Elise stilled at the sound of Marcus's bedchamber door opening. She rose and stole through the closet which separated their two rooms, then knocked lightly on his door, and entered. He looked up from where he stood near the nightstand on the far side of the bed. Her heart lurched. She had suspected he kept a mistress, but seeing him now, hair tousled, cravat missing, the top button of his shirt undone, there was no mistaking the fact he had just risen from another woman's bed. The mental picture of Marcus kissing the rise of her breasts, then taking her nipple into his mouth filled her vision.
"Elise?"
She snapped back to the present. "I—" Her gaze caught on his hands—hands that had once touched her, had once—the urge to cry sprang up. No, she wouldn't cry. She had made her bed. She would live with the consequences.
"I wondered how things went with Lady Ross's trial," she said. "Is it over?"
Marcus reached around his back and pulled out the revolver stuffed into his waistband.
Where had the revolver lain when he made love to his mistress?
"It is over," he replied. "She claims to know nothing of a plot to kill Kiernan." Marcus glanced at her. "I suspect she wanted you dead. Though she denies that as well. I don't know how, but it is clear she was in league with Ardsley. Margaret had no reason to kill Kiernan."
Elise started to ask how he could be so sure when he said, "She won't face prison." He gave a mirthless laugh. "England is not about to put one of her noblewomen in prison, even if she is Scottish. She is to go to America." Marcus's expression abruptly darkened. "Do you intend on standing in doorways the remainder of our marriage?"
She blinked.
"Or is it that you simply find it too abhorrent to be in a room with me?"
"I… no. I only thought—"
"Thought what?" he demanded.
"I didn't want to intrude. It is late—"
"So it is." Marcus began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Good Lord," she muttered. "It's not as if you have invited me into your bed—chambers." She added "chambers" in a rush, seeing his fingers halt on the third button and the sudden gleam in his eyes.
His eyes narrowed. "Am I to understand it is I who have stayed out of your bed?"
"You say that as if you're surprised," she snapped.
"By God," he thundered. "I will settle this now." He started around the bed.
Elise rolled her eyes. "You have no energy to settle anything."
He stopped short. "What the blazes does that mean?"
"It means, I have made my bed and I'll lie in it." Alone.
Marcus charged across the room. Elise backed up. He grabbed her and tossed her on his bed before she could blink. His lips crashed down on hers in a bruising kiss. Shock ripped through her. Energy pooled in the pit of her stomach, then between her legs. His hand covered a breast. Elise arched into him. She wanted him, but could she live with the fact he had another woman? He yanked up her night rail and reached between her legs. Yes. She could live with anything if she had him. His fingers probed. Marcus abruptly pulled away from her.
He touched her cheek. "Steven is well," he said. "There is no need to cry."
"Cry?" She lifted a finger to her cheek, but even as she did, she realized she was crying.
"Unless…" Marcus said.
Elise looked at him.
"You can't forgive me for Steven. I am sorry. I understood the consequences. I could not change—"
"Forgive you?" she interrupted. "You have done nothing to forgive. It's my fault, even your taking a mistress. I can't blame you for wanting—"
"A what?" He looked startled.
"What?" she repeated.
His brows puckered in a fierce frown. "We have been in Ashlund two weeks and already you have me consorting with other women?"
"There's no better explanation for the late nights, your state of dishevelment."
"My state of dishevelment?" His gaze swept across her body. "You seem to have forgotten what my state of dishevelment is like when I make love to a woman." He kissed her mouth, her cheek, her ear. "When I make love to you," he whispered.
Elise drew a sharp breath as he rocked against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"There is no more Margaret," he whispered. "No more Ardsley, and"—Marcus slid a hand beneath her and lifted her hips to meet each thrust of his hips—"there is no mistress."
He pulled his arm from around her, then reached between them and unfastened his trousers. His erection sprang free of its constraints and Marcus drove himself into her.
"There is only you," he said, and began the rhythm that bound them together as one.
The End
I hope you enjoyed Marcus and Elise's journey of discovery and love in My Highland Love. Feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you thought of the book. Next in the Highland Lords Series will be My Highland Lord, which continues the saga with Marcus' son Kiernan MacGregor. The boy grew up good.
For your reading pleasure, I have included a bonus chapters of my Scottish Historical Lord Keeper.
Tarah