Stealing the Bride (7 page)

“Especially when that challenge comes from such a delightful package. I believe I’d enjoy proving my worth to ye.”

Elspeth jerked against his hold but his grasp proved solid. Yet it did not pain her. He controlled his greater strength as expertly as Hayden did.

That comparison only made her long for Hayden even more. Her temper stirred and she became torn between directing her scorn at Pherson Dalry and being horrified that Hayden Monroe meant so much to her.

“Men are always so sure that women are soft hearted. As for myself, I find the lot of ye an annoyance.”

She reached over and pinched his hand. “Get yer hands off me. My hearing works just fine.”

An amused chuckle was her response but the man released her and offered her a mocking reverence that his men laughed at. Pherson turned to look at them and their amusement died.

Well, at least she would only need suffer his arrogance. Part of her was grateful that he was refusing to allow his men to make sport of her. A small amount of security against the imposing tower rising up in front of her. The Dalry stronghold was sturdy and impressive. Three towers that had curtain walls running between them to form a triangle. Behind them the hills rose at steep angles, making it impossible to bring a horse down the slopes. That left only the main approach to the fortification, and that was narrow and facing the first tower. With the curtain walls running back at an angle to the other towers, it formed a wedge that looked inaccessible.

“Well then, mistress, up inside with ye.”

There was a challenge in Pherson Dalry’s tone. There was also a hint of anticipation, as if the man would enjoy her resistance. Casting a look back at him, she noticed how much larger he was than herself, but there was no twist of excitement in her belly, only the warm flicker of frustration. She savored that frustration for it held off despair. But not completely.

Her gaze moved over the valley that led up to the fortress, and she cringed when she realized there was no way to force Dalry to give her up. The despair flowed freely around her attempt to ignore it, flooding her and reminding her that the most logical thing for Hayden to do would be to leave her.

Pherson’s sisters were amusing.

In fact, they were by far the best entertainment that Elspeth could recall seeing in some time.

Tavia and Daracha were both beautiful. They knew it too. That was what made it so much fun to watch while they needled their brother in the most subtle ways—long looks from their eyes with flutters of lashes to complete the moment. They moved in an almost hypnotic fashion, their walk polished and perfected. The moment they entered the main hall, every man there turned to watch them. The sisters didn’t rush but made their way down the main aisle looking as if they were striding into court.

They were certainly dressed for that role. Both wore damask. Fabric was expensive but damask was so pricey, noble families sometimes bankrupted themselves in order to outfit their sons and daughters for court. Tavia was a blonde with rare green eyes, and her gown was made of blue and topaz with velvet edging it. Her sister Daracha had the same coloring as her brother, midnight hair and blue eyes. She wore a dark green that was woven with sapphire blue and edged with sable brown.

They promenaded up the aisle with chins perfectly level and their slim fingers held in front of their stomachers to show off how long and lovely they were. Their hair was held up high on the top of their heads, leaving their necks on display, and the men watching looked as if they approved. Both sank into deep curtsies, remaining there.

“Enough.” Pherson watched his sisters from narrowed eyes. They both stood and fluttered their eyelashes. Their brother groaned.

“What are ye doing wearing those gowns? Ye’re not at court yet.”

Tavia smiled sweetly. “Oh, but, dearest brother, we must practice walking and dancing in them. How else shall we keep from shaming you?”

Pherson ground his teeth. “Well, I’ve got a guest for you to see to so get those overpriced gowns off and save them for when ye are at court. Take her to the bathing house since I do nae think she’ll fancy me doing it.”

Elspeth snorted at Pherson. He turned and raised one eyebrow mockingly.

“Would ye prefer to be my prisoner, lass? In which case, ye’ll think yer current condition clean compared to how ye will be in a few weeks being kept in the dungeon.”

“We do not have a dungeon, brother.” Tavia offered her comment with soft tone.

Her brother snarled. “Why does every thought ye have sail right out of yer mouth the moment you think it?”

Daracha lifted her chin and sent an innocent look toward her brother. “Forgive us, brother, we were shocked to hear you threaten a woman. You have always kept yer battling between men, and we have never had reason to think you cruel toward a helpless woman.”

“She’s not helpless. She jumped into a spring swollen river and came out living, so don’t be telling me she lacks strength.”

There wasn’t a single indication from either woman that their brother’s words either impressed them or not. They lowered themselves again, the damask fabric of their gowns puddling on the hard stone of the floor with the stiff sound of silk. Elspeth couldn’t help but stare at the dresses; she could not hope to have anything so fine, even for a wedding.

“Make yer choice, Elspeth Leask. Get ye off with my sisters or I’ll see to making ye comfortable.”

She shot him one more hot glare before following his sisters. At least the idea of bathing was a pleasant one. Now that she was half dry, she felt even more grit stuck between her clothing and her skin. Walking ground it against her in places, like beneath her waistband and stays. Her head itched and it was took great effort not to scratch herself as if she had fleas.

They cleared the hall and went down another set of stairs set near the corner. It was darker there, the light from the sun only having narrow arrow slits to enter through.

The scent of smoke was in the air, and Elspeth could see a slight glow coming from the fireplace set into the far wall. Daracha pulled a large apron off a hook set into the wall, and covered her expensive dress with it before taking a candle that sat in an iron holder near that hook. She carried the candle toward the fireplace and set the wick against the coals. It flickered to light, casting a friendly glow around the girl’s face. She looked back at Elspeth.

“Men are pigs.”

Tavia made a soft clicking sound with her tongue. “Now, sister, be just. I know many well-mannered hogs.”

The pair laughed gently, their voices almost musical. Daracha carried the lit candle around the room, touching the flame to several other wicks. The chamber became cheerful with all four walls holding lit candles. The yellow and gold light revealed two overly large slipper tubs made of copper; one was large enough for two full-grown people. Her face colored with a blush as she considered what two naked people might do besides bathe. Elspeth stared at the expensive items and back at the damask dresses worn by the women.

“Yer brother is a pirate.” There was no other way to explain such finery.

Tavia had donned an apron as well, and had set a log on the fire.

“Our brother is an uncivilized brute and for that we apologize.” She pulled a chain set above one tub and water began falling from a missing stone in the face of the wall. It splattered into the tub, drawing a shiver from Elspeth. Just the sound of rushing water yanked her mind back to that moment when the white frothy water had clamped her in its jaws.

“But Pherson considers himself a patriot for keeping the sea safe. Calling him a pirate is a sure way to gain his disdain.”

Elspeth stared Tavia straight in the eye. “He’s a pirate.”

Both girls suddenly laughed.

“Oh, ye are going to be wonderful fun to have about. Every girl that comes here to meet our brother is always so dull and proper. Of course they are mostly English-born ones.” Daracha’s eyes sparkled with merriment. She pushed two kettles of water over the fire and the small amount that was clinging to the outside sputtered and hissed when the heat connected with it.

“I am not here to provide amusement.”

“Of course not and you must think us quite horrible to be so happy.” Tavia sighed. “It’s simply that our brother is by far the most arrogant creature ever born and we are weary of suffering his whims.”

Daracha began pulling at the tie holding Elspeth’s braid. Elspeth worked at the buttons on the front of her gown, eager to wash the grim off her skin. Pirated goods or not, she was going to enjoy that slipper tub.

“You certainly do nothing to sober him, what with yer stately entrance and lowering fit for a king.”

Maybe she was foolish to taunt them, but Elspeth had never been one for polishing egos. She didn’t know how to do anything but speak her mind.

To her surprise both girls laughed again.

“We continue to perfect it, just because he ordered us to learn courtly conduct.” Tavia moved across the chamber on light steps that resembled dancing more than walking. “The smoother we walk, the more it annoys Pherson.”

“Which he deserves for ordering us to learn to walk as if the only value we have is our appearance.” Daracha pressed her lips into a tight line of disapproval. “That brother of ours never wonders what we have been doing to expand our minds. Instead he orders us to learn to glide when we walk.”

“Men are so shortsighted. Concerned with things that mean nothing at all in a wife.”

Hayden liked her courage.

Her simple and practical wool dress met with his approval also. Elspeth looked at the pile of her clothing now that she was pulling it off her body. There was nothing refined about it, but that had not kept Hayden from pulling her against him for a kiss.

Pherson Dalry watched Elspeth at her bath and raised a finger to his lips while staring at the girl sitting in the tub with her breasts exposed. Young, firm breasts that made his mouth water to taste them. The last bride prospect he’d welcomed had sniffled as she drew her inner robe off to show her body to him. Elspeth’s eyes were not glassy with unshed tears but her cheeks were bright and her nipples hard with anticipation. Something stirred in him he’d not felt in a long time. It was warm and sliced through the years of duty his life had become. A laird had to keep his mind on so many things that he had lost track of the simple joy of affection. Elspeth Leask was thinking of the man she cared for and no mistake. He could see it in her eyes and it had the power to make him turn his back on her. He’d taken what he wanted when it came to goods and gold, but never when it came to a woman’s embrace. But he’d negotiated it too many times to suit him. He was envious of Hayden Monroe, almost bitterly so.

For love was the only thing in life that no man could steal, even a pirate like himself.

“There now, sit by the fire and brush out yer hair. We’ll have to find something pretty for ye to wear.”

“Something sturdy will do just fine. I’ve no desire to impress yer brother.” Elspeth made sure her tone was tart enough to cut through the way both sisters had of just doing what they pleased without waiting to see if she wanted it.

“Ah, but ye should be interested in blinding him. There lies the secret to dealing with men.” Tavia offered her a knowing look. It was far different from the amused one the girl had worn until now. The façade was suddenly gone and Elspeth discovered that behind the pretty girl was a very confident woman.

“Be pleasing in all ways and men will never suspect that ye are also thinking.”

Daracha brought her a chemise that was almost transparent. “This is silk and hemp from Egypt. I hear Cleopatra wore the same cloth. It does make one feel like a queen.”

“She killed herself.”

“But she loved and was loved in return.” Daracha sighed. “I believe that once ye have loved, ye cannot live without it. That’s why she killed herself.”

The garment slithered down her body once Daracha released it. The fabric was a whisper against her skin. It was like the oldest chemise she had, translucent, and the candles flickers turned it into liquid gold.

Hayden would like it …

“Who are you thinking of?” Tavia was watching her from the other side of the room. A shiver crossed her neck when she realized that these sisters worked as a team. Tavia tapped her lips with one fingertip, drawing attention to them with the tiniest of motions.

“Ye’re blushing and yer eyes are shimmering. Are ye in love with him?”

“Love?” Elspeth shut her mouth too quickly and her teeth clicked against each other, but her tone had been too high, exposing her true feelings.

Daracha made a soft sound beneath her breath and carried over two stockings. She knelt in front of Elspeth, looking too demure for how well the pair of them were dissecting her every motion.

“Yes, love. Yer eyes are shimmering when ye think of him. What else except love?”

“Does it matter?”

Daracha was intent on pushing the stocking up her leg but Elspeth grabbed it and performed the task herself.

Both Daracha and Tavia smiled, the smallest curving of their lips. Elspeth felt their gazes ten times more than any Father Simon Peter had aimed at her.

“I don’t know what I feel, only that I detest yer brother for taking me away from Hayden.”

Both sisters seemed to hang on her words, absorbing them as if they were savoring the idea, because they were starving for affection. Considering how their brother treated them, maybe they were. She suddenly felt remorse for being so cross with them.

“I was wondering if Hayden would like me in this chemise, but I don’t even know if he still desires me. Considering that yer brother wants a ransom for me, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he’s returned to Monroe land and washed his hands of the matter.”

“Ye doubt he will come to ransom ye?” Tavia sounded shocked. “If he fails to come after ye, he does not love ye, that is for certain.”

Elspeth tried to keep the despair from her voice. “He has no contract to bind him to me.” She looked around the room again, noting the fine things in it. “And it does not look as though yer brother will be content with any small amount.” There were many trunks in the room, over a dozen, telling her that Pherson liked to collect everything he could from his victims.