Connie Mason (9 page)

Elissa looked away. “Aye, to my everlasting shame, I did find pleasure in your arms.”

Damian went still. “You found that shameful? Is that how you’d describe what we did?” His expression hardened. “If I remember correctly, you came to me tonight. Is there a hidden reason behind your capitulation? An agenda I’m not aware of?”

Elissa’s heart fluttered.
He mustn’t become suspicious.
“Oh, nay, nay!” she denied. “I came to your chamber because I wanted you. I wanted to know pleasure, and I wanted you to give it to me.”

The reality behind her words gave her momentary pause. Was it true? Had she secretly
wanted
Damian to make love to her? No wonder she was consumed with guilt.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Damian murmured, nuzzling her neck. “You’re here, however, no matter what your motive, and the night is still young.”

Elissa’s eyes widened. “You mean…again? Is that possible?”

“Trust me.”

He rose and padded barefoot to the washstand. She watched warily as he poured water into a bowl, wet a cloth, and returned to bed.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you,” Damian said.

Gently spreading her legs, he wiped away all traces of blood and seed. Then he returned the soiled cloth to the washstand and joined her in bed. Elissa was too embarrassed to look at him.

“Look at me, sweeting.”

The plea in his voice was irresistible. Her chin notched upward as she stared into the glowing depths of his silver eyes. His blatant desire overwhelmed her. She started violently when he cupped her between the legs and pressed the heel of his palm lightly, insistently, against her core, his fingers stroking over silken inner folds.

“Soft,” Damian whispered, “so soft. I knew you’d be responsive. There’s a fire in you that pushes me over the edge. I burn for you, Elissa. Only you can quench the yearning within me.”

A voice inside Elissa cautioned against taking Damian’s pretty words to heart, for they meant nothing. They were enemies, and always would be. Then her thoughts scattered as Damian rolled with her in his arms and brought her over him.

“Take me inside you, Elissa,” he muttered thickly. Then he thrust upward, impaling her.

She felt dizzy, aching, as he brought her to the brink and held her suspended. Moments later she tumbled into paradise, her body pulsing with rapture. She felt him convulse violently, then go limp.

Elissa must have dozed, for when she awakened Damian was sleeping soundly, his breathing steady, his brow smooth and untroubled. A lock of dark hair clung to his damp forehead and she had the sudden urge to push it away, but she feared to, lest he awaken.

Easing herself from the warm bed, Elissa shivered, overcome by a chill that had nothing to do with the cool night air. She scrambled for her robe and pulled it on. Then she glanced out the window. The night was as dark as the inside of a tomb; a night designed for treachery. The moment of truth was at hand. Tavis had demanded that she kill Damian and signal him when the deed was done.

The knife! She had forgotten it in her chamber. With a start Elissa realized that killing Damian had never been her intention. She could still do as the Gordon chieftain directed and unlock the postern gate. But could she stand by and let Gordons kill Damian because she’d been too weak to do it herself? Who should she betray? Her clansmen or Damian? Could she live with herself if she didn’t align her loyalty with Tavis Gordon and his cause?

Indecision rode her mercilessly as she picked up the candlestick. She glanced at Damian. He was still sleeping. She took a step toward the window. So much depended on her. To betray Damian, all she had to do was show a light in the window and slip away to unlock the postern gate.

Bloodshed would ensue. Men would be slain in their sleep. Her own kinsmen could suffer. Was her honor worth the terrible loss of lives?

To whom did she owe her loyalty? To Highlanders who had been sadly abused by the English, or to the man who had just made love to her as if he truly cared for her? In her heart Elissa knew there was far more between her and Damian than simple attraction. She had succumbed to his seduction eagerly, had responded with a passion that had both appalled and thrilled her. She’d never known making love could be so rewarding for a woman, and she suspected she wouldn’t have enjoyed it had Tavis been the man loving her.

Nay, she wanted only Damian, her avowed enemy.

Her grip on the candlestick tightened. Her hand shook. Flayed by indecision, she couldn’t seem to take that final step to the window. The candlestick grew too burdensome to lift.

You’re a traitor to your people.
The words reverberated in her brain.
Only a whore would make love to a man, then heartlessly betray him.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, Elissa heard Tavis’s words reminding her of her father and brothers who had fallen at Culloden. Could Damian have wielded the blade that had slain them?

Her legs were leaden as she took another step toward the window.

Torn.

Oh God, she was torn; wrenched between loyalty to her kinsmen and the newly discovered empathy for the man who was her enemy. Her choices were woefully slim; none of them pleased her. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.

She took another small step forward, then stopped, a silent cry of denial building in her throat. She couldn’t go through with it. Her heart demanded that she awaken Damian and tell him about Tavis’s plan and her part in it. She whirled to do just that and hit a solid wall of human flesh.

“So lovely yet so deceitful,” Damian hissed. “I knew better than to trust you, lady.” He grasped the candlestick from her hand and extinguished the flame. “Who were you going to signal, lady?”

“No one!” A sob caught in her throat. “I couldn’t do it. Tavis wanted me to…”

“To do what? Kill me?”

“Aye…nay…I brought no weapon, Damian.”

His voice rang with mockery. “You tried to poison me once and failed.”

“I merely put you to sleep.”

His hands tightened on her shoulders; she cringed, but her gaze did not waver from his. She was frightened, but somehow she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, though he had good reason to.

He gave her a rough shake. “What treachery did you and Tavis hatch?”

Her mouth went dry. She shook her head.

His expression turned murderous, his voice low and threatening. “Tell me. No more lies. You’ve too much to lose.”

Elissa knew exactly to what Damian was referring. He could do anything he wanted to her mother and sister with the king’s blessing, and it would be all her fault.

“Tavis entered the gates with a group of tradesmen a few days ago,” she blurted. “He found me alone and presented his plan.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Aye, go on.”

“He gave me a knife and asked me to kill you. He suggested that I come to your chamber and let you bed me, then I was to kill you while you slept. After the deed was done I was supposed to signal with the candle. Then I was to open the postern gate so the Gordons could slay your men while they slept.”

“Are they still waiting for the signal?”

“I suppose. But I wasna going to do it, Damian. I couldna.”

“Where is the knife Gordon gave you?”

“I forgot it, but even if I had the blade, I could never kill you, Damian.”

Why wouldn’t he believe her? She stiffened as his large hands slid over her body, searching for the knife.

“I’m surprised you didn’t use my own sword to kill me. ’Tis sitting in the corner. Did Tavis tell you to seduce me?”

She looked away. His sword was indeed sitting against the wall, but using it hadn’t even entered her mind. “Tavis suggested I do whatever was necessary. But that’s not the reason I came to you tonight. I wanted you, Damian. I…wanted you to love me.”

He shoved her away, a feral growl on his lips. She stumbled backward and tumbled onto the bed.

“Liar. I didn’t trust you when you came to my chamber all sweetness and seduction, and I don’t trust you now.”

“Damian, please, I’m not capable of killing in cold blood.”

“Not even your enemy?”

She regarded him solemnly, her eyes misty.
“Are
we enemies, Damian? Truly?”

“I was never your enemy, Elissa. You’re the one who chose that relationship for us.”

He pulled on his breeches and shirt and snatched his sword and scabbard from the corner. He buckled it around his hips and headed out the door.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t turn around. “Be here when I return, or you’ll be very sorry.”

Then he was gone, the hollow sound of his boot heels echoing loudly through the charged silence. She heard a commotion in the hall, then nothing more. When she dared to open the door, a guard stepped forward.

“Is there something you require, my lady?”

“N…no, thank you.”

She closed the door and leaned against it. A noise in the courtyard brought her rushing to the window. A cry caught in her throat when she saw Damian and a company of castle guards ride out from the fortress. Darkness closed in behind them and she saw nothing more.

Elissa had no idea how many men had rallied to Tavis’s cause, or if they were still waiting in the forest for her signal. What she did know was that should they engage in battle, Damian could be killed, and that would destroy her. She started to tremble, fearing the consequences this night had wrought.

Damian led the charge into the forest. As he thrashed through the thick underbrush, he spared a thought for Elissa and what she’d almost accomplished. Fortunately he was a light sleeper. He made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. Did she have the courage to kill in cold blood? He doubted it. Had she the instincts of a killer, he would already be dead. What really hurt was the knowledge that she came to him with one purpose in mind, to betray him, not because she wanted him, while he…well, ’twas best he didn’t delve too deeply into his heart for the answer.

Why did Elissa insist on making him her enemy? He certainly hadn’t harmed her…yet. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t see past Culloden and look to the future.

Damian’s thoughts scattered when he spied a number of dark shadowy figures fleeing through the forest. It appeared that Gordon had succeeded in mobilizing enough men to risk an assault upon Misterly. Fortunately Damian had nipped the plan in the bud, but it still rankled that Elissa would have opened the fortress gate to Gordon’s savage horde.

“After them!” Damian yelled, as he plunged deeper into the woods. But even as he said it he knew it was a fruitless pursuit. The Highlanders knew this land like the back of their hands and could disappear at will.

Nevertheless, Damian continued the search till dawn. Then, tired and hungry, he ordered his men back to the keep. Preparations were under way to serve the morning meal when Damian entered the great hall. Ignoring the food, he drew himself a tankard of ale and stared moodily into the hearth. His fury at Elissa hadn’t abated. When he thought of all the good Englishmen who would have been slain in their sleep had she opened the gate to Gordon, he wanted to…what? Shake her until her teeth rattled? Or love her until his name trembled from her lips?

“How did you know the Gordons were hiding in the forest?” Sir Richard asked, when he joined Damian a few minutes later.

Damian said nothing.

“I suspect Elissa is somehow involved,” Dickon guessed. “You haven’t…”

“I haven’t harmed her…yet. Excuse me, Dickon.”

Surging to his feet, he strode away, his face intent with purpose.

Elissa steeled herself to face Damian’s wrath as the bedchamber door opened. She nearly collapsed with relief when Nan, not Damian, entered the room.

“What have ye done, lass?”

Nothing in Nan’s expression offered comfort. Elissa saw only pity and concern.

“I did naught, Nan. Tavis wanted me to kill Damian and unlock the postern gate, but I couldna. I dinna even bring the knife Tavis gave me to Damian’s bedchamber.”

“Why dinna my ‘voices’ warn me?” Nan moaned. “I knew something was afoot, but the tension between ye and Lord Damian was so thick I couldna get through to the heart of things. I should have been more wary.”

“There’s naught you could have done, Nan. Tavis entered the courtyard disguised as a tradesman and waited until I was alone to approach me. He gave me a knife and said I was to kill Damian, signal him when the deed was done, and unlatch the postern gate.”

“Ye couldna kill Lord Damian,” Nan surmised.

“You’re right. Nor could I give the signal once Damian had fallen asleep. I donna want Damian to die. No matter what he did at Culloden.”

“What’s to become of ye, lass?” Nan asked anxiously.

“Nothing pleasant, I suspect.”

Nan stared at her, her keen blue eyes intent upon something only she could see. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded reedy and hollow, as if she had peered into the future and feared the consequences.

“Ah, lass, yer headed for difficult times.”

“They canna be more difficult than they are now,” Elissa scoffed.

“I fear for ye,” Nan said, searching Elissa’s face. “But ye are strong, ye will survive. Yer son will bring peace to Misterly and the Frasers.”

Elissa went still. “My son and Tavis’s?”

Nan chuckled. But when she would have explained, the door burst open and Damian stepped into the chamber.

“Out, woman!” he roared, gesturing wildly at Nan.

Nan sidled past him. “Donna hurt her, me lord,” she warned, “lest ye destroy yer future.”

“Babbling old woman,” Damian muttered, slamming the door behind her. He spun around, his gaze narrowing on Elissa.

Elissa sucked in a calming breath, but it did little to still the erratic pounding of her heart.

“They got away,” Damian bit out. “Every bloody one of them. My instincts tell me to attack their stronghold, but my heart knows another Culloden isn’t in England’s best interest.”

Elissa said nothing, gauging Damian’s anger. She waited with baited breath for him to unleash his formidable temper as he paced before her like an enraged bull. She didn’t have long to wait.

“Everything that passed between us last night was a lie!” he charged. “Your beloved Tavis would have slain me in my bed while you cheered him on.”

Elissa recoiled beneath his fury. “Nay! I was going to warn you, not kill you.”

His sarcasm bit deeply into her soul. “Of course you were. You let me make love to you while you planned my death. Why didn’t you let Gordon in through the secret tunnel?”

Elissa blanched. “You found it?”

Damian gave her a smug look. “Of course. I told you I would. ’Tis beneath the solar stairs.”

“Despite what you think, I never wanted your death. I’d never tell Tavis about the tunnel. ’Tis a family secret.”

Damian didn’t look at all convinced. “Where is the knife Gordon gave you?”

“Still in my room. I had no intention of using it.”

“What was your intention when you came to my chamber?”

She bit the soft underside of her lip. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re lying,” Damian charged. “I believe you intended to kill me and let Gordon into the keep. For your information, the attack would never have succeeded. Gordon was a fool to think Misterly could be taken so easily. Even had you succeeded, Dickon would have avenged my death and successfully defended the keep.” His voice was harsh with condemnation. “Your life, sweet vixen, would have been forfeited. And I can’t even guess what would become of your mother and sister had I been dispatched by your knife.”

“I swear, my lord, I donna want your death.”

He gave her an angry shake and shoved her away.

“What…what are you going to do?”

“I know what I
should
do, but then I’d have a rebellion on my hands. I don’t want to make enemies of the Frasers, so I will think of a punishment they will accept. Meanwhile, you will be confined in my chamber, denied visitors but for myself.”

“How long am I to be confined?”

“Forever, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You canna!”

“I can do anything I please.”

Spinning on his heel, Damian stormed from the chamber.

Damian felt as if his life was unraveling. How could Elissa have done this to him? She was fiery temptation and primal torment. He was still stunned by the knowledge that making love to Elissa had been the singularly most satisfying experience of his life. One he wasn’t sure he wished to terminate. Elissa had betrayed him, however, and that deed could not go unpunished.

Needing time alone to think, Damian went to the stables and ordered his horse saddled. He had no idea where he was going, he just knew he had to get away. He was well away from the fortress when he heard someone pounding after him. Glancing behind him, he saw Dickon hard on his heels. He halted to let Cosmo drink from a burn as he waited for his friend to catch up with him.

“What are you going to do about her?” Dickon asked without preamble when he reined in beside Damian.

“I wish I knew,” Damian said dully. “Elissa’s continued defiance baffles me. I thought I knew women, but she is an enigma.”

“A profound statement, given your experience with women,” Dickon chuckled. “You might consider sending her to London.”

“This is no joking matter, Dickon,” Damian argued. “I can’t send her to London. It could mean her death, given the state of the king’s mind where Jacobites are concerned.”

“There is one solution you haven’t considered.”

Damian made a dismissive sound in his throat. “I’ve considered every reasonable solution.”

“How about this one? Marry the lady to one of your knights. Preferably to someone who can keep her in line. After a babe or two, I predict she’ll cause no further mischief.”

Damian stared at Dickon as if his friend had blasphemed. The idea was outrageous. Marry Elissa to someone else? Let another man take her to his bed and make love to her?

“You have to admit the idea has merit,” Dickon continued blithely.

He raised one dark brow. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Aye,” Dickon said, nodding vigorously. “Wed her to someone she can’t wind around her finger. A strong man capable of putting an end to her shenanigans. I believe Sir Brody is such a man. He’s a battle-scarred knight known for his short temper and heavy hand. Let him deal with her.”

Damian gave a bark of laughter. “Haven’t you noticed that Sir Brody’s affections lean more toward the mother than the daughter?”

Dickon gave an elaborate shrug. “It makes little difference where his affections lay. Sir Brody will do as you say.”

Damian discarded Dickon’s suggestion out of hand. The idea wasn’t at all feasible. He suspected that beneath Sir Brody’s crusty exterior lay a soft heart. If Elissa were to wed an Englishman, it should be to a man who would deal harshly with her without breaking her spirit. A man like…himself?

A violent shake of his head cleared his mind of that ridiculous notion. Soon he would have a bride who would bring riches to his coffer, one chosen specifically for him by the king. What he didn’t need was a woman who hated him, a vixen who bore watching like a hawk lest she slay him in his sleep.

“I’ll consider your suggestion, Dickon,” Damian hedged. “But Sir Brody isn’t the right man for Elissa.”

“You will give it serious thought, won’t you, Damian?”

“Aye. Shall we continue our ride?”

Damian and Dickon returned to the keep in time for the noon meal. Damian plopped down in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. He served himself from a platter of meat and chewed thoughtfully. But after the first bite his appetite for food abruptly vanished.

His hunger for Elissa, however, was still potent and inescapable. He recalled every nuance of their lovemaking the night before, every little sigh he’d wrenched from her, each moan, and the final scream at the height of her climax. Had she been pretending? It seemed unlikely, given her inexperience. No matter, real or pretense, he knew Elissa would betray him again and yet again, given the chance.

“Fix a tray for Lady Elissa,” he growled to a passing servant. “I’ll take it up to her myself.”

Damian returned his attention to his food but was interrupted when Lora skipped into the hall with Nan following in her wake. “Am I late, Damian?”

Despite his dark mood, Damian smiled at the fetching child. “You’re just in time, Lora.” He scraped back his chair. “Here, take my place.”

Lora scooted into Damian’s chair, then looked about her, as if searching for someone. “Where is Lissa?”

“Your sister won’t be coming to the table today,” Damian proclaimed in a voice loud enough to carry throughout the hall. “She’s been confined to the tower.”

“Again?” Lora wailed. “What has she done now?”

“You’re a child, you wouldn’t understand,” Damian said, more harshly than he intended.

Maggie appeared with a cloth-covered tray in her hands. Damian took it from her, nodded his thanks, and strode off. “We’ll talk later, Lora,” he called over his shoulder.

Elissa heard footsteps approaching and marshaled her courage. Hands clenched at her sides, she was prepared when the door opened and Damian stepped inside. His expression was cold and unrelenting, devoid of all emotion. She watched warily as he set the tray down on a nearby table.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

“Thank you.”

He regarded her with such cold hostility that Elissa blurted out, “Go ahead, do your worst, my lord.”

“My worst? I fear you wouldn’t like my worst.”

He stalked toward her, until they were standing toe to toe. Elissa refused to give an inch.

“Why did you do it, Elissa? I’ve done nothing to harm you. You came to me and I gave you pleasure. Was it all a sham, an act to throw me off guard? Do you hate me so much?”

Hate Damian? Nay. She didn’t hate him, she…“I dinna hate you, Damian. My response to you was genuine. I wanted you. I admit I was undecided about my intentions when I entered your chamber, but there was never any doubt in my mind about killing you. I couldna, I wouldna.”

His brows drew together in a thick, black slash. “Am I supposed to believe you? You said you wanted me. Do you still want me? Will you respond to me just as you did last night if I make love to you now?”

She gave him a startled glance. “Surely you donna mean…you donna intend to…now?”

“Aye, Elissa, now.”

He crowded her against the bed, leaning forward until she was forced to bend under his weight. She fell onto the mattress and stared into his face. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were glinting like newly minted coins. She watched with mounting alarm as he slowly began to undress. How could he want her when he was so coldly furious? Was this, then, her punishment—to suffer his attentions knowing there was no warmth in the act? How could she bear it after last night?

Her thoughts scattered when she felt the mattress dip beneath Damian’s weight. He was naked, a flesh and blood man of magnificent proportions. The heat of his body assaulted her through the layers of her clothing. She couldn’t help herself; her body sought his of its own volition. She heard Damian chuckle, but there was little mirth in his laughter.

“Keep moving like that, sweeting, and this will end before you find pleasure.”

His hands moved over her, undressing her with a swiftness that took her breath away.

“Damian, nay…”

Her plea fell on deaf ears. She sensed the passion building within him, felt his hands shaking, and knew he wasn’t as unmoved as he pretended. The realization that he wouldn’t hurt her came in a brilliant flash of insight. She stopped struggling and let desire for this impossible Englishman sweep her away.

She felt his lips against her throat, and the pulse of her own heartbeat in the pounding of her blood. The tip of his tongue teased her flesh, searing a path between her breasts, a slow, sensuous trail that ultimately centered on the peak of her nipple. The brush of his tongue, the graze of his teeth, brought the knowledge that he was taking his time to arouse her instead of using her with ruthless disregard for her feelings.

The liquid heat of his mouth ignited flames deep in her being. She stirred against him, murmuring senseless words, aware of the fire that burned in him, of the pulse of life within him. She should press him away; she pulled him against her instead, her fingers stroking over him.

His tongue laved her navel as the hard heel of his palm slid over her mound and his fingers slid into slick, swollen flesh. His thumb found a sensitive spot, stroking, caressing. Gasping, she rocked against him. Then his mouth was there, his tongue teasing, penetrating. A wail left her lips and she tautened like a bowstring.

Incredible, erotic heat sheared through her. “Damian, you canna…”

He lifted his head and smiled. “Aye, I can. Lie back and enjoy it.” Then his head dipped and his mouth returned to its succulent feast.

She arched and writhed against him, her protest a dim memory as the wet lash of his tongue sent shards of lightning streaking through her. Her hands clutched convulsively in his hair as she surrendered to a rapturous climax.

Dimly she became aware that Damian was on top of her, parting her legs, sinking deeply inside her. She closed her eyes, unwilling to reveal the depth of her feelings, but Damian would not allow it.

“Open your eyes, Elissa.”

Her lids opened slowly and she stared into his eyes. She saw confusion and wondered what he was thinking.

“Are you a sorceress?” he whispered hoarsely. “Have you placed a spell on me? You must have, for you enchant me.”

“I am no witch. I know naught about enchantment. This isna right. It shouldna be happening.”