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Alarm slammed Cyrus. "What? Fraser didn't take Norval and MacNeil with him back to Rebbinglen?"
Reid shook his shaggy red head. "Nay, he left a note in the gatehouse."
"Damn his reckless hide!" Rage crawling through his veins, Cyrus stormed out the front door and down the steps.
Reid followed.
"How long ago?" Cyrus demanded.
"Not too long. 'Haps a half-hour."
Cyrus halted and turned. "Where's the note?"
"MacNeil has it. Before Fraser left, I was in the gatehouse alone. Irving was around back. Norval and MacNeil were sleeping. Fraser told me you wished to see me immediately. I hurried to your chamber but couldn't find you. I searched a few places, then returned to the gatehouse to ask Fraser where you were."
Damnation. Cyrus wanted to kick himself. He should've been in his own chamber. He might have been able to stop Fraser.
"When I couldn't find him and saw that his horse was missing, I awoke Norval and MacNeil. That's when we found the note."
"Did the stable lad or the groom see him leave?"
"Nay, they were sleeping in the loft. Fraser must have been quiet."
Cyrus wanted to throttle his younger brother. "He doesn't have much of a lead then. MacNeil?" Cyrus called.
The three guards trotted down the gatehouse steps and met them in the courtyard. MacNeil handed him the note.
"Brother, I could not risk taking two of your guards, leaving you with so little protection. I'm leaving earlier than planned and slipping away quietly. I doubt they will see me. I'll bring back a large force of men." Cyrus called Fraser every foul name he could think of. "MacNeil and Irving, find him. Accompany him to Castle Rebbinglen. Watch your backs."
"Aye, m'laird." They hastened to the stable to saddle their horses. The groom and stable lad assisted them.
"Hell, I wish I could go after him." But he couldn't. He had to stay here and protect Elspeth.
"They'll find him," Reid said.
"They'd better." Concern for Fraser tightening his chest, he drew in a deep breath of the fresh, cool air and squinted at the bright reddish dawn light gleaming at the horizon.
Fraser had always done foolish things like this. Fortunately, he'd always come through unscathed. He must've had a band of rough and tumble angels watching out for his safety. Cyrus shook his head, hoping Dalacroy's men hadn't been watching their gates.
Cyrus knew he was like a mother hen when it came to his brothers and sister. In the past, when they had been in trouble, he had gone through hellish battles and frozen blizzards to rescue them.
Having saddled their horses, MacNeil and Irving led the animals out the postern gate. Following last night's storm, the roads would be even muddier than usual which would slow their progress.
After bidding them farewell, Cyrus headed toward the gatehouse. At the top, he could see little, aside from the gray morning mist.
If they found Fraser and went on to Rebbinglen, he wouldn't know they'd been successful for a day or two, when all his men arrived here.
Never had he been so impatient to ken the outcome, and unable to do anything about it. This was how a woman made a man vulnerable. If only he'd taken her back to Rebbinglen after the carriage accident, none of this would've happened. But back then, he hadn't a clue as to how much danger she was in.
He shouldn't have spent the night with her in the tower. 'Twas the worst decision he'd ever made. Normally, he followed gut instinct and rationality, not just in leading the clan but in every part of his life. But last night he'd followed a completely different instinct, one he was not accustomed to abiding by. Of a certainty, he'd had trysts, but he hadn't allowed a woman to divert his mind from its course since he'd become a grown man. He focused on the outcome he wanted, and he never diverged. He never gave up the strict control he maintained over all aspects of his life... until last night.
He'd wanted her too damned badly to stop or to listen to the sensible part of himself.
After experiencing such staggering passion and pleasure with her, he had succumbed to severe exhaustion, both in body and in mind. 'Twas almost as if he'd been going nonstop for years... until last night. He did not even feel like himself this morn. Something had shifted within him, and he was not certain he liked it at all. Self-discipline was important to him. 'Twas how he had advanced so quickly since becoming chief at a young age.
But now a woman had altered the plan he'd held for over a decade. How on earth could he, in all honesty and fairness, continue with his plan to marry Lady Lily? One part of him—the hardnosed, dedicated and determined part—still maintained a thread of hope he could marry the marquess's daughter. But the newly awakened indulgent, hedonistic, and selfish side of him could only imagine Elspeth in his bed.
He muttered a curse, wanting to smash his fist against the stone wall of the gatehouse. He was livid at his own unrestrained abandon. Equally infuriating... he wanted her again. Right now.
What the devil difference did it make which woman occupied his bed or provided him children? A woman was a woman, he'd always told himself.
But now he knew that was not true. 'Twas only a lie he'd told himself all these years. Not all women were the same. Some made him feel things he didn't want to, drove him to distraction and caused him to veer off course.
He had never been so annoyed with himself. Why couldn't he maintain control of his thoughts and actions?
Surely, he had overestimated his attraction to Elspeth. With the military conflicts he'd been dealing with, it had been months since he had last bedded a woman. That had to be the reason his lusts had overpowered his logical mind the previous night. With the light of a new day, maybe he could think more clearly and see that Elspeth was not any more special than Lily.
In fact, now that he saw reason, he could make a mental list of all Elspeth's faults and why she was completely unsuitable for him and the wrong lady for helping lead his clan.
It vexed him that he was thinking of her even now, when he should be focusing on Fraser and the danger he could be in.
Cyrus stared north, toward the Cairngorm Mountains where the men had vanished until the sun peered in sharply from the east. He didn't ken how the devil he was going to keep his sanity until he saw that Fraser was out of danger.
***
JUST AFTER DAWN, FRASER slowed his horse to a trot, allowing for a moderate rest after he'd urged the horse into a gallop about a mile outside Darby Hall and maintained that quick pace for several miles.
Cyrus would give him a severe scolding for his risky actions, but the alternative was even less acceptable. He couldn't leave the chief of their clan scarcely protected, with only two guards.
Passing through a small wood, Fraser heard the pounding hoof beats of two horses fast approaching from behind. He glanced back, just able to make out the two riders in the distance. He veered off the road, guiding his mount between the tree trunks and behind a large blaeberry bush.
As the approaching riders drew closer, he recognized them as Irving and MacNeil. "'Slud," he muttered. He had vaguely expected this, but he'd hoped Cyrus would show more wisdom about his own safety. Why would he leave himself unprotected in such a way?
He knew why. Cyrus put the safety of his siblings above his own.
As the two guards raced by, Fraser yelled, "Tùlach Àrd!"
Their wide-eyed gazes flying to him, they drew back on the reins. The horses reared in alarm, their front hooves pawing the air. MacNeil barely maintained his seat. The two men finally got their snorting mounts under control and calmed.
Fraser guided his horse onto the road. "Why the devil did you two follow me?"
"As you well ken, the chief sent us," MacNeil muttered.
"Do you truly think he will be safe there with only two guards?"
"'Tis not our place to question his authority. He ordered us to escort you to Castle Rebbinglen and 'tis what we'll do." MacNeil appeared as grumpy as Fraser felt.
"Were you followed?"
"We saw no one," Irving said.
"Very well, then. We'll need to make haste. From what I remember, there's a small loch not too far from here. After a drink and a brief rest, the horses should be able to keep to a quick pace for a while."
They headed forward at a brisk walk. Fraser hoped his memory served. As they'd traveled this way before, in the opposite direction, he'd paid attention to the landmarks so he could find his way back easily.
Through the trees, the blood-orange sunrise glinted off the water of a loch in the distance. If only the dark leaden clouds approaching from the west would hold their rain until he and his companions arrived at Castle Rebbinglen, but he doubted they would be so lucky.
***
WHEN ELSPETH AWOKE to the rosy dawn light beaming in the window, she was startled to find herself in the tower room. Then, with stunning clarity, she remembered the scorching and erotic encounter she'd had with Cyrus the night before.
"Oh, goodness," she breathed. Her face burned at the memory of the sizzling lovemaking she and Cyrus had indulged in. Not just once but twice. What on earth had possessed her? She had not imbibed alcohol; she had been in full control of her mental faculties. However, once Cyrus had kissed her, she had lost command of her actions.
Blast him! Why did he have to be so masculine and arousing? Why could she not resist him?
She arose from the bed, realizing her back and legs were a bit sore. 'Twas mortifying she could strain muscles during bedsport. She remembered she had been extremely enthusiastic about Cyrus's sensuality. What did he think of her now? He knew she'd already been an earl's mistress and now she was an impulsive lover to another earl. A fallen woman? Aye, doubly so. But she'd been called worse.
After tying the belt of her wrap tightly, she opened the door.
As quietly as possible, she descended the steps and, after visiting the garderobe at the end of the corridor, entered her own chamber. Her lady's maid was still back at Castle Rebbinglen, and hopefully, none of the other maids would realize she hadn't slept in her room most of the night. Her covers were still disheveled.
But when she approached the washstand, she saw that one of the maids had recently brought a pitcher of hot water from the kitchen. Oh well, at least the maid hadn't caught her with a man. She'd simply been absent. Hopefully, she would think Elspeth had been in the garderobe. Regardless, the chambermaid would not ask where she had been.
Elspeth removed her wrap and smock, tossed them onto the chair and gave herself a sponge bath with the lavender soap.
The odd sore spots on her body reminded her of the carnal indulgences of the night before, sending the heat of embarrassment over her. But when she recalled what a strong and virile lover Cyrus had been, that heat turned into searing arousal.
She imagined him knocking on her door right now... entering while she awaited him, his dark and lustful gaze roving over her naked body. Heavens... what a wanton she had turned into. She'd never been one before, despite being a man's mistress. But Cyrus...
"Whew." She blew out a breath.
Finished with her quick bath, she took a delicate silken smock from the drawer and pulled it over her head.
When a knock sounded at the door, her heart felt as if it vaulted into her throat. Was that Cyrus? Her courage fleeing, she quickly wrapped a woolen blanket around her body. Though she was not naked, she did not wish him to see her in this thin undergarment, for her breasts would be nearly visible.
"Who is it?" she called.
"'Tis me, m'lady. Katie."
Thankful 'twas the chambermaid instead of Cyrus, for she was not yet ready to face him this morn, she bid the lass to enter.
Once the maid had closed the door, Elspeth turned her back. "Could you help me with my corset?"
"Aye. I'll be glad to."
After Elspeth was dressed and the maid had departed, she tried to think of what she would say to Cyrus this morn. Should she pretend naught had happened last night? Would he? Or would he expect more private trysts with her? She did not know how she would keep from blushing the first time her eyes met his. Surely, breakfast would be a tense affair, especially if she sat beside him.
Mayhap she could avoid him and break her fast in her chamber. Or maybe she would simply eat later. She did not feel hungry anyway.
She glanced out the bedchamber window toward the walled garden below. It was separated from the courtyard by a high stone wall with a gate. Through the wavy glass, she spied a hint of violet-purple among the wet green leaves.
"Surely that cannot be..." She wiped her fingertips against the glass to clear it but could see no better.
It appeared to be the Velvet Rose just bursting into bloom. How had the storm of last night not destroyed it? She tossed her cloak over her shoulders, opened the door and descended the servants' stairs toward the kitchen, avoiding the hall altogether. She was certain Cyrus and his men would be there.
She wanted a few minutes alone in her garden to clear her mind and gather her courage to face the most disturbing, powerful and arousing man she had ever met.
Once outside, she tried to put him from her mind and focus on the walled flower garden which she'd had planted for her own enjoyment. She'd hired the same gardener who installed beautiful flowerbeds for her friend, Rose. The southern exposure provided a good amount of light and the walls protected her tender plants from winter winds.
Here, she grew her favorite herbs and flowers, specifically roses. And best of all, the garden often inspired her dress designs.
Along the flagstone path, she strode to the back stone wall. Sure enough, the stunning deep crimson-violet rosebud was unfurling.
"Oh, you are beautiful," she whispered, then glanced around to make sure no one had slipped in behind her. They would surely think her mad for talking to her plants. She stepped closer and crouched to press her nose against the rain-drenched, half-open flower. Drawing in the deepest breath possible, she near drowned in the amazing rose fragrance. She sighed in delight. If only she could bottle that specific fragrance. 'Twas even better than rosewater perfume. And the color was so exquisite and unique. Such a deep, passionate color, similar to nearly ripe brambleberries. The texture of the petals looked like the finest velvet, holding onto the clear crystal droplets of rainwater. 'Twas one of the most beautiful sights she had seen.
"Where could I buy such a fine and luscious velvet fabric?" she whispered. 'Twould make magnificent winter gowns.
She took much of her clothing design inspiration from nature. The rich color of this rose was one she wanted to use for gowns. Or perhaps embroider the rose onto bodices. She had seen no clothing like the image that appeared in her mind. 'Twould be gorgeous on a mossy green background.
She had first seen a colored drawing of this rose in Gerarde's Herball, then she had acquired a cutting from Rose two years ago and rooted it. Her friend was an avid rose collector and went to the continent often to obtain new plants from rose breeders. France, in particular, was a favorite destination.
Elspeth's rose had bloomed for the first time the year before. One bloom. The bush was now covered with dark buds the color of blackberry jam. She could not wait to see more of them unfurl.
"I'm glad you're being more generous with me this year." She sniffed at the flower again and sighed as the delicious scent washed over her. 'Twas indeed heavenly.
"Who are you talking to?" a deep male voice demanded behind her.