Page 40 of A Touch So Wicked

“If you are finished, my lord, you may leave,” Elissa invited. His presence in her room was dangerous…and far too daunting.

A growl began deep in Damian’s throat as he grasped her waist and pulled her against him. She opened her mouth to protest at the same time Damian’s mouth slammed down on hers. His kiss was not gentle, but neither was it brutal. It was hot and hard and needy. And arousing. Her lips had just begun to soften beneath his when he broke away, a satisfied smile curving his mouth.

“You know where to find me if you want more, my lady,” he said with an arrogance that made Elissa’s teeth clench. He left her standing with her lips clamped together and rage seething through her. Insufficient rage, however, to convince her to kill him.

Later that day Elissa was walking through the great hall when Dermot intercepted her. He glanced about to see if anyone was listening, then whispered, “I have a message for ye, lass.”

“A message? From whom?”

He leaned close. “I saw Tavis Gordon in the village today. He told me to tell ye that time was running out. It has to be tonight. What did he mean, lass?”

“I donna know.”

“Yer lying, lass. I can see it in yer eyes. What is Gordon up to?”

She drew Dermot aside and whispered, “Tavis wants me to kill Lord Damian but I canna do it.”

“Thank God,” Dermot said fervently. “Yer not a killer, lass. How were ye expected to do the deed when the only time his lordship is vulnerable is when he is abed?”

Dermot’s eyes widened when the answer came to him. “If what I’m thinking is right, Tavis is demented for asking ye to compromise yerself.”

“Tavis is counting on me,” Elissa whispered.

Dermot searched her face, his own softening with compassion. “This has to be yer own decision, lass. I realize having an Englishman take what is yers is difficult, but ye are not the only Highlander to suffer such a fate. I willna be unhappy to see the last of the English soldiers at Misterly, but I donna wish to see another Culloden in my lifetime.”

“Nor do I,” Elissa said, “but neither do I want Englishmen on Fraser land.”

Her expression hardened. Could she do it? Could she go to Damian tonight and avenge her kinsmen?

Chapter Eight

The great hall emptied quickly after the evening meal. Sprawled on a bench before the hearth, Damian stared morosely into his freshly drawn pint of ale. Sir Richard sat across from him in silent camaraderie. Despite Damian’s distraction, he could tell Dickon had something on his mind.

“Is something bothering you, Dickon?”

Dickon cleared his throat. “Have you thought about returning the soldiers of the Black Watch to London? They are unhappy in the Highlands and wish to return to their former posts.”

“I have come to the same conclusion, Dickon. Things are well in hand here. We have seen neither hide nor hair of the Gordon clan and probably won’t. We can defend Misterly without outside help.”

“Things are certainly going your way,” Dickon allowed. “According to Maggie, Lady Marianne is recovering and young Lora’s health has already been restored. You must be looking forward to sending them to the convent.”

Damian wasn’t so sure. He’d miss Lora’s friendly chatter. And unlike Elissa, Lady Marianne didn’t hold him personally responsible for Culloden.

“Lady Marianne and Lora are not the problems in this household,” Damian muttered. “Lady Elissa could take lessons from them.”

Dickon grinned. “I take that to mean your seduction of her isn’t working.”

“Take it any way you please. The little vixen just won’t give up. How are you faring with your Maggie? Is she still resisting? ’Tisn’t like you to spend so much time on an unwilling wench, Dickon.”

“I could say the same for you, Damian. Mayhap I should try my luck in the village. Women are the same the world over—some are willing, others are not.”

Just then Maggie crossed the hall on some errand or other and nodded a greeting at the two men. Damian watched with amusement when Dickon leapt to his feet and ran after her. So much for Dickon’s plans to find a willing wench in the village.

The hour was growing late. Damian uncoiled his long form from the bench and sought his bed.

Freshly bathed and wearing a linen nightdress and robe, Elissa stared out the window. Was Tavis waiting for her signal? No matter how much he was counting on her, she couldn’t kill Damian. Could she? Did she have it in her? Hands behind her back, she began to pace.

Elissa doubted Tavis had come this far to give up. There was bound to be a bloody battle whether Damian was dead or alive. She wracked her brain for a plan short of murder that would aid Tavis. There was none. Tonight she would go to Damian’s chamber and let him have his way with her. Once he fell asleep…God help her.