Page 41 of My Highland Love

She opened her eyes, confusion mingled with the clouded look of desire. He yanked her away from the door and stepped in front of her as it swung open and a warrior entered.

“Forgive the interruption, laird.” The man kept his gaze on Marcus's face. “A rider from Drummond territory is demanding to see you. Says it's important.”

Fear displaced passion. Drummond. At this hour? Had the old chief finally died?

Marcus gave the man a curt nod. “See him to the hall.”

The door closed and Marcus faced Elise. Her cheeks were flooded with color. She had pulled the nightgown straps back over her shoulders and her arms were crossed over her breasts. He reached for her, but she stiffened.

“You have a guest waiting,” she said.

He clasped her arm and directed her the few steps to where the discarded plaide lay on the carpet. Marcus released her and bent to pick it up. He settled the blanket around her shoulders, drawing her close once again.

“One more stolen moment, aye?” he asked.

Marcus wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms between them, and kissed her. She breathed through parted lips, and he answered the invitation with a slow thrust of his tongue. He gently drew out her passion until she trembled with the final tracing of his tongue along her lips. He forced himself from her. Her head fell to his shoulder, and relief mixed with the lust still churning in him. He waited, unwilling to part even for his old friend.

She raised her head. “I should go.”

Marcus walked with her to the stairwell that led to her chambers. He gave her a final kiss on the cheek. “Go, love.” He urged her up the first step.

He watched the sway of the blanket until she disappeared around the bend, then turned on his heel and headed for the great hall.

* * *

Distant footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the drawing room where Elise sat. She looked up from the book she was reading. Surely Marcus hadn't returned from the fields so early? She hadn't seen him since last night. If he were to catch her here alone… would they finish what they'd started? The footsteps stopped in front of the door. Her heart thudded. The door swung open and a petite woman, smartly dressed in a burgundy velvet riding habit trimmed in gold, stood in the doorway.

“Have tea served here,” the woman ordered Mary, who stood behind her. The woman concentrated on the gloves she peeled from small, elegant hands. “I am hungry, as well. The ride this morning—” She looked up, her gaze on Elise, and she halted the tug on her glove.

No warmth shone in the woman's blue eyes and Elise wondered that such porcelain-like beauty should be marred with a statue's coldness. The woman's expression turned appraising.

“Do Brahan Seer's servants habitually lounge in the drawing room during the day?”

“Just myself,” Elise replied.

The woman's gaze sharpened. She stared for a moment, then waved a dismissive hand at Mary.

“Thank ye, Lady Margaret.” Mary bobbed a curtsy and backed out of the room, leaving Elise alone with the stranger and an increasing sense of apprehension.

Elise rose, hugging the book to her breast.

“You are American.” Lady Margaret yanked off the remaining glove.

Elise halted. “I am.”

“How long do you think you can hold his interest?”

Elise frowned. “What—” She froze.

“Let us get to the point,” Lady Margaret said in crisp tones. “He is a man, and there are certain things we must accept in men.”

Anger heated Elise's belly, but she replied in a cool tone, “Perhaps we have different standards.”

Surprise flickered across Margaret's face, then disdain settled on her features. “I have seen it before and with women possessing far more charms than you.” She raised a brow. “You are… twenty-six, twenty-seven, perhaps?”

Despite the fact Elise knew it made no difference—tomorrow she would be gone—the barb hit its mark. Marcus never asked her age. He, too, probably thought her younger than her thirty years.

Margaret raked her eyes over Elise in an unladylike fashion. “Men are intrigued by the new and unusual.” She waved her hand in the same dismissive manner she had with Mary. “That will change once we are wed.”