The Seduction of Elliot McBride

Juliana touched Elliot’s arm. “He’s going to break hearts. As you did.”

“There was only ever one lass for me,” Elliot said. He kissed the corner of her mouth, and the guests, watching avidly, cheered again.

Elliot thought about what he’d said again much later in the night, when the guests had returned to McPherson’s or the village, and even Mahindar had been persuaded to bed.

Juliana smiled sleepily at him as Elliot made love to her, his need so great. The erotic feeling of her around him sent all other thought away. Nothing existed but the pleasure, her tightness, the scent of her, the heat of their bodies together.

Only ever one lass for me, he whispered to himself when he slid out of her and collapsed beside her, snuggling into her to sleep.

Elliot had met only one other woman as resilient as Juliana—his sister, Ainsley—and even Ainsley thought Elliot ought to be locked into a quiet room and fed gruel. Juliana had faced everything Elliot had thrown at her with head up and no complaints, taking it all in stride. She was strong, beautiful, and his. He slept.

Somewhere before the dawn, Elliot woke again. The night was still, the frogs silent, the room dark.

Elliot lay on top of the covers, Juliana now spooned back into him. Her warmth was all he needed in the summer night.

She was light. And life. He’d had a long climb and had a way to go still. But when he was wrapped in Juliana, all darkness vanished, unable to prevail.

He’d sent Stacy out into that darkness.

Rage answered. He left me to endure torture and fear and starvation. And he brought danger to Juliana. Stacy deserved whatever fate he found.

Elliot had taught the man, befriended him, grieved with him when he grieved. Stacy was never the same after his wife fell ill and died. Illness could come so fast in India, then infection, and swiftly, death.

Elliot remembered the night Stacy’s wife had drawn her last breath, how Stacy, only a lad of twenty-three, had held on to Elliot and wept.

Stacy’s grief had turned to rage, but he didn’t have an enemy he could see to fight. Elliot had taught him how to turn his anger into honing his skills. He’d taught Stacy how to make the plantation work, which would have made young Mrs. Stacy proud.

So many nights they’d spent in quiet friendship, getting drunk on whatever fermented beverage they could get their hands on, or simply sitting on the veranda in the dark. They’d talk, or they’d be silent, either one companionable. They were friends who knew what each other thought even before they’d said it.

And then Jaya came and changed everything.

She hadn’t meant to, Elliot knew now. But he and Stacy had been young, stupid, and arrogant, and they’d let her.

Now Stacy was out in the night, followed by people wanting to kill him.

Elliot let out a long breath. “Och, damn it,” he whispered. He rose from the bed and began to dress.

Chapter 26

Elliot pulled on his boots in the hallway then walked softly down to the end of the hall and tapped on a door.

Fellows opened it almost at once, looking as though he hadn’t been asleep at all, in spite of the dressing gown he wore.

“Come on a manhunt with me, Inspector?” Elliot asked.

Fellows nodded in silence, closed the door, and was out again, dressed, before Elliot had returned from the kitchens with his Winchester. The two men left quietly through the back door, Elliot moving the gate carefully so it didn’t squeak.

Once they were down the path, toward the roar of the river, Fellows finally spoke. “Who are we looking for?”

“Stacy. And hired killers who want him dead.”

“When we don’t have to be quiet, you’re going to explain to me why you know that and I didn’t.”

“Stacy himself told me,” Elliot said. “Before I sent him to his death.”

Fellows shot him a look out of canny hazel eyes but said nothing. They fell into step, Elliot leading the way along the river that led them to the house of Mrs. Rossmoran.

A light in the window of the cottage told Elliot that Mrs. Rossmoran or her granddaughter was awake. Mrs. Rossmoran wouldn’t waste candles or kerosene on a sleeping house.

Elliot knocked on the door, not too loudly, in case the elderly woman would become alarmed. Hamish opened the door, his face like thunder.

“What de ye mean by it?” Hamish asked with a growl. “Sending that man here.”

“He was here then?” Elliot looked around the small cottage, Fiona standing uncertainly in the kitchen, Mrs. Rossmoran sitting near the cold fireplace with a sharp expression.

“He was,” Mrs. Rossmoran said. “I ken ye mean my lodger. Aye, he was here, but no more.”

Elliot had thought as much when he’d logically run through the places Stacy could have hidden himself without starving. Poaching or hunting left a sign, and he’d not found a trace.

Elliot handed Fellows his rifle and sat next to Mrs. Rossmoran. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“Ye never asked. And he begged me not to tell ye. He was worried you’d kill him or have him arrested. That’s why he’s run off. He seemed a kind man. And you, Elliot McBride, are a bit touched.”

“That is true.” Elliot shared a look with Fellows. “Mrs. Rossmoran, I want you and Fiona to come up to McGregor Castle. You’ll be safer there.”

“No, indeed, young man. McGregor and I never saw eye to eye. His wife was my sister, you know.”

Elliot hadn’t known that. “McPherson’s then. Stacy is in great danger, and I don’t want the people after him to come upon you.”

Mrs. Rossmoran planted her cane. “This is my home. If people come here while I’m out, they might harm the place. It’s all I have.”

Fiona watched worriedly from the kitchen. “Please, Gran.”

“Hamish will send stout men to protect it while you’re away.” Elliot took her worn hand in his. “Please. I need you to be safe.”

Mrs. Rossmoran watched him with shrewd blue eyes. “All right, lad. I’ll go to McPherson’s. But any man ye put in here to watch my house had better keep his hands out of the sugar barrel. Sugar doesn’t grow out of the ground, you know.”

“Actually, Great-auntie…” Hamish began.

Mrs. Rossmoran waved her cane at him. “Stop standing there with your mouth open and help me up. Bring all my shawls, Fiona. I don’t trust McPherson to have enough bedcovers to suit me.”

Elliot waited outside to see them on their way while Fellows scouted around the house. When Hamish came out, Elliot caught him by the shoulder.

“I know why your great-aunt said nothing. She does as she pleases. Why did you?”

“I didn’t know.” Hamish glared back at the house, his anger so apparent that Elliot believed him. “I’d have told you, right away. My great-auntie can be powerful stubborn.”

Elliot had no doubt. Inspector Fellows returned, saying he hadn’t found anything unusual near the house—no sign of hunters or intruders. They sent Hamish and his little party to McPherson’s and went off into the woods.