Page 9 of My Highland Love

“Aye,” he said. The memory of her breasts pressed against his chest caused him to harden.

She backed up a few steps, then turned and ran headlong into the man behind her. He reached to steady her. A flush colored her cheeks and Marcus bit back a laugh when she dodged the warrior. Marcus leaned forward, catching one last look at her backside before she disappeared through the kitchen door.

Chapter Three

At the sound of horses padding past the cottage she shared with Winnie, Elise looked up from the table where sat the teacup she had been refilling. She glanced from the curtained window to Winnie, who remained bent over her needlework. Elise took two steps to the fireplace, hooked the kettle over the fire, and went to the window. She pulled back the lace curtain to see a procession of warriors filing past the cottages.

Marcus MacGregor rode at the head of the company. He sat straight, his body shifting in easy motion with the horse's rhythmic movements. Her father had exuded the same careless confidence. Elise recalled her mother often watching from a window as he rode away. The warmth spreading through Elise now gave her an understanding of what her mother must have felt.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered.

“What?” Winnie called, but she didn't answer, mesmerized as Marcus turned his profile to her and addressed the man to his left.

The edges of his dark hair curled along the line of his ear and down his neck. He smiled. The remembered feel of his solid chest against her breasts arose with surprising intensity. What would his chest feel like beneath her fingers? Her pulse quickened. Where had that thought come from? Marcus's horse disappeared around a sharp turn in the path. Elise surveyed the long line of men following.

“Where are they going?” she murmured.

“To the Hastings Campbells,” Winnie said.

“I thought the MacGregors and Campbells were feuding.”

“They are.”

The last of the men disappeared from view. “Why go then?”

“To deal with Shamus's murderer.”

Elise swung her gaze back to Winnie. “Shamus has been dead two months. Why has Cameron waited so long to bring the guilty man before the law?”

“Cameron is the law,” Winnie replied.

A tremor rippled through Elise. Price, too, had appointed himself law. “How can Cameron be impartial? It is his kin who was murdered.”

The housekeeper grunted. “How impartial should he be?”

“Surely he wouldn't kill in cold blood?”

Winnie's head snapped up. “Cold blood? What the Campbells done—killing Shamus—that was cold blood.”

Elise realized she had crushed the curtain and released it. She crossed to the table and grasped the back of the chair across from Winnie. “Has Cameron identified the killer?”

“Each kinsman is responsible for the other.”

Elise stared. “Have you any idea what you are saying?”

“Every Highlander will tell you the same.”

“Even the Highlands of Scotland can't be so uncivilized as to seek recompense of the guilty party's neighbors. The man who committed the crime, he alone is responsible.”

“Mayhap,” Winnie said as she squinted at the tiny stitching. “But his kinsmen would have to hand him over to his accusers, and the Campbells are not known for thinking themselves guilty for ridding the world of a MacGregor.”

Elise kept her tight grip on the chair. Would the MacGregors hand her over to Price? Would the ten thousand pound reward sway them? “So an entire clan will suffer for one man's wickedness?”

“'Tis a funny thing you'll find in the clans,” Winnie said, her attention intent on the sewing. “Some do nothing but fight. Others are peaceful, while some are just plain scoundrels. Whatever they are, 'tis generally agreed amongst themselves. Like begets like. If a man differs, he can take refuge elsewhere.”

Warmth rippled through Elise. Just as she had taken refuge here. She watched Winnie stitch the intricate needlework on the linen blanket meant for Chloe's new baby. How much like her were these people? Sadness wound through her. What did it matter? When Price finally believed she had perished at sea and stopped advertising the notice, she would then board a ship without fear a bounty hunter was looking for her. Her wedding band, hidden behind a loose stone in the ladies' drawing room, would buy passage to America. There she would testify that she shot Robert in defense of her brother and herself.

Would her word be enough? She wasn't the only person who had survived the sinking of the Amelia. Someone had reported to Price that she shot Robert. Was that person friend or foe? Would that person try to stop her from bringing Price Ardsley to his knees? Elise startled at the realization that she intended to dispense her own brand of justice.