Page 3 of A Temptress in Tartan

Her father’s face darkened. “That was before the king and queen withheld our funds until you are wed.” His lips curled in a satirical smile. “’Tis after the wedding when we’ll work to free you from that bond. For then the king and queen cannot punish us for not holding up our end of this vile bargain.”

Unable to maintain her bravado, Elizabeth took several steps back, putting some space between herself and her father. “I shall play my part. Have no fear of that, but until the wedding, please leave me in peace.” With that, she turned and fled from the room. They would see her tomorrow morning when she could no longer avoid her duty. Until then, she had no desire to be near her kinsmen who put her in this awkward position in the first place, or to see her bridegroom when he arrived at the palace. Let her father fret a little until he received his bribe from the king and queen, and let her bridegroom wonder about who he would be marrying until the appointed time.

Chapter One

The wedding was over before it even began. Or at least that’s what it felt like to Elizabeth. She paid no attention to the king and queen sitting near the altar, but only as if they were dolls in a set piece, nor did she quite note any of the other guests gathered in the chapel. From the moment she entered the chapel and saw the man waiting there for her near the minister, her brain shut down, her knees went weak, and nothing around her seemed real as she got her first glimpse of her bridegroom’s startling blue eyes.

There was no mistaking those eyes, no misreading the slight curl on his lips that inched higher when he saw the shock register on her face. Though he was dressed more formally now in a fine linen shirt and kilt in the Douglas colors, it was the same rogue who had stopped her from leaping off the ledge in the Lomond Hills yesterday.

Sweet Mary! For a brief moment yesterday, she’d actually considered turning herself around and willingly going back to indulge in a momentary liaison with his man.

Her enemy.

A man to whom she was now married! The vows were said, the blessing given, all while she continued to stare, transfixed, at him. When he bent to kiss her, whatever spell she had been under shattered and she took a step back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Lachlan Douglas?” she asked, fighting hard to control not only the shock, but the indignation that coursed through her in equal measure.

Lachlan’s gaze narrowed on her face. “I was not trying to be deceptive,” he whispered for her ears alone. “Until a few moments ago, I did not know you were Elizabeth Ruthven.”

“I am. And we are enemies.” Elizabeth was only dimly aware of the wedding guests in the chamber as all her attention remained focused on the man before her.

“Are we?” Drawing her closer, Lachlan embraced her as he had yesterday—molding her to the hard contours of his body. “Honestly, I am not displeased it is you.”

A mindless drumming flowed through her as she lowered her gaze a fraction and it was no longer his eyes that held her transfixed, but the sensual curve of his mouth—a mouth that was descending toward hers even as his hand slid up from her waist to cradle the nape of her neck.

His lips touched hers, and the shock trembled through her body. A protest lived and died in an instant as she could not summon the strength or the wit to pull away. All her senses became centered around the featherlight pressure of his mouth. She clenched her fists at her sides, prepared to endure what she must when he suddenly pulled back. He stepped away, as though he were suddenly done with her.

“’Tis done. A Douglas and a Ruthven are married.” Lachlan’s voice was hard as he turned to the king and queen. “Just as you demanded.”

“You have our gratitude,” the king replied. “Since your families are now joined, I trust this will put an end to the feud that has plagued all of us for years.”

Elizabeth’s lips twisted in a mirthless smile. Trust? How would she ever be able to trust the man who was now her husband?

As though sensing the direction of her thoughts, he turned back to her and said, “I promise to keep my vows to you, Elizabeth.”

“The promise of a Douglas.”

“I keep my word.”

“A vile warrior, but not a liar,” she taunted.

He frowned. “I was forced into this marriage just as you were, but I shall never lie to you. You can trust me on that.”

She hugged her arms around herself, trying to stop the shivering that attacked every limb. “I trust very few people in this world and I doubt you will ever be one of them.”

He said nothing, yet he continued to gaze at her with a strange, searching appraisal—as though he were looking into her soul. Then he abruptly turned away, addressing the king once more. She leaned forward in order to hear better what he said when she suddenly startled to see her father beside her. His bloodshot eyes narrowed. “Perhaps this won’t be such an ordeal for you after all,” he said, his voice cracking with anger. “You seemed to enjoy that bastard’s kiss.”

Elizabeth stepped back from her father as both Lachlan and the king turned toward her. “I was doing my duty. Isn’t that what you asked of me?”

“You have fulfilled your duty. The vows are said and the marriage complete.” His angry gaze connected with King James’s, then shifted back to Lachlan’s. “My daughter now falls under your protection. If anything happens to her—”

“Nothing will happen to her,” Lachlan interrupted, causing the tension in the room to increase even more as he stepped closer to her father, towering over him by a full foot in height. “I will see Elizabeth is safe and that she prospers from this arrangement thrust upon us both.”

“You so swear?” her father asked, his voice hard. His eyes harder.

“I swear,” Lachlan replied with an edge to his voice.

Her father’s frosty gaze narrowed with contempt and disgust a heartbeat before he stepped back, and with the other Ruthvens in attendance at the wedding, turned and left the room.

Elizabeth’s heart thundered in her chest. She bit down on her lower lip, needing the pain to help stop the flow of tears forming in her eyes as a feeling of abandonment suddenly came over her. Feeling alone was not a new sensation for her. She’d never really had a place where she’d belonged, even in her own clan. And still, the sensation cut deep. This was her new life now—a captive surrounded by her enemies. Trying to regain her equilibrium, she allowed herself to be escorted to the wedding breakfast that had been set up in the great hall. When Lachlan pulled out a chair for her to sit at the head table, she slid into it and folded her trembling hands on her lap as he took the seat beside her. She would not allow her new husband or any of his kin to see the anxiety that rocked her every nerve and muscle.