A Temptress in Tartan

by Gerri Russell

  “Black cats are an omen of doom for fishermen. Many will not travel by boat for an entire day when a black cat crosses their path.” He shrugged though his features were tight as he gazed at the choppy water in the distance. “We cannot stop them if they choose to return home tonight. They know the dangers, not from the presence of a black cat, but from the weather.” After a long moment he said, “Come, let us eat so we can be on our way ourselves.” He looked down, then bent and scratched the affectionate cat behind the ears. “Looks like you have a friend.”

  “I cannot believe the men would be so frightened of a cat.”

  “’Tis superstitious nonsense.” Lachlan stood. “Since King James set up his witch tribunals there are many men and women who suddenly believe a black cat is either a servant of a witch or a witch themselves in familiar form.”

  “’Tis only a barn cat,” Elizabeth replied.

  “To you and me, aye. But again, we cannot control what others believe.” Lachlan started toward the inn. Elizabeth and the black cat both followed. With the cat at her side, Elizabeth felt her steps lighten. If she were honest, she was eager—almost excited—to get on with the final leg of their journey. Was she more relaxed now because her father and his men were no longer on their heels? Or because Roland, the man she had once hoped to be her future, had left her and all of his empty promises behind? He had betrayed her before. She would not give him an opportunity to do so again.

  Elizabeth lifted her skirts and ran to catch up with Lachlan. Now that she had parted ways both mentally and physically with Roland, she could move on with her future. Perhaps she could think of this moment as a fresh start. At the door of the small inn, Lachlan stepped back, allowing her to enter before him. The interior was clean and a cheerful fire burned in the stone fireplace in the common room. The delicious aroma of roasting hare drifted to Elizabeth from a spit over the fire that was turned by a serving maid.

  The innkeeper hurried forward, a toothless grin lighting his round face. “Welcome, m’laird, milady.” He bowed then asked, “How might I be of service today?”

  “I left two horses in your stable with feed and water, and my good wife and I desire a plate of the roasted hare, if you please. I’ll pay extra for a scrap or two to be placed outside for the cat.”

  “Of course,” he said, nodding. “Come, sit here and we will serve you at once, m’laird.” The innkeeper showed them to a table near the fire, then snapped his fingers, gaining the maid’s attention. The young woman left the spit and hurried toward them with two mugs of wine she set before them, then returned with two plates of meat, mashed turnips, and a slice of rustic bread slathered in butter.

  Elizabeth had not realized how hungry she had become until the food was before her. Her mouth watered at the sight of meat, roasted to perfection. With her fork in her left hand and knife in her right, she cut off a small bite and placed it on her tongue. With an effort, she held back a groan of pleasure. Elizabeth could feel Lachlan’s gaze on her face but avoided looking up to meet his eyes. The common room buzzed with the hum of conversation between others who had stopped for a meal, yet silence stretched between herself and Lachlan.

  Why did he not speak? It was obvious he had questions about Roland. When the silence stretched on, she realized she would have to be the one to break it. “You have nothing to worry about with regards to Roland. He is an old friend, but anything between us is over.”

  “Are you so certain of that? Roland appears to have differing thoughts on that matter.”

  A frown furrowed her brow. “It matters not what he thinks. I am your wife. We can hardly change that fact.”

  He smiled cynically. “For some men, even that is no obstacle.” His wooden chair creaked as he leaned back and stretched his long legs out before him, his gaze on the fire.

  “Roland goes to Edinburgh to study to be a minister.”

  Lachlan’s lips tightened. “That makes him even more dangerous given the current political climate. Ministers are encouraged by King James to rid their kirks of those who are seen as disturbers of the status quo.”

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

  “Don’t you?” he asked with a bitter tone in his voice. “Anyone whom the ministers want to be rid of may be charged as a witch or a warlock, and few who are charged escape a painful death.”

  Elizabeth did not have to ask the nature of their deaths. She’d heard about the ruthless burnings of both men and women all over Scotland since the Berwick witch trials began. The old, infirm, and those touched by madness had been preyed upon the most because of their inability to resist the horrific torture they’d had to endure. “Roland would never accuse an innocent person,” she argued.

  “From what I saw of him in the last few hours, that young man looked like he would do anything to get you away from a Douglas.”

  At his words, she drank the last of her wine before setting the wooden goblet down on the table. “I still do not believe Roland could be so cruel, but just to be certain we had best be on our way and get you to Whittingehame Castle’s protection before nightfall.”

  He smiled crookedly. “Wife, you sound as if you care.”

  She pushed back her chair and stood. She did care, but she would never tell him that. “I already have a husband. I would be very put out if I had to find myself another.”

  He stood and took a step toward her and she caught the scent of the sea and the summer sunshine that clung to his skin. He brought his fingers up to caress her cheek and jawline. “I’m going to pretend it is because you care for me more than you are willing to say.” His smile was purely sensual.

  She inhaled sharply and a shiver ran through her.

  For a heartbeat, he gazed into her eyes as though looking for proof of what she denied before he dropped his hand to his side. “Do you need to refresh yourself or shall we be on our way?”

  “I am ready to go.”

  “Very well. We won’t stop until we reach Whittingehame.”

  Chapter Eight

  The purple light of dusk veiled the world around them and Elizabeth worried that they would not make it to the castle before nightfall. The journey to Whittingehame had been as grueling as Lachlan had predicted. He’d ridden beside her, but he’d uttered not a word. Was he lost in thoughts of what lay ahead for them once they reached his home? For that was where her thoughts began and ended. What would happen once they reached their destination?

  Half an hour later as the sky changed to a purplish gray a square, battlemented keep, three stories high appeared ahead of them. A woodland spread for miles behind the structure and a river flowed past on the west. The land of her new home was not only beautiful, it appeared to be fertile as well.

  “’Twas built three hundred years back.” Lachlan finally spoke to her as they passed through two barbican towers with gates swung wide open as if in welcome. Behind that came a portcullis with its massive grille of iron spikes. As they continued forward, a guardsman saluted Lachlan. An instant later, the metal gate came down to seal the entryway behind them.

  The clip-clop of horse hooves echoed all around them as they crossed over the planked drawbridge and entered the outer bailey. “On a clear day,” he continued, raising his voice to counter the sound, “the view extends as far as Arthur’s Seat to the northwest. The woodlands are good for gaming, and there is plenty of water flowing through the glen below. The castle is an easily defensible fortress. In case you were worried about such things.”

  “That is nice to know in case my—”

  “In case your father should attack?” he finished her sentence for her.

  Elizabeth’s eyes went wide. “You knew?”

  “I knew he’d been following us since we left Falkland Palace. ’Tis another reason we traveled by sea. Your father and his men could not follow without exposing themselves.”

  “I did not ask them to follow me,” she replied defensively.

  “I do not blame him. Or you.” He turned
his attention back to the path they traveled through the bailey. “I would do the same in his position.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “What will you do when he does arrive?”

  “Talk to him like the warriors we are, and hopefully come to a resolution that doesn’t involve either of our deaths.” He turned to her again, this time his eyes filled not with anger, but with possession. “You are my wife, Elizabeth, and no one will hurt you again, including your father.”

  Her breath stilled in her chest. “What if his motives are less than honorable?” She wouldn’t put it past her father to make her a widow with all due haste.

  “We are on my land and in a fortified castle. My army is far more numerous than your father’s current retinue. He knows that. He’ll not engage in a battle he knows he cannot win.”

  She dropped her gaze to her horse’s white mane, desperate to look at anything other than the man beside her. He had confused her for days now, and that confusion was only growing worse. “You’re far more trusting of my father than I am.”

  “Time will tell,” he replied. “In the meanwhile, welcome to your home.”

  Elizabeth lifted her gaze to look at the castle around her as they slowly proceeded through the outer bailey. Stables occupied one full length of the outer courtyard along with the animal pens, smokehouse, smithy, salt house, falcon mews, and guardhouse. Lights shone behind the shutters. At their approach, the windows swung open and curious onlookers followed their movements.

  The inner courtyard was smaller with the kitchen, laundry, barracks, and servants’ quarters taking up much of the outer walls. An entrance to the main living quarters within the castle stood open as though anticipating their arrival. A heartbeat later, Elizabeth could hear the excited murmur of voices as they came to an abrupt stop. Men and women spilled out the doors, coming to greet their laird and his new wife.

  Two servants rushed up to gather the reins of their horses while Lachlan slipped from the saddle and came to her side. He reached up, assisting her down. As her feet hit the ground, she swayed ever so slightly. Lachlan must have noticed because he kept his hands at her waist while she steadied herself.

  “Lachlan! You’ve returned.” A tall man who looked almost as though he could be her husband’s twin rushed forward to greet them. A woman with brown hair and an eager smile followed at his side.

  “Reid? Lucy?” A smile transformed Lachlan’s face. “I didn’t expect you to be here when you could not come to the wedding. Did Quinn and Vivian have their baby?”

  “Vivian had twins two days ago,” Reid said with a grin. “The day you were married to Elizabeth. That must be a good omen if there ever was one.”

  “Twins?” Lachlan’s eyes went wide.

  Lucy nodded. “A boy who looks very much like Quinn, and a girl with fiery-red hair just like Vivian. They are called Alexander and Lilian.”

  Lachlan’s concern deepened, etching fine lines around his eyes and mouth. “Was that why Vivian’s labor was so hard, and why they sent for you?”

  “Aye. Quinn was worried he might lose the very thing that has given his life meaning. He needed his own twin at his side to help steady him.” Reid offered Lachlan an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry we missed your wedding.”

  Lachlan shrugged. “One wedding is like any other.”

  Reid and Lucy shared a glance.

  “Speaking of your lovely bride,” Lucy said, stepping forward and pulling Elizabeth into an embrace. “You must be Elizabeth.”

  “Elizabeth, meet my cousins, Reid and Lucy.” Reid was tall and lean, just like Lachlan, and they had the same intense blue eyes. Lucy was a firebrand of a woman whose head barely reached her husband’s chin, but whose hug nearly lifted Elizabeth off her feet.

  “I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Elizabeth replied.

  Reid grinned. “Come, dear cousin-in-law, we are not so formal as all that.” So saying, he gathered her into his arms and twirled her around once, with enough speed that her skirt belled out in the wind.

  Elizabeth’s response was a gasp of surprise that slipped into laughter. When he set her back on her feet, she wobbled slightly, but steadied herself. “Thank you both for such a kind welcome. I will admit to being slightly terrified to be among so many Douglases.” She regretted the words the moment she uttered them.

  Reid appeared not to have taken offense at her statement, but Lachlan’s features darkened once more as he said, “We are not Douglases or Ruthvens here. Only people joined in a common purpose to live the lives we were destined for.”

  Fresh shivers of apprehension moved through Elizabeth. That was what she was worried about: what was she destined for? At the beginning of their journey her purpose had seemed so clear, but no longer.

  “As happy as we are that you’ve returned to your home, Lachlan, you have other, more important things to contend with,” Reid said.

  “Such as?”

  “If you would but look at your wife, you might have noticed how tired she is.”

  Lachlan’s gaze intensified on her face.

  “I’m not tired,” she objected, then changed her mind. “Well, perhaps a little.” She swayed on her feet once more.

  Lachlan stepped past his cousins. “Why didn’t you say something?” His hand was on her elbow, propelling her inside the castle and up the grand staircase. “We could have stopped to let you rest.”

  “You said you were in a hurry to reach Whittingehame.”

  “I was, but not by way of your demise. Stop being so obliging.” Lachlan escorted her down a long hallway. At the end, he stopped and threw open a door, ushering her into the large chamber. “Lie down.”

  When still she didn’t at once step toward the large, heavily canopied bed in the center of the room, he swooped her into his arms and settled her upon its surface. “I have neither the patience if you become ill, nor the time to tend you as your nursemaid. Rest. Agreed?”

  The ghost of a smile came to her lips at the thought of this warrior tending her in the sickroom. He was so big and full of life. She had a hard time imagining him as anything but filled with energy and vitality as he was now. “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  The door shut behind him before she could reply.

  She gazed at the door for a long time. As the new mistress of the castle, she should be preparing to meet her staff and to start assisting in the daily needs of those under Lachlan’s protection. Yet she yawned, and settled her cheek on the pillow, then closed her eyes. Perhaps just a few moments of rest would rid her of her soreness and help her stop thinking about the gentleness Lachlan had used when he’d lifted her into his arms just now.

  *

  Lachlan found Reid and Lucy in the great hall. He still wasn’t used to the idea that this ancient castle belonged entirely to him. He’d only lived there for three weeks, since the king and queen had given it to him as part of his marriage agreement. It still felt a little odd when he stepped up to the seats by the hearth where his cousins waited and he took the biggest chair—the laird’s chair.

  Reid’s keen blue eyes studied him intently. “Dare I ask how things are proceeding between you and your lovely wife?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  Reid frowned. “Is something amiss?”

  “Elizabeth’s father and a retinue of approximately fifteen men are following us. I expect them to arrive here by mid-afternoon tomorrow.”

  Reid stood, suddenly tense. “Will he and his men be sharpening their clai’mors and preparing for battle?”

  “Sit down, Cousin. Settle yourself,” Lachlan said in a weary voice, suddenly realizing how hard the journey to Whittingehame had been on him as well. He’d been on high alert the entire way, searching for dangers in the shadows. “Donald Ruthven is a brute, but he’s no fool. He knows an attack on us would unite the lowland clans against him now that the king has tried to forge a truce.”

  Reid sat, but continued to scowl. “A prudent man might consider strikin
g his enemy down first before he can stab him in the back.”

  “That man is my wife’s father, which makes fighting him all the more complicated now.” Lachlan shook his head. “I must be a man of peace in this situation—a diplomat, not a fighter.” He sighed. “The last thing we all want right now is another full-out war between the clans. King James has stirred up enough trouble as it is with his witch trials.”

  “You are right. The days where I thought I could take on the world single-handedly are over.” Reid reached for Lucy’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I am waging my battles differently now that my heart is engaged elsewhere.”

  Lucy’s radiant smile was evidence enough that the married couple before him were truly happy and finding a way past their own troubles. If they could do such a thing, perhaps there was hope for Elizabeth and himself.

  “What will you do when Donald Ruthven arrives?” Lucy asked, dragging her gaze away from the man at her side.

  Lachlan allowed a wry smile to twist his lips. “I have no other option but to talk with the man.”

  “Are your men here prepared in case things do not go as planned?”

  “Aye,” Lachlan said. “I must thank you for sending Peter Grayden from your retinue to mine. He has proved himself beyond valuable as my Captain of the Guard. We had three weeks to prepare before my marriage to Elizabeth, and he has worked wonders with the men. They are trained and ready for whatever challenges may arise.”

  “Reid and I will try to think of all contingencies that could occur,” Lucy added.

  Lachlan nodded. Where Donald Ruthven was concerned, anything was possible—and none of it good.

  Chapter Nine

  Elizabeth slept for twelve hours straight, waking as the late morning sun shone so brightly into the room, she could no longer ignore its pull against her eyelids. For a peaceful moment all was well until she opened her eyes and glanced at the pale blue canopy overhead, then to the pale gold walls of the chamber Lachlan had led her to yesterday.