Border Lord's Bride (7 page)

The girls busied themselves, distributing the greens throughout the room, over the door lintels, and along the center of the wide wooden tables.

"Don't you want to help?" Iris asked Elizabeth as she decorated above the hearth with sprigs of holly and ivy.

"You're doing such a wonderful job," Elizabeth replied. "My head hurts me a little, so I'll enjoy watching you." It wasn't a total falsehood. Her head did hurt. The truth, however, was that she wasn't in the least enthusiastic about watching the girls transform the great hall into a holiday setting. Every moment she stayed in the room with them, her unease increased. What if Lucius sent her away?

She obviously wanted more than he was prepared to give her. Finally, she could take sitting quietly with her own thoughts no longer and made her apologies to the girls, then left the chamber and the festivities far behind.

She walked through the manor, her mind and her body reliving Lucius's kiss over and over in a torturous assault. Only two days until their marriage—a marriage that seemed less and less likely to happen. Was she prepared for the consequences if it did not?

Elizabeth shivered as she looked around her. Midwick was a lovely manor. The home she'd always dreamed of having. She gripped the railing and made her way upstairs, and slowly moved down the hallway to the next set of stairs at the end of the hall. The manor's rooms were spacious and airy, with brightly woven tapestries hung on the thick stone walls to block out the chill air so prevalent in Scotland in the wintertime.

She drifted past the three pairs of tall, narrow windows on the upper level. Late-afternoon light filtered through the glass, casting a golden glow at her feet. Drawn by the light, Elizabeth paused by one of the windows and stared wistfully at the landscape covered in snow, which seemed to go on forever. Lucius belonged here. He had always belonged here.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Lucius walked into her line of vision in the courtyard below, leading a large black horse. He was dressed in a tartan of red, blue, and green instead of in his earlier breeches and tunic. The Carrick plaid. With a fluid leap, the kilt-clad Scottish laird tossed himself onto the horse and rode from the courtyard alone.

Elizabeth turned away from the window. She'd driven him away again. With suddenly chilled fingers, she reached up and pulled the linen strip from her head. The bleeding had stopped, as had her dizziness. Perhaps she should leave the manor and forge out on her own while she had a chance to escape with a shred of her dignity intact.

As soon as the thought materialized, she tossed it away. She could never leave without saying good-bye. She knew what it felt like to be left behind with no explanation. She would not treat Lucius or his sisters that way.

She forced her mind away from the laird of the manor and back to the lovely architecture of Midwick. The end of the hallway drew Elizabeth's attention. She had never been up that staircase before. Pulled forward by her own curiosity, she mounted the stairs. At the top, she found herself in yet another hallway, with many doors on each side. Some were open, some closed, yet all the rooms looked as though they'd lain unused for decades.

A shaft of sunlight drew Elizabeth's attention to a place halfway down the hall. At the closed doorway she paused with her hand on the latch, suddenly suffering an odd premonition that she would be better off to leave this room alone. Yet her curiosity won over as she ignored the warning and pushed the latch down.

A musty scent assaulted her as she took her first step inside. A single window cast a bright splash of light into the center of the room, yet left the rest of the chamber in hazy shadow. Elizabeth took another step forward, then another, passing by furnishings that were covered with linen as well as cobwebs and dust.

Grime dimmed the floor. Sheer, lacy webs surrounded unlit candles in the chandelier above her. Despite their linen coverings, Elizabeth could see that a large bed sat in the center of the room along with several chests and a large wardrobe.

After the initial mustiness of the chamber permeated her senses, Elizabeth also thought she detected the faint scent of cinnamon. Lucius? Could this have once been his chamber before he'd left to join the Templars? Had his family closed the entire wing, waiting to reopen it again once he returned?

The walls of the room were bare of tapestries. The only adornment was hidden behind a linen cloth, just like all the other furnishings.

Elizabeth paused before the cloth. For some reason she needed to see what lay hidden beneath. Gripping the corner of the dust-covered cloth, her heart rate quickened as she pulled the cloth away. Her astonished gaze swept the painting from top to bottom. Unbelievable. Nay, it could not be. "Who did this?" she whispered into the void of silence surrounding her.

She could not tear her gaze from the painting of herself reclining on a padded settee, wearing nothing but a slip of the Carrick tartan that covered her from the rise of her breasts to the tops of her thighs. She should have been offended by such a seductive display. Instead a warmth centered in her core and her breath hitched.

She'd never posed for such a work. Even so, the artist had flattered her. Long dark lashes veiled her large brown eyes, and her long tawny hair cascaded loose about her shoulders. Her expression was alive with humor and mischief.

She looked radiant, and decadent, and beautiful, but for whom?

Chapter Six

In the dim light of the chamber, Elizabeth stepped up to the painting. She had to know who had created the image of her. Had the artist signed the piece? As she drew near, she noted a dark scrawl in the right-hand corner. Holding her breath, she bent close: L.C.

Her heart stumbled in her chest. Why would he do such a thing, and from his memory, unless…? She couldn't finish the thought. Something warmed her inside.

Elizabeth stepped back from the painting with a smile and headed from the room. Since the moment she arrived here, she'd done everything wrong. She'd assumed she had no choice but force the issue of their marriage.

In that moment, a whole new world opened itself to her, a world where she was not destined to be in love with a man who would never love her back. Before she saw the painting she'd had no hope that he cared. But why else would he paint this portrait of her, especially wearing almost nothing at all, unless…?

She found herself going back over it all—over everything that had happened since she arrived. Lucius's words said one thing. His actions said another. The confidence she'd lacked earlier in the day suddenly filled her.

She would fight for a future with the man she loved. She would stay for two more days and expose whatever demons he'd brought back with him to this place. The only chance they had was for him to realize that a new future awaited him if he'd only allow himself to move past his guilt.

In order for that to happen, she had to take another risk. She was not truly the mistress of Midwick yet, but she had to make a lasting impression on Lucius in the next two days. She had to demonstrate her ability to lead the girls wisely. She would be such a proper mistress to his household and his people, and she would show him just how much she cared.

Empowered by her new commitment, Elizabeth made her way downstairs to find the girls had finished decorating the entire manor, inside and out. Greens hung over every doorway, graced the tops of the furnishings, and lined the tables in the great hall. They'd set a brace of candles on each table around the hall as well. When night fell, the room would look like an enchanted garden.

The hall was alive with conversation. Men in tartans of blue and green gathered at the far end of the room. When Elizabeth entered the chamber, Rose hurried to her side.

"Does it please you?" Rose asked, a bit breathless as her gaze shifted from Elizabeth to the men.

"It's magical," Elizabeth replied, her gaze following Rose's. "Are those MacKinley men?"

Rose's cheeks flushed pink as one of the young men at the edge of the group looked her way. "Aye. Our brother brought them here to Midwick to protect us. Isn't it grand?"

"Protect us from whom?" Elizabeth asked with a sudden frown.

"The English. He's worried," she replied with an air of distraction.

Elizabeth chuckled despite the seriousness of the subject Rose had just raised. "And who is the one who can't seem to keep his eyes off you, Rose?"

Another flush of color infused Rose's cheeks as she tore her gaze from the man in question. "Lachlan MacKinley," she whispered.

Elizabeth bit back a smile as she studied the young Scot. His lingering glances at Rose spoke volumes. "Where are the MacKinleys staying?"

"In the stables. Although the stables would be rather dismal in this snow."

Elizabeth's own gaze shifted to the chair she knew Lucius had spent the night in again. "Would they be more comfortable in the house?"

"Oh, aye!"

"Would you and your sisters help me with a task upstairs, then when that's done, help Marie prepare an evening meal for us all?"

"Aye. Lucius must have had a busy morning, because he also brought several of our servants back to us. They are helping Marie in the kitchen right now." The young woman waved for her sisters to join them. "It would be so exciting if we could do something truly special to celebrate our brother's return home."

Elizabeth's cheeks heated as she thought of an altogether different sort of celebration she'd like to have in private with Lucius upon his return. If and when he kissed her again, she would not pull away. "I have an idea," Elizabeth said as the other girls joined her and Rose. "Would you all help me prepare a wedding-Christmastide banquet tomorrow night?"

Five squeals of delight silenced the masculine voices.

Rose's gaze widened. "Did Lucius agree to the marriage?"

Elizabeth forced a stab of doubt away. She could not lose hope. That portrait had to mean something. "Not yet. But he will."

"That's the spirit," Rose said with a smile. "I'm happy to help."

Lily clapped her hands and danced about Elizabeth, her youthful curls bouncing around her shoulders as she did. "Please marry our brother and stay with us forever."

"Having a wedding here would be the very best way to celebrate Christmas Eve." Heather's usually quiet voice was filled with excitement.

"Will there be dancing?" Iris asked with an arched brow.

"I could wear my blue dress." Camellia's gaze shifted to the men. "What a wonderful idea."

"Then let us prepare the celebration." Elizabeth headed toward the stairs with the girls in tow. "Rose, will you see if Marie can spare anyone to help us clean the second-floor rooms? If we work hard, we'll finish just in time to dress for supper."

Rose's smile slipped. She stopped walking, forcing her sisters to do the same. "Lucius asked us never to go up to the second floor."

"Whyever not?"

"I don't think he's ready to face the memories of what our family used to be." She cast a surreptitious glance at Elizabeth. "Peter and Lucius used to rule abovestairs."

Elizabeth brought up her chin. "Sometimes to move forward we have to face the thing that scares us." She offered all the girls a gentle smile. "You let me worry about your brother. Fair enough?"

Each girl nodded in turn.

"I realize I'm asking much of you girls to help with the cleaning, but there isn't the staff to accomplish the task in time."

"We don't mind, Elizabeth. Truly," Rose reassured her.

Heather nodded with a serious expression on her face. "Not if it means having fun later."

Iris frowned. "I hate cleaning, but if you think it will help our brother be more at home with us, I'll help."

"Thank you, Iris, all of you." Elizabeth's gaze passed over all the girls. "Let's think on it as another adventure together."

As Elizabeth climbed each step behind the girls, a sense of joy she hadn't experienced in a long while came over her. She truly would be mistress of Midwick for a while. Whether that was one day or a lifetime, she didn't know. But she was here now and she'd make the most of the opportunity—her first task, to take care of Lucius's chamber and make certain he slept in comfort tonight instead of in that uncomfortable old chair.

By late afternoon, the cleaning was complete. The girls retired to their chambers to prepare for the evening meal. Elizabeth helped each girl coil and pile her hair into an artful arrangement finalized with the additions of ribbons and flowers and jewels in a dress rehearsal for the festivities tomorrow night.

When the girls were satisfied with their appearance, Elizabeth retreated to her chamber to style her own hair. She decided to leave it loose about her shoulders. She held it back on one side with a simple ivory comb.

At the wardrobe, she frowned at her choices. She'd save her best green dress for tomorrow night, but that left only the steel gray broadcloth or the brown linen. She decided on the gray with its simple lines. Smoothing the dress into place against her waist and hips, she accented it with the one piece of jewelry she still possessed of her mother's, a simple silver girdle. She fastened it around her hips with a hint of regret that her father had sold everything else. He'd needed everything and anything saleable to pay off their debts.