A Temptress in Tartan Read online

  Her enemy.

  A man to whom she was now married! The vows were said, the blessing given, all while she continued to stare, transfixed, at him. When he bent to kiss her, whatever spell she had been under shattered and she took a step back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Lachlan Douglas?” she asked, fighting hard to control not only the shock, but the indignation that coursed through her in equal measure.

  Lachlan’s gaze narrowed on her face. “I was not trying to be deceptive,” he whispered for her ears alone. “Until a few moments ago, I did not know you were Elizabeth Ruthven.”

  “I am. And we are enemies.” Elizabeth was only dimly aware of the wedding guests in the chamber as all her attention remained focused on the man before her.

  “Are we?” Drawing her closer, Lachlan embraced her as he had yesterday—molding her to the hard contours of his body. “Honestly, I am not displeased it is you.”

  A mindless drumming flowed through her as she lowered her gaze a fraction and it was no longer his eyes that held her transfixed, but the sensual curve of his mouth—a mouth that was descending toward hers even as his hand slid up from her waist to cradle the nape of her neck.

  His lips touched hers, and the shock trembled through her body. A protest lived and died in an instant as she could not summon the strength or the wit to pull away. All her senses became centered around the featherlight pressure of his mouth. She clenched her fists at her sides, prepared to endure what she must when he suddenly pulled back. He stepped away, as though he were suddenly done with her.

  “’Tis done. A Douglas and a Ruthven are married.” Lachlan’s voice was hard as he turned to the king and queen. “Just as you demanded.”

  “You have our gratitude,” the king replied. “Since your families are now joined, I trust this will put an end to the feud that has plagued all of us for years.”

  Elizabeth’s lips twisted in a mirthless smile. Trust? How would she ever be able to trust the man who was now her husband?

  As though sensing the direction of her thoughts, he turned back to her and said, “I promise to keep my vows to you, Elizabeth.”

  “The promise of a Douglas.”

  “I keep my word.”

  “A vile warrior, but not a liar,” she taunted.

  He frowned. “I was forced into this marriage just as you were, but I shall never lie to you. You can trust me on that.”

  She hugged her arms around herself, trying to stop the shivering that attacked every limb. “I trust very few people in this world and I doubt you will ever be one of them.”

  He said nothing, yet he continued to gaze at her with a strange, searching appraisal—as though he were looking into her soul. Then he abruptly turned away, addressing the king once more. She leaned forward in order to hear better what he said when she suddenly startled to see her father beside her. His bloodshot eyes narrowed. “Perhaps this won’t be such an ordeal for you after all,” he said, his voice cracking with anger. “You seemed to enjoy that bastard’s kiss.”

  Elizabeth stepped back from her father as both Lachlan and the king turned toward her. “I was doing my duty. Isn’t that what you asked of me?”

  “You have fulfilled your duty. The vows are said and the marriage complete.” His angry gaze connected with King James’s, then shifted back to Lachlan’s. “My daughter now falls under your protection. If anything happens to her—”

  “Nothing will happen to her,” Lachlan interrupted, causing the tension in the room to increase even more as he stepped closer to her father, towering over him by a full foot in height. “I will see Elizabeth is safe and that she prospers from this arrangement thrust upon us both.”

  “You so swear?” her father asked, his voice hard. His eyes harder.

  “I swear,” Lachlan replied with an edge to his voice.

  Her father’s frosty gaze narrowed with contempt and disgust a heartbeat before he stepped back, and with the other Ruthvens in attendance at the wedding, turned and left the room.

  Elizabeth’s heart thundered in her chest. She bit down on her lower lip, needing the pain to help stop the flow of tears forming in her eyes as a feeling of abandonment suddenly came over her. Feeling alone was not a new sensation for her. She’d never really had a place where she’d belonged, even in her own clan. And still, the sensation cut deep. This was her new life now—a captive surrounded by her enemies. Trying to regain her equilibrium, she allowed herself to be escorted to the wedding breakfast that had been set up in the great hall. When Lachlan pulled out a chair for her to sit at the head table, she slid into it and folded her trembling hands on her lap as he took the seat beside her. She would not allow her new husband or any of his kin to see the anxiety that rocked her every nerve and muscle.

  Instead of trying to engage her in conversation while the palace’s servants regaled them with a repast of bread, fruit, oats, fish, boar, and wine, Lachlan simply watched her with an occasional tug of his lips.

  When she could stand it no longer, she faced him fully and asked, “Have you nothing to say?”

  “What would you have me say? Should I ask after your comfort? Do you require refreshment other than what is before you?” he asked in an accommodating tone that only fired her ire.

  She drew a tight breath. “I require nothing other than to be released from what has been forced on me.”

  “Nothing was forced on either of us. We both willingly agreed to this arrangement.” He frowned. “Unless you consider my persuading you to change your mind yesterday coercion.”

  Heat came to her cheeks at the memory of her momentary weakness. “Nay,” she replied, feeling some of her anxiety drain away. “I am glad you stopped me from making a mistake. While I am not pleased to be your wife, I am better off alive as you so righteously pointed out in the midst of yesterday’s drama.”

  Lachlan leaned back in his chair. “Is that a thank you I heard jumbled up in all of those words?”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed. Why did he have to be so annoying? “Aye.”

  “Aye, what?” He frowned. “I might believe you were sincere if you actually said the words.”

  The heat in her cheeks reached a searing level as she brought her gaze to his. “Thank you for interfering in my life yesterday.”

  His lips pulled up in a half smile that brought out the dimple in his right cheek. “Since that is all I am likely to get from you, I will take it.” He paused. “You are welcome.”

  That dimple did strange things to her insides. With an effort, Elizabeth pulled her gaze away and added, “Do not interfere in my life again. I will not thank you next time.”

  He laughed. “My dearest wife, I intend to interfere in your life every single day until death do we part. And as I promised your father, that death will be of natural causes many years from now.”

  The great hall hummed with conversation and laughter from those gathered to celebrate their joining. The joviality of the guests was a sharp contrast to the bleakness in Elizabeth’s heart. “You intend to put up with me for that long?”

  Lachlan’s eyes were intent on hers, his face solemn. “I will consider it a challenge and an honor.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. “How can you say such? I am your enemy.”

  “You are my wife.”

  Elizabeth set her fork down after a few bites. “You think after decades of fighting it will all simply vanish because we are now wed?”

  Lachlan’s gaze connected with hers. A flash of memory sparked. There was something so familiar about those eyes. She remembered those eyes from a time in her past—long before those moments on the cliff.

  His gaze narrowed on her and the memory slipped away. “This feud between the Ruthvens and the Douglases started before either of us were born,” Lachlan said. “I was caught up in the bloodshed fourteen years ago with my parents’ deaths. I’ve already lost everything, Elizabeth. What more can the Ruthvens take from me . . . unless we have a child?”

  A slow flush crept up her ne
ck as her thoughts suddenly turned toward other things. Until that moment she had forgotten all about what came next. The marriage bed. She eyed him uncertainly now, rubbing her suddenly damp palms on the fabric of her gown, her heart thudding. “My laird, you cannot, we cannot . . .” Her stomach tightened at the thought of bedding her husband.

  “What is it, Elizabeth? Are you afraid of what happens between a husband and wife?”

  She sucked in a breath, afraid now to say what she must. She looked away, and gathering her courage, blurted out, “They might have forced me to marry you, but I will not rut with you. I will not give you bairns.”

  All around them the room suddenly silenced and all eyes turned their way. The king stood abruptly; his features suddenly dark. “What is this?” His voice was fierce. “You will bear a child with this man. I command it.”

  Elizabeth stood and squared her shoulders. “I mean you no disrespect, Your Grace, but this is not something you can command. If it were, there would be a babe in your own arms by now.”

  A collective gasp sounded all around her.

  The queen’s cheeks turned scarlet. The king’s eyes blazed as he came toward her. He raised his hand to strike. “How dare you. You’ll pay for that—”

  Lachlan shot to his feet. “Stop, Your Grace.” His voice held steely menace. “It does not serve you to lose your temper.”

  The king stopped and drew a sharp breath as his furious gaze moved from Lachlan to Elizabeth. He dropped his hand and took a step back as his anger ebbed. Finally, once more in control, he raised his chin and said, “The queen and I thought perhaps we were doing something great for Scotland by joining your two families. But now I wonder if we were foolish, or even a little mad to think such an act might solve this problem.”

  “Only time will tell,” Lachlan replied in a flat tone.

  “Aye,” the king agreed. “That it will.”

  “With your permission, Your Grace,” Lachlan said. “I believe it is best if Elizabeth and I depart for Whittingehame Castle with all due haste. We have much to discuss and many issues to settle between us that would be better handled in private.”

  “Agreed. I do not envy you that task,” the king replied as his gaze narrowed on Elizabeth. “You have our blessing to depart, but before you do, I have something for the two of you. Perhaps it might help to guide your lives together.” The king moved back to the queen’s side then returned with a thick book, the pages gilded and bound between a hard leather cover. He held the gift out to Lachlan.

  “A Bible?” Elizabeth asked.

  Lachlan’s eyes widened. “You can read?”

  Elizabeth stiffened. “Of course. My mother taught me when I was young.”

  “Good,” the king said. “Then you will both be able to use this. It is a wedding gift from the queen and myself. ’Tis a prototype of a new Bible I am having translated to try and make the word of God more accessible to the common man.”

  Lachlan accepted the book then bowed deeply. “I accept this with much gratitude, Your Grace.”

  When the king turned to Elizabeth, she curtsied. “Thank you for the gift, Your Grace.” She straightened and forced herself to meet his gaze. “You and the queen have been very kind to me over the last three weeks. I apologize if my words hurt you. They were not truly directed at you, but at my own fate.”

  The king nodded brusquely. “Go with your husband, and for once in your life try to be more than your name. Make your king and country proud of the Ruthven clan once more.”

  Elizabeth frowned at the comment but said nothing as the king continued.

  “You two are the last, best hope for your two clans.”

  Elizabeth gaped at the man. “That is entirely unreasonable to put the fate of our clans upon our shoulders.”

  The king’s features darkened. “Would you rather I send my ministers to investigate both of your clans, seeking signs of adoration not to your king, but to Satan? For if my men find anything out of the ordinary, you will all be brought up on charges of witchcraft and processed accordingly.” He shifted his gaze to Lachlan. “While I do not question the loyalty of the Douglases, their chosen wives have questionable pasts and family ties. Shall I dig deeper into the Ruthvens’ history to see what can be revealed?”

  Elizabeth couldn’t hold back a gasp. The king could easily follow through on his threat and find the simplest reason for anyone to come under suspicion. Her nerves jangling, she took a step away from the king’s malevolence. With her heart pounding in her chest she said, “I’ll need my things before I leave.”

  The king smiled grimly. “Your trunk has been packed and is already loaded on Lachlan’s carriage.” At Lachlan’s start of surprise, the king added, “I had thought you might be leaving us soon so I had the carriage brought around to the courtyard. It awaits you there.”

  Lachlan bowed again. “Many thanks to both you and the queen.” After those gathered went back to their meal, Lachlan turned to Elizabeth. He bent close to her ear and said, “I do not rut. I am not an animal. When you do join your body with mine, Elizabeth, it will be because you want me to be there. It will be because you cannot do otherwise. There will be a day very soon when your every thought, breath, and heartbeat will be focused on the two of us coming together as one.”

  The warmth of his breath and his very nearness were doing strange things to her nerves, and still she pushed him away. “Never.”

  “Be prepared to eat those words, Wife. For you shall before the month is through.” Elizabeth’s gasp of denial was lost as Lachlan turned her toward the doorway. “Shall we depart?”

  As they went, Elizabeth stole a peek at the man beside her. Despite her intense dislike of him, she had to admit he was strikingly handsome in his blue-and-green tartan that showed his muscular physique to perfection: strong shoulders, a broad well-muscled chest, and muscular thighs. There was also an indefinable air of self-assurance about him, as if he knew exactly how to handle the situation they now found themselves in. Whereas, she had absolutely no idea of how to proceed now that they would be on their own.

  The late morning sky was clear and the day just starting to warm as the carriage rolled through the gatehouse of Falkland Palace and to the south. “You said it would take us four days to reach Whittingehame Castle?”

  “Aye,” Lachlan said. “We will travel as far as Kirkcaldy tonight.”

  “Where will we stay?”

  “Another of the king’s elite guards, one of his Magnificent Seven, Sir Cameron Sinclair, has agreed to shelter us for the night at Ravenscraig Castle. Have no fear. We’ll be among friends.”

  “Your friends. They are not mine.” She meant it as a quip, but the truth stung her tongue. “I shall never have friends again now that my family has tossed me away like a worn shoe into our enemy’s hands.”

  If she had hoped for a measure of sympathy from her new husband, she was sadly disappointed. Lachlan’s features were grim as the coach rumbled along and their journey began. “I am only your enemy if you make me such.” His words hung between them as they raced along the road. The swaying of the carriage, along with the repetitive sounds of the horses’ hooves against the hard-packed earth and the vibration of the wheels, soon had Elizabeth nodding off. She’d had very little sleep last night in anticipation of her wedding. Now that the event was behind her, she had a hard time keeping her eyelids from drooping down.

  When next she woke, it was to find the carriage had stopped and the door was open, allowing the warm, early evening air inside. The scent of heather floated on the breeze as she moved to step outside the vehicle. As she emerged, Lachlan looked up from where he was stroking the neck of one of the matched bays while the coachman released the other from the carriage harness. “Have we arrived at Kirkcaldy?”

  “Nay,” Lachlan replied as he reached out his hand to assist her in stepping down. “We had to stop short of our goal because we broke a shaft on one of the wheels. The coachman assures me he can have it repaired before the morning. In
the meanwhile, we will stay at Buckhaven Inn for the night.”

  She accepted his hand and placed one foot on the coach steps but stopped before stepping down as she gaped in horror at the inn before her. The “inn” he mentioned was no more than a rundown country cottage. The mud and mortar walls lurched drunkenly to the right. The thatched roof rippled like the waves she’d see at the Firth of Forth, and smoke escaped from the chimney overhead, but also through the shuttered windows. “This is where we’ll be staying?”

  “Aye,” Lachlan affirmed. “It doesn’t look like much, but they have the best meat pasties in the shire.”

  Elizabeth jerked her hand from his. “Where will we sleep? On the floor?”

  “I assure you, we will have a clean room.”

  Elizabeth paused. “A room together?”

  “Aye. We are newlywed and must keep up appearances. However, as I stated before, there will be nothing between us until you desire such.” He extended his hand once more.

  She stared down at it, trying to decide what to do. She must have hesitated too long, for he stepped forward and his arm came about her waist. He lifted her off her feet before pulling her against his chest. “You will come with me into the inn. It is your choice whether I carry you inside like a sack of grain, or you maintain your dignity and walk inside on your own two feet.” He paused as his determined gaze connected with her angry one. “What is your choice?”

  Elizabeth relaxed at the mention of a choice, the tension leaving her body.

  Lachlan must have read her response as capitulation for he set her on her feet though he held tight to her hand. “Shall we?”

  “Since that is the only option I have,” she replied tartly. “But only for one night.” Her gaze clashed with his as she stepped toward the sagging door.

  Inside the inn the smell of smoke lingered, but Elizabeth had to admit the room, while dilapidated and rundown as the rest of the place, was clean. A cheerful fire glowed in the hearth and the wooden tables nearby had a bright bouquet of wildflowers at the center of each that were comprised of pink, yellow, and red blooms.