Page 6 of A Touch So Wicked

Damian’s expression remained inscrutable despite his lustful thoughts. He hadn’t expected to feel desire for the lady he’d been sent to evict from her home. But lust aside, her fate had already been decided by the Crown and he could not change that decision even had he wanted to.

“There will be no wedding today, or ever, lady,” Damian said harshly. “The king has forbidden an alliance between the outlaw Gordon clan and the Frasers.”

“Your king canna tell me what to do,” Elissa spat. “I am a Highlander, not an English subject.”

“Your kinsmen were defeated at Culloden, lady. Your father led a regiment into battle. Had you remained in your fortress and not brought attention upon yourself by aligning your clan with the rebellious Gordons, King George would most likely have left you in peace. But I do thank you, lady, for your decision to wed the Gordon chieftain has brought me rich lands and a title.”

“English butcher!” Elissa hissed. “You canna take my home from me. I willna allow it.”

Dermot, who had been listening to this exchange, chose that moment to interfere. “Did ye say yer name was Damian Stratton, me lord?”

Damian dragged his gaze from the volatile Elissa to the old man. “Aye, I am Damian Stratton.”

“Are ye the man they call the Demon Knight?” Dermot asked, paling.

Damian cocked a dark brow. Was it possible that his reputation had preceded him to this remote area?

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Aye, we’ve heard. How many of our kinsmen did ye slay at Culloden?” Dermot spat.

“Which of your kinsmen killed my father?” Damian returned with remarkable restraint.

“So you’re the Demon Knight,” Elissa said, her eyes shimmering with hatred. Her gaze slid away from Damian to his small army filling the courtyard. “Do you intend to slay us, my lord?”

“Nay, no matter what you’ve heard about me, I am no coldblooded killer. I need your kinsmen to till the soil, tend my sheep, harvest the crops and serve in the keep. Nothing will change. Things will go on as before, except that the new Lord of Misterly is an Englishman.”

Elissa squared her shoulders. “What’s to become of me and my family, my lord?”

Damian strode past Dermot and Elissa, forcing them to follow him into the hall. “Sit down, lady.”

“Nay, I will stand. Has my fate already been decided?”

Just then Dickon came striding into the hall. “Damian, I cornered a young lad in the stables. He said the Frasers and Gordons were gathered at the village kirk, waiting for the bride to arrive.”

“Ride to the kirk, Dickon. Take half the men with you in case of trouble, but avoid bloodshed if you can. To show that I intend be a just overlord, allow the Gordons to return to their stronghold and escort the Frasers back to Misterly to meet their new master.”

“My clansmen are neither serfs nor slaves,” Elissa snapped. “They live in the village, tend the fields and sheep, and work at Misterly because they wish to. Misterly is their home.”

Damian settled his silver gaze on Elissa, admiring her spunk and the fact that she was not intimidated by him. She also possessed a formidable temper. He wondered how she would react when she learned she was to spend the rest of her life behind the cloistered walls of a convent.

He scowled. It would make things easier for everyone were she to accept her fate gracefully. Damian didn’t relish having antagonistic people serving him in his new role as Lord of Misterly. If Elissa left Misterly without argument, her kinsmen might be less inclined to reject him. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken Damian long to realize that Elissa was a staunch Jacobite with a healthy hatred for Englishmen. The Highlanders had been defeated soundly at Culloden five years ago, but Elissa still fought that battle. The king was right in sending her to the convent, Damian concluded.

Staring at the too handsome, arrogant Englishman who had come to steal her home, Elissa felt naught but rage. Englishmen had taken her beloved father and brothers from her, now they wanted to claim her home.

Elissa had indeed heard of the Demon Knight. Who hadn’t? Rumors held him to be a blackguard butcher without a conscience, a man who had distinguished himself at Culloden while still a lad, a man who had cut a swath of death and destruction throughout the Highlands in the name of English justice.

Without being told, Elissa knew that the English king and his Demon Knight had plans for her she wasn’t going to like. Her chin firmed. She had a family to protect; she’d fight tooth and nail to make sure they weren’t going to be mistreated by the man who had come to destroy her world.

If only he weren’t so handsome, Elissa thought despite herself. When he looked at her with those compelling silvergray eyes she nearly forgot to breathe. In black doublet and tight breeches, he cut a dashing figure. He was tall, muscular, and lethal, a man whose strong, handsome features had been hardened by countless battles.

Damian took a threatening step forward, but Elissa held her ground. He could glare at her all he liked; she wasn’t going to give an inch.

“I understand your mother currently resides at Misterly,” Damian said.

Elissa’s heart pounded with dread. “My mother is ill, she canna be disturbed.”

Elissa hated the way the Demon Knight cocked his dark brow, as if questioning her veracity.