Dangerous (13 page)

“Today,” Grant answered quickly. “Now.”

“You can’t be serious!” she protested. “A lady needs time to prepare for her wedding.”

“Elisabeth will find all she requires in Briarton. I left many things undone, and I must tend to them. I’d very much like for us to leave as man and wife.”

Gabriel looked to Elisabeth, concern edging the joyous expression he’d worn only moments ago. “This is your wish, as well?”

“It is. An elaborate celebration would be unseemly under the circumstances.”

Grant cast her a venomous look, and she responded with a demure smile. Though he’d finally gained what he so desired, she’d make certain he paid dearly for it.

“You can’t possibly do this,” Sarah objected weakly.

“’Tis done,” Grant assured her briskly. “Father Blair is waiting for us.”

“Elisabeth–”

“I see no reason to delay,” she interrupted, hoping to ease the tension that had suddenly taken over the room. “As Grant said, the arrangements have been made, and he’s in a hurry to return home.”

“Well, then.” David clapped a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Welcome to the family.”

Brennan and her father added their good wishes, as did Mother, albeit reluctantly. Elisabeth glanced about for Christian, but he was nowhere to be seen.

***

Christian pounded on Eric’s door, swearing under his breath while his mind spun like a child’s top. When he received no answer, he put his shoulder to the door to force it open. It offered no resistance, and he burst into the modest chamber, furious and primed for a fight.

The sight before him nearly stopped his heart.

Eyes barely open, Eric lay on his back staring up at nothing. So still was he, Christian thought the worst. When those dull eyes shifted to him, he drew a long breath and strode toward the bed.

“Thank God. I thought ye were dead.”

On further inspection, he saw little to divest him of that notion. Listless and wan, Eric resumed his pensive mien without a word.

Seeking some type of response, Christian blurted, “Elisabeth is marrying Grant Colton.”

“I know.”

“Did you also know that he insists on doing it today so they can return to Briarton as man and wife?”

“’Tis not my concern.”

Christian glowered at him. “Not your concern? I thought ye were in love with her. How can you act as if her leaving doesn’t matter to you?”

“I told you I’d stand aside when it was time.”

“She doesn’t love him,” Christian protested, willing his obstinate friend to see reason. “Any fool who sees the two of you together can see that it’s you she loves.”

“This marriage is made for different reasons.”

No matter how Christian prodded and threatened, Eric refused to say anything more. Frustrated beyond words, Christian got to his feet and scowled down at the enigmatic Frenchman. “I trust you’ll pardon me for leaving so abruptly. I’ve a wedding to attend.”

With that, he all but tore the door from its hinges, slamming it behind him as he left.

***

“In the name of the Father,” Grant slipped the circlet of rubies onto her first finger, “and the Son,” he slid it onto her middle finger, “and the Holy Ghost, with this ring, I thee wed.” After completing his vow, he settled the ring into place on her third finger.

As was customary, they stood on the steps outside the chapel while Father Blair presided over their wedding. The bride wasn’t allowed to speak, which Elisabeth considered wise. Nothing she’d say to her husband would be acceptable to a priest.

Christian stood off to the side of the steps, arms folded while he stared across the courtyard, his mind clearly occupied elsewhere. When she followed his gaze, remorse clogged her throat.

A dark outline stood in one of the tall windows of the keep, arms outstretched to steady a body so weak it should have lain abed for days. She sensed the rage within him, barely tethered by the mournful current beneath it.

She’d made her pact with the Devil, she thought morosely. This time, even Eric couldn’t save her.

***

Grant knocked softly on the door that joined his bedchamber to his wife’s. After a moment, Elisabeth bade him enter.

When he did, he felt his eager smile drop to a frown. “You’re in bed.”

“Is that not where you’d like me on our wedding night?”

Her honeyed tone did nothing to mask the disdain in her eyes. It would take a firm hand to gentle the brazen spirit he’d always admired, but he was confident that in time she’d share his feelings. Though she lay naked beneath the bedcovers, she was far from ready for him. She didn’t fight or protest, neither did she respond to any of his advances. It was as if she’d gone far away where he couldn’t possibly reach her.

He did his best to take her easily, but he’d dreamt of this night for too long to remain patient with his reluctant bride. As he found his release, he groaned with the relief it brought him. But that was all he gained.

No tender words, no loving touches to his face. No wanton looks. Those she’d lavished on Eric Jordanne, and it seemed that she had none left for him. In his mind, he heard her defiant words.

If you live a thousand years, you’ll never have what I’ve given Eric
.

Bitterness ripped through him, and he fought to speak reasonably. “You must be tired from our trip. Sleep well, Lady Colton.”

His kiss fell on uncaring lips, and he hastily pulled on his robe, fleeing her chamber like a common thief.

Elisabeth waited until the door closed firmly behind him.

“By the saints,” she whispered to the blood-red velvet draping her bed. “I thought he’d never finish.”

She considered bolting the adjoining door, then thought better of it. She’d seen stark frustration in Grant’s eyes when he left, and it would be unwise to test his patience any further. She rose and took the ivory silk dressing gown from the foot of the bed. Wrapping it about her, she went to the window and opened it for a breath of misty air. Leaning her forehead against the stone casement, she looked out on the fledgling moon. Full of promise, she mused, her hand resting lovingly over her stomach.

She’d meant to tell Eric about the bairn before leaving Caileann, but his stoicism had prevented it. Weak from the poisons ravaging his body, he’d remained strong for her, concerned only for her safety once she left his protection. Having never known his father, she feared that losing his child in such a way would devastate him. Instinct told her a boy slumbered beneath her heart, and a part of her prayed he’d take after his father. She yearned to have a piece of Eric with her, to remind her of their passionate time together.

Yet she worried how her husband would treat a child so obviously of another man’s making. She’d had no suspicion of Grant’s calculating nature until he’d so calmly offered her that vial and made his barbaric proposal. Charming and intelligent, his graces thoroughly disguised his madness.

A shiver of dread passed through her, and she tilted her face to the moon. “Please, Diana, let me know I’ve done the right thing.”

Warmth enveloped her, chasing away the chill she’d felt only moments before. Leaning back into her memories, she smiled as the breeze drifted through her hair, as if murmuring at her ear the way Eric used to do.

The tears she’d held in all day began to fall. The gentle wind dried her cheeks as she looked longingly to the stars twinkling in the sky. She imagined Eric looking out his own window, gazing east though he couldn’t see her. Missing her, as she did him.

Grieving for what should have been.

***

Eric heard a soft knock at his door but couldn’t muster the will to respond. Elisabeth’s parting touch lingered on his face, and he struggled to hold onto the warmth of it. At first he’d thought the poison had spawned some cruel nightmare, and he’d strained his ears for the sound of her voice, her laughter in the corridor outside his chamber. As the hours passed, he’d been forced to accept the truth.

She was gone, wed to another man. And he must find a way to live his life without her.

Someone slipped into his chamber, and he kept his eyes closed, hoping his visitor would think him asleep and go.

“Such tricks won’t work on me,” Sarah informed him. “I promised Elisabeth I’d care for you, and so I shall.”

She felt his brow, replaced the warm cloth with a cool one. In her eyes, he saw a sadness that mirrored his own as she asked, “Why did she suddenly decide to marry Grant?”

“You should pose that question to her, Lady Sarah.”

“She didn’t give me the chance. But you know the reason. I can see it in your eyes.”

She did it to save him, and Eric winced as an invisible dagger twisted mercilessly into his heart.

“Are you in pain?” Sarah asked, resting a hand on his chest.

“Only when I breathe.”

Frowning, she said, “Glenda tells me you’ve not eaten.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“My rabbit pie and pear compote may tempt your appetite. I bargained for some fresh cinnamon and ginger from our visiting spice merchant.”

Eric’s rumbling stomach betrayed him.

“Ah, now we have the truth,” she approved. “I’ll bring you a good portion of it and some mead to wash it down.”

Now he understood where Elisabeth had come by her deep-rooted stubbornness. Recognizing that it was pointless to continue resisting Sarah’s efforts to care for him, he relented with a half-hearted smile. “I’d welcome both. My last meal was of honey and your throat tonic.”

She looked to his bedside table. Taking up the corked bottle Grant had given Elisabeth, she removed the stopper and immediately wrinkled her nose. “What in the name of Mary is this?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I smell feverfew and lungwort.” She sniffed again. “Perhaps weak willow bark tea, but I can’t be certain ’tis not birch.”

The confusion in her tone alerted him that something was amiss. “What would someone use it for?”

“Congested lungs or a pain in your head. It couldn’t have cured whatever afflicted you.”

Grant had lied to Elisabeth, to gain her as his wife. That could only mean he’d known of their plans to marry and tried to remove Eric by killing him. When that failed he’d resorted to blackmail, using Elisabeth’s selfless nature as a weapon against her.

Fury began to simmer in Eric’s blood, and he didn’t trust himself to speak. Patting his shoulder, Sarah left him with an encouraging smile and softly closed the door behind her.

Left to his own thoughts, he gazed out at the pale crescent moon suspended in the sky. On such a night he knew that Elisabeth would be at her window, looking out at the sky. In his mind, he saw her gazing westward toward Caileann, wishing for things that could never be. Though the image pained him beyond reason, he clung to it with a stubbornness born of desperation.

It was all he had left.

Chapter Eleven

Book open in her lap, Elisabeth stared unseeing out the window of her solar at the gray January morning. The room in which she sat was filled with lovely furniture, stocked with more books than she could ever read. Lovely artwork adorned the walls, and the tiles of a newly completed garden mosaic shone under her feet. During the month she’d been in Briarton, she’d often retreated to this room for time alone. Light flooded the chamber from dawn to dusk, and even the rarest of plants thrived there.

If only she were a rose or a fern, requiring nothing but water and sunlight to be content.

“Elisabeth?”

She turned toward the comforting sound of Glenda’s voice. Eager to gain his new wife’s approval, Grant had agreed to bring Glenda to Briarton, and her familiar presence was a welcome bit of home in the strange surroundings. “Yes?”

“Would you like me to bring your dinner in here?”

“Has my husband returned from his rounds?”

Glenda’s sour expression revealed her feelings about Elisabeth’s marriage, but she politely replied, “A few moments ago.”

Elisabeth braced her hands on the arms of her chair and rose. “I’ll go and greet him, then.”

Bobbing her head, Glenda returned to wherever she’d come from. Taking a moment to regain her composure, Elisabeth paused before the mirror near the door and considered her reflection. A babe conceived in the autumn would arrive in late summer. If Grant were to accept this child as his own, she could wait no longer. “It’s time, Lise.”

From the doorway, she heard quiet laughter. “Time for what?”

She faced Grant with a false smile. “To tell you something.”

“What is that?” he asked with a kiss for her cheek.

“I’m with child.”

Shaking his head, Grant regarded her as if she’d gone fey. “You mustn’t deceive yourself this way. Truly, I’ve no desire for a family. You’re all I need to be happy.”

“Then you’ll be doubly so. The village midwife came to see me this afternoon and confirmed my suspicions.”

“This is why you’ve been so tired?” When she nodded, his features broke into a delighted smile. “Such news I never thought to hear. To have you and a child as well is more than I could have hoped for.”

As he gathered her into his arms, she quelled the impulse to push him away. This was the path she’d chosen, she reminded herself grimly. She must walk it as best she could.

***

So lovely was she, sleeping amidst the cloud of linen sheets. Her arm draped over her curving hip, her hand resting over the child nestled in her womb.

His child.

Triumphant at last, Grant thought with a rush of pride. Fate had tested his patience, first with John and then that bastard Jordanne. But Elisabeth was his now, and soon she’d give him the son he coveted. Perhaps a child would soften her resistance to their marriage, gain him the affection he so desperately wanted from her. Shedding his long tunic, he slipped into her bed.

When he kissed her, she came awake with a jolt. For an instant, her dark look pierced him as lethally as any blade. Just as quickly, her expression shifted to one of polite tolerance. He’d give an entire tract of prime land to see passion in her eyes. The passion she’d bestowed on a peasant who’d stood with her in the forest and offered her nothing but a smile.

“Forgive me, Elisabeth. Did I startle you?”

“A little. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.”

“You looked so beautiful lying here, I couldn’t resist waking you.” He kissed her deeply, and as he brought her against him, his insatiable need for her roared. Once again, he did his best to arouse her, murmuring endearments while he caressed her.

This time, he enjoyed a small success, rejoicing when she relaxed under his touch. Seeking to pleasure her, he went as slowly as he could. Finally, his body would wait no longer, and he was forced to yield to its demand.

Elisabeth allowed him to kiss her, hold her for a time. Then she yawned daintily behind the hand that bore his ring. “Good night, Grant.”

“And to you, my love. Sleep well.”

He would gladly have slept the night through with her locked in his embrace, but she rolled to her side and reached her hand toward the opposite edge of the bed. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and smiled into the darkness.

Palm resting on her pillow, she settled her cheek at what seemed an odd angle. Then he understood.

She’d turned away from him and into the arms of her phantom lover. He was sharing his wife’s bed with Eric Jordanne.

***

Gabriel pondered something in the gardens outside the huge arched window while Eric waited. He’d spent the night staring at the ceiling of his room, and yet another dismal gray morning suited his mood perfectly. The impressive receiving chamber could easily swallow most houses, its elegant furnishings showing the hand of a woman with fine taste.

From the gilt-framed painting over the mantel, Lady Sarah smiled down on him with much more grace than he deserved. He easily marked her daughter’s resemblance in the delicate jaw, the laughing eyes. In ten years’ time, he knew that Elisabeth would bear those same features, at once lovely and filled with strength.

Her husband would have the pleasure of witnessing that transformation firsthand. Eric only wished that it could have been him.

The earl turned to face him, giving him an oddly expectant look. “I have something for you.”

He reached into a drawer of his desk and withdrew a scroll. He handed it to Eric, motioning for him to unroll it. Though he couldn’t read the Gaelic script, he recognized it as a map and looked at Gabriel in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Now that you’re back on your feet and your service to Elisabeth has ended, Christian tells me you plan to find a farmer who needs help preparing his fields for spring planting. I thought ye might prefer to own the farm rather than simply work it.”

Utterly speechless, Eric could only gape at him.

“This piece of land lies to the east, within clear view of the castle, alongside a brook that’s run deep all the years I’ve been in Caileann.” Eyes twinkling, he added, “It now belongs to you.”

“I’m humbled by your generosity, but I cannot accept.”

Eric attempted to return the scroll, but Gabriel refused it with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense. The Redmond owe you a great debt, and I intend to repay it.”

To Eric, the generous gift was far more than a plot of land. No matter how wild, it would be his, and would provide him somewhere to belong. Something he’d not had since Claire’s death.

He reopened the scroll, gazing down at the rendering of the place that would become his home. After a moment, he looked up at the earl. “I’m more grateful to you than I can say, Lord Redmond.”

“For the love of Mary, call me Gabriel.”

Eric complied, and he was rewarded with a beaming smile and a hearty clap on the back.

“Much better,” Gabriel approved, steering him toward the door. “Now, let’s go and see what heavenly smell that is coming from Sarah’s kitchen.”

***

Eric paused in his work to wipe the sweat from his eyes. The bone-chilling damp of winter had passed, and he’d been pleased to discover that the Scottish spring was a slightly drier season. With the aid of a local mason, he was making the most of the weather to continue laying the walls for his home.

As he dipped water from the pail beside him, he noticed a lone rider coming along the lane from the castle. He easily recognized Wallace and returned Christian’s broad wave. Swallowing a dipperful of water, he poured another over his head before rubbing a linen cloth over his face and neck.

Wallace trotted through the open iron gate, stopping as Christian looked over the house with an approving smile. “It’s coming along, is it not?”

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Eric said, “I’m not much of a stone worker, but with the help of Alfred and his sons, I should finish the main floor soon. In return, I’ll be helping them with their harvest in the fall.”

“Are they about?” his guest asked as he dismounted.

“They’ve gone home for their noon meal. Why?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Elisabeth.”

Eric schooled his features to calm, but he couldn’t deceive his perceptive friend.

Christian put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know. I feel the same, but judging by the letters she sends us, she seems well enough.”

“Have there been many?” Eric asked as he sat on a pile of stones and motioned for his friend to join him.

“Not as many as we’d like, but Briarton is a large holding. Her duties there keep her busy.”

As does her husband, Eric added silently. Thinking of her with the vile Colton…

“I’m glad to know that she’s well,” he said as evenly as his fury would allow.

“She’s much more than that.” Christian remained silent until Eric met his gaze. “She’s with child.”

For several moments, the only sound came from buzzing flies and a circling hawk calling to its companion. “But how? She thought she was barren.”

“Apparently, she was mistaken. I must confess, I’ve known for weeks now. I wasn’t certain whether she’d want ye to know, but I decided you deserved to hear it from me rather than someone else.”

“That would be unlikely to happen, as I’m quite outside the range of gossip here.” Eric glanced about at the meadow-like stillness that surrounded them. “I prefer it that way.”

“That I can understand.” Christian paused, as if carefully considering his next words. “She still hasn’t told us why she married Grant so hastily. Do ye know?”

Now that she was the mistress of Briarton and carrying its heir, there seemed little point in concealing the truth any longer. Dragging his hands through his damp hair, Eric buried his face in his hands. “She traded him her life for mine.”

“I don’t understand.”

With a heavy sigh, Eric lifted his head. “When I was dying of that poison, he claimed to have the cure. He’d give it to her only if she agreed to marry him.”

The young nobleman’s features twisted in disgust. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“The day he arrived, he proposed to her in the garden, and she asked for time to think. Later, I asked her if she wanted to marry him,” he paused with a rueful grin, “or me.”

Christian’s jaw dropped, then lifted into a smile. “She chose you, of course.”

“And that evening declined Colton’s proposal.”

“Because of you, but she wouldn’t have told him that.”

“She didn’t, but we were together later that night and someone was watching us. It must have been him.”

Christian chuckled. “I hate to think what he saw. Surely, that wasn’t enough to make him want to harm you.”

“He didn’t mean to harm me. He hired an archer to kill me.”

“I don’t understand. He gave her the mix that saved you.”

Grimly, Eric shook his head. “Your mother informed me that the bottle held nothing but bark tea and some mixture of roots. It couldn’t possibly save a man so near to death.”

“He
did
mean to kill you.” Christian shook his head. “Grant is clever as they come, and he doesn’t often fail.”

He might have failed in that, but he’d succeeded in something even more important. Closing his eyes, Eric tried to blot out the sight he knew would never leave him: Elisabeth standing rigidly at the ceremony that bound her to another man, sacrificing her freedom to save Eric.

Banishing the image from his mind, he focused on the safety of Elisabeth and her child. “Have there been any more attempts to take her?”

“None. In her last letter to me, she said she feels safe now. No more spies watching, I believe were her words. If Grant planned those attacks, he’s stopped now that he has her.”

Those last words plucked at Eric’s taut nerves. He has her. Every night in his bed, every day by his side. His child living inside her, waiting to be born into a life of boundless privilege.

Scowling at his large, half-finished house, at last Eric understood what had driven him to carry out such an ambitious plan. In a corner of his heart, he’d fostered the hope that somehow Elisabeth would return to him, to the life they’d been so eager to share.

A foolish dream, he chided himself, built of wishes and mortared with faery dust.

“What the Devil is wrong with you?” Jumping to his feet, Christian grabbed Eric’s shoulders and shook him, glowering fiercely. “We need proof of what Grant’s done so the king’s tribunal can try him. And execute him,” he added, eyes sparking with vengeance.

“To what end? The men he’s responsible for killing are gone. Nothing can bring them back from the dead.”

His friend’s heated glare quickly cooled into a sympathetic frown. “And you, Eric. What will bring you back from the dead?”

The words connected with a stray thought, which led to several others, each more bizarre than the last. Isolated from one another, there seemed no connection among them. Taken in sequence, they resembled a deceptively simple strategy the Templars had taught him during his lessons long ago.