Page 135 of My Highland Love

Marcus grasped Elise by the shoulders. “You are with child?”

She slumped in his grasp and began crying so hard that Marcus was shaken to the core.

“Elise,” he insisted with more gentleness.

“The laudanum.” She forced back the tears. “They fed me laudanum every day—every hour, it seemed.” She appeared to deflate even more. “I lost the child.”

Hot rage flashed in a thick lightning bolt of red across his vision. He had sat across from Ardsley, stared into his eyes, and all along the bastard had known he was responsible for the loss of the child—my child. Yet the man had returned his stare and smiled.

“If I faced Ardsley now—” Marcus cut off the statement at seeing the sudden terror on Elise's face, but her expression said she understood all too well the unfinished words. Nothing could stop me from killing him—nothing will stop me from killing him. The oath never to set foot on American soil again rang in his head—a vow he would break.

“This is why I didn't tell you the truth before our marriage.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I am sorry. I realized too late you would st-stop at nothing to—”

Marcus crushed her to him. Her body melted against his and he prayed the action was the first in the weakening of the wall between them.

* * *

Marcus shifted his gaze from the flames in the hearth of his London study to the Earl of Loudoun. The shocked expression on the earl's face when Marcus had laid the edict signed by King George on the desk was far better revenge than any Marcus could have devised.

“You drag me here for this rubbish?” Loudoun demanded.

“By King George's command,” Marcus replied evenly.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered.

“Would you have preferred I continue to take matters into my own hands?”

The look on Loudoun's face said he would have preferred just that.

“You do not seem to comprehend,” Marcus said. “I tire of the fight. It will end one way or another. I can raze every keep between Brahan Seer and Castle Kalchurn. You cannot doubt I have the power.”

“You have the power,” Loudoun snarled.

“Yet you crave the war—a war you would most assuredly lose.”

“We have not yet lost,” Loudoun snapped.

“You have not won.”

“The Campbells are a force to be reckoned with.”

“How many more of your men must die to prove that?”

The earl's mouth tightened.

“You need not love a single MacGregor for us to live in peace, Loudoun.”

“We cannot live in peace.”

“King George disagrees.” Marcus motioned to the document. “You may keep this copy. Copies have been sent to every Campbell leader of consequence.”

Loudoun placed the tips of his fingers on the paper, then slowly slid it inch by inch into his hand until it formed a ball. He abruptly threw the paper at Marcus. Marcus didn't flinch when the paper rebounded from his chest and landed on the floor.

“A law purchased with Ashlund gold,” Loudoun sneered.

Marcus held his gaze. It mattered not if Loudoun knew that half the Ashlund fortune had been the final bargaining price that induced King George to sign the law condemning both Campbell and MacGregor to death for murdering any man—or woman—from the opposing clan. A sense of weary finality washed over Marcus. Ashlund gold had bought MacGregor freedom, but it was the wisdom of one MacGregor so long ago that had illuminated this better path.

“Bought with MacGregor blood,” Marcus murmured, then louder, “and Campbell blood.”