A Temptress in Tartan

by Gerri Russell

  They stared long and hard at each other, and James knew neither he nor any of them were used to losing a battle. Finally, he said, “How about a compromise?”

  The men looked at each other and then sat down. “We’re listening,” Reid said.

  “I cannot withdraw the charges that have already been recorded in the court documents. However, I can move Lachlan from Haddington tolbooth and place him in a private chamber in a nearby inn under constant guard until his trial.”

  “And you can see he endures no more torture,” Quinn Douglas added.

  King James gave a quick nod. “’Tis the least I can do for one of my own.”

  “And the charges against him, how do we dismiss those?” Cameron Sinclair asked.

  “If Reid and Quinn will stay here to protect me, I will give the rest of you the freedom to track down those who gave testimony and bring them here for questioning by no one but myself. By the powers given me by God himself, I will know if someone is lying.”

  “Consider it done,” Reid said with a nod to Quinn. “You know you can trust us to keep you safe.”

  “Then take back your swords so you can accomplish that feat,” he growled as he stood.

  His men stood and collected their weapons. As they did, he looked at each one. “Consider this the one and only time I will allow you all to persuade me from my purpose in this life. My word is law. Remember that from this moment forward.”

  Reid bowed. “We are fortunate to have such a wise and generous king.”

  “Indeed, you are,” King James replied as he headed for the door with two of his guardsmen at his side.

  After the king had left, it was decided that Malcolm Hamilton would head to the Buckhaven Inn and return with Bessie Broun, her husband, as well as Jane and Meg Wenham. Rhys Elliot would depart for Edinburgh to find Roland Carswell and force the young minister to appear before the court. Cameron Sinclair would head back to Ravenscraig Castle to collect both Mariam Swinton and any of the fishermen he could find before returning to Haddington. And Alexander Ross would travel with Sinclair as far as Aberlady where he would search for the remaining fishermen, a mysterious black cat, and also bring the innkeeper of the Cairn Inn back to the court to testify.

  With luck, they would accomplish these deeds before Lachlan was to appear before the tribunal again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lachlan was in the midst of a dream where he was waiting at the gates of Whittingehame for Elizabeth to come home to him. The morning mists faded as the sky overhead brightened. And he heard her calling his name. “Douglas.” And louder a second time.

  Suddenly Lachlan was yanked back to reality, startled awake, to find a man bending over him, his rancid breath in Lachlan’s face.

  “Wake up, sorcerer, before I toss ye with cold water!” the man taunted as his fingers gripped tight around Lachlan’s arm. “Time to get up.”

  For a moment, Lachlan wasn’t certain where he was. The dream had left him disoriented. But then he felt the weight of the manacles on his hands, the cold stone beneath him, and the straw that scratched his cheek, and it all rushed back.

  He was in gaol. He’d been tortured. Was the man here to take him to Swinton again? After Elizabeth had left, Swinton had come back, and instead of taking him to the torture chamber, he had striped him there, in his cell, and he’d endured twenty more lashes.

  One . . . two . . . three lashes had fallen on his back. Despite his determination to remain unaffected by the lash, a gasp escaped his throat as a sharp stab of intense pain tore through his already abused back.

  The slip of sound had made Swinton smile. “Ready for three more?”

  “Why don’t you just kill me now?” Lachlan struggled to keep the fear from his voice. He had to stay in control. He didn’t fear dying, but the pain was wearing him down. “I’ll never admit to the charges against me.”

  Swinton’s smile slipped and became a frown. “Every moment of every day will be filled with slow agony until I get what I want.”

  Three more lashes struck his back, leaving red welts burning against his flesh. Lachlan clenched his jaw.

  Swinton might be ruthless, but he was no match for Lachlan’s own resolve. No amount of torture could pry a confession from him. And no force under Heaven would ever make him reveal the names of others who might be witches just to make his torment stop.

  “Perhaps you need more persuasion,” Swinton growled as he gave him six more lashes, then six more, and more, until Lachlan trembled from the pain. Had that memory been days ago, hours, or only minutes? He no longer knew, except that it seemed like forever.

  But now a different man stood over him. “What are you waiting for?” the man asked as his eyes glittered with a strange illumination cast upon his face by the torch. “The king has requested you be moved to better quarters, and that his physician attend you.”

  Overwhelmed with emotion at the thought of no more torture, Lachlan sucked in a relieved breath. “I am freed?”

  “Nay,” the man said, helping Lachlan stand. “’Tis simply a reprieve. But if I were ye, I’d be grateful fer that much. Others here are nae so lucky as that tae have friends in high places.”

  King James, a friend? More like a madman. But Lachlan wasn’t about to argue if it meant putting some distance between himself and this place. He staggered to his feet and gratefully followed the man from his cell and into the bright light of day.

  Outside the tolbooth, Lachlan recoiled from the light. After days of darkness, the sunlit sky was almost too much. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Hurry up,” the man who’d released him said with a tug on Lachlan’s manacled hands.

  “Give me a moment.” Lachlan remained where he stood, breathing in the fresh air, letting it slide through his lungs before exhaling. After a few moments, he slowly opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the bright light before he started forward once more.

  A carriage waited several steps away. “Get in. Ye’re tae be delivered tae Haddington Tower. They’ve made up a room fer ye there. I’ll be yer warder. So, if ye make things easy fer me, I’ll make things easy fer ye. Agreed?”

  Lachlan could only nod his agreement as it took all his energy to climb into the carriage and collapse back against the squabs. Pain sizzled along his nerves, his flesh, his back but he barely let the sensations register. All he could think about was perhaps, heaven help him, perhaps there was hope to survive.

  *

  Elizabeth stepped past the guard and into the room the king had made for her husband at the top of Haddington Tower. At the sight of Lachlan curled on his side on a narrow bed her heart stumbled. His clothing was soaked in blood and manacles still bound his hands. She turned back to the guard. “Please take him out of his chains.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Where can he go?” she pleaded, with her heart in her throat. “Can you not see he is in no condition to fight you or anyone?”

  The guard pressed his lips together as his gaze shifted from Elizabeth to his prisoner then back again. “As you wish,” he finally agreed.

  With one of the keys attached to a ring on his belt, the guard unlocked the manacles. They clanked against the floor. At the sound, Lachlan’s eyes opened and his hands flexed as though testing the feel of freedom once more.

  The guard turned toward the door, but Elizabeth stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Might I ask one more favor? I will see you are compensated handsomely if you will find me a basin of water, and send someone to the Nungate Inn and ask Reid Douglas to send his cousin a spare set of clothes.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” the guard said, then left.

  She had brought salve, fresh linens, and a tincture for pain that Quinn’s wife, Vivian, had sent to Haddington with her husband. As a healer who had suffered herself under King James’s quest to rid all Scotland of evil, Vivian would know what to send to help Lachlan heal from his wounds.

  Elizabeth moved to the bed and sank to her knees beside Lachla
n. “My God, what have they done to you?”

  Pain reflected in the depths of Lachlan’s blue eyes. “Nothing that I will not survive.” Bright red splashes of blood seeped through the back of his muslin shirt.

  Trying to be brave for him, Elizabeth forced her own emotions aside as she helped him into a sitting position. He winced with pain and his breathing was ragged, as she propped him up with pillows against his back and with his head resting on the headboard of the bed. She opened the satchel she carried, removing the contents and laying them next to the bed: a pile of fresh linen, a jar of salve, a bottle of tincture, a needle and thread, as well as a large portion of salted meat, bread, and cheese. “Vivian created a tincture to help with the pain,” she said as she opened the bottle then held it to his lips, tipping it up and allowing the liquid to run into his throat.

  When she had given him a dose, she sank back on her knees and waited. After only a few labored breaths, his shoulders relaxed and he settled into the pillows more deeply. Elizabeth breathed a thankful sigh.

  “I’m so glad to see you—” He stopped abruptly as the door opened. The guard entered, carrying a basin of steaming water, which he set by Elizabeth’s side.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He nodded. “I sent a man to the inn. He should be back soon with the clothing you asked for.”

  Again, she offered her thanks before the guard left. When he was gone, she rose up on her knees once more and took Lachlan’s hand in hers. He squeezed her fingers so gently at first that it took a moment to realize that he’d done it. He was so weak. “Vivian also sent a healing salve. But first I must wash your wounds.”

  “Do what you must.”

  Elizabeth stood, then bent to remove his shirt, easing him slightly away from the pillows to pull it up and over his head. At the sight of his back, she gasped. A multitude of red welts crisscrossed his flesh—two of the stripes were open and bleeding. “I will need to sew a few of these wounds together if they are to heal properly.”

  “A warrior’s life is harsh.” Lachlan’s voice brought her gaze to his face. He assessed her. For what? Revulsion? Fear?

  She straightened her shoulders. He would see no weakness in her. “You need not apologize. We all have scars, Lachlan. Some of us wear them on the outside, others on the inside.”

  “And your scars? Are they inside or out?”

  “We aren’t discussing my scars. Yours are the only ones of interest at this moment.”

  Lachlan’s eyes pinned her in place. She had a sudden terrifying feeling that he could see inside her, see the very scars she talked about—those left by the death of her mother. She swallowed hard then lifted her chin. “Elizabeth,” he said softly. “It’s not weakness to be afraid, or to be vulnerable in front of others.” His words were slightly slurred as the effects of the tincture set in.

  “I’m not afraid,” she assured him, but she did fear being vulnerable. She pushed the thought away, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Come, let’s turn you onto your stomach. The worst of the wounds are on your back. I need to tend those first.” He settled his head on the pillow, facing her. As he relaxed, Elizabeth picked up the needle. She ran the metal through a hot flame before she threaded it and set to work, sewing the edges of the first wound closed.

  The room suddenly seemed too warm, the air too thick, as she started work on the second open wound. She bent so close to him, she could perceive the tightening of his muscles, the increased rhythm of his breathing. Her stitches were even and steady as she tied the thread off. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the gentle duet of their breathing.

  She glanced at his face, and her breath caught. In that moment she saw past the blood and grime still covering his face to the true handsomeness there. Golden hair framed his face, a face that held not brutality and menace, but determination and kindness.

  It was the kind of face a woman couldn’t help but stare at in awe and with desire. With gentleness, she brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. Her hand strayed to the strong, straight line of his cheekbone, and down to his chin. “I’m so sorry to bring you pain,” she whispered.

  A faint smile came to his lips and a curious light filled his eyes. “I hardly felt a thing.”

  Elizabeth curled her fingers against the light flutter that took flight in her stomach, before she returned to her sewing. When she was done, she thoroughly cleansed his back, and applied the salve before winding fresh linen over his wounds, and praying they would heal well.

  When she was done, she turned him over. “Are the pillows soft enough? I can try to find something softer.”

  He grimaced as he leaned back into the pillows. “These are an absolute blessing compared to what I had before.”

  Elizabeth noted the lines of tension around Lachlan’s mouth and eyes. When had she become so familiar with the expressions on his face? Needing a distraction, she spread salve on the prick marks over his chest and arms.

  “Elizabeth.” When she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he stopped her hand from spreading more salve. “You are not responsible for my injuries or my pain.”

  “So much has happened since our wedding,” she admitted, meeting his gaze.

  “Aye.” He laced his fingers through hers, his grip strong and excruciatingly intimate. Then he tensed and pulled his hand from hers, staring down at her right hand. “Where is your mother’s ring?”

  “I traded it for entrance into your cell, and for fresh straw, clean water, and linens to help you heal.”

  He frowned. “You should not have done that.”

  “I had to.”

  Silence fell between them again until she said, “Your brothers-in-arms were all here. Reid and Quinn remain, but the others have dispersed to gather everyone who has given testimony against you. Within a day or two, all the evidence we need to free you will be here in Haddington. My father will no longer be able to maintain his falsehoods about what happened, and you will be set free.” Tears came to her eyes. “Soon we will take back control of the situation. My father will not get the best of either of us.”

  “Thank you for all you did to make that happen.” His touch softened as he leisurely stroked his thumb back and forth across the sensitive flesh of her palm. Her pulse accelerated.

  “I didn’t do much. Reid and Quinn had the same idea as I did about finding some way to disprove my father’s lies. Your brothers-in-arms are the ones who deserve the credit for heading in four different directions to gather everything quickly.” She could not look away as her heart beat faster and the blood quickened in her veins.

  “Have you seen your father since my arrest?”

  She shook her head. “He was angry after I refused to return home with him. But I will need to confront him sooner or later.”

  “Make sure Reid or Quinn are with you when you do.” He leaned closer until his lips were mere inches from hers.

  She could see the pulse drumming in his temple. The warmth of his breath caressed her throat, causing her to tremble. He’d said it to her when they’d first married, that there would be a time when she would ask him, beg him to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her.

  Those thoughts filled her mind now as she brought her lips to his and the fire that had been smoldering between them for days leapt to life, and she wanted more. To her immense relief, so did he. He made no secret of his desire as his hands moved to her shoulders, then her back, hauling her deeper into his arms. He pressed against her and invited her in. There was nothing to prevent them from indulging the passion that flared so hotly, so powerfully, between them.

  She felt the beating of his heart against her chest, echoing her own as he took charge of the kiss in that moment. He kissed her with unleashed passion, his tongue tangling with hers, then plunging and slowly retreating in some wildly exciting, forbidden rhythm that made the blood roar in her ears.

  Her hand came up to rest against his chest, before she jerked it back, longing to touch him, but knowing she should n
ot, not until he was more fully healed. She wanted to explore the man in her arms, to quench the tension that curled tauter, tighter in her belly . . . That moment would come after she’d had an examination by the king’s physician on the morrow.

  At the remembrance, she broke the kiss suddenly.

  “Not yet,” he whispered against her lips.

  “We must stop,” she said on a tortured breath. “I have an examination by the king’s physician tomorrow to prove you did not harm me at Ravenscraig Castle. If you kiss me again, I’m not certain I will have the will to resist you.”

  His smile held sadness as well as sweetness. “You do not have to put yourself through all that for me. I know it was important for you to convince others our marriage was consummated when it was not. What’s changed?”

  She didn’t look at him. “I’ve changed. You’ve changed. Our situation has changed.”

  With a finger beneath her chin, he brought her gaze back to his. “Change is an inevitable part of life. If you are not changing, then you are not living fully.”

  “There has been too much change for you lately. I need to see the physician because I need to believe there is some justice in this world or nothing makes sense.” She glanced down at his bandaged chest. “If you, or I, suffer like this again, it will be because we believe what we are suffering for is worth the cost of the pain, not because of something my father orchestrated.”

  “Agreed,” he said with a smile in his voice. He shifted his body to the side of the bed, and patted the now empty space beside him. “Come, sit by me, let me hold you in my arms.”

  “But your injuries—”

  “Are feeling much better thanks to that tincture and your intoxicating kisses.”

  She moved beside him. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer until she laid her cheek against his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about what that man did to you? Will that help ease your suffering, to share it with me?”

  “Nay!” His voice was harsh, strained. “I would never wish for you to know the horrors one human can inflict upon another. My memories will fade in time, especially with you at my side. Let us talk of something else.”