This was their first time together. Their only time together. She wanted every second stored away in her memory.
As she wanted him to remember her.
She touched every inch of him, kissing her way across his massive expanse of chest, letting her hands travel downward until she found what she sought.
“A Dhia,” he said, sucking a breath in through his teeth as he shuddered under her touch. “Ye’ll unman me, mo ghràidh.”
She chuckled, emboldened by the power she suddenly had over him. She doubted she’d ever feel such a thing again.
He captured her hand and drew it over her head, entwining his fingers with hers.
“What does mo ghràidh mean?” she whispered.
He paused and stared down at her. “My love,” he said, letting go of her hand so he could smooth her hair from her face.
“Am I your love?” she asked, her heart racing too quickly to catch a breath.
His gentle smile pierced through her heart, creating a wound that would never heal. “Aye.” He kissed her, soft and lingering. “Ye are my love.” He kissed her again. “Always, always, always.”
And when he finally entered her, she welcomed the pain that came with the pleasure. She was his. That special part of her that no other man would know belonged to the man she had chosen. The euphoria carried her away until she arched beneath him, her cries muffled by his kiss.
Chapter Thirteen
John gathered Elizabet in his arms, luxuriating in the feel of her against him. He knew he shouldn’t have made love to her. But he couldn’t resist her. Her whispered please had nearly broken him. He’d never regret it. He regretted only that he had to let her go.
She snuggled in to him, and he kissed the top of her head. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep again without her by his side. Though it was the last place she should be. He could never keep her safe enough. The last couple months had proven that nicely. Saving her from the horse had put a stain on her reputation. Saving her from the bullet wound had done even more. Trying to save her from Fergus had likely done nothing but stir up trouble with the man and displeased the king. Finding the proof against her father and Fergus that he so desperately needed would avenge his brother and protect countless lives, but devastate hers. And if she were to be seen with him, what was left of her reputation would be well and truly destroyed. Far from protecting her, he seemed to be making her life worse, one blow at a time.
She let him hold her for a few moments longer before sighing and sitting up.
“I should go before anyone notices I’m gone.”
She rose and began to dress. John silently watched her, his thoughts in turmoil. How could he let her walk away? How could he let her stay?
“Elizabet…” he said, not sure what he was going to say. Finally, he sighed. “Have ye considered bearing witness with me against them?”
Her eyes widened and her hands fell from where they’d been straightening her gown. “Of course not. Ramsay, I would happily see fall. But my father…” She shook her head. “I’m not going to defend him. And perhaps, if there were some way to punish him for his crimes without forfeiting his life, or condemning my mother to ruin along with him, I might consider it. But there is no such recourse. Condemn him, and we are all ruined. No matter what her faults—and I’ll be the first to admit there are many—my mother does not deserve to suffer for my father’s sins. Nor do I. And despite everything…” She swallowed hard and when she continued, her voice sounded young, small. “He’s still my father. Yet you’d ask me to not only watch him fall but have a hand in it?”
She stepped back, putting more distance between them. “How can you ask that of me?”
John stood and came toward her. “How can I not? They deserve their fate, Elizabet. Do ye know how many have died because of them? My brother…”
He stopped until he could continue with his emotions in check. “My brother would be alive today but for them. As would countless others.”
Elizabet’s eyes softened. “I am sorry for your brother. Truly. But I cannot be part of destroying my own family.”
“And I canna let his crimes go unpunished.”
“Why can’t you let this go?”
“He’s responsible for my brother’s death!”
“And he’s my father! It’s my family that you are trying to destroy. That you would even ask me to help you destroy them…”
“And it was my family that has already been destroyed. How can you ask me to forget it?”
They stared at each other, at an impasse. Neither could bend. And where did that leave them?
But before he could figure it out, someone banged on the door.
“Open up, MacGregor!”
Elizabet’s face drained of all color, and John jumped, certain she would faint.
“My father,” she whispered.
John grabbed his clothes, throwing on his breeches and shirt so he could help Elizabet with her gown.
“MacGregor!”
“Aye, just a minute!” John called back, tightening Elizabet’s laces as quickly as he could.
Part of him wanted to throw the door open and announce to all the world what had occurred there. Rushing about the chamber like a lad caught with the scullery maid sat very ill with him. But Elizabet didn’t deserve the derision that would follow. So, for her, he’d bite his tongue.
“Yer hair,” he said, touching the mass of curls that trailed down her back.
She hastily separated her hair into three parts, leaving the curls at the side of her face to hang free and gathering the hair at the back of her head to twist it into a bun. John found a few of the pins and thrust them at her.
The door nearly splintered from the furious banging.
“Out the back,” John said, thankful that his room led to one of the many courtyards at the palace.
They rushed to the door, and she reached for the handle, but he pulled her to him, kissing her hard. She clung to him with a small whimper. He couldn’t let her go like this. He wasn’t sure he could let her go at all.
But he didn’t have a choice.
They pulled apart, hearts pounding, breath ragged. She gave him a small nod and a sad smile.
He flung open the door. And stepped back, heart thudding in surprise. His hand reached for the sword that wasn’t strapped to his hip.
From the doorway, Fergus saw the gesture and gave him a cold smile, his gaze flicking between him and Elizabet.
“I understand the urge, MacGregor, but you might want to keep your temper in check. Especially as you are not the one who has been provoked here.”
Those dark, cruel eyes of his looked back at Elizabet, taking in her rumpled appearance. He shook his head. “Really, my dear, I don’t know what I shall do with you. Perhaps locking you away at some small country estate would help curb this wild temperament of yours.”
John took her arm and pulled her slightly behind him, a burning rage filling him. Fergus’s expression turned glacial. He pushed past John and Elizabet and marched to the other door, throwing it open to admit Lord Dawsey…and four of his personal guard.
Dawsey stormed in. “What is the meaning of this, MacGregor?” he shouted.
Elizabet stepped out from behind John. “Father, nothing is—”
“Not another word, young lady! You have ruined us! Ruined everything! Of all the—”
He took a step toward her, fist raised, and John immediately stepped between them. “If ye wish to live, ye’ll back away from her. Now.”
Fergus waved a hand as if he could erase the whole scene and moved toward them with an unnatural calm. “Now, now. There’s no need for fighting, gentlemen. After all, no permanent damage has been done.”
They all looked at him as if he were mad. The fury coursing through John set a fine tremble through his limbs. He’d never wanted to strike anyone so much in his life.
Dawsey was stunned. “What do you mean, no damage? Look at them!”
Fergus’s gaze too
k them in again. “I am. I see my betrothed and an insignificant nuisance who will soon receive his just rewards.” He turned his attention back to Dawsey. “All in good time.” His gaze raked over her again. “She’ll need a firm hand, obviously. But I’m up to the challenge.”
John’s fists clenched against his sides. But before he could do anything, Elizabet marched up to Ramsay and slapped him right across the face.
If John hadn’t been certain of it before, that moment sealed it for him. Good God, he loved the woman.
Fergus, however, did not share his emotion. He grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard enough she cried out. John made to rush to her but Dawsey’s guards held him. He fought, but even he could not keep four men at bay. Still, he didn’t stop struggling until they’d forced him to his knees.
“I’ll call for the King’s Guard!” Elizabet shouted, trying to break from Fergus’s hold.
Fergus merely laughed. “And tell them what, exactly? That your betrothed forced his way into MacGregor’s bedchamber only to find you here, alone with him, and when I took the appropriate action to extricate you from the situation with the full sanction of your father, I was attacked? I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, my dear, but I’m fairly sure the law, and therefore the guard, will be on my side.”
Elizabet tried to pull out of Fergus’s grip, her eyes locked on John. Fergus twisted her arm behind her back and hauled her up against him, forcing her to look at him.
“Such spirit,” he said, his other hand coming up to grasp her face. “I think I’ll enjoy taming you.” He bent down and kissed her, squeezing her face to keep her in place.
John roared with rage, his vision dancing in red and black splotches around the edges with the force of the fury that tore at him.
Lord Dawsey stared at Fergus and his daughter, for the first time looking as though the situation didn’t sit well with him.
“Gentlemen, perhaps we should discuss this at a later time. Before we draw too much attention to…” He waved his hand to encompass the room. “This…mess.”
Fergus stared at Elizabet, then released her. She stumbled back, and John renewed his struggle against the guards. Lord Dawsey nodded at them, and they released him. He made to lunge for Fergus, but Elizabet jumped between them, placing her hand on his chest.
He glanced down at her, and she gave a slight shake of her head. She was right. Now was not the time or place to teach Fergus a badly needed lesson. But the time would come. John drew in several ragged breaths, trying to calm the urge to run the bastard through with his sword. Fergus smiled his snake-grin at John before strolling toward the door.
“Come, Dawsey. We saw what we came to see. Let’s let them say their goodbyes. I can be generous when the mood strikes. They’ll not see each other after today. And we have business to attend to.”
Dawsey’s expression cleared. “Ah yes.” He pierced John with his gaze. “A certain highwayman who won’t be making a nuisance of himself for much longer.”
“What do you mean?” Elizabet said.
Fergus shrugged and pinned his gaze on John. “Everyone leaves a trail. We can’t be faulted for following it. Especially when that trail leads to you. Among other things.”
Dawsey squinted at his daughter, anger rolling off him in waves. “You are to go straight to your chamber and remain there until I come for you.” He glanced at one of his men. “You. Escort her.”
The man nodded and turned to her, though he made no move to touch her.
“Perhaps we should discuss moving the wedding up, my lord,” Fergus said. “It’s apparent your daughter is eager for the benefits of marriage.” He leered at her, and Elizabet took a step back. “I’d have her legally bound before she tries to foist some Scottish bastard on me. She evidently needs a firmer hand.”
Elizabet trembled against John, though outwardly she showed no sign of fear. She merely raised her impertinent chin high in the air and returned Fergus’s stare for stare. As much as he wanted to run Fergus through with his sword, John’s pride in his lady beat strong in his chest.
Lord Dawsey glanced at his daughter. “So she does.” He didn’t say another word, but turned on his heel and left. Fergus nodded at his men before he left, directing one to guard the back courtyard, one the bedchamber door. The one who’d been ordered to take Elizabet waited just inside to escort her to her suite.
Fergus jerked his head at the solider. “Take her,” he said. “Quietly.” Then he marched off, the fourth man with him to guard his back.
A stampede of emotions almost too strong to contain crashed through John. Helplessness beat at him. He couldn’t protect her. Couldn’t save her this time.
She buried her head against his chest and took several deep, tremulous breaths, as if she were drawing strength from him. The quaking in her limbs eased but did not subside. He held her tight, his eyes boring into the waiting soldier, daring him to approach. John’s choices were simple. Stand aside and do nothing while her father married her off to that sadistic bastard… Or add abduction to his growing list of crimes and carry her off, far away from Fergus and any others who would seek to harm her.
He didn’t even need to weigh the options.
He pushed Elizabet from him, lunging at the soldier before the man had a chance to react. His fist connected with the man’s temple, and he crashed, unconscious, to the floor. The guard at the door shouted and rushed in. John spun, grabbing a candlestick from the nearby table, and swung it with all his might. He caught the man on the side of the face, dropping him to his knees. One more swing to the back of the head knocked him out.
“Jack!” Elizabet called out.
The soldier from the courtyard had burst in and was bearing down on him. The man’s fist slammed into his face before he could react and the pain exploded in his head. Another jab caught him on the jaw. His ears rang. Flashing spots clouded his vision. The man attacked again, but John managed to lock his arms around him and shoved him toward the wall, throwing him against it with a crash.
The man came back swinging, but John ducked this time. He quickly scanned the room for the candlestick, but it was too far to do him any good.
Elizabet rushed them, the fireplace poker in her hand. She swung, catching the man on the back of the knees. He fell with a growl of fury. Elizabet tossed the poker to John and he caught it, swinging it at his attacker before he could strike again. It connected against the man’s helmet and the reverberation vibrated up John’s arm. But it did the trick. The man keeled over and lay unmoving on the floor.
John turned to the door, slamming it shut, and barring it. Elizabet threw herself in his arms, her hands feeling him all over, checking for damage.
“I’m sound, lass, thanks to you.” He cupped her face and kissed her. “Are ye hurt?”
She shook her head and clung to him again. He kissed the top of her head and then took her hand.
“Come,” he said, marching to the armoire and throwing one of his cloaks about her. “We’re leaving.”
…
Elizabet stared dumbfounded at John as he quickly finished dressing. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, tugging on a boot, “that’ll I’ll no’ leave ye here to be abused. We need to leave before Fergus discovers you and his men are missing.”
Hope fluttered in her heart. “Then you’ve decided to abandon your quest for revenge?”
“Justice,” he said, pausing to make the point. “I seek only justice.”
“Sometimes the line between justice and revenge blur to the point you cannot tell the difference anymore.”
He shook his head. “You dinna understand. Ye’re too close to the situation.”
She sighed. “I think perhaps that applies to us both.”
John kept dressing, ignoring her words. “I’m close. I need only a bit more proof. A bit more time. I have papers, enough perhaps to get the king to investigate further. If I had a witness, one of their men. Or catch them in the act. But I’ll no’ leave you
in his hands while I do. I’ll take ye away—”
“No.”
John stopped short and stared at her with a stunned and hurt look that fractured her heart. “Ye canna wish to stay with him,” he said, his voice gruff.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. But she couldn’t let him make the wrong decision. Especially when it wasn’t his to make.
“No, I don’t. But I won’t let you put yourself in danger for me, either.”
John raised an eyebrow. “I dinna think ye need to worry.”
“Yes, I do.” She came to him and took his face in her hands. “I would love nothing more than to run away with you.”
He leaned down to kiss her gently. “Then let’s go.”
“But,” she said, pulling away enough she could look into his eyes, “Fergus won’t let this go any more than you will. He will look for us.”
“He willna find us,” John said, nuzzling her neck. “And once I finish gathering my evidence against him and Dawsey, they will pay. And we’ll be free.”
Still, even now, his desire for revenge remained unabated. Stoked, even. And while she couldn’t blame him, she couldn’t aid him, either.
She leaned in to him, her eyes fluttering closed. She allowed herself to let go, revel in his touch. Memorize every sensation. The way the stubble on his face scraped across her cheeks. The softness of his lips as he pressed them to her skin. The strength in the arms that held her so gently. She wanted nothing more than to wrap herself about him and beg him to take her away. But she couldn’t.
“No,” she said, pulling away again. “He may not find us. But he’ll find your family.”
John stopped at that and looked down at her, a frown creasing his brow.
“They may not know your other identity, but they know John MacGregor’s ties to Glenlyon. It will be the first place they go.”
“Do ye think Malcolm will stand by and let his home be attacked?” he asked. “He’s repelled the bastard before. He’ll do so again, if the need arises.”
“Yes. I’m sure he will. But how many will suffer for it?”
How to Ensnare a Highlander Page 14
