A Temptress in Tartan

by Gerri Russell

  The king regarded her with indifference before he addressed her father. “Donald Ruthven, you are guilty of not telling the court the truth in its pursuit of justice. And on top of that, I have had my fill of you and your Ruthven brethren over the years. I had thought the marriage of your daughter to a Douglas would end your scandalous behavior. Obviously, I was wrong. So instead of imprisoning you here so that your daughter and her husband can have any kind of life, I will grant you your freedom,” he paused, as if for effect, before adding, “by banishing you to the Shetland Islands.”

  “The Northern Isles of Scotland!” Donald Ruthven cried. “I’ll never find my way home from those distant shores. Might as well put me in chains here.”

  “You would be wise to make Shetland your new home. I hear Lerwick on the east coast of the mainland is not so bad. I will send you with a sum of money that should be enough to buy you a fresh start.”

  Elizabeth could see the white-hot flash of anger that swept through her father. “I won’t go! You’ll never make me board that ship!”

  The king straightened, his own cheeks turning red. “For that outburst, I will now send one of your kin along with you. Keddy Ruthven.” The king motioned that Keddy was to step forward from the back of the chamber. “You are banished along with your ex-clan leader.”

  Donald Ruthven’s face paled as Keddy came forward. “Who will lead the clan if I am gone?”

  “You are but regent for the true clan leader, John Ruthven. How old is John at present?”

  Donald Ruthven winced. “Fifteen, and too young to manage a clan with the size and complexity of the Ruthvens.”

  “Then I will send one of my advisors to assist him until he is fully prepared to take over,” the king stated with a note of triumph in his voice.

  Donald Ruthven opened his mouth to object.

  “One more word out of you, Ruthven, and I will banish your entire clan.”

  Her father snapped his mouth closed. He stared at the king a long time until the anger faded from his eyes and was replaced by worn resignation.

  Knowing he had won that battle, the king turned to Lachlan. “You are free of all charges against you, Lachlan Douglas. And while I will not banish you from Scotland, I would suggest you and your bride take a trip of some sort—perhaps travel around the continent for a time—until the anger over Donald Ruthven’s banishment settles down, or until you have a Ruthven-Douglas child to bridge the divide between your two families.”

  In that moment, the reality of their situation hit her—Lachlan was free, her father would not be able to hurt either of them anymore, but he would be gone from her life forever.

  Emotion thickened her throat as she looked at Lachlan. He tried so hard to put on a brave face, but she could see the wrenching emotions in his eyes, the regret and the sorrow over the loss of her father that matched her own. Even as horrible as her father had been to her all through her life, Lachlan realized she would mourn his loss just as much as she had mourned her mother.

  “This tribunal is adjourned,” the Lord Advocate announced. Slowly the crowd dispersed until only Lachlan and Elizabeth, the king, the guards, and her father and Keddy remained.

  “I will give you a moment to say goodbye to your father, Elizabeth,” the king said.

  When they were gone, Donald Ruthven rounded on his daughter. “You never did anything right for me or the clan, Daughter. If you were a true Ruthven, you would have fought for me. I’m tempted to charge you of using witchcraft!”

  Lachlan stepped forward, putting himself between Elizabeth and her father. “That is enough. I beg you not to leave your daughter with angry words that you will regret in the years ahead.”

  “I regret nothing, except having a daughter instead of a son,” Donald Ruthven growled.

  Lachlan straightened. He stood with his legs widened and by placing his hands on his hips, he made himself appear larger than he usually was. “Whether you want to hear this or not, I forgive you for all you put me through,” Lachlan said as he slipped his arm around her waist. “I will show that forgiveness every day as I care for your daughter.”

  “I forgive you as well. I know you are angry and do not really mean what you say. At least, I hope not,” Elizabeth said, suddenly seeing her father as her equal and no longer through a child’s eyes. He was a man filled with strength and faults. Perhaps in a new location he could find a place for himself and use his strengths for the betterment of all those whom his life would touch. For an instant she felt a pang of regret that she would not be a part of that new life, then a warm ripple of contentment flowed over her as she turned to gaze at Lachlan. Her life was here with her husband.

  Lachlan held her tight against his side as the guards led Keddy and her father away and the king followed, leaving the two of them alone.

  “I won’t see him ever again, will I?” Elizabeth whispered.

  “None of us know what the future holds,” Lachlan replied as he bent and placed a kiss atop her head. “I, for one, would like very much to put some distance between myself and Berwick.”

  Just then the yowl of displeasure filled the chamber. “The cat! They left the cat behind.” She turned to him; her eyes wide. “We cannot leave him here. Can we please take him back to Whittingehame with us?”

  “As a once-suspected warlock, you wish me to harbor a black cat in my castle?”

  Elizabeth frowned. “You and I both know he has no great powers other than ridding you of vermin.”

  “Very true.” He sighed. “As you wish. We shall give him a new home.”

  She smiled her pleasure, but a heartbeat later that smile faded as she looked about the chamber one final time. “Before we leave, I want you to know I didn’t want to testify against you. I do not believe you killed my mother. I wouldn’t have said anything if my father—”

  “I was angry when I came to Ruthven Castle that night,” he explained quietly. “I wasn’t sure why I was even there, other than that I had to see with my own eyes the man who had killed my parents. When I stumbled into your chamber instead of your parents’ by mistake, I watched you sleep for a time before you woke. And once I looked into your eyes, I knew I could never do to you what had been done to me.” His lips twisted. “I left you then and went to your parents. Again, I was angry, but instead of harming them, I wanted fate to take its course. Today it did with your father. Your mother . . .” He paused as his gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth.”

  “I don’t believe in curses,” she said, “or witchcraft or sorcery. You did not hurt my mother. As I said, she had a headache that night. I truly believe something happened in the night that stole her from us—something normal and natural—something beyond our control.” She paused and swallowed back the tears she could feel burning at the back of her throat. “I should be the one apologizing. My family has been nothing but trouble for you.”

  He looked at her with a smile in his beautiful blue eyes. “Some things are worth a great deal of trouble.” He lifted her chin with his finger and searched her face. “You are worth everything. You are the prize I always wanted and never thought I would have. I love you, Elizabeth. I have loved you from the first moment we met, so many years ago. And I loved you more when I saw you on the cliff, and every day after that, my heart was filled with joy as we put our families’ past behind us to make a life of our own.”

  Everything they had been through in the last week suddenly came back to her. Without either of them knowing, the pain and the turmoil of those events had shaped their future, inexorably interwoven their paths, leading them to right here and now. She smiled at him, allowing him to see all the love in her heart. “True love and true forgiveness are gifts given to those who survive the peaks and the valleys of this life.”

  He bent and kissed her tenderly then whispered against her ear. “You and me, not a Ruthven and Douglas, but simply two souls uniting as one.”

  Elizabeth’s chest suddenly felt too small for her heart. She didn’t kno
w love could feel like this—so filled with joy and magic.

  As though reading her thoughts, he pulled back and smiled. “I am no warlock, but I do believe in magic . . . the magic of love, and forgiveness, and the magic of you, my love.”

  He held out his hand to her then. “Are you ready for the next part of our adventure?”

  She curled her fingers around his. “I’m ready.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Lachlan and Elizabeth returned to Whittingehame Castle that night along with the balance of the king’s Magnificent Seven, who had insisted on escorting them home to prevent further incident. When all were settled in their chambers, Lachlan presented Elizabeth with a gift.

  “What is this?” she asked, staring down at the folded piece of red silk with what felt like a small object inside.

  “Open it up to find out,” he said with a grin.

  When she pulled the silken edges of the cloth back, she felt tears come to her eyes. “My mother’s ring. How did you accomplish this?”

  He took the ring from her hand and slid it onto her right finger where she had worn it for years. “I found the guard you traded it with and offered him something of much greater value for its return. Every man has a price.”

  “And what was his?”

  A smile touched Lachlan’s lips. “A crofter’s share of our land here at Whittingehame for his wife and family.”

  She smiled in return. “That was kind of you.”

  “Nay,” Lachlan said, his gaze once more on her face. “I sacrificed nothing and received treasure in return.”

  Treasure. She’d never been called such before.

  “Now that that is done.” Lachlan held out his hand to her. “I have been dying to hold you in my arms since we left Berwick. Will you come with me, Elizabeth, to our bed?”

  Elizabeth could feel her heart start to pound just looking at him, at the smile that brought a flare of passionate intensity to his eyes. “Aye,” she said as she placed her hand in his.

  He led her up the stairs, down the hallway, and into their bedchamber. He shut the door behind them and she stood there, suddenly fascinated at the sight of him as he removed his boots and sword. Once he set those aside, he began to remove the tartan he’d changed into after he’d bathed upon their arrival home. He’d said it was so he could leave all traces of Berwick behind him. When his tartan pooled on the floor at his feet, he stripped off his shirt and threw it aside, until he stood naked before her. Her heart stumbled as she noted his pricker’s marks had faded to only pink spots that would soon be gone entirely.

  And more than anything she wanted to touch his skin, blemished or not, to close her fingers on the golden, springy thatch on his chest, rub her palms over the smooth, hard, musculature of his shoulders, and try to cleanse from him the memory of all he had suffered, replaced with sensations of pleasure and passion.

  The shutters were open, letting in the sweet heather-scented air as well as the moonlight that bathed him in a silvery glow, delineating each feature of his face, the tough, sinewy strength of his shoulders and his thighs. His every muscle was tense, and his manhood boldly aroused.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe as the air in the room seemed heavy and vibrating with the same arousal she saw in him. She came toward him then, unable to resist him any longer, moving closer to him until she felt the heat of his body against her own. And when she looked up at him, he bent his head down and kissed her. Softly at first, just a brush of his lips against hers, until she heard herself release an appreciative sigh, and with a groan of his own, he took her mouth, urging it open, as though he needed to taste her very essence.

  His hands came up to pull the pins from her hair, and he let them drop as he slid his fingers through her hair, fanning the heavy length across her shoulders and down her back. His mouth moved from hers and traced the sensitive flesh of her throat. He dragged down the sleeves of her gown, revealing her breasts.

  The warm night air caressed her bare skin, tingling and curiously erotic. Then she felt his tongue, hot and wet, circling her nipples, urging them to taut, painful peaks until she nearly cried out with longing.

  His hands moved behind her to release the fastenings of her gown. As his fingers brushed her flesh she inhaled sharply at the sensation. Her gown fell into a pool of damask at her feet. He bent his head down again and pressed the gentlest of kisses to her shoulder as his hands moved to push her chemise down the length of her body to settle atop her dress.

  Elizabeth gasped at the loss of his nearness as he moved briefly away before returning with his tartan. He draped the cloth across the shoulder he had kissed, and wound the length about her waist, allowing the ends to trail upon the floor. He lifted her hand and placed it on his chest. She felt the thunder of his heart beneath her palm.

  “Now you are truly my lady and I want you,” he said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more. It’s important to me that you know it was thinking about you, about this, that kept me sane during—”

  She kissed the words away. There was no need to say them. She knew he spoke of his time in the gaol, and at the hands of John Swinton. “Turn around,” she said softly.

  He tensed. “The wounds will fade with time,” he said, his voice tight.

  “This moment for us is a time of healing. Let me heal you, Lachlan, to replace the horrors with new memories.”

  After a slight hesitation, he turned and she saw the welts and cuts on his back had faded to slivers of pink and purple. The open wounds were no longer bleeding, but scabbed and healing.

  Slowly, reverently, she bent and pressed her lips lightly to each mark. “I love you. I need you. Please be mine, forever,” she said the words in a litany until she no longer saw the wounds, but instead felt his strength, his hardness, his heat.

  When she paused, he turned around and simply held her gaze with hope burning brightly in his eyes. “I am yours and you are mine with all our faults and all our glory.”

  Tears of happiness she’d never thought to feel filled her eyes. The same emotion swelled in her chest and filled her heart to overflowing.

  He kissed her again, a long deep kiss that stirred the flames between them to life once more. When he broke the kiss, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down on the soft coverlet, before joining her there, kissing the sensitive flesh behind her ear, following it with his tongue, stoking the fires as he trailed kisses along her collarbone and between her breasts. She arched against him with a silent moan, communicating her need.

  He understood and gently unwrapped the tartan from around her before he knelt between her legs, parting her thighs. His arousal pressed against her as he entered her slowly, carefully, until he filled her completely. She clutched at the coverlet, so intense were the sensations rippling through her. His very slowness, deliberateness was unbearably erotic and sensual. She felt the hardness of his body against her, felt him sink into her, gently increasing the rhythm until Elizabeth felt pressure building, slowly, intensely.

  She ran her hands over the smoothness of his heated shoulders and back, until she locked her legs around his hips and rocked with him. When she opened her eyes to look at him, her breath caught. He gazed down upon her with eyes darkened with passion, his throat sinewy with the strain of holding back.

  Elizabeth rocked against him, feeling the slide of his body against her own, reveling in the exotic sensation of his chest hair brushing her sensitive nipples until the pressure inside her built, swirling, rising, filing her body and her soul until they scaled that peak, celebrating the beginning of a new life together. Love drove them, held them, and enfolded them until it felt as though the sun, the moon, and the stars were shining upon them all at once.

  When at last they slumped together with warmth and satiation heavy in their veins and their heartbeats slowly returning to a normal rhythm, Lachlan shifted his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “We were destined to be together, my dear Elizabeth. No matter the obstacles
that stood between us. We made it to this moment, and if I am not mistaken, we have accomplished yet another task the king has set before us.”

  She leaned up on her elbow and stared down into her husband’s face. “What are you speaking of? What task have we accomplished for the king here in our bedchamber?”

  He lowered his head and placed a kiss upon her abdomen. “A bairn. I am convinced our joining has brought forth a new life.”

  “You cannot know such things.”

  “But I do,” he said with a laugh. “Trust me, you will come to know the truth very soon. What we just experienced was the closest thing to magic upon this very earth.”

  Elizabeth smiled, still feeling branded by the taste of him on her lips and the feel of him against her flesh. “Then let us surround ourselves with magic once again.”

  And so, they did.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, Lachlan and Elizabeth arrived in the great hall to find at table the others who had returned to Whittingehame with them, breaking their fasts. At their entrance, Lachlan’s fellow warriors gathered around them. With great joy, Lachlan introduced Elizabeth to them all. They were greeted with hugs from Lucy, and his cousins greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and him a stout pat on the back.

  “Thank you all for traveling with us last night,” Lachlan said to the group of men and one woman. “After such an eventful week prior, it was comforting to know we would have an uneventful return home.”

  Alexander Ross’s lips quirked. “Your future is anything but settled. What will you do now that the king has bid you to leave Scotland for a time?”

  “Where will you go?” Rhys Elliot asked.

  When Lachlan didn’t immediately reply, Cameron Sinclair came to stand before him and Elizabeth. “I might have a solution for you, if you will accept it.”