Page 77 of In Bed with a Highland Brute

Wait… is this Eloise at all?

He marched toward her, determined to rip that veil off her face and see for himself. She was the right sort of height, but any hint of her skin was hidden so he could not be sure. The gloves covered her hands and the veil her face so well, it would be a good disguise.

Before he could even touch that thick veil, she spun back around to face him and proffered forward one of the cups. She wanted him to drink.

“Ye wish me tae drink and be at ease with ye? How can ye expect me tae dae that when ye are hiding behind this ridiculous thing?” He gestured to the veil. She took hold of the base of the cup and pressed it toward him, clearly eager once again.

This isnae right!

Eloise’s scent was so familiar to him now. She usually smelled of bergamot and rose. He loved that scent. He’d been enveloped in it when he had made love to her at the loch side. Yet this woman smelled different. There was a scent of lilies that felt strangely wrong about her.

She backed up from him, releasing the cup now, though she waved at him, eager for him to drink once again.

Slowly, he lifted the cup toward his lip then froze, trying as hard as he could not to reveal on his face that he had detected the scent of the mead.

That smells nothing like mead.

The honey fragrance was gone. In its place there were poppies. He’d smelt such a thing before in the healer’s cottage. It was dwale, or something similar, with the power of opium.

Uncertain what was happening, he pretended to take a sip, keeping his lips closed over the rim of the cup as he watched her closely. The figure in the veil seemed to soften, her shoulders slumping a little as she clasped her laced hands together. She ushered him toward the bed.

She wishes me tae consummate this marriage?

He walked toward the bed, not saying anything as he kept his eyes on her. He pretended to take another sip as he sat down, leaning against the pillows. She waited a minute, clearly hoping the drink would soon have its effect before she disappeared behind the screen and changed.

Murdoch hastily put the cup down on a table beside him and laid back, pretending to be under the sedative’s power. He held his breath, waiting for her to return, more certain than ever before that Eloise was not the woman beneath that veil. As he’d turned his head away from her, he had to strain to hear her bare feet padding across the room toward him. As she grew nearer, he saw through the shadows that she was no longer wearing her veil and she had slipped into her chemise.

Nay, it cannae be her.

She reached toward him, nervously chewing her lip in the shadows. Before her hand could take his shoulder, Murdoch moved sharply. He gripped her wrist, lurching upward and moving to his feet.

Harper.

“What? Nay. Nay!” Harper cried out, finding her voice at last. “Murdoch, ye are supposed tae be…” She glanced at the full cup on the table beside him.

“Ye think I cannae tell when someone has laced me drink with something, Harper?” he hissed and pushed her away from him, down to the floor. Such anger took over him at this deception, he didn’t care that his brother’s betrothed cried out in pain as she fell to the ground.

Oh God, nay…

He realized at once that she was no longer Clyde’s betrothed. She was his wife. He had married her, granted by deception, but they had gone through with the ceremony.

“Ye sicken me,” Murdoch spat as she sat up, trying to clamber to her feet to look him in the eye.

“Murdoch, please.” She reached out her hands toward him, but he brushed her off. He couldn’t bear the thought of her touching him.

“Ye made me marry ye?” he asked, stepping back from her in disbelief. “God’s blood, Harper. Ye took Eloise’s place. And ye were ready tae seal this marriage with me unconscious? Why? What fer?”

“Ye could never see it as I did.” She was tearful, great streams coming down her cheeks that she hastily brushed away with the backs of her wrists. “Ye could never see it that ye were meant tae be with me, Murdoch. I could see it. I had tae make it happen, for both of our sakes.”

“Madness,” Murdoch murmured, backing up from Harper as quickly as he could. She stood to her feet, no longer appearing like the sweet and rather quiet woman that Clyde was to marry. She had transformed and looked rather ghostly, with her skin pale, her hair wild and that white chemise covering her body. She rounded one of the bed posts, trying to get nearer to him, but he backed up, keeping as much distance between them as he could. “Harper, have ye taken leave of yer senses!? Ye are tae marry Clyde.”

“I never said ‘aye’ tae that. It was yer father’s and me father’s doing.” She looped one of her arms around the bed post. “It was always ye I wanted, Murdoch. From the day ye and I met, I kenned I loved ye, and ye could love me. Just as soon as ye stopped looking at Lillie, ye would look at me.”

Murdoch felt weak at the knees.

Lillie.

He backed up from the bed and reached the table, darting around it and putting the table between them.