Border Lord's Bride

by Gerri Russell

  "I know." He touched her chin, tilted her face, and forced her to meet his gaze. "How is your head?"

  "Better, thank you." He looked every inch the gentleman tonight. His claret tunic and dark breeches set off his broad shoulders and his long muscular legs. His dark hair was pulled back at the nape with a thin leather tie.

  "Lucius, about that kiss…"

  He brought his finger to her lips, stalling any further words. "For tonight, let's just enjoy each other's company the way we used to. All right?"

  She nodded, then smiled. "You're not truly angry about the banquet, are you?"

  He returned her smile. "Once again, you made the right decision. It's Christmastide tomorrow, and it's the perfect way to celebrate." He dropped his hand from her chin and his gaze moved past her to those assembled in his hall. "You and the girls have been busy."

  "More than you know." She smiled sweetly.

  "You always did know how to pique my interest." He looked at her once more. "But I shall ruin your attempt to intrigue me by not asking you anything more."

  "You wound me, my lord."

  "I'll make it up to you by being your escort to supper."

  She felt a small bit of satisfaction that he'd invited her as though she had the option to say no. "I'd be honored." Together they headed for the dais on the opposite side of the chamber. He seated her first before sliding onto the chair beside her. Once they were seated, the other guests followed them to the table.

  Rose and Lachlan sat next to each other. "Rose has certainly taken an interest in Lachlan MacKinley," Elizabeth said, nodding in the direction of the young couple.

  Lucius's expression darkened. "She's too young to be entertaining thoughts of that kind."

  Elizabeth leaned close to him. "They are older than we were when we first—" Kissed. She broke off her words at his dark frown.

  "I haven't adjusted to the fact that the girls have matured while I've been away," he said with a frown. His frown remained in place as the meal progressed, making Elizabeth question whether to proceed with her plans. She clutched the small token all the harder as a reminder he was worth the risk. With luck, the keepsake of their past would soften his mood.

  By the time the meal ended, her nerves were taut with anticipation. He moved his chair back as though preparing to leave. Her heart leaped. "Lucius?"

  He paused and searched her face.

  "Before you go…" She reached for his hand, clutching it with her own, passing the item from her warmed palm to his. She pulled her hand away and waited, hardly daring to breathe.

  His gaze remained expressionless as he opened his palm and stared at the rock she'd placed there. "You kept this?" He brought his thumb down to caress the surface where years ago he'd scratched You win. L.C. after she'd bested him in one of their many footraces along the length of the loch.

  "I treasured it," she said softly.

  Any darkness in his face vanished and his lips pulled up into a half smile. "You were so quick footed then."

  "Want to see if I still am?" she teased.

  His eyes brightened. He flattened his fingers over the rock. "What about the snow?"

  "Too much of a challenge for you?"

  His grin became devilish. "I never could resist a challenge, especially from you." He took her hand and started from the room. Then he stopped, his gaze moving to Rose and Lachlan. "Perhaps I should stay."

  "They are well supervised by Marie and Hadwell, as well as all the other MacKinleys."

  Still he hesitated. "I remember my own thoughts about girls at that age," he confessed. "But you're right. They're safe enough here in the great hall if we're only gone a short time." He started forward until they were in the hallway. Grabbing two cloaks from the pegs by the door, he tossed one around her shoulders before he donned the other. "You may regret this," he said, his earlier good humor in place once more as they headed for the loch.

  Light from the full moon reflected off what remained of the melting snow, illuminating the night with a silver sheen. The sound of Elizabeth's excited laughter warmed Lucius to his core despite the chill air stinging his face and neck. Elizabeth hurried down the cleared path from the manor to the loch's edge and took up her position. For a moment, he saw the girl she'd been so many years ago—her muddied hem, her hair pulled back, her face alight with laughter. That image vanished and he paused to appreciate the reality before him.

  She was still spirited, but as she hitched up the edges of her gown to reveal her stockings and soft leather slippers he realized she'd become a very desirable woman. A woman who could be his wife if he only let go of the past.

  He forced his thoughts aside and joined her. "I'll have the advantage over you with my boots, you know."

  "The ground is clear of the snow nearest the loch, and I've been known to run far and fast in these slippers. You're trying to divert my attention. Will you never learn?" she teased.

  "Ready?" he asked with a laugh. "To the end of the loch."

  She nodded. "One. Two. Three."

  On the count, Elizabeth flew across the snow. He ran beside her. She made running appear so effortless. She always could run faster than he could on a sprint, but he could take her every time when they ran for distance. The perfection of the moment washed over him. They'd fallen back into the past so easily tonight: the teasing, the memories, the warmth flowing through him, having her by his side. Joy filled him as he chased after her. No one had ever been able to lighten the darkness inside him as Elizabeth had. She made him feel as light as air, as carefree as a boy, as innocent as the first kiss they'd shared that one warm summer night by the loch.

  The thudding rhythm of his heart filled his ears as another more fearful sensation gripped him, consumed him. His footsteps slowed. She surged ahead.

  He didn't deserve such joy, and he certainly didn't deserve his old life back. He'd hurt too many people. He stumbled, then stopped.

  Her footsteps slowed, then headed back toward him. "Lucius?"

  He heard the concern in her voice and turned his back to her. "I can't do this, Elizabeth."

  "Race?"

  "Nay. I can't give in to my feelings for you." The words sounded loud in the sudden silence of the night. He drew a sharp breath, trying to control the surge of guilt welling in his chest. He felt so out of place, like a ghost moving through the shadows of his own life. Where he didn't deserve to love or be loved in return.

  Elizabeth put her hand on his arm and turned him to face her. "We can take this slowly." He looked at the pallor in her cheeks, the haunted darkness in her brown eyes. "Don't you see you deserve to have joy in your life, especially after everything you've been through?"

  His mouth went dry. His palms grew damp, and his guilt grew with each inward breath.

  "Talk to me," she whispered.

  His gaze skittered away to fix on a clump of snow in the distance. The weight of that guilt became a great, crushing pain in his chest. "I've done so many things wrong," he said brokenly. "Things I can never make right."

  "We all have, Lucius. You need to put the past behind you and move forward with your life."

  "There are too many reminders," he whispered. "Everywhere I go on the estate, everything I see, reminds me of my father, of Marcus, and how I forsook my duty to them both. Then there's Peter." He swallowed roughly. "He was burned to his death because of my choices. If I'd never joined the Templars, he never would have followed me. He'd be alive today if only…"

  "Lucius, don't torture yourself over things you cannot change. You cannot deny your father, Marcus, even Peter their own choices, their own lives. They were not your puppets, but grown men with destinies of their own."

  He said nothing, simply letting the night and the darkness engulf him.

  "Your brothers are gone," she continued. "Your sisters, however, are very much alive and in need of their brother. You said that's why you came home. You wanted to spare them the penury that would befall them if your uncle assumed the estate and the title."<
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  She stared at him, challenged him. "Rose is eighteen. She deserves the chance with Lachlan to see if they can make a match. Camellia, Heather, Iris, and eventually Lily all deserve that as well. They deserve a chance to make their place in this world. Then if after they are settled, you choose to leave it all behind, that's your choice."

  He clenched his jaw against the reminder of his duty. "And what of my duty to you?"

  She flinched. "It is I who owe you, my lord. Not the other way around. Your family paid my father's debts as a part of our betrothal contract. You own me every bit as much as you own the estate and all it entails."

  He owned her. He wanted her. But could he take on that responsibility without crushing her as he had the others he'd loved? Lucius clutched his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to pull her close. He wanted to wrap himself in her warmth and maybe, just maybe, feel like he didn't deserve to be alone.

  But he was afraid.

  She looked at him, and in the depths of her eyes he saw the pain he'd caused, and something else, something he couldn't name. She kept staring at him, saying nothing. Silence stretched between them, one that began to nibble at his confidence in his decision. "Don't look at me that way."

  "What way?"

  "As if you know I'll change my mind."

  "You will." Her voice trembled just a bit, belying the conviction of her words. Then softer, she said, "We belong together."

  Chapter Seven

  Did he hear what he thought he heard? For a moment he felt a flash of pure hope before his usual guilt swamped him. Did he truly deserve the joy she spoke of earlier?

  "I know you have feelings for me, whether you choose to express them or not," Elizabeth said softly.

  "Have I said—?"

  "I saw the painting."

  She'd seen the painting? His breath stilled in his chest as embarrassment warred with confusion. "Now you know my deepest secrets."

  "Nay," she said softly. "Your secrets are still your own. I have no idea why you painted me or what the portrait truly means. Perhaps you'll explain it to me in time."

  He wanted to accuse her of overstepping her bounds, wanted to make her feel as exposed as he felt right now. "You had no right to go upstairs and into my old chamber. The girls know better."

  He was glad when she flinched. "They went to the second floor because I asked them. They only wanted to please you, as did I." She drew back from him. "What I found in your bedchamber was much more than I expected. And I'm not talking about the painting. You've abandoned that room and that part of your life. Why?"

  He frowned. "It was easier to abandon my past than revisit it."

  She met his gaze. "The past and our experiences there can be a teacher instead of a tormentor. Sometimes we have to go through certain trials in order to become the person we are today." Elizabeth's gaze sharpened on him. "Perhaps it's time you to face your demons, Lucius. Then, maybe you'll find the happiness you are withholding from yourself."

  She turned and strode away from him, heading back to the manor, leaving him alone in the chill night as the truth of her words resonated within him.

  Was she right? Was he prolonging his own suffering by not accepting his past?

  After the house had settled for the night, Lucius crept up the two flights of stairs to his old room. He stood in front of the partially open door. He clutched a brace of candles in his hand as grief rippled through him, one wave after another, leaving him chilled and unsettled.

  He couldn't seem to make himself move forward into the chamber. He just stood there, seeing a hundred moments pass through his mind's eye. Like the time he'd won his first mock battle against Marcus…or the day Peter had been thrown from his horse and broken his collarbone…their first hunting trip together…the day he'd kissed Elizabeth…Peter's thirteenth birthday…Marcus's laughter as they told each other stories late into the night…

  He forced the memories away, refusing to let them keep him trapped forever. He had to stop pretending and face whatever reality lay before him. He thrust the door wide and stepped inside. The golden glow from the candles seeped into the shadows.

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he stepped further into the chamber and slowly, numbly, moved about his room, touching anything and everything in his path—the table near the bedside with the small wooden cross he kept there, a silver bowl holding a dried rabbit's foot, a shark's tooth, and three Roman coins Peter had collected and given to him as gifts over the years.

  He moved to the bed and brushed the clean woolen tartan cloth covering the ticking beneath. At the window he traced his fingers over the chilled pane. It was so rare to have anything but shutters in homes such as theirs. But his father had insisted on the expensive luxury and had sent four of his men to Vienna by ship to bring a dozen leaded panes home.

  For a moment, his grief swelled. It had been five years ago his father died. He missed his father, but he'd learned to live without him during the time he'd been away. He smoothed his fingers over the glass once more before turning away.

  Finally, when he could no longer avoid looking at her image, Lucius brought his gaze to the portrait he'd painted of Elizabeth. His mother had insisted he learn to paint with an instructor when she'd discovered his novice attempts kept hidden in the cellar. He'd used boiled berries and bark mixed with egg whites to create his paints.

  He'd painted the portrait the night after he'd found Elizabeth and Marcus kissing in the garden. "God's blood, Marcus. Why did you have to intrude where you didn't belong?"

  But it wasn't the kiss that weighed him down. It was the neglect he'd assumed toward his family. Lucius shifted his gaze to the wood-beam ceiling overhead and clenched his jaw against the familiar pain. He couldn't continue this wretched cycle of sadness, grief, and guilt. He had to pull himself out of it.

  What he needed were new memories of this place and the people he loved who were still very much present in his life. He drew a steadying breath. Resolved to move forward, he grabbed the brace of candles from his bedside table and headed for the door, to the one person who could help him.

  Elizabeth.

  Silently he crept down the stairs and to the chamber where she slept. At her door, he knocked softly. No response. He tried the latch. The door opened soundlessly and he stepped into the room.

  A wedge of yellow-bright light penetrated the darkness of her chamber as he made his way to her bedside. She slept with the blankets entwined around her slender curves. At the sight of her, his body ached. Desire that had lain dormant through his years as a warrior flared to life.

  "Elizabeth?" he whispered.

  She startled awake. "Lucius?" She shifted the blankets to cover her body. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was smooth and husky with sleep.

  "I came to ask a favor of you."

  She sat up and pulled her woolen chemise up on her shoulders. "Go on," she encouraged.

  He didn't really know what to say. He hadn't known since the moment she walked back into his life two days ago. And yet he'd never felt more alive than he did right now. He drew in the scent of her. "Will you go with me to the outcropping where we used to play?"

  "Now?"

  He nodded. "You said I needed to make new memories. I want to watch the sun rise over the grassland with you."

  Her gaze narrowed on him. "Can't sleep?"

  He nodded.

  She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I'll need to dress. What if I meet you downstairs in a few moments?"

  He smiled. "Thank you," he said as he set the candleholder near her bedside and removed one of the two candles. He left the room, softly shutting the door behind him. A sense of lightness came to him as he made his way downstairs to wait.

  It didn't take long to saddle a horse, and riding double, they emerged into the night, heading north, away from the manor. He guided the horse toward the outcropping in the distance and looked up at the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. A soft wind crept past them and the leafless trees sp
arkled with their coating of frost and ice. Beneath the horse's feet, the snow had started to melt, leaving barren patches here and there across the landscape.

  "I'd forgotten how beautiful the scenery is here," Lucius said.

  "I imagine you've seen many wonderful things in the past few years," she replied.

  He tried to recall anything that rivaled this moment and could think of none. "It's interesting how beautiful home looks when you've been away for a while."

  "I'm certain that's true," she said softly.

  When they arrived at the outcropping, Lucius dismounted, then offered Elizabeth his hand. "I know you're more than capable of getting off this horse yourself, but indulge me."

  "Isn't that why we are here in the middle of the night?"

  He chuckled and helped her down. As she slid down beside him, her cloak opened and he could feel her warmth against him. And again he hungered to feel her lying in his arms, her body entwined with his the way her bedsheets had wrapped her earlier.

  His body clenched at the reminder she was his by the terms of their betrothal agreement to do with as he pleased. The knowledge was a potent elixir against his will. He couldn't pull his gaze from the temptation of her mouth. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and taste her lips. They were as dark and inviting as he remembered.

  "Shall we climb to the top?" she asked, breaking into his thoughts, making him more aware of the enchantment she held him in. She withdrew two steps, but not before he noted the color in her cheeks. Even in the moonlight there was no mistaking she'd been as affected by his nearness as he was by hers.

  He tied the horse's reins loosely about a nearby bush, all the while trying to force the memory of her warmth and softness from his thoughts. They were here to build memories of a different kind.

  He tossed the saddlebag over his shoulder and hesitated at the sight of Elizabeth. Her hair fell free around her shoulders to her waist, wavy from the earlier braid she'd worn. Beneath the silver moonlight, she was as much the tempting siren as he'd painted her to be.