Dangerous (10 page)

Still sheathed inside her, he rolled to his back and gazed up at her. With a lazy grin, he cradled her cheek in his hand. “Tell me you’re not a dream.”

“I’m not a dream.” She kissed him, flashing a triumphant smile. “And I heard you call me ‘Lise.’”

At his groan, she laughed and set out to prove to him just how real she was.

***

’Twas nearly dawn.

Eric held a sleeping Elisabeth in his arms, but he’d been loathe to fall asleep himself and wake to find he’d imagined it all. Instead he watched as the waning fire lit her cheeks, infusing her features with a rosy glow. So trusting was she, curled against him, her head pillowed on his chest. She’d drifted off some time ago, after warming his heart with her lovely smile and a contented woman’s sigh.

Soft waves of auburn hair spilled over his arm to the tangled linen sheets. The even rhythm of her breathing told him she slept peacefully, the accompanying beat of her heart antiphony to his own. Far from matching his height, yet her body meshed with his. Every hollow of his form found its completing swell in hers.

So exquisitely perfect. So undeniably wrong.

In the faint morning light, Eric stared at the elegant canopy covering the bed. It was an unmistakable reminder of who she was. Of who he was.

He couldn’t allow a dalliance with him to destroy her future. Painful as it would be, he knew that he must leave Caileann and find another place to make his life. Without her.

As if she sensed his thoughts, she cuddled closer, her body caressing his as her lips parted into an inviting bow. Duty and lust swept through him like a storm, battling to determine which he would follow.

Truly, he had no choice.

Meaning to ease away from her, Eric moved his hands to her waist. When his fingers brushed the scar on his hip, he glanced to it. Then he looked again to be certain his eyes hadn’t deceived him.

The crescent on his left hip aligned exactly with the one on Elisabeth’s right.

Because of their vastly different heights, the marks would only pair if they lay as they were now. Or as they made love. Could there be a reason for it, or had whimsical chance marked them so?

Eric’s mind reached for logic, though his instincts told him otherwise. Elisabeth stirred, greeting him with a dainty yawn.

“Good morning, Eric.”

“And to you. I trust you slept well.”

“Mmm.” She reached behind her to pull the coverlet over them. Murmuring sleepily, she nuzzled his throat, kissed the underside of his jaw. Each touch aroused him more than the last, and Eric fought for control of his traitorous body.

“I need to go, milady.”

Lifting her head, she gave him a playful smile. “Milady? Last night, it was—”

“I well know what I said,” he retorted impatiently. Did this headstrong woman never listen to reason? “Now I’m saying I must leave.”

To his chagrin, she pushed to her knees and straddled him. With a wicked smile, she grasped his hands and pinned them to the pillows on either side of his head. “I think you should stay.”

As she stroked along the hardening length of him, a ragged groan escaped his throat. “Stop.”

He gritted the command through clenched jaws and forced himself from the enticing warmth of her bed. Sitting at the edge, he contemplated his clothes piled on the floor. Then he made the most foolish choice of his life.

He looked back.

Lying amidst the rumpled bedcovers, she regarded him with the expression of a woman accustomed to having her wishes granted. Though she didn’t speak, somehow she called to him.

’Twas a summons he hadn’t the strength to refuse.

Chapter Eight

It was a chilly day in early December, and Elisabeth could see that Christian was enjoying himself immensely before the fire in the hall. Holding her yarn while she wound it into balls seated him precisely where he most liked to be. With a clear view of the prettiest new servants.

“That one,” he prompted, nodding to a maid with dark hair and sparkling brown eyes.

“Charlotte. She claims The Bruce is her father.”

“Canna prove it, though.”

“Of course not, but she claims it, just the same.”

He was quiet a while, then said, “You seem tired. What troubles you?”

“Nothing. Is there another woman who interests you?”

He nudged her slippered foot with his boot. “This one here. I miss her singing.”

“’Tis unbecoming for a widow to do such frivolous things.”

“Now I understand. My sprite is too serious to sing for me.”

She couldn’t resist the old endearment, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Which song would you like to hear?”

“Something Scottish. I grow weary of troubadours who know only English tunes.”

When she finished, she expected a smile from her brother. Instead, he regarded her pensively.

“Surely, ’twas not that bad,” she teased, coiling more yarn.

“You love him.”

“Who?”

“You know bleeding well who. Eric.”

Her mouth firmed, but she didn’t look up. “Would you like another song?”

“I’d like for ye to answer my question.”

“You’re making a wreck of this yarn.”

Ignoring her complaint, he leaned forward and tipped her chin up with his finger. She glanced nervously about the hall.

“No one’s listening, Lise. Now, tell me. Do ye love him?”

The answer came on a sudden gust of wind. When she looked toward the doors, she felt her expression brighten at the sight of Eric entering the hall.

“Come sit by the fire, Eric,” Christian invited, grinning as she dropped her yarn on the floor. “’Tis much drier here, and the view is a pleasant one.”

“That it is, but I’ve much to do. I came in only for some dry boots.”

“Take a pair of mine,” Christian offered, his eyes still on Elisabeth. “They’ll be tight but dry.”

“
Merci beaucoup
. I’ll return them cleaned and oiled.”

“A shame you’ll not receive them that way.”

Chuckling, Eric bowed to them and hastened up the winding stairs. Once he was gone, Christian leaned toward her. “I’ve learned much about Eric since he’s been here. He doesn’t consider himself worthy of a woman such as you.”

“He’s wrong.”

“You know as well as I that any husband of yours must be a nobleman the king can trust to govern your holdings. They’re far too valuable to risk losing control of them now.”

“I’ve done my duty and more,” she insisted. “If I marry again, ’twill be for love.”

“Any man would love you.”

“I want Eric.”

“But ye canna have him!”

Elisabeth stood and summoned the maid who’d caught his eye earlier. “Charlotte, would you come here a moment, please?” When the pretty girl joined them, Elisabeth went on. “Explain women to my brother, won’t you? It seems he has a great deal to learn.”

With that, she patted his shoulder and left him to his lessons.

***

“Sit.”

Eric had accepted Christian’s invitation to his rooms, expecting a game of chess or some other form of amusement. He and the young lord had become friends of a sort, and he was unaccustomed to being ordered about as if he were a stable hand. Glaring back at him, Eric made to go, but Christian deftly blocked his retreat and pushed him into a chair.

“I told ye to sit, and sit ye will.” Crossing his arms with a scowl, Christian paced before him, head swiveling so Eric never left his disapproving gaze. “What have ye done?”

“You make no sense, Christian.”

“Elisabeth should be seriously considering arrangements for her future. Instead, she has her head in the clouds, convinced she’s in love with you. Now, I’ll ask you once more.” Christian rested a boot on the seat between Eric’s thighs, his threat plain. “What have ye done?”

Eric maintained a stubborn silence, and Christian strode to open the door of his chamber, clearly satisfied that he’d divined the solution to what troubled his sister. “You’ll go talk to her and untangle this mess.”

“I can’t.”

Those hazel eyes held no trace of their usual humor. Though not as imposing as Eric, when Christian drew himself up to a rigid stance, there was no mistaking which of them was the noble and which the peasant. “What did you say?”

“I can’t untangle things. ’Tis far too late for that.”

The youngest brother stared up at the beamed ceiling with a morose expression. The look he fixed on Eric was no lighter. “Are you in love with my sister?”

Propriety demanded that he deny it, but his heart answered for him. “I am.”

Christian breathed a curse and fell into a chair near the door, his look grim. “I bear the highest regard for you, but ye must know you’ve no hope of a union with Elisabeth.”

“I do know it. She, however—”

“Feisty, is she not?”

“That she is.”

Christian crossed his hands behind his head, eyes twinkling. “And you worried that Lydia would be a handful.”

“Judging by your laziness this morning, she was.”

“She begged me to invite you in here last night. It seems she fancies you, as well, and thought to choose her favorite.”

“Don’t be fooled. Her only thought was to entice you.”

“Entice me, she did.” His friend chuckled quietly. “Not you, though, I see.”

When Eric made no reply, Christian frowned. “I’ll not betray you, but Elisabeth will eventually be expected to marry. Are you prepared to let her go?”

“I’ll stand aside when it’s time.”

Chin in hand, Christian regarded him with a grave expression. “And then?”

Eric rose and strode from the room, his heavy footsteps echoing along the corridor as he sought to escape from a question he had no answer for.

***

“No,” Elisabeth pleaded, locking her arms about his waist. “Don’t go.”

Still nestled inside her, Eric laughed quietly as he rolled to his back. “Do you ever wonder when I sleep?”

“You slept last night.”

“How do you know that?”

“I watched you. You look quite boyish while you’re sleeping.”

He grinned. “I’ve not been a boy for a very long time.”

“That I can believe.” A wicked thought tripped through her mind, and she smiled. “Who was she?”

“I’d not discuss such things with a lady.”

With that, he lifted her from his chest and pulled the bedcovers over her.

She thrust the covers away. “I’m not cold.”

“My intent isn’t to warm you.” He covered her and sat on the edge of her bed as he retrieved his tunic from the floor. “It’s to prevent me from climbing back in there with you.”

She hung over his shoulder, teasing his skin with a shower of curls. “If I guess who she was, will you tell me if I’m right?”

“No.” He shook her off to don his shirt but gave in to a smile. “You’re in fine spirits this morn.”

“A night with you always leaves me in fine spirits.”

Chuckling, he stood and pulled on his trews. “Strange. A night with you always leaves me exhausted.”

Grasping the hem of his shirt, she tugged him back toward her bed. “If you stay, I promise to let you sleep.”

“I think it best that I go. I’d hate to meet your father in the corridor and be forced to explain my presence here.”

“I’m a grown woman and a widow,” she reminded him tartly. “Not a maiden in need of a chaperone.”

“You’re a noblewoman, as well. I’ve no intention of giving the maids anything more to gossip about.”

Grudgingly, she acquiesced to his argument. After pulling on his boots, he left her with a dizzying kiss and that devilish smile.

He crossed her bedchamber and eased open the door that led to her sitting room. At the outer door, he paused to listen before slipping into the corridor. Not a sound did he make, but she heard his voice join Lydia’s clear soprano.

“Good morning, Eric.” The maid giggled. “Just coming in, are you?”

“Not a word to Lady Redmond. I’m afraid she wouldn’t be as understanding as you.”

“I’m not all that understanding. I might need some convincing to keep such a secret.”

The hallway grew quiet, and Elisabeth could easily imagine the form of persuasion Eric had chosen.

“I suppose I could hold my tongue,” Lydia finally said, a bit breathless. “After all, I wouldn’t wish to upset Elisabeth.”

“Many thanks,
ma chère
.”

With a trill of laughter, Lydia went on her way while Elisabeth settled back into her bed.

“My dear, indeed.” Gathering up the pillow that held his uniquely masculine scent, she tucked it under her cheek with a grin. “Wait ’til I get hold of you tonight, Eric Jordanne.”

***

“
Faílte
,” Gabriel welcomed Grant Colton with a broad smile and a warm handshake. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you in Caileann.”

“Too long,” he agreed, returning both gestures. “Now that harvest is over and things are quieter in Briarton, I wanted to come see you before Christmas.”

“I trust you’re hungry,” his burly host continued as they walked toward the keep. “As soon as your messenger told us you were coming, Sarah went into one of her baking sprees.”

“I can think of no better reason to make the journey.”

That earned him an appraising look from the sly old fox. “I doubt that.”

Laughing, Grant held up his hands in surrender. “There’s no fooling you, Gabriel. Of course, I’ve come to see Elisabeth.”

“I believe you’ll find her in the gardens.”

“On such a cold day?” Grant asked in surprise.

“My daughter comes from sturdy Highland stock,” the earl bragged, “it takes more than a bit of cool air to frighten her.”

As they mounted the steps that led into the main hall, a towering man appeared in the doorway above them.

“Eric, there you are!” Gabriel motioned for him to join them. “I’d like ye to meet Grant Colton. Grant, this is Eric Jordanne, a deadly addition to my forces.”

“An honor,” Jordanne replied, bowing slightly. “I trust you had an enjoyable journey.”

“It was pleasant enough.”

Eric smiled at someone standing behind them. “Pardon me. I’m expected for a riding lesson.”

Grant watched him stroll toward a sapling of a boy and pause to say something to him. When the boy’s face broke into a grin, Jordanne laughed and boosted him into the saddle atop a black palfrey. He mounted his imposing destrier in a nimble leap before moving off at a trot, reins slack while he illustrated some point or another with his hands.

“Impressive, is he not?” Gabriel asked with a chuckle.

“Indeed.”

Gabriel motioned him into the hall. From a nearby table, he took up a pitcher of mead and filled a tankard for each of them. “He’s rescued Elisabeth more than once, even warned us of an impending raid. Were it not for him, I’m certain she’d not be here with us.”

While he relayed the details of the tall soldier’s exploits, Grant listened raptly as he sipped his mead. “Wonderful stories, to be sure.”

“Our bard tells them much better than I. No doubt you’ll hear some of them after the evening meal.”

“I’ll be looking forward to that.”

***

Someone stopped before her, and Elisabeth glanced up from her pruning. Lit from behind by the early afternoon sun, an old friend smiled down at her.

“Grant!” Delighted, she jumped to her feet and embraced him. “I’d no idea you were coming for a visit.”

Beaming down at her, he said, “I asked your father to keep it secret. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You did that very well.”

“Don’t let me interrupt your work.”

Motioning for her to continue, he sat on the ground beside her, twirling a wilted poppy in his fingers as he glanced about. “I remember how we used to help your mother tend this garden. I can still hear her telling us all the different uses for the things we planted.”

“It seems like such a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

“Actually, that’s part of the reason I’m here.” Dropping the dead flower, he somberly met her gaze. “To talk about our past. And the future we might have together,” he added in a hopeful tone.

’Twas the last thing she’d expected on this bright autumn day. Five years ago, in nearly this same spot, he’d asked for her hand. But it, along with the rest of her, had already been promised to John, and she’d been forced to refuse Grant’s proposal. It wasn’t a pleasant memory.