"Nothing will have changed then." Winnie sniffed, then rose.
"No need to go," Elise said too quickly.
"Aye, there is." Winnie gave her a knowing look as she brushed past. "Good night to ye, Marcus," she said on the way out the door.
"You're back," was all Elise could say.
"Aye, love. 'Tis my home, remember?" He pushed off from the doorframe, his gaze holding hers as he walked forward. He stopped by her side.
The embers in the fire crackled, causing her to jump. "The fire needs more wood."
He gave no indication he'd heard, then turned and went to the hearth. Marcus grasped the poker and stoked the fire. "How have things been during my absence?"
"The same." She prayed he didn't read into her answer the fact that every day he had been away she had recalled the look on his face when he'd burst through his men and saw her after she escaped the Campbells, and the whispered words "Never again" when he pressed her close… and the kiss that had followed.
Marcus reached for a log from the pile beside the hearth. He bent to one knee, his kilt falling across the calf of the bent leg. She tried tearing her gaze away. Instead, her attention fixed on the play of muscle in his shoulder as he tossed the log onto the fire. Here was the reason behind his command to move her into the castle. If she were nearer him, how long could she resist his advances? Damn him. He had further hampered her movements. In the three days he'd been gone, she had yet to leave the castle without someone marking her movements. Had he enlisted all MacGregors as spies?
Marcus unexpectedly glanced back over the shoulder she was staring at. Her heart pounded wildly in the moment he studied her. How transparent were her thoughts? He rose. She tensed when he leaned the poker against the wall and turned.
"Elise," he began as he approached, "I handled things badly." He halted before her.
"Well, you were a bit…" She gave him a rueful look. "I haven't been a saint." Her heart lurched at the understatement, then fluttered at the thought of confessing the truth. What would he do if she threw herself into his arms and told all?
Marcus smiled. "No matter." He extended a hand. "Come, love, walk with me."
She stared at his outstretched hand, held steady for her. The gentleness there belied the strength.
"'Tis all right," he coaxed. "I promise not to bite."
Elise looked up at him. "Are you in the habit of making promises you cannot keep?"
He reached for her and she resisted the urge to slap his hand back.
Marcus stood behind Elise on a hill overlooking the village. Lights dotted the valley, shining in haloed rings from the cottages. A balmy breeze blew, yet Marcus saw her shiver.
Marcus resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her and stepped up beside her, fingers laced behind his back. He turned his attention to the flickering lights below. "What do you think of the Highlands, lass?"
She said nothing for a moment, then, in a quiet voice, "The Highlands are… unusual. Despite all odds, life thrives here." She laughed softly. "At least, the Highland notion of life." She slanted a smile in his direction. Marcus stilled, afraid the spell would dissolve. "Highland life is full and lush." She returned her attention to the valley. "Yet, some would say, like a woman, it changes at a moment's notice, suddenly wild and furious."
Did he detect a sensual note in her voice? Marcus tightened the grip on his emotions. Now wasn't the time to test her. Yet a voice from within asked, If not now, when?
"The rugged wilderness here is frightening," she went on. "Yet, at the same time, it is compelling to the extreme." Elise motioned with her head at the broad expanse before them. "Those hills lure with a beauty uniquely their own. They call to the soul, drawing it into their mystery like…"
Marcus leaned toward her before catching himself. Inhaling a deep breath, he said in a hushed voice, "Like a lover."
She looked at him, her expression open. "Yes, you've captured the heart of it."
Not yet, love, he thought, but soon, very soon. "How did you come to be in Scotland?"
Surprise flickered on her face, but instantly relaxed into the even reply, "Surely you know I was washed ashore when our ship went down in a fire."
"Aye. I mean, why were you in Solway Firth?" Elise frowned, and he added, "Sailing from America to London, you would pass the south of Ireland. To reach Solway Firth you must pass north of Ireland, then head south between Ireland and Scotland. The route would add a week or more to your journey."
Surprise flashed across her face. "A week?"
"Aye."
Her expression clouded and she murmured, "Amelia."
"What?"
She started. "What?"
"Who is Amelia?"
Elise looked out over the valley. "Amelia was my daughter."
"Was—Elise."
She shook her head. "Odd, isn't it? I sail from America for London, am shipwrecked—barely on Scottish soil—and here I am, miles away, in the Highlands."