Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

M urdoch couldn't answer. His eyes lingered on Eloise as he lifted the goblet to his lips and took another large gulp of the mead. The spiced honey drink slipped down his throat, quenching his thirst and the raging dry mouth he'd had ever since his father had stumbled upon him on the loch bank with Eloise beside him.

What am I thinking?

"Murdoch!" she raged, stepping toward him and planting her hands on the other side of the table.

"Never thought I'd hear ye lose yer temper, Eloise. Ye are always so calm," he marveled, offering a wry smile.

"Well, the situation calls for it. I am nae so made of stone as ye seem tae think."

"Nay? I find that hard tae believe."

"What is it with ye and yer insults?" She slowly rounded the table and moved toward him. Murdoch walked the other way, rather keen to keep distance between them now. The pressure of her hand in his as they had walked through the castle was strange and foreign to him. He'd never really held Lillie's hand much, but they weren't a match for love as he was currently pretending that he and Eloise were. His and Lillie's betrothal was for arrangement and fondness. "What happened tae yer decision tae send me on me way? For all of this tae be put down tae some dreadful mistake?"

"I changed me mind."

"Aye, I see that. What I am nae achieving is discovering the answer as tae why." They halted on opposite sides of the table as he reached between them, topping up his jug again. "Why are ye doing this, Murdoch? Why dae ye even need a false bride?"

"Ye heard my father. He wishes me tae wed."

"And ye dinnae want that?" She slowly nodded and tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"I thought ye preferred the company of everyone tae me." Her eyebrows quirked together.

Dae I sound that bad?

Murdoch managed to clear his airways and breathe deeply as he topped up his goblet for the third time. Yes, he'd insulted Eloise many times that day and they didn't get on, but at this moment, it was a survival tactic only. He had to push her away, for many different reasons, one of which was this infernal attraction to her, for no good could come from it.

"I wouldnae put it like that," he managed eventually and slid her goblet toward her. "Let us leave it at this. I have me secrets, as dae ye, plainly." He gestured to her, and she flinched, picking up the goblet. "Ye must dae, tae keep this job so hidden from yer brother and sister."

"Let us nae talk of that."

"Then we shall nae talk of my reasoning for needing a false bride either. Let us just agree with this. We shall act our parts for a few days, a couple of weeks at most. When Clyde and Harper are married, then we shall return to the Chattan Clan and nothing of this matter will be spoken of between us again. Aye?"

"Aye," she said with vigor and lifted the goblet to her lips, also taking a large gulp.

Murdoch stiffened, watching her with interest. She usually took small sips, delicately.

"Why are ye staring?" she asked as she lowered the goblet to the table.

"Maybe I just feel as if I am glimpsing behind the fa?ade ye like tae wear. All that stone."

"I am nae made of stone." She turned her back and walked around the table once more. Yet she no longer pursued him. She was looking at the room instead with her hands on her hips. "Very well, we will act out parts, but we will have tae be more convincing."

"What dae ye mean?"

"I mean this." She turned back toward him so sharply he was not prepared for it. She laid a hand to the bicep of his arm, and he flinched, stepping back from her and colliding with the table. "That." She flicked her fingers toward him.

"I had nae idea I was that repulsive." She walked back and wandered around the room, moving to the second level and looking at all the coffers.

Murdoch stared after her, numb and frozen to the spot.

Ye are far from repulsive, Eloise.

His eyes traced her movements, the swish of her skirt as it fell around her hips, the narrowed corset that emphasized the slenderness of her waist, up to the slightly broader shape across her chest. Her figure made his mouth abruptly dry again. He lowered the goblet to the table, knowing he could not drink anymore, despite his need to.

She flicked her head around, those perfect curls dancing across her cheeks, and he almost groaned aloud. Something about her touching his arm in such a way had him picturing what it would be like to share that bed at the far side of the room with Eloise after all. Would she grip onto his biceps then as he pleasured her? Would she claw at him or those wolf furs if he entered her with his tongue, driving her to the peak of pleasure?

Murdoch was hardly without experience. In his younger years, he'd had some, but when Lillie had come along, all of that had stopped. Determined to take his vows seriously, he'd not indulged again. They'd shared but one kiss between them before she was murdered. Since then, he'd been with no other woman.

"Murdoch, as horrible as ye find me –"

"I didnae say ye were horrible."

"Oh, so ye can bear tae look at me then?" She turned back to face him, triumph in her eyes.

"Perhaps." He winced, as if it gave him pain. She laughed a little, shaking her head.

"Ye are going tae have tae put up with me if we are going tae be convincing." She marched back toward him, stepping down off the level to move to his side. "Dinnae flinch this time."

"What are ye going tae dae? Oh." He halted as she placed her hand on his arm again. She didn't stop there but sidled toward him, standing so close that her hips practically brushed his. She was a hair's breadth away from him, her scent lingering and enveloping him. There was pine there from the trees, but mostly bergamot and rose. It was a heady mixture, and in spite of himself, Murdoch lowered his head a little down toward her.

"See? Ye can play the part," she whispered. She moved her hand from his arm and trailed her fingers up to his shoulder, then across his collarbone. His hands he kept behind him, locking them together, to prevent his fingers from touching her, for he feared exactly what control she could have over him when she played her act so well.

When a single finger traveled down the center of his chest, he closed his eyes, his body starting to relax. His shoulders were no longer stiff and even his hands loosened a little behind his back. She had created a tingle in his body. It went from the center of his chest, where her touch lingered, down to his core. Something stirred, as if his length wanted to come to life, but he fought against the sensation.

"It is casual touches like these that convince an onlooker," she whispered, her voice so soft that he tilted his head to the side. "If ye wish yer father tae believe yer lies, ye'll have tae bear with such things, Murdoch. Can ye dae that?"

"Something tells me I could put up with them," he whispered, taking on a more playful tone. When she laughed, his eyes shot open. He didn't think he'd ever heard her laugh in that way before. She didn't cover her lips and bend her head, as if she were ashamed to laugh. She just smiled back at him.

She's rather enchanting when she doesnae keep those walls so high.

"Then we have an agreement?" she whispered. "I'll go ahead with yer plan, but ye have tae act the part too." Her hand slid down his chest, moving toward his stomach. Such a shiver passed up his spine that his body stiffened, trying to avoid her sensing that shudder.

"Aye. Ye shall have yer money at the end of this."

"Good." She released him and stepped back.

It's the money. That is what she wants. Why? Why does she need that money so badly?

Murdoch's eyes lingered on Eloise as she retreated. He realized that she was right when she had said before that they knew little about one another.

"Ye ready?" Murdoch whispered in Eloise's ear.

"Aye," she murmured back and took his arm, threading her hand through the crook. "Is this gown sufficient for such a feast here?"

"Sufficient?" Murdoch laughed, shaking his head. "Few others ask fer compliments in the way ye dae, Eloise."

"I wasnae seeking fer a compliment. I wished tae check I had dressed appropriately fer the occasion."

He glanced toward her as they walked down the stairs toward the great hall. He didn't blink as he looked at her and she rearranged the skirt of the gown, self-consciously.

What is it about that look? Why does it affect me so?

"It is… appropriate." The word was deep, as if he meant something else entirely, but Eloise didn't press him.

The sleeves of the deep green gown hung just off her shoulders, giving her an ample neckline with a glimpse of her bosom above the embroidered bodice of the dress. The golden thread concentrated chiefly around her waist, accenting the line before the silk skimmed her hips and fell to the floor. The sleeves were bell-shaped, ending around her elbows and cascading outward. For some reason, it mattered to Eloise that Murdoch like the gown.

They passed others who waited in the entrance hall, queuing up to enter the vast feasting room, though Murdoch and Eloise were beckoned to the front by Laird Gordon. He stood in the doorway with his guards stationed either side of him.

"Now, what a sight this is." He declared warmly; his hands held outward. He took Eloise's shoulders and kissed her on either cheek. "Dear future daughter, ye look remarkably beautiful this evening."

"Thank ye, melaird. Ye are kind." She dropped a formal curtsy and he laughed at her.

"Nae need fer such formalities here." He waved the idea way. "Ye must call me Fergus now, fer it is me name, and we are tae be family." He winked at her. His lack of propriety made her glance at Murdoch, realizing perhaps why he was not the most formal of men after all. "Murdoch, yer brother is here already."

They shook hands as Murdoch stilled and glanced over his father's shoulder, into the feasting room. Eloise's eyes traced Murdoch's figure. She was unused to seeing him out of his soldier's garbs. The tight-fitting waistcoat emphasized the strength of his figure. The black material was practically ebony, as dark as his hair. He was a stark contrast to any other man in the room who wore splashes of color and tartan over their shoulders.

"I havenae seen him in so long," Murdoch whispered, as if talking to himself more than Eloise or his father.

"Go, find him," Fergus urged. "It will gladden my heart tae see ye two together again."

Murdoch led the way into the room with Eloise on his arm. She pulled softly on his elbow, urging him to bend down toward her so she could whisper in his ear. He did it with ease, and she realized that he was taking to the part of acting very well.

"How long is it since ye have seen yer brother?"

"Five years," he whispered back, moving his face alongside her own. She felt the brush of his bristle against the cheek and tried to ignore the sensation it created within her. Was it so wrong to be attracted to his masculinity?

Aye, very wrong!

Her wise thoughts broke in and she pulled back from him an inch.

"He has been a soldier fighting for the king as I went tae serve Laird Chattan. Much has changed in that time."

There was something he plainly was not saying as he lifted his head and stared across the feasting room.

Eloise examined the space. Vast and as long as the courtyard beyond the tall windows, there were three mahogany tables stretching across the space, two on either side of the room near roaring fires in hearths so great that the mantelpieces stretched above people's heads. The third table was upon a platform at the distant edge of the room. Decked with cooked peacocks that had been thrust back into their feathers and boars that had been cooked until their skin was caramelized, it was a sight to behold.

Colored cloths hung from the ceiling, rich in red, gold and green hues. Children who attended the first part of the feast hid behind these cloths, jumping out on their friends, then running toward the dancers in the middle of the space. The pipers she'd seen earlier that day sat on a bench all playing eagerly for the dancers who performed their ceilidh, red in the face either from the exertion or liquor.

"Why did ye never speak of such a happy place?" The question fell from Eloise's lips.

Murdoch didn't answer her, though his arm stiffened in her grasp. He led her around the dancers toward the top table. As they approached, Eloise's eyes darted over three people who stood behind it.

There were two ladies, one dressed finely with dark blonde hair fastened to the back of her head and next to her was a maid, tall and beautiful with black tresses that had been swept into a chignon bun. Talking to the both of them was a man so like Murdoch that Eloise started.

He was a little shorter perhaps, but just as broad in the shoulders. His hair was a shade or two lighter and the eyes were a different color, but the bone structure was just the same.

"Clyde?" Murdoch called to the man as he approached the platform and climbed up.

"Murdoch." Clyde broke off from talking to the two ladies. He rounded the table swiftly with such a smile on his face and eagerness in his step, it was easy for Eloise to see the love he bore his brother. "God's blood, it has been too long."

"Aye, it has." Murdoch released Eloise and held out his arm. He and Clyde clutched forearms, in some manly gesture of bonding. "How are ye? Truly?"

"Well enough. I bear many scars now from the wars." Clyde grimaced. "I imagine ye are much the same, brother?"

"Aye. Many indeed."

Eloise glanced at Murdoch, noting there were few scars that she could see. Her mind wandered to where else these scars were on his body. When she found herself picturing him without his shirt and waistcoat, her palms grew clammy, and she attempted to dry them on the skirt of her gown.

"Ye and I must sit down and talk tomorrow, properly," Clyde pleaded with his brother. "We can share war stories and laugh at each other's victories."

"I dinnae doubt ye will be able tae make me laugh at myself," Murdoch said with an easy smile.

Transfixed to the spot, Eloise could not look way from Murdoch's face. With his brother, he was a different man entirely. His face was softer, the expression much more endearing than before, that harshness gone.

"And who is this?" Clyde said, releasing Murdoch's hand and turning to face her.

"Ah, Clyde, allow me tae introduce Eloise Maclaren." Murdoch gestured to her, and she curtsied, stepping closer. "My betrothed." To Murdoch's credit, his voice didn't break or hesitate as he said the words.

"Betrothed?" Clyde spluttered then laughed warmly. "Murdoch, this is wonderful news. I didnae think I'd be so fortunate as tae see this day." He gripped his brother's shoulder and offered a great smile.

Why is that?

Eloise was baffled by the words bust stayed silent.

"We shall have tae toast yer happiness tonight."

"And yer own," Murdoch said, gesturing to the two ladies behind Clyde. "I see ye and Harper are much closer these days."

"Aye, our fathers insisted on a marriage tae unite the families, but I could hardly object, could I?" The way Clyde's gaze swept over the blonde-haired woman dressed so finely said much.

"Me boys." Laird Fergus appeared behind the two of them on the platform, clapping them warmly. "Come, come, I have a toast tae make fer the two of ye."

"Nae now, Father," Murdoch pleaded. "People are dancing."

"It willnae take a moment. Come, take yer seats."

Eloise was swept around the table as Murdoch took her hand. He stood beside his father's tall chair, and she beside him, whispering in his ear.

"Ye and Clyde…"

"Nae now," Murdoch murmured back. He looked away from her, clearly not keen to open up with her in any way. Her hand felt abruptly cold grasped in his own.

"Please, please, calm yerself for a minute." Fergus's voice boomed across the room. The pipers halted and people turned, raising goblets as they clearly knew what was about to happen. "I am so pleased ye have all gathered here fer the celebration of me son's betrothal tae Harper. We have many events over the next couple of weeks, but first, allow me tae begin things tonight by toasting their happiness. Please, join me, in raising your cups tae them." Fergus lifted his cup toward Clyde and Harper.

"Kiss!" a shout called up from the room. Laughter followed before others joined in.

"Aye, let us see the happy couple kiss."

Eloise craned her neck to look around at the others. She saw Clyde smile and Harper lower her gaze shyly. He leaned toward his betrothed, kissing her swiftly.

Applause followed before Fergus gestured toward Murdoch.

"Yet I have news fer ye all, for there is another we must celebrate."

"Nay. What is he doing?" Murdoch hissed.

Eloise stiffened beside him, already sensing what Fergus' next words were going to be.