Page 22 of A Touch So Wicked

“I will tell them,” Maggie said in a hushed voice.

The conversation drew to a quick conclusion when Sir Richard knocked on the door, then poked his head inside. “Ah, there you are, Mistress Maggie. You’re wanted below.”

“I’ll try to return later,” Maggie hissed.

Elissa paced restlessly, her supper forgotten. There had been enough blood spilled at Culloden to last a lifetime and she hoped her kinsmen realized they had neither arms nor men to launch a rebellion. She wanted none of her kinsmen hurt on her account.

When Maggie failed to return to her chamber that night, Elissa sought her bed, but sleep was hard won.

Damian awoke at dawn and threw aside his blanket, shivering in the morning chill. Why was the barracks so cold, he wondered, thinking fondly of the comfortable room he’d given up to his provocative prisoner.

Banishing thoughts of Elissa, Damian stared at the cold hearth, a small frown drawing his brows together. Usually one of the servants came early and laid a fire in the grate, but for some reason no one had performed that duty today. He’d learned to heed his instincts and they told him now that something was amiss.

Dressing quickly, Damian left the barracks to correct any problems that might have arisen. He entered the hall, his gaze skipping over the empty chamber and settling on the cold hearth. Where was the cheery fire that usually warmed the cavernous room? Where was the sound of voices usually heard this time of morning?

The air carried no cooking odors, no sounds of pots and pans banging in the kitchen. An ominous silence prevailed. Curious, Damian strode down the passageway to the kitchen. It was deserted. No food was being prepared for the hungry men who would soon crowd around the trestle tables to break their fast. Damian spun around and returned to the hall, his boot heels echoing hollowly on the flagstone floor. Men were gathering in the hall for food and ale now, and Damian wondered how in bloody hell these men were going to be fed.

Damian spied Dickon and intercepted him.

“What’s amiss, Damian?”

“I wish I knew. Have you seen any Frasers about this morning?”

“Nay, but I’ll check the kitchen.”

“I already did. No one’s there. The whole bloody fortress is deserted. If Elissa is behind this I’ll wring her beautiful neck.” The words had scarcely left his mouth as he whirled on his heel and marched resolutely toward the tower staircase.

He halted abruptly when he spied Dermot hobbling into the hall.

“Where is everyone?” Damian asked harshly. “There’s no food on the table nor fires in the grates.”

“Nor will there be if ye continue to keep Elissa imprisoned in the tower,” he charged. “We donna like what yer doing to our lass, me lord.”

“I’ve done nothing,” Damian defended. “Ask Mistress Maggie, if you don’t believe me.”

“’Tis not good enough, me lord. Our lass shouldna be locked away from her kinsmen. If ye donna release our lass from the tower, no one will cook yer meals or till yer fields or harvest yer crops. The shepherds will let yer sheep go astray. Yer fortress will fall down around yer ears without the villagers who come in each day to serve ye. Release the Maiden of Misterly, yer lordship, and the people will return to their duties.”

Rage seethed through Damian. He was Lord of Misterly; how dared they dictate to him?

From the corner of his eye, Damian spied Sir Richard standing nearby. “Dickon! Assign three men to the kitchen until I can put an end to this blatant act of rebellion.”

Dickon sent him a skeptical look. “I doubt there’s a cook among the ranks.”

“I know that,” Damian said curtly. Then he turned and strode away, his anger escalating as he climbed the spiral staircase to the tower. He dismissed the guard with a nod of his head, turned the key in the lock and burst inside without knocking. The first thing he noticed was the warmth of the room and the flames that spit and crackled merrily in the hearth. That made his mood even darker. He started violently when he saw Elissa standing beside the washstand in her shift. The light was behind her, rendering her fine linen transparent. His breath hitched. Heat spiraled through him as he feasted unashamedly upon lush curves and seductive shadows.

Her breasts were exquisite; full and round with delicious cherry red nipples. His passionate gaze skimmed over slim waist and curvy hips, pausing at the shadowy patch at the apex of her thighs. Would it be the same dark fire as the hair on her head? he wondered as his gaze locked on that enticing part of her anatomy. His arousal was instantaneous and he fought hard to ignore it. He forced himself to concentrate on his reason for being here, not on the seductive Highland vixen who had somehow managed to incite a rebellion while locked away in the tower.

Elissa stood frozen in place. “What are you doing here?” she gasped. “Go away!”

Stalking her, Damian backed her against the washstand and grasped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. The heat of her struck him with shattering force and he struggled to retain some semblance of control.

“What have you done?” Her eyes widened and he felt her shoulders stiffen beneath his hands.

“I’ve done naught!”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You know bloody well what you did. You encouraged your kinsmen to flout my authority. The fortress has been abandoned. My men are hungry and the hearths are cold.”

His gaze strayed deliberately to the hearth, and the fire blazing within. His lips curled with derision. “Yours, however, seems to be well tended.”