Page 7 of A Touch So Wicked

“Ill or not, you will both be escorted to St. Mary by the Sea Convent within the hour. You may take your personal belongings but naught else. The keep and everything within it belongs to me.”

Elissa folded her arms across her chest, her expression defiant. “Did you not hear me? My mother is in fragile health. She canna be disturbed.”

Unmoved, Damian said, “I will be the judge of that. I will see her after I speak to your kinsmen.”

“What of my little sister, my lord? She is recovering from a serious lung infection. Would you send her to a damp, celllike cubicle to die? The good sisters long ago took a vow of poverty. They eat sparsely and live without the small comforts we are accustomed to. I understand they donna allow fires in their sleeping quarters. My mother and sister canna survive under such harsh conditions.”

“A sister? You have a mother and a sister?”

“Dinna I just say so? Are you addled, my lord?”

“More like stunned. I knew naught about a sister. Nor was I informed of sickness at Misterly. How old is your sister?”

“Lora was born shortly after Father was slain at Culloden. She’s just five. Mama never recovered after the deaths of my father and three brothers and rarely leaves her room. She is verra frail.”

“Bloody hell! I had no idea. Nevertheless, their fate is for me to decide.”

Tension thickened between them as they stared at one another. Elissa felt shaken clear down to her bones. This impossible Englishman, her enemy, was affecting her in ways that were difficult to understand. Her anger was meager protection against the sensations swirling inside her. Intuitively she knew that once she let her guard down Damian Stratton would win. She had yet to discover what he would win but she feared it was more than she was willing to part with.

A commotion beyond the heavy oak door brought Elissa’s thoughts back to the problems at hand. She watched anxiously as her kinsmen filed inside the hall, followed by a small army of armed Englishmen.

“The Gordons were gone when we arrived at the church, Damian,” Dickon said. “We’ve brought the Frasers and their clansmen here as you directed.”

“Someone must have alerted the Gordons,” Damian said darkly.

Lachlan Fraser stepped forward. “I warned them.”

“Who are you?”

“Who are ye?” Lachlan asked curtly.

Ignoring the man’s insolence, Damian said, “Damian Stratton, Earl of Clarendon and the new Lord of Misterly, at your service.”

“I am Lachlan Fraser, yer lordship,” Lachlan said proudly. “One of the few men to survive Culloden.”

Damian admired the man’s honesty. “Why did you warn the Gordons?”

“I feared bloodshed, yer lordship,” Lachlan replied, “and thought it prudent to diffuse the potentially dangerous situation. I advised the Gordons to leave before yer men arrived. Tavis was reluctant at first, but decided to heed my warning when I told him ye had come with an army.”

“You were wise, Lachlan Fraser. Spilling blood is not the way to preserve peace. As the new Lord of Misterly, I intend to maintain peace in this remote corner of Scotland. Pray God there will be no need for bloodshed.”

Lachlan’s gaze shifted to Elissa. “What will become of Lady Elissa, Lady Fraser, and little Lora? They were much loved by our laird. Mayhap I should escort them to Glenmoor, to reside with their Macdonald kinsmen. Christy Macdonald was wed to an Englishman as a child and mayhap would offer shelter to her kinswomen. Christy and Elissa are verra fond of each other.”

“The king has made his wishes clear concerning Alpin Fraser’s widow and daughters,” Damian said. “They will be sent to St. Mary by the Sea Convent. I can make no other arrangements without the Crown’s approval.”

“Lord Alpin’s widow and youngest daughter are ill, yer lordship,” Lachlan protested.

“’Tis unfortunate, but I cannot gainsay the king.”

“Heartless wretch!” Elissa spat. “Slayer of women and children!”

Had Elissa known how close Damian was to locking her in the tower and throwing away the key, she would have been more prudent.

“I have never harmed a woman or child,” he rasped through clenched teeth. “However, I’m tempted to make an exception with you.”

Old Dermot quickly came to Elissa’s defense. “Donna touch the lass, me lord, lest ye wish to rile our kinsmen. If ’tis peace ye want, yer going about it the wrong way.”

Angry shouts of agreement followed Dermot’s words, and Damian feared he’d have a rebellion on his hands if he didn’t soften his stand. He needed the clan’s cooperation if he was to succeed at Misterly.