Connie Mason (13 page)

“I have a suggestion,” Sir Brody ventured.

“So do I,” Dickon said.

Damian heaved an impatient sigh. “Very well, you first, Dickon.”

“Send Lady Elissa to London and the rest of her family to the convent. You need to concentrate on your bride. Whether you approve of her or not, Lady Kimbra brings considerable wealth to your coffers. Your new title and holdings are guaranteed only if you wed the king’s choice of bride.”

“That solution is not acceptable to me, Dickon. Lady Marianne might be accepting of the convent, but little Lora’s spirit would be broken behind convent walls. As for Elissa, sending her to London is not an option. The Crown has little sympathy for Jacobites.”

He turned to the grizzled knight. “I hope your suggestion is more acceptable, Sir Brody.”

Sir Brody cleared his throat, then faced Damian squarely. “Wed the lass, my lord.”

Wed Elissa.

Sir Brody’s words thrummed through Damian’s head like the blast of a trumpet long after he’d returned to his chamber. Instead of seeking his bed, he slumped in a chair, a snifter of brandy in his hand and his legs stretched toward the hearth.

Wed Elissa.

Utterly preposterous.

The king would never allow it.

He tossed the brandy to the back of his throat and swallowed noisily. Then he poured himself another. He was astounded that he even let himself consider such a ridiculous idea. His mind mired in indecision, he stared into the flickering flames until his head dropped forward and sleep finally claimed him. He awakened when the snifter dropped from his hand and shattered on the flagstone floor. Then he rose and fell fully dressed onto his bed.

The following days sped by much too quickly for Damian’s peace of mind. In a few days he and Kimbra would join in marriage before an assembly of Englishmen and Highlanders. As the appointed day approached, the more demanding Kimbra became. Nothing pleased her. She carped constantly about the food, the lack of simple luxuries, the remoteness of Misterly from London, and Damian’s lack of control over the servants.

Damian was losing patience with the woman he was expected to wed, bed, and get heirs upon. Her spitefulness was uncalled for and her boldness disgusted him. She sought him out like a bitch in heat, determined to seduce him. It wasn’t difficult for Damian to resist, for he knew her purpose, aside from the sexual aspect, was to persuade him to send Elissa and her family away.

For the past week Kimbra had been excessively demanding, ordering special food for the wedding feast, becoming loudly vocal about the decorations she favored, and declaring how she wished the wedding ceremony to proceed. Every available servant was cleaning and scrubbing and polishing, until the hall sparkled. And it was blatantly obvious that Kimbra took special delight in giving the most difficult chores to Elissa.

Because he wished for a peaceful coexistence with Kimbra, Damian tried not to interfere, but it was difficult to watch Elissa struggle with the chores Kimbra had assigned to her. A time or two he felt obliged to intercede and asked one of the men to take over Elissa’s duties when he found her on her knees scrubbing the solar stairs.

Damian’s nerves were stretched to the limit. The day before the wedding, he escorted Kimbra to her chamber for a private word. The moment the door closed behind them, Kimbra flung herself into his arms.

“I knew you’d change your mind, Damian.” Her fingers worked frantically at the buttons on his coat. “You want me and can’t wait to make me yours.”

Damian removed her busy hands from his person and held her at bay. “You’re wrong, Kimbra. I merely want to set you straight on a few things before we wed.”

Her lips turned downward into a pout. “Whatever do you mean? Don’t you want me?”

“I want Misterly,” Damian replied. “Since you’re included in the deal, I am obliged to wed you. You’ve sorely tested my temper these past weeks, Kimbra. Lord knows I’ve been more patient with you than you deserve. But heed me well, my lady, your behavior is unacceptable and I will not stand for it.”

Kimbra’s mouth dropped and her eyes rounded.

“I am master here,” Damian continued. “You will cease to destroy the peace I’m trying to preserve in my home. Your complaints are unfounded and your harsh treatment of Elissa and her kinsmen is intentionally cruel and unjust.”

Kimbra reared back as if struck. “How dare you! The king shall hear of this. You owe your loyalty to me, not to Jacobite traitors. When the king told me I was to become your countess, I was willing to come to this wilderness for the wedding, but I had no intention of removing myself from London society for good, or making my home in this savage country. ’Tis best that we settle this here and now.”

’
Tis best if we don’t marry,
Damian thought but did not say, for he had to wed Kimbra, whether or not he liked it.

“I must have an heir,” Damian said, grimacing at the thought of bedding the spoiled witch. “You will remain at Misterly until you give me one.”

Kimbra gave him a blinding smile, her avid gaze lingering on his massive chest, then sliding downward to his groin. “I will have no problem making love with you, Damian. Strong, forceful men excite me.”

“Are you a maiden, Kimbra?”

Kimbra flushed and looked away. “Of course, my lord, why would you think otherwise?”

Damian didn’t believe her for a minute, but time would tell. “I’ll make a deal with you, Kimbra. One that should satisfy both of us.”

“A deal, Damian?”

“Yes. After you give me a son, you can go your own way, live wherever you want, do as you please. But the child will remain with me.”

“Will you keep your mistress with you at Misterly?” Kimbra challenged contemptuously. “Do you think I’m blind? I know you’re bedding Elissa. That’s why you don’t want me.”

“You delude yourself, Kimbra. Since you’ve been here, you’ve done nothing but complain. You find fault with everything and are quite vocal about your contempt for Misterly and its people.”

“Misterly is not London,” she sniffed.

“My deal, Kimbra. Do you accept?”

She gave him a sly smile. “Only if you promise to send Elissa and her family away.”

Damian turned to leave. “I had hoped we’d find common ground, but I see I was mistaken.”

“Do you love Elissa?” Kimbra challenged, stopping Damian in his tracks. His silence was damning. “How can you? You fought Jacobites at Culloden; you lost your father there.”

Damian whirled to face her. “The battle was fought and won long ago. I hold no grudges. Lord Cumberland has decimated the Highlanders’ ranks; only a few lucky souls remain to carry on their tradition, and most of them are in hiding. I was given Misterly to hold for England and to maintain peace in this remote corner of Scotland. I’d hoped you’d be a helpmate to me.”

“I will be your countess and share your passion, but I simply refuse to spend my life at Misterly.” She looked away. “Leave me. There’s much to be done before our wedding tomorrow.”

Had Kimbra not turned her back, she would have seen Damian’s expression harden before he stormed from the chamber, slamming the door behind him. How in bloody hell was he going to survive this marriage?

Fate intervened.

The Gordons appeared at Misterly the following day. Damian was awakened at dawn with the news that a man bearing a white flag was approaching the gate. Damian dressed and hurried down to the gate to meet the messenger.

Dermot had gotten there before him. “’Tis the Gordon chieftain,” he said.

Damian studied Tavis Gordon with avid curiosity. The man was handsome, he grudgingly allowed. Tall and rugged, he held himself proudly beneath the forbidden clan tartan thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Damian could understand Elissa’s fascination with the man.

Tavis Gordon rode to within shouting distance, then stopped.

“What do you want, Gordon?” Damian demanded.

“My intended bride,” Gordon shouted. “Send her out and we’ll leave peacefully.

“You know I can’t do that,” Damian returned.

“Elissa was promised to me by her father. Release her. If ye donna send Elissa out to me now, we will attack. We have enough strength on our side to win.”

“You’re welcome to try, Gordon,” Damian challenged, “but you won’t succeed.”

“More than a hundred Highlanders are camped in the forest, Englishman. What say ye to that?”

“Go to hell.”

Gordon stared at Damian for a long moment, then he wheeled his mount and rode off into the dense forest beyond Misterly.

“Does Gordon speak the truth, Dermot?” Damian inquired of the old man. “Could he have rallied that many Highlanders to his cause?”

“There be outlaw clans living in exile in the mountains,” Dermot said. “It wouldna take much to persuade them to retaliate against the English butchers who killed their kinsmen and seized their homes and lands. It wouldna surprise me if Gordon had enlisted a hundred or more men to join him.”

“He knows he cannot win,” Damian said.

“Highlanders are a curious lot,” Dermot mused.

“Their strength lies in their tenacity and their unshakable belief in themselves. Gordon believes Elissa is his and that Misterly should belong to him by right of marriage to Alpin Fraser’s daughter.”

Sir Richard appeared at Damian’s side. “I alerted the soldiers while you negotiated with Gordon. They’re waiting for your orders.”

“I can always count on you, Dickon,” Damian said, slapping the knight on the back. “I want around the clock guards and double patrols on the bulwarks. For now we’ll wait and watch.”

“What about the villagers? Are they in danger?”

“I doubt it. The villagers are mostly farmers and shepherds. It seems unlikely that Gordon would attack Elissa’s kinsmen.”

“Can you trust the villagers not to join Gordon and take up arms against you?”

“I don’t know, Dickon. I can only hope they will realize I can do more for them than the Gordon chieftain.”

Another voice joined the conversation. “Tavis Gordon will do whatever it takes to punish you.”

Damian spun around. “Elissa! I didn’t see you approach. How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know Tavis willna leave unless you send me out to him.”

“Forget it,” Damian said tersely. He turned to Sir Richard. “You have your orders, Dickon.” Dickon saluted smartly and left. Dermot followed in his wake.

Damian grasped Elissa’s arm and steered her away from the gate. “Why should I give in to Gordon’s demands?”

“‘Twould make sense. You donna know how many men Tavis has rallied to his cause.”

“Are you that anxious to go to him, Elissa?”

“Nay. ’Tis true I want my home back, but not if it means your death. I’ve changed my mind about…many things. Tavis is one of them.”

“Do I take that to mean you no longer hate me?”

“I hate what you stand for and what your countrymen have done to my homeland. I hate the devastation wrought by the Hanover and his butcher. And I hate being held prisoner in my own home.”

“But you don’t hate
me.
”

She faced him squarely, her face rigid. “I hate you.”

“Liar.”

“Your bride awaits you, go to her.”

Bloody hell! He’d forgotten that today was his wedding day. Pulling Elissa along with him, he returned to the keep. The Reverend Trilby met him at the door.

“What’s amiss, my lord? There seems to be confusion in the hall.”

“We are under siege, Reverend. There will be no wedding this day. Please inform Lady Kimbra.”

“Aye, my lord. I understand perfectly. It wouldn’t be seemly to celebrate a wedding when the enemy is at our door. I’m sure Lady Kimbra will understand.”

“What will I understand?” Kimbra asked as she joined them.

“There will be no wedding today, my lady,” Trilby explained.

Kimbra’s delicate brows lifted as she stared at Damian’s hand resting upon Elissa’s arm. “Kindly explain why you are postponing our nuptials, Lord Damian.”

“In case you haven’t heard, my lady, the fortress is under siege. ’Tis not the best time to hold a wedding.”

Kimbra stamped her foot in a childish show of temper. “I won’t have it! Who dares to attack you?”

“Tavis Gordon and his clansmen,” Damian said tersely.

“Why?”

“They want Lord Damian to release me,” Elissa explained.

Kimbra shot Elissa a venomous look. “Then by all means, Damian, give them what they want and let us get on with the wedding.”

“Heed Lady Kimbra, my lord,” Elissa advised. “Once I walk out the gate, Tavis will leave Misterly in peace.”

“You’re naive if you believe that, Elissa. You’re not going anywhere. Gordon doesn’t stand a chance against my seasoned soldiers.”

“Have you considered that Tavis’s men outnumber yours? Misterly has never been under attack. Its safety lay in its remoteness. Father was the great Alpin Fraser, Laird of Misterly; no hostile clan dared to invade his lands.”

Damian considered Elissa’s words. It was true Misterly had its shortcomings, but the soldiers under his command were more than able to defeat Gordon and his ill-trained band of savages. He would not send Elissa to the Gordon chieftain.

“Nay, Elissa, you will stay here. Lady Marianne and Lora must be wondering what is going on. Perhaps you should go to them. Tell them not to worry, that I will protect them.”

Elissa stared at him a moment, then spun on her heel and marched off.

“I don’t like it, Damian. Why are you so protective of Elissa?” Kimbra demanded to know. “Deliver her to Gordon and forget about her.”

“I agree with Lady Kimbra, my lord,” Reverend Trilby ventured. “If the Gordon chieftain meant her harm, I could understand your reluctance. But she is his kind; ’tis doubtful he’ll hurt her.”

“I appreciate your concern, Reverend,” Damian said with waning patience. “His Majesty has forbidden a marriage between Elissa and Tavis Gordon, and I but carry out his orders. Now if you’ll both excuse me, my men have need of me.”

The Gordons’ first attack came an hour later, with an attempt to scale the walls. A shower of arrows preceded the attack, but Damian’s men drove them back and they retreated to the relative safety of the forest. But Elissa knew Tavis hadn’t given up. She also believed that Tavis wouldn’t have risked an attack if he hadn’t sufficient men and arms to warrant success. She wished now that Damian hadn’t sent the Black Watch back to London.

Elissa huddled with Lady Marianne and Lora while the battle raged below, but her mind was with Damian. She had to know what was happening. He could be hurt. Or, God forbid, dead.

“I can’t sit here any longer, Mama,” Elissa said. “I’m going below to help Nan with the wounded. As much as I dislike Englishmen, I hate to see anyone suffer.”

“Be careful,” Marianne warned, as Elissa let herself out.

Lady Kimbra accosted Elissa at the foot of the stairs. “Why aren’t you in your chamber?” Elissa asked.

“I was looking for you. Where can we talk in private?”

“Can’t it wait? I’m needed to help with the wounded.”