Highlander Unmasked (11 page)

“I’m afraid there is no avoiding it,” Jamie answered apologetically. “I’ll not make it back from Argyllshire by the end of the week.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Are you sure you have to leave right now?”

Alex could hear the strain in her voice. The burden of her decision was clearly a weight she wanted lifted. The urge to offer her comfort intensified. At that moment, she seemed fragile and very young.

“Unfortunately, it cannot be avoided, Meg. You know my cousin. Argyll will not be put off.”

“Well, it appears that it has all been decided,” she said truculently. “I will see you upon your return.”

“But I thought you wished to speak to me?” Jamie said. “We are just about done here.”

“Apparently, it will have to wait.” She was angry, though at whom, Alex didn’t know. Shoulders rigid, she turned on her heel and flounced out of the room.

The easy sounds of conversation that had died down when Meg had entered the room returned upon her swift departure. They finished the game, but Alex didn’t like the way Jamie was watching him.

Alex stood up to leave. He’d get no information here, and he had another possible source to explore. But Jamie stopped him.

“What did you hear?” Jamie asked, his voice steely.

Alex considered his former friend with calculated interest. Jamie had guessed that there was more to the story than Alex had let on. Campbell was unusually cunning for his age, though with Argyll for a mentor, he shouldn’t be surprised.

He decided to tell him the truth. “Nothing specific.” He recounted the conversation he’d overheard at the tavern.

“You’re right. It’s not much to go on.” Jamie paused thoughtfully. “You’re sure they were Highlanders?”

“Yes.”

“There was no mention of women?”

Alex shook his head. He’d asked himself these same questions all night. “Most likely it’s a coincidence.”

“Undoubtedly,” Jamie agreed. “Lawlessness is endemic in the Highlands. I’m sure Meg and her party were not the only travelers to be attacked recently.”

Both men were silent, mulling the situation, neither one completely convinced. Alex would wager Jamie was thinking the same thing he was:
What if they were wrong?

“I’ll stay,” Jamie said. “My cousin’s errand can wait.”

Alex gave a snort of laughter. He knew Argyll. “And what will you tell him? That you are refusing to do his bidding because of a conversation overheard in a tavern?”

Jamie clenched his jaw, saying nothing.

Alex realized that Jamie Campbell was going to be a problem for him. Thus far he’d taken Alex at his word, but he didn’t know how much longer Jamie would continue to do so. He’d begun to suspect that Jamie was just as interested in keeping Alex close as the other way around. Jamie was already suspicious. It would be disastrous if Jamie found out Alex’s true purpose at court and thought it his duty to warn his cousin. If the Island chiefs were to have any success in defeating another attempt to colonize Lewis by the Fife Adventurers, Alex could not let that happen. Since it was becoming clear that Alex would get no information from Jamie, it would be best for his mission if Jamie left court.

“Go. I’ll guard her with my life,” Alex said, realizing that he meant it.

Jamie’s gaze sharpened. “What interest do you have in Meg Mackinnon?”

Alex wiped all expression from his face. “None.”

“You want her.”

He didn’t bother to deny it. “Who wouldn’t?”

Jamie looked at him oddly. “So you find Meg attractive?”

The corner of Alex’s mouth lifted at Jamie’s jest. It took him a moment to realize Campbell wasn’t joking. “Of course. Don’t you?”

Jamie looked troubled. “Yes, but at court Meg is not revered for her beauty as much as she is known for her unusual intelligence and frank manner.”

Alex scoffed, “Blind fools.”

Jamie’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “In this we are in agreement.” But his smile soon faded, and his eyes turned wintry. “But you’ll do nothing about it, because you know you have
nothing
to offer her.”

Jamie’s words hit him like a blow to the chest. He clenched his jaw but otherwise gave no indication of their impact.

“I intend to marry her,” Jamie said. “Do you offer the same?”

No.
And for a moment, Alex regretted it. Striding to the door, he said, “I’m sure she’ll be very happy.”

The worst part was that he knew it was true.

An hour later, Meg had still not found her mother.
Coward,
she thought. Hiding from her own daughter. Returning to her chambers, she passed by the servants’ quarters and happened to glance down the corridor just as a large man exited through a doorway.

She froze, recognizing the tall, muscular frame. Alex MacLeod. But what was he doing in a servant’s room? A vague, uneasy feeling swept over her. She had her answer a moment later when a pretty, blond, and very buxom serving maid came out of the room after him, calling him back.

She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. It shouldn’t matter if he chose to dally with a serving girl, it was hardly unusual, but the dull throbbing in her chest told her that it did. The irony was too perfect, reminding her of another time she’d seen a man she’d wanted to trust dallying with a maid.

Ewen Mackinnon, the son of her father’s oldest chieftain and as handsome as the summer solstice was long. So easily he’d charmed the naïve sixteen-year-old girl she’d been with passionate kisses that left her breathless and consumed by emotions that erased all thought of everything else. Even her duties had suffered as she’d devised ways to slip away and meet him. They’d talked of marriage, of a family, of a future. But she’d been a fool.

One afternoon, rather than helping her father with the accounts, she’d pleaded a headache and then snuck from her room to find Ewen, hoping for more of his exciting kisses. Instead, she’d stumbled upon the man she’d thought to marry seducing a housemaid in the stables.

The girl giggled prettily and slapped his hand away from her round bottom. “But what about Meg Mackinnon? I hear you intend to marry her.”

“I do. And you’ll be my leman. She could never satisfy me like you do.”

The girl seemed to ponder his offer. “Don’t you find her pretty?”

“Meg?” He laughed cruelly, and Meg felt her heart crumble at her feet. “That little bland wren? Too bad she’s not more like her mother. But one day soon, when I get rid of that idiot brother of hers, she’ll make me chief.”

The knowledge that Ewen had pursued her only for his ambition and how easily she’d succumbed to his charm was a bitter lesson. But one well learned.

The pain of that moment came back full force as she watched Alex with his pretty maid. The girl’s cheeks were flushed as she giggled and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. Meg felt a pang of envy, for a moment wanting to be the type of woman who inspired lust. Alex smiled, whispered something in the girl’s ear, and patted her fondly on the rump as if to shoo her away. But the pretty maid would not be dismissed so easily. When Alex ignored her subtle invitation, the girl grew bolder. She rose on her toes to drape her arms around his neck, stretching against him like a cat and squishing her plump breasts against his leather jerkin, begging not so subtly for his kiss. Meg felt as if she were watching some horrible, intimate charade. She couldn’t breathe, waiting for confirmation of what she desperately didn’t want to believe. She must have made a sound because his gaze shot around and their eyes met.

Silent accusation fired back and forth. She felt exposed, raw. Certain that he could see right through her. See the hurt and disappointment wallowing inside. She hated that he could see her vulnerability. Meg was a rational woman; she knew she had no claim on him. Unlike Ewen, Alex had never sought her out.

His face darkened with fury. But what did he have to be angry about? That he’d been caught? And though she’d done nothing wrong, Meg felt a trickle of alarm.

Snapping the connection, she turned and sped down the corridor, wanting nothing more than to put distance between herself and Alex MacLeod.

She hadn’t taken more than a few steps before a hand snaked around her waist and she found herself swept up in his arms and pulled against the granite wall of his broad chest. She’d never heard him coming.

Meg was frightened, but not too frightened to notice how hard and warm his body felt against hers. Or how wonderful he smelled. Like soap and spice with a hint of myrtle. His arms locked around her like steel bindings. She couldn’t move, even if she’d wanted to.

“What are you doing?” His voice shook with fury. “Spying on me?”

She tried not to cower under the onslaught of his rage, though any fool would have been terrified. She forced her spine straight and dared to meet his gaze. Or glower, actually. “Of course not,” she said indignantly. “You were not exactly inconspicuous.”

“Why is it that everywhere I turn you are there? What are you doing in this part of the palace?”

Meg felt her ire rise. “What right do you have to question me?” She lifted her chin. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do. Their faces were so close, she could see the flecks of gold on the edges of his eyelashes. Surprisingly thick and curly eyelashes. His startlingly blue eyes bored into her. She could see every tiny scar peppered across his ruggedly handsome face. If anything, the small imperfections only increased his attractiveness, giving proof of his life as a warrior, especially the thin scar that sliced across one brow that gave him a decidedly devilish edge—and made something inside her quiver. But most of all, she was deeply aware of his wide mouth only inches from hers.

“Answer me.” His voice was low and rough and oddly hoarse, as if he were in pain.

“I was looking for my mother. I might ask you the same question. Why are you here?”

“It’s none of your damn business.”

She felt oddly deflated; part of her had hoped he would deny it. “You’re right, it’s not. And what you were doing is quite obvious. You may dally with whomever you wish, wherever you wish,” she said thickly, her throat tightening. “But next time, you might choose not to do it in the open, where anyone might see you.”

He pulled her even closer. “When I want advice from you, my sweet, I’ll ask for it.”

Heat seemed to radiate through her. She could swear she felt the fierce pounding of his heart against hers. The pulse at his jaw twitched. Every muscle in his body tensed with restraint; he seemed to be holding himself by a very thin thread.

Her own breathing was shallow and erratic. She was deeply conscious of the heavy rise and fall of her chest against him. He held her so tight, her breasts swelled high over her stays. A warm flush spread over her when she realized her nipples had hardened against him. Every part of her body felt heavy and achingly sensitive.

Tension crackled between them. His gaze dropped to her mouth.
Dear God, he was going to kiss her.
The strength of her desire rose high inside her, threatening to erupt, but she struggled to tamp it down. Her duty lay with Jamie. Her voice, when it came, was ragged. “Let go of me.”

From the expression on his face, Meg could see his shock. Without another word, he released her. This time Meg ran.

Chapter 7

“Margaret, stop fidgeting.”

“Ouch!” Meg cried, trying to evade the torture of her mother’s comb raking through her mop of tangled curls. The night of the masque had arrived, and with it the fulfillment of her promise to her mother.
A promise made under duress,
Meg thought crossly. “I’m not fidgeting. I don’t know why I agreed to this, especially after your part in arranging our escort for the evening.”

“You agreed because you want to make your mother happy,” her mother said. “And it will make me happy to see to your hair and wardrobe tonight.” She sighed dramatically. “You are a beautiful girl, darling, if only you’d attend to your appearance the way you attend to the rents.”

“The rents are important, the way I wear my hairisn’t,” Meg answered patiently, as if this were the first time they’d had this conversation rather than the hundredth. “And you can see how much trouble it is to tame this unruly mess.”

Her mother shook her head with disbelief and attempted a stern expression, failing miserably. It was impossible for her mother to ever look sharply at anyone. “I don’t know why you are so upset about our escort for the evening. Alex MacLeod is a perfectly delightful man.”

“I’m upset because you promised not to interfere. Besides, your efforts are all for naught. I’ve already decided that if he asks, I’m going to marry Jamie.”

Her mother frowned. “But you don’t love Jamie. I’ve seen the way you look at Laird MacLeod. You are obviously attracted to him. All I’ve done is arrange it so that you can spend some time with him. You should be thanking me.”

Meg’s cheeks heated. Her mother was far too observant. “I’m not blind, Mother. I’ll admit he’s handsome—forsooth, who wouldn’t? But there’s a difference between physical attraction and true sentiment. Besides, he has no interest in me.”

Her mother put down the comb and crossed her arms. “Fiddlesticks.”