Page 85 of My Highland Love

Both men regarded her.

She looked back at them. How could she explain that the woman he wished to marry was wanted for murdering her husband? 'You see, my husband poisoned my daughter with tiny doses of the deadly nightshade. The symptoms were subtle, which explains why the doctors couldn't pinpoint the disease. I never caught Robert in the act, but he knew I knew and tried to kill me. I shot him in self-defense. Ignore the wanted notice in the London Sunday Times. It will eventually go away.'

Elise regarded Marcus. “As your wife, I am no longer prisoner?”

“You are not prisoner now,” he replied. “You are in the castle for your safety.”

“Safety,” she murmured, then added, “If I wish to go to the village, you will allow it?”

He nodded. “If it pleases you. I have work I can take care of while we are there.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I am no prisoner then?”

“Nae,” he answered innocently, and she knew she would get no more.

He would ensure she was watched every second they were at the village. If she played the future wife, he would soon relax his hold. Pain stabbed at her heart.

She had to be gone before his priest arrived.

* * *

Elise paced her bedchamber. Marcus's son would arrive any hour. Only two days had passed since she'd agreed to marry Marcus. Was he hurrying to Brahan Seer to meet the woman who would marry his father, or to expose her as murderess? How in God's name was she to escape not two, but three MacGregor men?

The fire blazing in the hearth cracked and she jumped. She pressed a hand over her racing heart. Something must be done. She recalled the various decanters of liquor sitting on the sideboard in Marcus's library and hurried to the library.

She opened the door and met Marcus's gaze as he looked up from the work on his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, love?” he asked.

She closed the door and headed for the sideboard. “I need a drink.”

Elise ignored the quizzical lift of his brow as she stopped before the sideboard and surveyed the decanters. She spied the small square decanter filled with cognac. She removed the lid from the decanter, poured a healthy portion into a glass, then emptied it in two unladylike gulps.

She heaved a sigh, then poured another, and finished it just as quickly. She glanced at Marcus and saw he regarded her. “Oh,” she said, “how thoughtless. Would you like one?”

He shook his head.

“Well, I do.”

The glass reached her lips when Marcus's hand covered hers. “Slow down, lass. You're liable to regret this in the morning.”

“Unlikely.” She brushed his hand aside, then strolled to the hearth while sipping the cognac.

“Is something wrong?” Marcus inquired.

“Wrong?” She whirled. A delicious warmth radiated through her body. “A few months ago, I was shipwrecked, left penniless and alone, then, naïve little lamb that I am”—she narrowed her eyes at the mirth that leapt to his eyes—”I was pursued relentlessly by you.”

“Perhaps what you need is a little comforting,” he suggested.

Elise rolled her eyes. “What I need is another cognac.”

“Nae.”

She gave her head one single slow shake. “Do not think you can stop me from doing as I please. Now or after we're married.”

Marcus caught her arm as she approached the sideboard. “Have you not had enough?”

She disengaged herself from his grasp. “I'm capable of handling my liquor. Be so kind as to move aside.” She placed a hand on his chest and shoved.

He stepped back as she passed. “You're in a fine mood tonight. I have never seen you this way before.”