed aside the quill he'd been holding and lounged in his chair. "I assume this is in reference to me?"
"You were the original topic of conversation. But never mind that. I like Elise."
"Aye?"
"Yes. She told me the harrowing story of how she came to be here. I am curious, though, what it is she is omitting."
"What do you mean?"
Sophie's expression softened. "It is plain you care for her."
"Sophie—"
"Don't become annoyed with me, Marcus. We have known one another too long for such foolishness. I am pleased you have found a woman to care for, and approve of the match."
Marcus raised a brow.
She gave him a dry look. "You comprehend what I mean. Now, tell me, what is she hiding?"
He took a deep breath. "I have yet to find out."
Sophie smoothed her dress. "She isn't given to talking about herself, even half in her cups. Which do you think is most likely: that she has committed a crime or has run away from her husband? Either one would allow for her gentle upbringing."
He prayed to God she hadn't run away from a husband. What would he do if that were the case?
"Those are not the only possibilities," Marcus said. "It may be her husband was in debt and she has no means to repay the creditors."
"Quite right," Sophie said. "I hadn't thought of that."
Thus far, his investigations had turned up no record of a ship sinking in Solway Firth, nor had any ship docked in the firth. There had, however, been a terrible storm the day before Shannon and Josh found Elise. The ship may have sunk as Elise said. The report of ships docking in Edinburgh and London gave no clues as to what ship she might have sailed on. The report on ships leaving Boston harbor had yet to reach him.
