Mated By The Demon Collections: Paranormal Romance Page 15

  Not far from Armadale Castle in a small hamlet that bordered Glen Affric, in a very modest home, Elise Gardyne pressed the new arisaid that her mother had bought her. Only eighteen years of age, Elise was the eldest of three children who had all been compelled to take up work of some kind quite early in life. Though of noble birth, they had fallen upon hard times after repeated clan wars, in which Elise’s father, Angus Gardyne had fought valiantly, but lost home, property and the use of his legs.

  ‘Ah my bonnie lassie!’ Angus exclaimed when Elise emerged in her new arisaid, ‘How fair you look! Now mind my words and do not speak with any of the guests there at the castle.’

  ‘I will not, dadaidh,’ Elise said, giving her father a hasty peck on the cheek.

  ‘Mama! Mama!’ She called, ‘I’m off to work!’

  Seonaid Gardyne rushed out of the kitchen where she was cooking. ‘Ah, but don’t you look lovely, my Elise,’ she crooned, ‘Now off you go and do a good job at the castle. Remember everything your mama taught you.’

  ‘I will Mama,’ Elise said, hugging her mother and hurrying away from the house. Neither of her parents was pleased that she was going to serve at the castle, but they needed the money, and at an event of such lavish proportions Elise would doubtless be paid well.

  ‘Alistair MacIntyre and his clan killed so many of our clansmen. It was a war with the MacIntyres that robbed your father of the use of his legs,’ Isobel had told Elise repeatedly, ‘And now you would go and serve in that castle?’

  A few minutes later Elise reported at the entrance to the castle kitchens where a maid barked out instructions of what she was to do.

  ‘You will refill the dishes and replenish the tankards and wine glasses of the lairds as they dine,’ the maid told her. Elise nodded and followed her to the garden where the pipers and fiddlers were all ready and waiting for the Ceilidh. Elise was helping arranging bouquets of highland blooms for the tables when the maids who were with her began to simper and blush at the sound of approaching footsteps. Elise followed their eyes, and caught her breath in her throat. She had heard of Raibert MacIntyre, but this was the first time she was actually seeing him, and everything from his brown-red hair and his piercing green eyes to the kilt that seemed to cover very little of his large, well built body, made her heart hammer in her chest. Elise took a deep breath and followed the maids as they curtseyed. Raibert’s green eyes scanned the maids briefly and settled on Elise, noting her delicate hands, auburn hair and grey eyes.

  ‘You are new,’ he observed with interest, as Elise met his gaze with a confidence she was far from feeling.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’ve only been brought in to help today,’ she replied.

  ‘Hmmm,’ Raibert murmured, not taking his eyes off her, but allowing them to rove further down to her slim shapely shoulders, and the slight body that the arisaid concealed. Her neck was long and aristocratic, Raibert thought to himself, wondering how the girl had found herself in circumstances that demand she work at his engagement feast.

  Elise fixed her attention on the bouquets of flowers for the tables, working slowly so that the trembling of her hands was not visible to the man who even now was studying her profile – her exquisitely shaped nose and the smoothness of her complexion. Elise moved away, ostensibly to fetch more blooms from a basket that was placed a few feet away from where Raibert stood. She wanted to escape his scrutiny, but he followed her.

  ‘Who are you?’ Raibert asked her as the maids watched him keenly, straining their ears to listen to what he was saying to Elise.

  ‘Just temporary help my laird,’ Elise answered, her voice sounding icy and hostile because she was struggling to keep her emotions in check.

  ‘Yes, but what is your name?’

  ‘Elise, my laird. Elise Gardyne.’ Elise kept her eyes on the flowers, lifting them out of the basket and preparing to carry them over to one of the tables, but Raibert blocked her path, refusing to move, so that she was forced to look up at him, and bear the full impact of his fabled green eyes.

  ‘If you please, my laird, I must get the flowers arranged.’

  Raibert appeared not to hear what she said, but continued to study her. ‘Angus’s daughter,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘What else can you do with your fair hands, apart from arranging flowers so skillfully?’

  Elise blushed. ‘I can embroider, my laird, and cook and sew. I can also play the harp…quite well…’ Her voice trailed away as she fought to still her nerves.

  ‘Well Elise Gardyne, daughter of Angus Gardyne, you shouldn’t be sullying those hands with work that is beneath you. You should play your harp and do your embroidery and stay indoors, away from the lustful eyes of men at an engagement feast.’

  ‘I can take care of myself, my laird,’ Elise said breathlessly, ‘And besides, if you know of my father then you must know that my brother, sister and I have to work to put food on our table.’

  Raibert’s eyes softened, but his voice was hard when he spoke. ‘If only the Gardynes had sided with the MacIntyres instead of the Setons and Abernethys, your father may still have the use of his legs and you would be a lady living in a castle and soon to be married to a fine laird.’

  ‘Living in a fine castle does not make one a fine lady or laird, my laird. At least I don’t think so,’ Elise said, regretting the words the moment they had escaped her lips.

  Raibert’s eyes flashed but he regarded her with greater interest. ‘Is that impudence that I hear in your voice, Elise?’ he asked, and Elise dropped her eyes.

  ‘I must go and arrange the flowers, my laird,’ she said.

  ‘You will not apologize to me for your impertinence?’ Raibert asked, his voice only slightly raised.

  ‘There is nothing to apologize for, my laird, as I merely expressed an opinion.’

  ‘Serving maids do not have opinions,’ Raibert replied.

  ‘Then maybe I am an exception,’ Elise shot back, her grey eyes glowing like angry coals.

  ‘Elise Gardyne,’ Raibert said, ‘I do not want you serving here at my castle…’

  ‘Oh!’ Elise said indignantly, interrupting him, ‘Because I dared speak my mind and then did not follow it up with an apology? Is this the behaviour of a benevolent laird and a MacIntyre no less – taking my father’s legs and then taking away my means of earning a small income today?’

  ‘Quiet, lass!’ Raibert silenced her. ‘If this is how your parents taught you to behave it is no wonder that you are in dire circumstances!’

  ‘I will not be quiet! I will speak my mind!’ Elise said, her voice raised now, so that the maids stopped to stare at her.

  ‘You foolish girl!’ Raibert said, ‘I was only trying to tell you that I do not want you to be serving here, and instead I would arrange for you to be paid to play the harp in between the feasting and dancing.’

  ‘Oh!’ Elise exclaimed, contrite, ‘I am indeed sorry, my laird. Very sorry.’ Elise stood with eyes downcast - surprised and breathless when Raibert slipped his fingers under her chin and raised her face up to his. ‘So you are capable of an apology, after all. Very good! Since you will play the harp for us tonight, you will not tire your fingers any more right now. Go and join the musicians.’ Raibert couldn’t resist the urge to run one finger down the smooth skin of Elise’s cheek. ‘You will be paid well for your work this evening,’ he said, his eyes burning into hers, and Elise found it hard to reply. Raibert strode away and Elise stood rooted to the spot as the maids clustered around her eagerly.

  ‘Did the laird wish to bed you?’ one asked and Elise turned redder than she already was.

  ‘No!’ She said emphatically, ‘He merely asked that I play the harp instead of serve tonight.’

  ‘He touched you!’ Another maid remarked.

  ‘He did not!’ Elise answered hotly, hurrying away from the gaggle of women to join the musicians.

  From the window above, the chief of the MacIntyre clan, Alistair, watched his son speaking to someone he perceived to be a common mai
d, and he smiled. A chip of the old block, Alistair thought.

  Meanwhile Raibert returned to the castle and proceeded to dress for the evening, even as his bride to be was borne across to Armadale Castle in a horse drawn carriage.

  Later that evening, after the betrothal, Elise was called upon to play at the Ceilidh, after the pipers had done their bit, and before the fiddlers took over. Raibert took Edme Campbell’s hand and led her to the front of the gathering where Elise was playing. Elise’s expression was one of deep intensity and Raibert could tell that she felt every note that she struck on each string of the harp. Something about the way her hair fell across her cheek as she played, and the way her fingers plucked the strings stirred Raibert in a way that took him by surprise. The music that emanated from the harp conjured up visions of passionate encounters amidst the heather clad hills; it evoked memories of boats lazily drifting up pristine blue lochs and fair maids in arisaids dancing with handsome men in kilts; it both roused his emotions while it calmed his soul. Raibert was torn apart by the passion incited by Elise’s playing and he was unsure of whether to applaud when she came to the end of a piece or to cry out in anger that she had so abruptly torn him from a fantasy. When she finished playing Elise looked up and found her eyes drowning in twin oceans of deep green.

  ‘My laird,’ Elise said, rising from her chair and curtseying.

  ‘Do not stop playing,’ Raibert said, his voice hard, and his eyes harder.

  Elise resumed her seat and continued to play.

  ‘You seem quite taken with the girl,’ Edme remarked to Raibert.

  ‘She plays the harp very well,’ Raibert replied, ‘And it is an instrument that I enjoy.’

  ‘Ah, my betrothed does have a softer side, I see,’ Edme remarked, her eyes twinkling.

  Elise peeped at the couple from under her lashes, even as her fingers expertly plucked at the harp strings, and she felt a stab of pain go through her heart. Raibert was looking into Edme’s eyes and she was laughing up at him. Elise’s playing grew more intense, even frenzied, and Raibert was mesmerized. When Elise came to the end of the song she looked up at him, seeing an expression almost of pain transform his features momentarily before he took Edme’s hand and turned abruptly away from Elise, calling out to the pipers to play.

  As Elise prepared to leave the castle, a footman came over to her and placed a purse in her hands. ‘My laird says you are to have this,’ the footman said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  ‘My laird Alistair?’ Elise asked.

  ‘No. My laird Raibert,’ the footman replied.

  ‘Oh,’ Elise said, breathless again, and began to make her way out of the castle grounds, panicking when she heard heavy footsteps behind her.

  ‘Elise!’

  Elise whipped about. It was Raibert.

  ‘Are you leaving the Ceilidh so early?’

  ‘I was told that I was no longer required to play, and a footman gave me my wages, so I am leaving, my laird, thank you,’ Elise answered politely.

  ‘So you will not stay and dine with us?’ Raibert asked.

  ‘I am afraid that would go against convention, my laird. But I am happy to have been given the opportunity to play for you.’ Elise hesitated, then mustered her courage and looked straight at Raibert. ‘My laird appeared to be a little displeased by my playing towards the end of my performance.’

  Raibert looked away. ‘Your playing progressed to an intensity that became quite disturbing. It was as if the harp had taken on your persona and was speaking your words rather than releasing its own music as you plucked the strings.’

  ‘But isn’t an instrument supposed to be an extension of the person who plays it?’

  ‘For a woman who enjoys speaking her mind, it would seem unfair that you do not want your harp to have its own voice,’ Raibert said with a sardonic smile.

  ‘I beg to differ with you. I do allow the harp to speak.’

  ‘Come here,’ Raibert said, pulling Elise roughly towards him.

  ‘My laird, please. I am not one of those women.’

  ‘And what women do you speak of?’ Raibert asked gruffly.

  ‘One that you can take as you will,’ Elise answered, her voice stifled as Raibert brought his lips down hard on hers, crushing them with a violence that caught her off guard so that it was some moments before she pulled away from him. That only served to incite Raibert to further action and he pulled her even closer, crushing her slight body against his hard chest.

  ‘You made me want to do this,’ Raibert growled.

  ‘How?’ Elise whimpered, struggling out of his arms.

  ‘By playing the harp as you did.’

  ‘I was playing music – tunes, songs, stories.’

  ‘I was watching your fingers. I was observing your body. You were showing me what you could do with both.’

  ‘No, my laird, no!’ Elise cried, ‘You misunderstand! Please…please let me go!’

  He released her with a suddenness that made her stumble back, and she proceeded to walk away unsteadily, conscious that Raibert was watching her, his eyes burning into her back.

  Elise opened the purse when she was safely home, finding to her surprise far more than she had anticipated she would be paid.

  ‘Oh but those are big earnings for just one night of serving at tables!’ Seonaid exclaimed, walking in on Elise counting the money.

  ‘My laird Raibert told me to play the harp instead of serving at the tables,’ Elise explained to her mother.

  ‘And how did he know you played the harp?’

  ‘I told him…because he wanted to know what else I do apart from arranging flowers.’

  Seonaid’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was he paying you undue attention, my Elise? And don’t call him my laird. He is not better than you are. It is only because of our straitened circumstances that you were serving in the castle, not because you were born a maid.’

  ‘I know that mama. Actually he was rather kind.’

  Seonaid looked curiously at her daughter. ‘I have heard how handsome and charming Raibert is,’ she said, ‘But he has just become betrothed and is obviously looking to please his appetite sufficiently before he is married to Edme Campbell who is not known for either wit or extreme beauty.’

  ‘She is handsome enough,’ Elise said, ‘And my laird…I mean Raibert…appears to like her well enough.’

  ‘Still, my dear girl, beware of men like him. They don’t give you purses filled with money for nothing.’

  ‘The money was not for nothing mama! I played the harp for him…at the Ceilidh!’

  ‘And he has paid you more than he should have!’

  ‘Yes. Yes he did. But it’s not because of what you think it is.’

  ‘If he hasn’t already tried to have his way with you, he will soon do so, you mark my words, Elise,’ Seonaid said.

  ‘What’s all the fuss about?’ Angus called from the next room.

  ‘Nothing that you need to worry about,’ Seonaid said and then turned to Elise again. ‘Do not tell your father about any of this. Do not tell him you played the harp for the MacIntyres. Just tell him you served at the tables and then came home. And most especially do not tell your father how much you were paid or he would think what I did.’

  ‘How little you think of me,’ Elise said. ‘Do you think I would actually allow a strange man to have his way with me? For money?’

  ‘But you might do it for love?’ Seonaid countered.

  ‘No!’ Elise exclaimed, but as she lay in bed, she thought of Raibert’s lips on hers and the heat of his body when she was in his arms, and her senses were aflame.

  CHAPTER II

  Elise woke early and went about her household chores, before she washed and dressed in a fresh skirt and blouse. She brushed her auburn hair till it gleamed and then sat down to her embroidery. She had heard that if it was good enough she could sell it to the big manors and castles. Her one wish was to relieve her parents of the anxieties of providing for her and her siblings. She f
ell into a reverie as she worked elaborate arrays of stitches into the material that lay across her lap. So utterly was her attention taken by the task in hand, that she started and pricked her finger when her sister Mairi came excitedly into the room where she was working. ‘There’s a messenger asking to see you!’ Mairi announced. Brody, Elise’s brother, followed her, bearing the same news and winking.

  Elise stood up and dusted her skirt, making a face at her brother and sister. When she opened the door there was a strange man standing there, struggling to balance the harp that he carried in his arms.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Elise queried anxiously.

  ‘My laird Raibert wishes you to have this,’ the man said.

  ‘But I already have a harp of my own,’ Elise said.

  The man lowered the harp to the ground. ‘I cannot return to Armadale Castle with this harp. For one thing, it is very heavy. For another, my laird Raibert insists you take it.’

  ‘I am very sorry,’ Elise said, ‘But I cannot, and will not, accept a gift of such considerable value. I have been paid handsomely for playing at the Ceilidh yesterday, and it would not be right of me to accept anything more from your laird.’

  The man shuffled his feet uncomfortably, searching for something more convincing to say to Elise, but before he could find the appropriate words, Raibert appeared and Elise wished she was wearing a finer skirt. Raibert stopped short, his nostrils flared.