"Elspeth, wait."
She halted facing the door. "What?"
"I'm not angry with you."
She blew out a breath, turned her head and glared at him. "What do you call it then?"
"I'm angry with myself," he growled.
"Because of me."
"Nay."
"You're lying to yourself."
Not so much lying as trying to convince himself. Why the devil couldn't he sort through his own emotions? Why couldn't he stop obsessing about last night and wanting to indulge again… even when she might already be with child, and his plans for enriching his clan were floundering in the gutter?
"You make everything muddled." He ground his teeth.
"Indeed?" Her gaze speared into him. "Well, I'll make it all clear and simple by staying away from you. I'll not touch you and you promise not to touch me."
"Nay." The word burst out before his mind could even mull that over. He mumbled a curse.
"What? You're the one who's muddling things."
'Twas true, but what could he do about it?
"I see what the problem is," she snapped, her eyes darkening in a passionate anger that only fired his blood all the more. "You're carnally drawn to me, but I'm not good enough for you, am I? A mere merchant's daughter and former mistress of a peer. Nay, you know with your mind that you still want to marry Lily, but with your baser man instincts, you want me instead. So… you're torn. 'Tis why many men have mistresses. But I'll tell you now, I'll never be a mistress again. Nor will I marry. I'm perfectly happy being on my own. I may be the only woman you've ever met who has no need of a man." She opened the door and slammed it on the way out.
"Damnation!" Cyrus muttered into the silence. That woman's temper made him so hot-blooded and aroused he could hardly even think. He held onto the mantle so he wouldn't go chasing after her.
Everything she'd said was true.
Closing his eyes, he propped his forehead on his fist. Their encounters against the wall and in the bed of the tower room played through his mind. He remembered the seductive scent of her throat, the sweet taste of her mouth as she opened for him, the soft suppleness of her curvy hips in his hands, the drenching heat of her as she eagerly accepted him into her depths. He had not sensed any hesitation. She'd seemed as hungry as he had been.
∞∞∞
After Fraser, MacNeil, and Irving had traveled several more miles, Fraser again heard the pounding of hooves approaching from the rear. He glanced back. Half a dozen horses were quickly advancing toward them. The riders wore the gray livery of a Lowland aristocrat's guards. Were they strangers, or the lackeys of that Henry bastard Cyrus had told him about? Had they been watching when Fraser or the guards had left?
Regardless, they were outnumbered. His main objective was arriving at Castle Rebbinglen to send back help for Cyrus.
"Faster!" Fraser commanded MacNeil and Irving. He dug his heels into his mount's flanks. The horses flew along the road, their hooves flinging a spray of black mud.
Fraser narrowed his eyes, then peered back. The whoresons were gaining ground. 'Slud, his horse was getting winded and couldn't maintain this speed much longer.
"We'll have to fight!" Fraser told his two companions. Three against six weren't good odds, but all the MacKenzie men had excellent training; Cyrus made sure of it. "Up ahead, dismount in the wood. We'll use the element of surprise like we did in that skirmish near Loch Shiel."
"Aye!" MacNeil yelled.
"At least one of us must survive and go for help." Fraser slowed, leapt off and slapped his horse on the rump, sending him fleeing to safety.
He, MacNeil and Irving drew their basket-hilt swords as they moved into the dense undergrowth of the forest. The blackguards would be forced to fight on foot in this uneven terrain. He doubted they would be as accustomed to it as Highlanders were.
"Cowards!" the enemy leader called out from the road. "Come out and fight like men."
The Lowland imbecile didn't understand how Highlanders fought. Being canny, they preferred stealth. Why be daft and walk out like a target? Especially with them being outnumbered. Instead, the knaves would have to prove their mettle. Did they have the stones to charge into the dark forest where Highlanders might lurk among the hummocks, ready to dirk them at any moment?
Fraser peered from behind a large pine trunk and emitted a sea eagle cackle, just to taunt their foes.
