Read Online The Seduction of Elliot McBride (Mackenzies Series) by Jennifer Ashley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Ashley
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could he, in truth?
She’d have to get to know him all over again before she could even hope to understand him.
“I will help you, memsahib,” Mahindar said, with a quietness like a deep river. “You and I, we will bring him back together.”
“Ah, you are awake at last.” A voice swam out of the darkness to Elliot. “Thank all the gods. Your sister, she is here.”
Elliot peeled open his eyes to see a face hovering mere inches above him. He experienced a moment of panic—
What now? What now? Couldn’t they leave him alone?
Then he realized that it was Mahindar’s kind and worried countenance studying him, thick brows drawn together under his white turban, the man’s beard tucked neatly inside his tunic.
“Damn it, Mahindar.”
Mahindar’s distress did not abate. “Lady Cameron has come to visit the memsahib. Your sister-in-law, she is here too, and she insists she see you.”
Rona and Ainsley. Elliot’s redoubtable sister-in-law and pretty, lively sister. Not what a man needed to face when he’d awakened feeling like he had a three-day hangover.
Elliot rubbed his face, finding it full of bristles. He must have been asleep for a long time. Another spell must have taken him, leaving him no idea how long he’d lain in darkness.
And where the hell was he? He squinted at the bedroom empty of drapes and filled with large, square furniture, the bed in the middle of the floor. “Is this McGregor’s place? How did we get here?” Only Great-uncle McGregor’s house could look solid and falling apart at the same time.
The last time Elliot had come here, to purchase the house, he’d bunked down in the warm kitchen—much more comfortable.
Mahindar looked troubled. “Do you not remember? Yesterday, you were married.”
Yesterday was a blank; all days for a long time had been a blank…except…
“Married? What the devil are you talking about? Tell me you brought me whiskey.”
“No, indeed. Her ladyship, your sister, forbade it. She said I was to get you up and down to the drawing room by any means necessary, except whiskey.”
“Ainsley said that?” Elliot wanted to laugh. He’d always been close to his little sister, who knew him in ways no one else ever could. That was the old Elliot, though. No one knew the Elliot of now.
Elliot threw back the covers. He was naked, but Mahindar neither noticed nor cared. “Draw me a bath. I’m not fit to be seen by decent women. Not even my resilient sisters.”
As Mahindar bustled around preparing the bath with ewers of steaming water, Elliot fought his way from the dense fog of his sleep. Mahindar was speaking, and Elliot struggled to focus on his words.
“I have put them in the morning room with the memsahib,” Mahindar said, “and there they wait.”
“The memsahib?”
Mahindar looked up, the water dribbling, unheeded, to the floor. “Yes, the memsahib,” he said in careful tones. “Until yesterday she was called Miss Sinj.”
Mahindar, who’d worked for Britons all his life, prided himself on getting British titles correct. He did have some difficulty pronouncing the names, however—
and who can blame him?
Some are bloody impossible.
Elliot rubbed his face again. “Miss Sinj? I’ve never heard of anyone called Sinj…” His eyes slammed open, letting in too much light. He rolled out of the high bed, landing hard on his bare feet, and the room spun.
“You mean Miss
St. John
?”
“Of course.”
“Bloody hell, and damn everything.”
Snatches of yesterday came to him—Juliana plopping down on his lap in a billow of white, her hopeful smile, her beautiful blue eyes.
The memory of her skin under his fingertips, the kiss he’d pressed to her palm. Elliot had drawn her warmth into him, which he’d clung to as though he hadn’t felt warmth in years. He’d longed to kiss her lips there in the chapel, but couldn’t bring himself to with a mouth sour with whiskey.
Then he remembered standing at the front of a packed church,
She’d have to get to know him all over again before she could even hope to understand him.
“I will help you, memsahib,” Mahindar said, with a quietness like a deep river. “You and I, we will bring him back together.”
“Ah, you are awake at last.” A voice swam out of the darkness to Elliot. “Thank all the gods. Your sister, she is here.”
Elliot peeled open his eyes to see a face hovering mere inches above him. He experienced a moment of panic—
What now? What now? Couldn’t they leave him alone?
Then he realized that it was Mahindar’s kind and worried countenance studying him, thick brows drawn together under his white turban, the man’s beard tucked neatly inside his tunic.
“Damn it, Mahindar.”
Mahindar’s distress did not abate. “Lady Cameron has come to visit the memsahib. Your sister-in-law, she is here too, and she insists she see you.”
Rona and Ainsley. Elliot’s redoubtable sister-in-law and pretty, lively sister. Not what a man needed to face when he’d awakened feeling like he had a three-day hangover.
Elliot rubbed his face, finding it full of bristles. He must have been asleep for a long time. Another spell must have taken him, leaving him no idea how long he’d lain in darkness.
And where the hell was he? He squinted at the bedroom empty of drapes and filled with large, square furniture, the bed in the middle of the floor. “Is this McGregor’s place? How did we get here?” Only Great-uncle McGregor’s house could look solid and falling apart at the same time.
The last time Elliot had come here, to purchase the house, he’d bunked down in the warm kitchen—much more comfortable.
Mahindar looked troubled. “Do you not remember? Yesterday, you were married.”
Yesterday was a blank; all days for a long time had been a blank…except…
“Married? What the devil are you talking about? Tell me you brought me whiskey.”
“No, indeed. Her ladyship, your sister, forbade it. She said I was to get you up and down to the drawing room by any means necessary, except whiskey.”
“Ainsley said that?” Elliot wanted to laugh. He’d always been close to his little sister, who knew him in ways no one else ever could. That was the old Elliot, though. No one knew the Elliot of now.
Elliot threw back the covers. He was naked, but Mahindar neither noticed nor cared. “Draw me a bath. I’m not fit to be seen by decent women. Not even my resilient sisters.”
As Mahindar bustled around preparing the bath with ewers of steaming water, Elliot fought his way from the dense fog of his sleep. Mahindar was speaking, and Elliot struggled to focus on his words.
“I have put them in the morning room with the memsahib,” Mahindar said, “and there they wait.”
“The memsahib?”
Mahindar looked up, the water dribbling, unheeded, to the floor. “Yes, the memsahib,” he said in careful tones. “Until yesterday she was called Miss Sinj.”
Mahindar, who’d worked for Britons all his life, prided himself on getting British titles correct. He did have some difficulty pronouncing the names, however—
and who can blame him?
Some are bloody impossible.
Elliot rubbed his face again. “Miss Sinj? I’ve never heard of anyone called Sinj…” His eyes slammed open, letting in too much light. He rolled out of the high bed, landing hard on his bare feet, and the room spun.
“You mean Miss
St. John
?”
“Of course.”
“Bloody hell, and damn everything.”
Snatches of yesterday came to him—Juliana plopping down on his lap in a billow of white, her hopeful smile, her beautiful blue eyes.
The memory of her skin under his fingertips, the kiss he’d pressed to her palm. Elliot had drawn her warmth into him, which he’d clung to as though he hadn’t felt warmth in years. He’d longed to kiss her lips there in the chapel, but couldn’t bring himself to with a mouth sour with whiskey.
Then he remembered standing at the front of a packed church,
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