her fingers splayed across tanned skin where his shirt lay open, and her senses reeled at the raw power in the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
"Lord," she whispered, and yanked her hands away.
The vague realization that strong fingers had gripped her wrists was overshadowed by the jolt she felt when Marcus forced her hands back to his chest. Her mind screamed to break free, but the sight of her palms gliding over his dark skin—the need to touch every contour, to know intimately his powerful body—held her rooted to the spot. She tore her gaze from his chest and looked into his eyes. The fire blazing there drew her—commanded her—and she leaned into him.
"There ye are, lad. I was just look—"
Elise twisted as Cameron reached the bottom of the nearest staircase. He lifted a bushy brow. She looked back at Marcus. His hold loosened and she snatched her hands away. She retreated, stumbling over her own feet. Marcus reached for her, but she dodged his hand with another unsure step backward.
"I-I must go," she stammered, and fled the room.
" Elise —bloody hell!"
Marcus's voice echoed off the stone walls as she shoved through the postern door.
Elise avoided Marcus that night. Yet his memory persisted. Alone in bed, her cheeks burned with the recollection of how he had forced her hands against him in a rough caress. Though only a moment passed between them, her senses had taken in every contour as her fingers glided along the unyielding muscle. The hint of brandy on his breath, the hammering of his beating heart, his hard body—with a flourish, she threw back the covers. Cold air crept over her. Yet it wasn't the cold that made her shiver, but the vision of Marcus's hands touching her as she had touched him. Oh, treacherous body! To be undone by desire.
A desire beyond that which drew you to the man you shot , her mind whispered.
Elise examined her hands in the moonlight that spilled across the bed from the window above her head. It hadn't occurred to her she would touch another man as she had Robert. A porcelain doll, Robert had called her, to be admired but not touched. The fact he had suffered her in his bed only long enough to get her with child had proven even her beauty had been lacking. Yet the memory of Robert's scorn didn't stop the leap of her heart at the thought of Marcus.
Time grew short—shorter than she had realized. Dare she wait another week or even a day before leaving Scotland?
* * * *
Marcus stood on the battlement speaking with Daniel when he spied Elise emerging from the stables astride a horse.
"By God," he cursed.
"What is it?" Daniel looked in the direction Marcus stared.
"Stop her!" Marcus shouted down to the guards, then hurried down the stairs.
Her gaze met his as he leapt from the battlement steps into the courtyard. "Out of my way," she ordered.
"Woman, only yesterday you fled from me as if I were an ogre. Now you dispense imperious orders as though you are a queen. Where are you going?"
"To find Tavis and box his ears. Then I'll drag him and his sister back."
Marcus raised a brow. "Tired of chasing the little fools all over God's green earth? A pity they won't listen to good advice. Come down from there." He reached to pull her from the mare's back.
She slapped his hand. "They purposely sneaked out."
"Disobedient brats," he said.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Never mind," he said.
"Never mind?" she choked. "If I hadn't heard it myself, I wouldn't have believed it." She jerked on the reins. "Out of my wa—" Elise shrieked when he yanked her from the saddle.
Marcus brought her face level with his. "Yesterday, you left against my command. Will you attempt to disobey me again today?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I planned to enlist Brady's help in finding the children."
"And if he's not available?"
"He's the stable master. He is always in the stables."
"Aye," Marcus said. "But if he isn't, you will use good sense and return to the keep?" He added before she could argue, "I'll
"Lord," she whispered, and yanked her hands away.
The vague realization that strong fingers had gripped her wrists was overshadowed by the jolt she felt when Marcus forced her hands back to his chest. Her mind screamed to break free, but the sight of her palms gliding over his dark skin—the need to touch every contour, to know intimately his powerful body—held her rooted to the spot. She tore her gaze from his chest and looked into his eyes. The fire blazing there drew her—commanded her—and she leaned into him.
"There ye are, lad. I was just look—"
Elise twisted as Cameron reached the bottom of the nearest staircase. He lifted a bushy brow. She looked back at Marcus. His hold loosened and she snatched her hands away. She retreated, stumbling over her own feet. Marcus reached for her, but she dodged his hand with another unsure step backward.
"I-I must go," she stammered, and fled the room.
" Elise —bloody hell!"
Marcus's voice echoed off the stone walls as she shoved through the postern door.
Elise avoided Marcus that night. Yet his memory persisted. Alone in bed, her cheeks burned with the recollection of how he had forced her hands against him in a rough caress. Though only a moment passed between them, her senses had taken in every contour as her fingers glided along the unyielding muscle. The hint of brandy on his breath, the hammering of his beating heart, his hard body—with a flourish, she threw back the covers. Cold air crept over her. Yet it wasn't the cold that made her shiver, but the vision of Marcus's hands touching her as she had touched him. Oh, treacherous body! To be undone by desire.
A desire beyond that which drew you to the man you shot , her mind whispered.
Elise examined her hands in the moonlight that spilled across the bed from the window above her head. It hadn't occurred to her she would touch another man as she had Robert. A porcelain doll, Robert had called her, to be admired but not touched. The fact he had suffered her in his bed only long enough to get her with child had proven even her beauty had been lacking. Yet the memory of Robert's scorn didn't stop the leap of her heart at the thought of Marcus.
Time grew short—shorter than she had realized. Dare she wait another week or even a day before leaving Scotland?
* * * *
Marcus stood on the battlement speaking with Daniel when he spied Elise emerging from the stables astride a horse.
"By God," he cursed.
"What is it?" Daniel looked in the direction Marcus stared.
"Stop her!" Marcus shouted down to the guards, then hurried down the stairs.
Her gaze met his as he leapt from the battlement steps into the courtyard. "Out of my way," she ordered.
"Woman, only yesterday you fled from me as if I were an ogre. Now you dispense imperious orders as though you are a queen. Where are you going?"
"To find Tavis and box his ears. Then I'll drag him and his sister back."
Marcus raised a brow. "Tired of chasing the little fools all over God's green earth? A pity they won't listen to good advice. Come down from there." He reached to pull her from the mare's back.
She slapped his hand. "They purposely sneaked out."
"Disobedient brats," he said.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Never mind," he said.
"Never mind?" she choked. "If I hadn't heard it myself, I wouldn't have believed it." She jerked on the reins. "Out of my wa—" Elise shrieked when he yanked her from the saddle.
Marcus brought her face level with his. "Yesterday, you left against my command. Will you attempt to disobey me again today?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I planned to enlist Brady's help in finding the children."
"And if he's not available?"
"He's the stable master. He is always in the stables."
"Aye," Marcus said. "But if he isn't, you will use good sense and return to the keep?" He added before she could argue, "I'll
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