To Refuse a Rake (19 page)

“Much better.” I nodded, trying to keep control of the conversation. If there was one thing I had learned from fencing, stay on the offense.

“Uh, Elle — I — well I didn’t mean ta...” He trailed off, as if uncertain how to proceed. The hesitation caught me off guard. His powerful stance, clear gaze, and confident air weren’t one to feel insecurity or confusion in any situation.

“‘Tis just that... well... ye’ve grown up.” He spoke with a tender tone that was edged with an underlying emotion.

“Nasty habit, that,” I returned, trying to keep the tone of the conversation light.

“But I see ye havna lost yer sharp tongue,” he added with a smile.

“I need it for the likes of you.” I placed my hand on my hip and I couldn’t help but think what the ton would think of me now. The thought brought a smile to my face.

“Ah, ye’re still a tease as ye always were. ‘Tis good ye havna changed into one of those simperin’ lasses.”

“Yes, well.” Not sure as to what to say or do, I figured I’d somehow extract myself from the conversation. And then what? I didn’t know.

“Ye best be off now, I’ll be headin’ home, too.” I offered him a bright smile, but he chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

“Well, then lass, I’ll just take ye home. ‘Tis no use ye walking, when I’ve got a nice horse over there.”

My blood ran cold. What did you just say? “No.” I responded quickly, too quickly. “Thank you, but I don’t want you to go out of your way.” Fear was creeping in, and I was running out of ideas. My brogue slipped into more of a sluggish English, and he raised his eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Lass, did ye fall? Truly? Or do ye no’ recognize me? I’m Ioan, Ioan Campbell. True, ‘tis been about four years, but I havna changed that much, have I?” His expression was hurt. Just what was going on? Perhaps I just looked like another woman he remembered. But then why would he know my name? It was so confusing. Yet at his sober expression my fears subsided slightly in knowing he’d likely not cause me harm, if he was so severely concerned I didn’t recognize him. He watched me, waiting for an answer. Well, I best be honest. Grandma had always stressed honesty.

Better to be honest than have to spend all your time remembering your lies.

“I, well...” I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to be honest, but the truth wouldn’t do me any favors either. The two other men were watching the whole conversation with silent, unabashed interest. “I...” Trying again, I regarded Ioan’s expression. His teasing grin had faded into a piercing intensity as his attention shifted to the forest behind me.

“Lass, walk behind me,” he whispered and for some reason, against my instinct, I refused.

“No.”

His eyes widened at my immediate refusal. “Elle, behind me, now.” The command came with an authority that said he was accustomed to giving orders, more importantly, used to them being obeyed.

“No.”

And because I sensed the danger just like he had, I began to run. A strong arm reached around and swept me onto a saddle.

Expelling a large breath at the sheer force with which I hit the poor horse, I grasped for a way to see my captor.

Ioan.

At least it was he, and not some other random highlander. At least he knew my name.

“Ye’ll be the death o’ me yet, lass. Havna changed a bit, have ye? Still a royal pain in me hind end,” he ground out as he held onto me, protecting me with his body as we rode across the meadow into the trees.

Clouds had darkened the sky and begun to release rain. The moisture ran down my head and into my eyes. I tried to swipe it away, but Ioan’s hold on me was strong, and I couldn’t move. I glanced back to give him a furious glare. As I wiggled to try and gain some freedom to at least sit up, he held me tighter. Yet, rather than feel smothered, a stirring heat grew inside of me.

Strong, muscular arms held me firm against a solid chest that radiated heat. The scent of rain and peppermint clung to his clothes, and I inhaled, unaware of what I was doing. He stiffened as if realizing my thoughts, and I froze. Gazing up at him over my shoulder, I met his darkened gaze. Uncertain of what to read in his expression, I tried to control mine into the polite indifference the British were known for, but failed. He glanced down at my lips. In a nervous reaction, I licked them. He closed his eyes and broke the spell.

“Ye will be the death o’ me, just maybe no’ in the way I originally tho’, lass,” he whispered huskily. I widened my eyes at his words and their implication. Who was this man? Who was I supposed to be? And how could someone I didn’t know create such a stir of emotion within me? It scared me more than waking up in Scotland. This is Scotland… right?

He rode hard through the trees, casting glances behind as if to check for pursuers. As one of the other men approached, he slowed.

“Cullon? Are we bein’ followed?”

“No, ‘tis clear.”

“Good.” Ioan’s voice rumbled. I glanced to the other man now riding next to Ioan. His light hair and fairer skin were the opposite of Ioan’s features. As if sensing my perusal, he winked.

“Cullon,” Ioan warned. Cullon grinned but turned his attention to the road. The sound of another set of hooves let me know the second man had joined up with the group.

As we made our way down the rough road, I began to shiver as the cool air seeped through my rain soaked dress. Ioan huddled me close, but he was just as soaked as I.

The horses’ pace slowed as we approached a tall wooden gate. It blocked the entrance to a walled pavilion that protected a large stone castle. The structure was high and wide with narrow windows. It appeared to need some repairs due to a few stones missing from one of the keep towers.

“Carnasserie Castle,” Ioan whispered with reverence.

The grey and looming mass seemed forbidding, but Ioan seemed to find peace in simply seeing it. His body relaxed and his breathing eased. As we passed through the large wooden gate, hoofbeats pounded on the cobbled stone path, their echoing sound reverberating within the courtyard. People bustled about. Children scattered as mothers shooed them into hallways. Men grabbed horses and gave wary glances at the newcomers then relaxed, giving surprised nods of recognition toward Ioan. It all left me stunned, as I huddled next to Ioan on his grey mount.

“What happened?” I asked, dazed.

“That was me savin’ yer life,” Ioan retorted crisply. “What were ye thinkin’, Elle? They could have captured ye! Then what would we have done? Here I tho’ ye had grown up. Maybe, just maybe, learned at least a bit o’ sense and—”

He stopped speaking, dismounted, and pulled me down with him before stomping away, leaving me curious and confused. I watched his retreating form as the men welcomed him with forceful slaps on the back and a type of handshake. As he nodded to an older man, he glanced back at me for a moment. He exhaled forcefully, his shoulders sagging with the effort, before he shook his head and stomped back to where I stood.

“Are ye daft, woman? Why are ye standing there? Go on inside.” He gave me a playful shove in the direction of a door. I didn’t know where it led, but I was about to find out. Hopefully it led to a warm bath and dry dress. I gave Ioan one last glance as I pushed on the heavy wooden door. He was watching me with those disconcerting green eyes. His expression was a perfect mix of concern and intrigue. Unable to offer an answer to the question on his face, I offered him a small smile before I entered the castle.

“Elle! Where were ye, child? We’ve been lookin’ fer ye fer hours now! A plump woman scolded me with a shake of her head. “Ta think, ye runnin’ off, when ye knew the Jacobites were hunkered down in the wood.

She pointed to the stairs with a stern expression and I obeyed, careful not to slip on the worn stone steps. She didn’t follow me, so once I reached the top I had no idea where I was to go next. The long hallway had many wooden doors, none of which were open. A small window to my right offered a view of the courtyard, and I walked over and gazed outside.

I gazed outside, yet saw nothing as my mind spun in a million different directions. Part of me wanted to run away, back to the heather-filled meadow and somehow make it back to my home, but another part of me wanted adventure. The bustling streets of London had never been home. I had few friends, and the constant pressure of being a perfect lady wore on me more than I cared to admit. To be truthful, the only reason I stayed in London was for my grandmother, and she had somehow sent me here.

I closed my eyes as I thought about what to do next. I had two options: run away and most likely get caught by some barbarian, or stay and pretend I belonged. Neither option seemed like it would work, but pretending held more promise than being kidnapped. What I needed was information. Who was I supposed to be? I pieced together the little fragments of my past few hours.

My name was still Elle. I was in Scotland somewhere and it didn’t seem like Gretna Green, or at least the Gretna Green I had heard of. People knew me, and I had nearly been kidnapped by Jacobites? Is that who had chased Ioan and me? My mind whirled as I thought about the familiar- sounding name. Jacobites! My blood chilled as I realized that I wasn’t just in Scotland. I was in the post-Renaissance era of Scotland. Was this what my grandmother was referring to in her letter? Was this why, so many years ago, she asked me what I knew of Medieval Scotland? But this was far later than the Medieval time, could she have misunderstood?

As I thought over her words, the absurdity of the whole idea caused a hysterical giggle to bubble from my lips. How could she have known? She armed me with the knowledge she knew I‘d need, to the best of her ability. And here I was. The world spun around me and I grasped onto the windowsill for support. Shivers overtook my body once more.

I glanced back into the hallway and eyed the doors. One of them had to belong to me; the question was, which one? My teeth began to chatter; my first priority was getting warm. I raised my hand to knock on the first door and then waited. No answer. I knocked again, praying that if there was someone in there, they’d at least yell at me before I opened the door to see them dressing or something else equally embarrassing.

“Leave it outside, I’ll grab me boots in a minute.”

I gasped at the voice and jumped back, covering my mouth to mute the noise. Clearing my throat I said a quick “aye” before walking across the hall. Please let this be my room! I knocked on another door. No answer. I knocked again, yet there was still no answer. So I pushed open the door, closing my eyes as I did. When no one shouted or screamed, I opened one eye then the other. A lumpy mattress graced a smooth wooden bed. The corner had a small chest and wardrobe.

One window offered light, and a single candle was on the bedside table. I entered carefully. The temperature of the room was cold and damp. The fireplace had fresh wood, but no fire. One-way to find out if this is my, or at least a woman’s room. I walked over to the wardrobe and opened it, searching for dresses, or lack thereof, but it was empty. I twisted my lips in confusion and tried to think of what to do next.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and I froze, afraid. Since I was pretty sure this wasn’t my room, it could belong to whoever was walking this way. I thought of hiding. A glance around the room provided no help unless I wanted to throw myself into the wardrobe, but what if a man walked in and began undressing, only to find me rather than his clothes? My hands began to sweat and I glanced to the door as the footsteps came to a halt. The large wooden door prevented me from seeing who stood at the threshold, but only for a moment. Ioan walked through after only a moment’s pause and to my horror, pulled off his shirt. I gasped at the sight of his bare flesh. Ioan’s movements froze, and I saw his green eyes lock with mine as he dropped the shirt onto the floor in a wet heap.

“Are ye lost, lass? What are ye doin’ here in my chamber?”

The sight of his bare skin caused my own skin to tingle with an awareness I hadn’t ever experienced. His chest was chiseled with hard planes of muscle that flexed as he made fists with his hands. The chill that had nearly overtaken me earlier became a furious heat that fueled a blush.

“Really, lass, it’s no’ like ye have never seen me shirtless afore. I’ve no’ changed that much... have I?” Ioan raised his eyebrow at my obvious study of his bare chest. I stammered then cleared my throat.

“I was, er, l-lighting your fire.”

Both eyebrows shot up at my words and a wicked gleam spread through his eyes. I wondered why my innocent words had caused such a reaction.

“Elle, I don’t think yer uncle would approve o’ such a... task.” He grinned at me and picked up his shirt, covering himself once more.

I needed to gather my thoughts, but how did a lady do that when distracted by a half-naked man? “I’ll leave you then.” I nodded, my face still warm from my earlier embarrassment.

Ioan let me pass without a word and I walked down the hall, giving the doors dubious glances. What now? With my luck, history would repeat itself, only this time I’d be seeing an old man undressing. I shuddered at the thought. Just as I was walking up to another door to knock, Ioan’s hand grasped my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction.

“I’m startin’ to believe ye truly did fall on yer head! Get to yer room and change, lass. Ye’ll catch yer death, ye will.”

His hand was gentle on my arm, but he pulled me with enough force to cause me to trip a few times before we reached the last door in the hallway.

“Here ye go. I’m sure yer Morag will be up shortly to see ye.”

He opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. His expression was impatient, so I mumbled a “thank you” and rushed in, closing the door behind me. I slid down the door and landed in a gentle heap on the floor. I should have braved the kidnappers.

The room was very similar to Ioan’s but with more of a feminine touch. The bed, wardrobe, and side table were all in the same place, but a faint scent of lavender was in the air. A fire crackled and popped in the hearth, and another table stood next to it with a brush and few glass bottles sitting on top.

The room was warmer than the hallway, and I rushed to the fire, holding out my shaking hands. A moment later I took a step back and began to take off the soaked dress and plaid I still had draped around me. They landed with a soggy thump on the floor, and I removed my stays next. With a trembling shiver that made it difficult to walk, I searched for a dry garment. I found a light shift and pulled it over my body, not caring that I wasn’t properly corseted. I was too cold to care. I grabbed a woolen blanket from the bed, wrapped it around my shoulders, and hovered next to the fire once more.