The Seduction of Elliot McBride (Mackenzies Series) by Jennifer Ashley Read Free Book Online Page A

with soot from the train journey, and his climb in the woods had rendered him muddy. Mahindar pumped water into the kitchen sink—clean from a well—and instructed Elliot to strip to his kilt.
    The water was freezing. Mahindar dunked Elliot’s head all the way in, using the cake of soap that he’d brought from Edinburgh to scrub Elliot’s hair and body clean. Mahindar had bought glycerin and rosewater soap, which had made Elliot’s brothers and sister laugh. At least it got him clean, if smelling a bit like a lady’s boudoir.
    Mahindar brought out Elliot’s thick dressing gown and the Indian silk drawers in which Elliot usually slept. Elliot donned these and climbed the stairs, taking a candle himself, refusing Mahindar’s offer to light the way.
    The candlelight wavered on the Gothic arches in the hall, making the place cavernous, decorative stone finials hanging like strange stalactites. As a boy, Elliot had felt a tingle of fear walking in this place, but it was peaceful to him now. This was nothing more than an old house, through which had passed its share of families—births, marriages,deaths, laughter, sorrow, lovemaking. No terror, horror, or fear so deadly it made a man wrap up in himself and weep.
    Elliot pushed open the door of the bedchamber, at the same time blowing out the candle. Moonlight spilled through the unshuttered window, a beam spreading over the bed in the middle of the room.
    Juliana lay on her back in the bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, but she wasn’t asleep. Elliot heard the quick breath that told him she was wide awake, never mind how tightly she’d closed her eyes.
    He deposited the candlestick on the nearest table and went to the bed. Juliana lay like a princess in a storybook, waiting for the prince to waken her with a kiss.
    Elliot thought of the heady taste of her lips when he’d kissed her at the altar. Her skin had been damp with warmth and agitation, the taste of her like honey on his tongue.
    He rested his hand on the bedpost, leaned down, and brushed a soft kiss to the dimple at the corner of her mouth.
    Juliana’s eyes flew open. She looked at him with no trace of sleep in her eyes. “Is young Hamish all right?”
    Elliot straightened up, his hand still on the bedpost. “He will be.”
    “I hope he wasn’t too frightened.”
    “He’s recovered.” Elliot tried to move from his fixed stance and found he couldn’t.
    Juliana’s color deepened, and she cleared her throat. “Are you coming to bed, Elliot?”
    Her high-necked nightgown was prim, but this was the first time Elliot had seen her without the barricade of stays, bustles, skirts, and tightly buttoned bodices.
    Elliot finally let go of the bedpost to untie his dressing gown and let it fall from him. He watched her gaze go to his bare torso, then drop to the silk drawers that rode low on his hips, a drawstring holding them closed. The underbreeches reached his calves, leaving the rest of his legs bare.
    “An unusual garment,” she said, her voice soft.
    “They’re Indian. I prefer them to English clothes.”
    “Do you? Why?”
    “Much more comfortable.” The cool air from the window touched his skin. “More practical in a hot climate.”
    “I can imagine.”
    Elliot remained rigidly beside the bed. He wanted her with a desire so hard it gripped him, but still he couldn’t move.
    Juliana cleared her throat again. “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it? To think, tonight I was to a have been in a hotel in Edinburgh, with…”
    She pressed her hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. Moonlight glittered on the tears that slid down her cheeks.
    “With…” Her voice caught on a sob.
    With Grant Barclay, damn him, the blithering fool who’d decided to improve himself with piano lessons. Elliot wanted to strangle the man, first for trying to steal Juliana from him, then for making her cry about him while she lay in Elliot’s bed.
    And Elliot knew how to. Exactly how to get a man’s throat