The Highlander's Dark Seduction. Joanne Rock
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uneasy for her friend’s safety.
Withdrawing the letter from her reticule, she reread the lines that had her worried:
…I saw a man in the woods, dressed like a Highlander of days gone by. If that wasn’t strange enough, I pointed him out to the footman and he could not see the vision that was so clear to me! I am telling no one else about this for fear Father would threaten me with an asylum to push me into another marriage.
Elizabeth clutched the note tighter while the rhythm of the rocking carriage shook it lightly in her hand. Had Lily been imagining things? She had attended finishing school with her back in New York and had never known her to be anything less than completely sensible.
They’d both despised dancing class and vowed if they needed to dance well to impress a husband, he was not worthy of them. Back in those days, they hadn’t realized what a very serious business their marriages would be. Or how their small freedoms would be over once they were given to husbands who saw them only for their income potential. One particularly cutting remark she’d overheard two days prior had been that her features would have ensured she died a spinster if not for her fortune. Another man had likened her to the proverbial “bull in a china shop” when she danced at a recent party, even though she knew from an academic perspective that she performed the dance with textbook perfection.
Elizabeth turned her attention back to the letter.
…Part of me wonders if the remnants of the old Caledonian Forest surrounding Invergale are making me overly fanciful. A pity, though, since the Highlander I saw was a finely made man!
Indeed, Elizabeth could empathize with wanting to wish an appealing man into reality. Her father and stepmother had bundled her off to London to find a husband with a title no matter how ancient or distasteful. They’d draped her with jewels and gowns that advertised her wealth more clearly than a Fifth Avenue shop window, an approach that only made her feel all the more awkward and unattractive by contrast beneath the glittering finery. They were disappointed that Elizabeth had yet to choose one of her few brave and desperately poor suitors while Lily had agreed to a match with an aging viscount shortly after arriving in London. Little did Elizabeth’s parents know how cruel Lily’s father could be in forcing his daughter to his will.
A fact which made Elizabeth all the more eager to attend to her friend’s safety. Besides, a few days away from Balmoral ensured Auntie Sophia wouldn’t be able to parade her past potential fortune-seekers, especially the earl who’d all but threatened to compromise her reputation in order to secure her hand.
Perhaps Elizabeth would find a finely made Highlander in the ancient wood surrounding Lily’s home instead. A very tall one, at that. The thought made her smile as she settled back against the leather bolster to rest her eyes. Soon, the rhythm of the jostling conveyance, coupled with the steady drum of horses’ hooves, soothed her with their strange lullaby. She’d been thinking about her trip the night before and hardly slept a wink….
So when the carriage later jerked to a halt later, Elizabeth couldn’t be certain if she’d slept for a few moments or a few hours. Maybe she could tell by the position of the sun—actually, where was the sun?
She yanked aside the red curtain that covered the decorative slats on her open window. Long shadows outside meant it was either nighttime or that they’d ventured so deep in the Highland forest that the trees obliterated the sun. Or maybe both were true. The scent of pine and decaying wood drifted into the dark conveyance on a cool breeze, the thicket unnaturally still, as if she’d awoken inside a dream.
She shook herself to chase away whimsical thoughts. Yet, even the horses made no sound.
“Lawrence?” Elizabeth called to the driver, a stab of panic going through her as she straightened.
When he did not respond, fear crawled up her back in an icy scuttle. Had something happened to him? Was there someone else out there?
She stuffed Lily’s fallen letter back into her reticule, hands trembling. Should she step out of the carriage to see what was the matter or would that be entirely foolish? Her heart slammed against her ribs as she reached for the door. She couldn’t stand not knowing what was out there. Especially if her aunt’s trusted driver was hurt and needed her assistance.
Twisting the handle, she pushed the door until a shaft of unnatural gray light filtered inside the carriage, as if the moon had suddenly broken through the tree cover. Perhaps she dreamed. Elizabeth debated giving herself a pinch when the door was wrenched the rest of the way open.
“You must come now,” a man’s voice barked at her even as hands reached toward her, a voice nothing like the ancient Londoner Lawrence who drove her carriage.
Her eyes could not seem to focus, the scene before her was so strange. For a moment, surprise trumped fear as she spied the forest transformed under a sudden trick of moonlight. Every tree branch and moss-covered rock sparkled with a silvery glow as if each surface had been sprinkled in moon dew or fairy dust.
Surely she dreamed.
“What is this place?” she whispered, half afraid to break the beautiful spell of this enchanted spot, not that there appeared to be anyone to hear her. Her driver was nowhere in sight. “Have I died? Is this heaven?”
“It’s the Highlands, lass. But I’d call it a slice of heaven, myself.” The thick brogue of a Scotsman reached her ears as a huge, half-dressed Highlander in a tattered kilt stepped directly into her view. Muscles bulged in places she’d had no idea men possessed muscles. And although she’d once dreamed of a tall man to sweep her off her feet, she had no idea that men could actually be so tall. So large in general.
Fear stifled her scream before she could voice it, her throat raking over silence. A strangled mewing sound emerged from her lips as she shrank back into the carriage.
Oblivious, the man only scowled before he continued, “Heaven or no, these sidhe bastards lurking at the edge of the clearing would rather eat yer soul for breakfast than sing an alleluia. We’d best hurry.” He held out a hand to her as if to help her from the carriage.
Or drag her from it by the hair, perhaps.
“Who are you?” She scooted away from his outstretched fingers, her voice shaking as it returned. “What have you done with my driver?”
The man canted back as if he’d been scalded.
“What have I done?” The Scotsman glared at her from under thick, dark eyebrows. His eyes were light but she could not determine their color as he glowered in the moonlight. He crossed powerful arms over his chest, his shoulders so square they might have been hewn from a quarry. A navy plaid draped around his waist and chest did not cover all that it should, providing her with a distracting lesson in male anatomy at a time when she should be defending herself. He carried a sword at his hip. An honest-to-God sword.
She swallowed hard, responding carefully.
“Lawrence does not answer when I call him,” she clarified, sitting up straighter, trying to hide her fear the same way she would when meeting a fierce hunting dog or a spirited mount. “Where is he?”
The dark gloom around them seemed to deepen, the silver mist on the trees glistening brighter in response. What caused that strange glow?
“Your driver stopped to answer the siren’s song of some soulless she-devil in the wood.” The stranger threw his hands in the air as if the very idea disgusted him. “If you aren’t careful, you’ll go moony-eyed for a poetry-spouting spectral yourself, so hurry lassie, before one of them kisses the sense right out of you and you’re turned into a wood nymph to plague me for the rest of my days.”
“Excuse me?” Her heart pounded faster. He ranted nonsense like a lunatic. Perhaps he’d escaped the asylum.
“The sidhe are coming.” His voice grew more urgent as he waved her forward. “Can ye not see their enchanted light all around? We must flee and fast.”
Surely he was crazed.