Page 9 of A Touch So Wicked

“Very well, Nan, take me to Lady Marianne.”

“Nan! No! Can you not see that he means us harm?”

“Nay, lass, the dark lord will nae harm yer mam. Dinna I tell ye there would be no wedding? Mayhap next time ye’ll heed me. The Englishman will judge fairly after he sees for himself how ill yer mam and sister are. Follow me, yer lordship.”

Elissa cringed as Damian grasped her arm and pulled her along with him. “At least someone is showing good sense,” he muttered.

They climbed a circular stone staircase to the solar. Nan stopped before a closed door, then gave Damian a piercing look. “Elissa should prepare her mam before ye barge in.”

Damian hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Lady Elissa may have a few moments alone with her mother.”

Elissa jerked free of Damian’s grasp, opened the door, and slipped inside the chamber.

Lady Marianne Fraser lay propped up in bed against several pillows, her paleness relieved by two red spots beneath her cheekbones and the brilliance of her green eyes. She lifted a frail hand in greeting.

“Elissa, my love, how fetching you look. Where is your bridegroom? Have the festivities begun? Ah, how I wish I could attend the celebration.”

Elissa took her mother’s fragile hand in hers and knelt beside the bed. “How are you feeling, Mama?”

Marianne searched her daughter’s expressive face. “Something is amiss. What is it?”

“Oh, Mama, so much has happened since I looked in on you early this morning. I fear it will upset you.”

Marianne’s perceptive green eyes did not stray from Elissa’s face. “I am not as ill as you think, Elissa. In fact, I’m growing stronger every day. Tell me what’s wrong so that I may help you.”

Elissa feared her mother was being overly optimistic about her state of health. Marianne had been sick for years with a vague illness that seemed to be sapping her strength. Nan said Marianne had lost the will to live and Elissa feared it was true.

“Has Tavis Gordon done something to upset you? I told your father I dinna like the man. He wasna right for you. The marriage hasna been consummated, we will ask for an annulment.”

“Oh, Mama,” Elissa said, choking down the lump in her throat, “if only it were that simple. There was no wedding. An English lord arrived this morning with a small army. Misterly has a new lord. Our home is lost to us.”

“Why now?” Marianne asked in a tremulous voice. “’Tis been five years. I had hoped the English had forgotten us.”

“Those bastards have long memories. They left us in peace because our holdings were of little value to England. But that changed once they learned I was to marry Tavis Gordon. The English fear that uniting the Gordons and Frasers will disrupt peace in the Highlands.”

“’Tis Tavis Gordon’s fault,” Marianne said bitterly. “He’s been plotting ever since Culloden. The English are right to fear the consequences should Tavis Gordon recruit large numbers of Highlanders, including our own clansmen, to his cause. I donna condone what the English did to us, but neither do I want more bloodshed. I’m sick unto death with war.”

Marianne wrung her hands. “What are we to do? Lora isna well enough to travel. Her poor lungs are still weak. Does the English lord intend to turn us out of our home?”

“The English lord will do whatever is necessary to keep peace,” Damian said from the doorway.

Chapter Three

Damian walked into the chamber, searching Lady Marianne Fraser’s face for signs of illness, and found them. The lady was indeed ill, which made his task all the more difficult. Her lively green eyes were huge in her pale face, and her frail body barely made a swell beneath the bedcovers.

Damian was somewhat surprised to learn that Lady Fraser appeared younger than he had assumed her to be, despite her illness…no older than thirty-five or -six, if he was any judge. She must have married young to have a daughter Elissa’s age, and Elissa looked to be somewhere between eighteen and twenty.

“Elissa tells me you’ve been ill, madam,” Damian said.

“I’m getting better,” Marianne replied. “I understand you’re the new Lord of Misterly.”

“Aye, madam.”

“What’s to become of me and my daughters, my lord?”

“The Demon Knight is sending us to a convent, Mama,” Elissa spat, sending Damian a hate-filled look.

A small gasp escaped Marianne’s throat. “You are the Demon Knight, my lord?”