A Temptress in Tartan

by Gerri Russell

  She bolted upright in bed and searched the room for her husband with her heart pounding in her ears. He was nowhere in sight and the space next to her remained undisturbed. Where had he slept? His kinsmen would have expected him to sleep beside her. Or had he been unable to rest at the thought of her father’s imminent arrival?

  Lachlan seemed to think a negotiation between the two of them could work. Elizabeth wasn’t so certain. Her father was a hard man, and if she were honest, more in line with the lies he had always told her about their rival clan than the Douglases she’d met so far had proven to be. It was becoming harder and harder to believe the worst about the man she had married or his clan.

  The more time she and Lachlan were together, the more confused she became until it felt as though she continually floundered in a sea of self-doubt. How would she learn the truth? Or did she truly want to?

  Heat rose to her cheeks as her thoughts turned back to the odd stirrings that warmed her when Lachlan had cradled her in his arms last night. She had never felt such things when Roland had touched her. The two men were total opposites. Roland was polished, polite, and proper. Lachlan had shown her he was caring, yet adventurous, slightly reckless, but definitely powerful and enigmatic. She could picture him setting her on the bed as he had last night, then falling back onto the feather bolster with her in his arms, making them both wildly happy and sated in the process.

  She buried her face in her hands at the thought. How could she dare to think such a thing—to allow her imagination to take her places where she could not willingly go?

  “Good afternoon.”

  Elizabeth looked up to see Lachlan’s body filling the doorway of the bedchamber with a small tray balanced in his hands. She’d been so absorbed in her own thoughts she hadn’t heard him enter.

  He was fully dressed in buff-colored breeches and a plain white shirt embellished with only a simple white scarf at his neck. His hair was swept back from a face that was clean shaven. “I thought you might be hungry since you slept clear though dinner and breakfast.”

  Her stomach answered for her with a noisy growl. “I am rather hungry,” she admitted. “But I also feel gritty with the dirt from our travels still upon me.”

  “A bath is coming. But you should eat something first. You were quite weary when we arrived.”

  “You should have awakened me sooner. What must your staff think of me, sleeping the day away?”

  He shrugged as he set the tray of tea and a scone with butter and jam beside her. “They are undoubtedly thinking you have endured much during your travels here. And while they are eager to meet you, they want that time to come when you are feeling at your best so you might be more pleased with them.”

  Her eyes widened. “They care whether or not I like them?”

  “Of course, Elizabeth. These are your people now. They want their mistress to look upon them with favor.” His gaze lingered on the soft swell of her breasts as they rose above her bodice before shifting to the length of her hair that spilled over her shoulders in a wild tangle, still mussed from her sleep. She brought up a hand, trying to tame it, but at another grumble from her stomach, she reached for the scone instead and took a bite.

  “If you’d like something more substantial, I am certain Mistress Barron, our chatelaine, would be pleased to bring it to you.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks once more. “I am not so fragile that I need to be fed in bed. I do not want anyone to fuss over me.” It would make her feel even more guilty than she already felt about sleeping so long. She shifted her legs to the side of the bed as she took another bite of her scone, intending to start her day, when a shuffling sound came from the doorway.

  “Here is Mistress Barron and her serving girls now with a bath and heated water.” The women offered Elizabeth awkward curtsies as they carried their heavy pails over to the coals that still glowed in the fireplace. Once the tub was set, they emptied the water into the bath while Mistress Barron added more wood to the fire.

  Elizabeth finished her scone and poured herself a cup of tea, sipping it in the silence that had descended over the chamber until the women bowed their way out, closing the door behind them. Once they were gone, she set the cup down and stood.

  “I should leave you alone to bathe. When you are ready, come downstairs. I have several activities planned for us outside the castle today.”

  “What about my father? Shouldn’t he be arriving today? Is it safe to be anywhere but inside these walls?”

  “My men have not yet spotted him or his men in the distance and, as I told you yesterday, from Whittingehame you can see for miles in all directions.”

  Silence came over the room and she didn’t know how to break the charged stiffness. He was different today. He seemed more at peace here at his home, and an easy camaraderie had fallen between them since before they had boarded the ship across the Firth. And yet, some of that earlier tension was back.

  “Are you worried about my father’s arrival?”

  “The man seems intent on continuing the feud between our families. It’s taken knowing you to reconcile my hatred of your clan. I’m ready for peace. But peace is only possible if both parties choose to lay down their swords.” Lachlan issued a weary sigh. “If only he would meet me halfway. Your future—our future—is at stake if he doesn’t.”

  Hot color flooded her cheeks and her chest suddenly tightened. “My father is a bit hot-headed. Perhaps I can—”

  “Thank you for your offer, but I don’t want to put you in harm’s way. I will appeal to your father’s sense of honor. The man must want his daughter to live in peace. I’ve negotiated several difficult agreements between the kingdom and other clans. Perhaps your father will come to his senses when he is presented with the facts about what continuing this feud will do to you.” Lachlan offered her a lopsided smile and took a step closer, then, taking her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed it. He looked down at her hand and hesitated a moment as he noted the pearl ring she always wore on her right hand. “Your ring, it is quite unusual.”

  “It was given to me by my father after my mother died so that I might have something to remember her by.”

  “’Tis beautiful. Just like the woman who wears it.” She gazed at him wordlessly as he turned her hand over and lingeringly pressed his warm lips to her palm. The sensations darting through her were intimate, tender, and nothing like she’d ever felt before.

  Slowly he lifted her palm to his cheek. “I want you to stay with me, Elizabeth. To be my wife, but only if that is what will please you as well.” He held her gaze. In his eyes she saw not a hardened warrior, but a vulnerable man who was reaching out to her for what he wanted. But what he wanted was something she still wasn’t ready to give. At her hesitation, his lids came down to veil his eyes. He kissed her palm again before releasing her.

  She stared after him as he walked to the door. He paused, looking back as if he might say something more, but then he was gone and the door closed behind him. She stared at the wooden portal, willing it to open again and for him to return and follow through with what his eyes had exposed to her. But he did not.

  All through her life she’d believed every word her clan had told her about the Douglases, blindly and without question. But many of the atrocities she’d been told about, if not all, might very well have been lies fabricated to propagate hatred between the two clans. And her father was on his way to continue that battle.

  She knew, even though she and her father had never discussed it, that he had intended to capture Lachlan along their journey to Whittingehame Castle and murder him, then take her back into the Ruthven fold. But she and Lachlan had foiled attempts not once, but twice with their alternative travel plans.

  Now that they’d arrived at Whittingehame, her father dared not kill the man in his own home. Besides, she would never allow him to succeed. Not anymore—and not just because of the blood oath between herself and Lachlan. Even though she still didn’t fully trust Lachlan, she cared w
hat happened to the man who was her husband.

  As his wife, she belonged to him. She was his property, no matter how much the idea rankled. Her father no longer had any say in her life. He had to know that. So, what did he hope to accomplish by arriving on Lachlan’s doorstep? Knowing her father, it would not be something good. They would know his intent soon enough.

  Elizabeth released a pent-up breath as she forced her thoughts in a different direction. Lachlan wanted to spend time with her today. The very idea sent her pulse racing. She found herself dressing with particular care in her finest light green gown. The dress had seen better days, but it fit her well. Her father had never been one to spend on extravagances such as clothing for his only daughter. He always told her if someone wanted to take her to wife, they would take her as she was—with a meager dowry and no trousseau—or they would not take her at all.

  As she made her way belowstairs, her thoughts turned to Lachlan. He hadn’t taken her to wife for no gain, for he’d told her himself that he had been given this castle, a living, and four white horses by the king and queen. But he had asked nothing from her father.

  Elizabeth continued past the landing until she could see Lachlan waited for her in the entry hall at the bottom of the stairs. He offered her a graceful bow. In one hand, he held the Bible they had been given as a wedding gift by the king and queen. He held out his other hand to her and said, “Come with me. I want to show you a special place.”

  She looked around her. “Where are Lucy and Reid?”

  “They have decided to give us some privacy today. Ready?”

  She took his hand and he guided her through the great hall and into the solar. They stopped just inside the doorway and he pulled his fingers from hers. “This room is now yours to do with as you please.”

  She turned to him. “But the solar is typically reserved for the laird and his business.”

  “I moved my desk out to be near the hearth in the great hall. I want you to have this room and all it contains.”

  A carpet in a patterned shade of beige, ivory, and red covered the stone floor and two beautiful tapestries with scenes of the Scottish countryside covered the walls. On one wall stood a large wooden bookcase loaded with books. Elizabeth’s heart leapt at the idea of filling her days with reading. “There are so many books.”

  “Some of them I purchased. Some were spoils of war. All of them Reid brought with him, as I was storing them at his castle until I had a place of my own. I’ve been collecting them for years.” He shrugged and stepped more fully inside, inviting her to do the same. “Among the collection is The History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth, featuring the popular characters of Arthur and Merlin, as well as Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.” He held the Bible out to her. “I thought perhaps we could add this book to our library.”

  She hugged the Bible to her chest as she noted the two massive cream-covered chairs with matching footrests near the fireplace and a long bench opposite that. She could imagine herself curled up in a chair with her feet tucked beneath her, reading for hours on end, but such a thing could never happen. “’Tis truly a wonderful gesture, giving me this chamber, but I cannot accept. It would be a break in tradition.”

  “I want to break tradition. I do believe that is what you and I are all about—transforming what has always gone before us,” Lachlan said as he sat in one of the oversized chairs and rested his head on the cushioned back. “And in further breaking the way things have always been, I’d rather have you in a room next to me during the day and in the midst of all the castle’s business than tucked away on the third floor in relative isolation. You must accept this room. I insist.”

  Poignant emotion tightened her throat, making speech impossible so she nodded instead.

  “Good. Now, where should we place the Bible? Somewhere all can see and where you can help the servants to read from it.”

  “You wish me to teach the servants to read?”

  “Aye. I want them to be able to read from the Bible. If they can, they will all be safer from the witch hunters, should they come this way.”

  “You really care about your people.”

  “I care about their future, aye. We have terrible problems in our country that go beyond poverty and illness. During the past year I have watched both of my cousins’ wives suffer most horribly because of the fanatical zeal of some who see witches everywhere and in every act of goodness or malice.” He paused, looking earnestly into her face. “Will you teach them to read, Elizabeth?”

  She nodded. “I will not only teach them to read but to write as well.” His smiled warmed her clear to her toes. “When should we start?”

  “Tomorrow morning, after chapel?”

  She nodded. “I will need several slates and chalk.”

  “I will make certain you have what you need.” He stood. “Now all that is settled, I have another surprise for you.” He reached for her hand.

  She hesitated. “Truly, you have gifted me far too much already with this chamber and a direction for my new life here.”

  After giving her hand a squeeze of encouragement, he guided her from the room. “’Tis market day in Whittingehame village. I have it on good authority the draper is there with many lengths of beautiful silks and brocades, and that the town seamstress is more than eager to make her new mistress several new gowns all in the latest styles.”

  “I couldn’t possibly impose—”

  “Nonsense,” Lachlan said, guiding her out of the castle to where two horses waited. “I intend to give you not only what you need, but also what you desire.” He lifted her onto the horse’s back. His hands lingered at her waist. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations of his hands on her body. With each day, and each touch, her capitulation threatened as he wore her down with his strength and his passion.

  “Elizabeth?”

  She opened her eyes slowly, and when she did her breath caught at what she saw on his face. His eyes filled with wonder and his smile was blatantly sensual. “Why are you being so considerate? You need not. I belong to you.”

  “You matter to me.”

  Four simple words. Wild color stained her cheeks as she looked down at his hands, which still encircled her waist. “You are starting to matter to me as well.”

  Heaven help them both.

  *

  Lachlan had sent their marketing home with one of the servants who attended them, while he and Elizabeth went another direction, to a place he had only discovered the week before near the glen.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked from atop her horse.

  “To a special place. It’s only a little farther.”

  She frowned as she looked at the darkening sky. “It’s dusk. The night is upon us.”

  He knew she was thinking of her father. Lachlan’s thoughts had also strayed in that direction a time or two during the day. He had expected Donald Ruthven to show himself at Whittingehame by now, yet he had not. Part of Lachlan wondered why, but the other part dismissed the man entirely. He had decided long ago not to give the Ruthvens any more of his thoughts than they deserved.

  And the woman before him? Did he no longer see her as a Ruthven? Forcing the question away, he turned to Elizabeth. “I do not fear your father. Please, trust me. All will be well.” At least that was his hope.

  As he rode beside her in silence, he noted that her shoulders were no longer as tense, and the lines around her eyes had eased in the past two days. Was it his own hopeful imagination, or was Elizabeth softening toward him?

  After a few moments more, he reined his horse to a stop. “We have arrived.” The only movement in the night was the wind as it rustled through the leaves overhead.

  She stopped beside him. He slipped from his horse’s back and then helped her dismount. He tethered the animals to a nearby gorse bush with enough lead so they could graze, before removing a blanket from the saddlebag. He offered Elizabeth his hand. She took it and together they set off to a clearing
ahead.

  She smiled and something in her face changed. Her eyes lifted to his, filled with an emotion he’d never seen there before. One she’d never let him see as fully as she did now. Was it acceptance, friendship, or something more? They might already be married to each other, but they still had a long way to go to build a life together. How did two people whose lives up to this point had been filled with trauma and pain find a way to each other when everything around them conspired against them?

  He came to a stop in a meadow a few yards away from the horses. Dropping her hand, he spread the blanket on the ground. “Come, join me,” he said, stretching atop the blanket. “I have one more gift to give to you.”

  “Nay,” she protested as she settled beside him. “You have already given me too much.”

  “It is a gift that has already been bestowed on us both.” He propped himself up on his elbow, gazing at her. “I know it disturbs you to think of me as a Douglas, and if I am truly honest with you, I flinch inside when I hear your Ruthven name. Both of our pasts are filled with violence and hatred of one clan toward the other. But you and I no longer have to claim those names.”

  “But those are our names.”

  “Nay. When the king gave me this castle as part of your dowry, he also bestowed upon us both a title: I am the Earl of March and you the Countess of March. We can make it be known that we prefer to use our titles instead of our clan names. Would that be acceptable by you?” He reached for her hand, held it in his own with uncertain fingers, afraid suddenly of what her answer might be.

  “Aye,” she replied with a catch in her voice. “That is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I accept, Laird March.”

  “I am pleased, Countess March.”

  A moment later her eyes filled with a question. “Was the grass in the meadow what you wanted to show me?”

  With a quick smile, he lay back down on the blanket and pointed to the sky that had faded into black. “Behold, the stars.”