Page 42 of My Highland Love

Elise couldn't prevent a gasp.

Margaret lifted a brow. “He did not tell you? Pity. You can't be surprised he kept the news from you, of all people.”

Elise narrowed her eyes. “Marcus is no liar.”

“He hasn't lied. The news has not yet been announced. We are awaiting permission from King George.” Margaret regarded her with a curious intensity. “You don't believe me.” She laughed, the sound filled with disdain and, to Elise's surprise, pleasure. “Tell me,” Margaret said, “do you like the way he slides his tongue over your lips?”

A chill pooled in Elise's belly.

“Or perhaps you find the way he runs his hands along your body more memorable. He is a man who enjoys touching a woman—and let us not forget the way he moves in a deliciously languid motion—”

“What do you want?” Elise demanded.

Margaret slapped her gloves against her hand. “You have nothing I want. His fancy will pass soon enough—as it always does.” Then, under her breath, “Though it doesn't please me he has so openly taken his pleasure while I have been away.”

While I have been away. A clear explanation for why Marcus had avoided the issue of his wife-to-be.

“He has not taken his pleasure, madam,” Elise shot back, remembering all too well how he had nearly done that very thing just last night. How she was just hoping it was he who came looking for her to take his pleasure.

Surprise shone on Margaret's face. “Why, there must have been many opportunities…” Her eyes widened. “You mean to marry him.”

Elise jerked. “What?”

“You think if you make him wait, he will marry you. My girl, Marcus does not marry out of lust. The Marq—”

“It is quite evident love is not the driving factor in your marriage,” Elise snapped.

Margaret's eyes blazed.

“My congratulations, madam. I wish you, Marcus, and all his paramours a happy union.” Elise hurried past her toward the door.

“How dare you, you little—”

Elise yanked the door open and slammed it behind her as she stepped into the hallway, leaving Margaret's final words behind. She stumbled forward. Tears clouded her vision. She reached out a hand to the wall, steadying her progress, and discovered she still held the book. She gripped it tighter and took one wobbly step after another until she reached the stairs. She started down, but the sound of voices echoing up the stairwell stopped her. Cameron. She turned, scanning the hall for some form of escape, then remembered the small alcove around the bend she had just passed. She dashed up the stairs and down the corridor.

Elise reached the alcove and yanked back the tapestry, nearly falling headlong inside. She straightened, then turned and backed up, stopping only when her shoulders touched cold stone. Sliding to the floor, she dropped the book and hugged her knees to her chest.

“Nae.” Even from the distance of the stairwell, Cameron's voice boomed within the narrow confines of the corridor. “'Tis likely he won't be back for several days.”

“I hadna' realized he meant to stay so long in the fields,” came Daniel's voice.

“He believes the Campbells mean to do mischief during the harvest.”

“The guards around the wall remain on double watch,” Daniel said.

Elise held her breath as they passed the alcove.

Cameron sighed. “His thirst for revenge is likely never to be quenched. He cannot forgive them for taking Elise.”

She stifled a gasp. Winnie's words unexpectedly rang in her mind. “…it was Marcus who made it clear threats against his own would be met with an iron fist.”

The male voices faded down the hallway and Elise rose to her feet. She tiptoed to the tapestry and drew the fabric back a fraction. She glanced left then right in the empty corridor, then stepped from the alcove and hurried to the stairs.

Memory of the previous night rose in even more vivid detail than when she'd faced Margaret. If not for the arrival of Marcus's guest, she would have given herself to him. Heat flared in her cheeks. He had held her intimately. So intimately that in her dreams he had caressed her, taken each nipple in his mouth as he slipped a finger between the wet folds of her womanhood. She had never experienced a dream so real… so erotic. Her vision blurred on the stairs and she slowed.

In her dream, it hadn't been him who took her, but she who had willingly parted her thighs, then pulled him between them. She had wrapped her hand around his swollen rod and teased him—teased herself—by rubbing the tip against her throbbing sex, then between the folds before finally guiding him inside her. Elise halted and collapsed back against the wall, her breath heavy and the throb between her legs as real now as it had been in the dream.

The cool of the stone penetrated the thin fabric of her servant's dress. She forced her breathing into a more natural rhythm, then started down the stairs again and didn't stop until she reached her room. Elise closed the door with a soft click. Her knees shook and she suddenly doubted her ability to cross the few paces to the bed.