"What do you mean?"
"They wanted you."
She snorted. "That's ridiculous."
He raised a brow. "Is it?"
"What are you saying?"
He thought, Who are you? Do the Campbells want you simply to hurt me? But said, "They wish to hurt me. Remember, they tried once before."
"True," she agreed. "But why put themselves in danger in order to kidnap me again?"
"I beg you to trust me," he said. "Allow me some peace. Your confinement is for a short time, I swear."
Elise studied him. "Your father concurs with this theory?"
"He does."
"All right."
"There is something else that would ease my mind."
She sighed. "What is that?"
"I'm planning another trip to London. I wish to take you."
Surprise flickered across her face, then her brows rose. "This, after nearly chaining me to the castle walls?"
"Beware, my sweet. You may yet find yourself in chains."
"Sounds very nice, indeed," she muttered.
Despite the feminine nonchalance, Marcus detected caution. Did she suspect what he had in store for her? "I said your incarceration would last only a short time. I will feel more secure if you're with me."
"London?" she repeated.
Ah, there it was, a note of interest. "Aye."
She looked thoughtful, then said, "Perhaps the Campbells would forget about me in the meantime."
"Perhaps," he said, though a niggling doubt said otherwise.
"I will go," she said.
Marcus braced himself. "Good. Then I'll send for Father Whyte."
Chapter Thirteen
"What?" Elise asked softly—too softly.
"I'll send for Father Whyte," Marcus repeated.
"Why?"
"Last I heard, a priest was needed for a wedding."
Her eyes widened. "Married?"
"I said we would marry."
"I never agreed." She looked away.
"You swore not to become my mistress under any circumstances."
Elise looked sharply at him. "Yes, but—"
"Unless we marry, that is exactly what has happened."
She jumped to her feet, backing away several paces. "Not so."
Marcus raised a brow.
Her eyes darkened. "You know perfectly well what I meant when I said that."
"Aye, just as I have said."
"No," she retorted. "I would not be your mistress when you were to marry."
He lounged back against the cushions. "Interesting interpretation."
"It is not an interpretation!"
"Surely, you can understand my confusion."
"You are trying to trick me," she snapped.
"Nay, love. I only point out the facts. When you thought I was to marry, you left. You now know the truth yet are still here. Do you plan on running away again?"
Elise jerked her chin up with such a defiant gesture he had to stifle a laugh, despite knowing fear was the driving factor in her reaction. She blew out a loud, frustrated breath.
He stretched out a hand. "Come."
Elise responded with a quick shake of her head.
Marcus repressed a smile. He remembered the last time he'd offered her his hand. Though reluctant, she had accepted it then. Would she do the same now?
"Come," he repeated.
She again shook her head, but he noted the tiny puckering of her brows. She doubted.
"You fear me?" he asked.
Her brow puckered tighter. "You think you are clever, don't you?"
"Not so clever," he replied. "Come."
"I have no intention of being tricked."
"Aye," he replied.
"I-I have to go." She turned.
Marcus dropped his hand to his side. "Where will you go?"
She halted. Relief flooded through him. She wanted him. He stood and crossed to her.
"Come." He grasped her hand and drew her to the couch.
He sat, then gave a gentle but firm yank to her hand, and she tumbled onto his lap.
"I cannot—" she began, but he cut in.
"Let us be honest."
"I have been—"
"You say," he continued, "you will be my mistress now that you know I never planned to marry Margaret."
"I never—"
"But wouldn't it be more honest to admit you love me?"
Her eyes widened.
"You can trust me." Marcus discerned a quickening of her breath. He'd hit the mark. "For you know," he added, "I love you."
Elise gasped. He felt the muscles in her body tense in readiness to push from his lap and tightened his hold. She thrashed, though without real violence, and he gripped her chin, turning her face toward his.
"Admit you love me." He kissed her.
She tried pulling away, but he held fast, his mouth gentle until he felt a slight tug when she grasped his shirt. He released her mouth and buried his face in her hair.
"Can you deny what you feel for me?"
"You don't know—can't possibly know—"
"I know all I need."
She grasped his shoulder and pushed him back until their gazes met. "Today doesn't matter. Tomorrow your fancy may change."
Marcus stared at her. "I am no young buck. I know what I want."
She gave a mirthless laugh. "Age has little to do with a man's desire."
He started to speak, to explain that her younger age might not allow for the understanding of his more experienced wisdom, but he stopped, remembering the empty marriage she'd endured.