Highlander Unmasked (10 page)

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Authors: Monica McCarty

BOOK: Highlander Unmasked
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Yet despite the profusion of red-haired men, something about Jamie stood out. It wasn’t just his size or handsome countenance. That realization took her aback. Jamie was actually quite handsome. She frowned. Odd that she’d never really noticed before. In some ways, Jamie was like a brother to her, as Elizabeth was like a sister. The three of them spent a great deal of time together. In addition to literature and philosophy, they discussed land administration, clan tensions, and politics. The Campbells were both open-minded and well-informed. She knew the way Jamie’s mind worked. She understood him. And he understood how hard she’d struggled to prove herself. Jamie would help her brother, leaving her free to manage the clan lands. Ian’s position would be protected with Jamie as her husband.

Moreover, Meg genuinely liked Jamie Campbell. And he was fond of her.

It would be enough. More important, her father would be thrilled with her choice.

Meg had just about given up her search when she heard voices coming from a room that she’d overlooked at the end of a dark corridor. She lifted her heavy skirts and hurried toward the sounds. Pausing at the entrance of a small library, she anxiously searched through the group of men gathered to pass the afternoon with the time-honored masculine pursuits of drinking and gaming.

And at last she found him, seated at a table, playing cards with the person she most wanted to avoid—Alex MacLeod. She fought the urge to turn right around. By now, she should have grown accustomed to his presence. But the effects of proximity to the man had not lessened one whit. Meg struggled to control the race of her pulse and the overwhelming sensation of heightened awareness that seemed to flow simply from being within a hundred paces of him.

Determined not to be affected, she turned immediately to Jamie. “Jamie, here you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Befuddled, Jamie said, “I’m sorry, Meg, was I supposed to meet you someplace?”

“No, but there is something I would like to discuss with you.” Her eyes flicked to Alex. “In private, if you don’t mind.”

Alex looked annoyed by her interruption. He leaned back and crossed his arms. His bulging muscular arms, folded across his broad chest, strained against the fabric of his thick doublet. Her mouth went dry. Such a raw display of manly power left her in a bit of a stupor. She’d never noticed how alluring arms could be. What would it feel like to be enfolded by those strong arms and crushed against that hard, broad chest?

“As you can see, Mistress Mackinnon, Jamie here and I are in the middle of a hand of maw,” he said, indicating the cards before him. He glanced around meaningfully. “Surely your discourse can wait.”

Jamie frowned at Alex. “Of course we can take a break—”

“That’s all right, Jamie,” Meg interrupted. “I don’t mind waiting.” Now that she’d found Jamie, she didn’t know exactly what she planned to say. She bit her lip. How exactly did one let a man know one was willing to accept a proposal that had yet to be made?

She felt Alex’s gaze upon her. His eyes were fixed on her mouth. They darkened, and suddenly self-conscious, Meg pressed her lips closed.

She stood beside the table in silence, trying—albeit unsuccessfully—to be inconspicuous in a room bereft of another feminine form. If she’d taken the time to look around before entering, she might not have been so hasty to barge in.

Rather than inadvertently catch any of the curious glances that flickered her way, Meg attempted to follow the play of cards. Although maw was the favorite card game of King James’s court, she preferred games of logic like chess. There was too much luck involved in cards.

It wasn’t simply being the only woman in the room that was bothering her. It was precisely
who
was in the room.

The men assembled were the elite of Scotland’s kingless government, those left in charge while the king wooed his new English subjects. Secretary Balmerino stood talking with Comptroller Scone and Lord Advocate Hamilton. The Marquess of Huntly, one of the “Great Lords,” was playing chess with the sole privy councillor from the Highlands, Kenneth Mackenzie. Several other privy councillors were dispersed throughout the room. The only men missing were Lord Chancellor Seton and the justice general—the Earl of Argyll—the other Great Lord.

These men were the rulers of Scotland—subject to the king’s directives, of course. Although Meg was aware that on occasion the king’s writ did not always run all the way to Scotland. Doubtless it was far easier to ignore the words of a king relegated to paper hundreds of miles away than it was to deny the king in person.

Overwhelmingly, with the notable exception of the two men before her and the Mackenzie chief, the men were Lowlanders. Jamie Campbell’s presence among the men could be explained by his close connection to his cousin Argyll, but what was Alex doing here? She would not have thought that the brother of a Highland chief would be sympathetic to the king’s Lowland leadership. And she knew enough of the clan feuds on Skye to realize that the MacLeods and the Mackenzies despised one another. Alex’s brother, the chief of MacLeod, had killed the Mackenzie’s father and older brother a few years back.

So why was a Highlander, and a mercenary to boot, socializing with his enemies?

Meg’s eyes widened at a disturbing thought. Unless they weren’t his enemies.

 

Alex was furious at Meg’s interruption. This was the closest he’d been to the king’s minions, the de facto rulers of Scotland, since he’d arrived. It had taken quite some maneuvering to insinuate himself among these men. But Meg Mackinnon had rendered all of his efforts for naught.

At every turn, she seemed to place an obstacle in his path. First, voicing her suspicions of his presence near Skye to Jamie, then taking his mind from his mission last night and embroiling him in a murderous plot overheard at a tavern, and now barging into a room in the midst of conversations he’d hoped to hear more of.

His lack of progress over the last week was frustrating. There was much to be gleaned from careful observation, but he’d hoped to catch at least a stray comment or two. But so far, he’d heard nothing of the Isle of Lewis or the Fife Adventurers.

Mayhap the silence said it all.

The king’s men were wary of him, and justifiably so. His task would require finesse. He did not want to over-play his part as the hired sword arm on the outs with his brother. But subtlety required time, a luxury he did not have. If he was going to discover any useful information, Alex knew he was going to have to take some risks.

He peered over the edge of his cards at Meg. She was doing her best to appear oblivious, but he could see by the slight flush on her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes that she was uncomfortable. Good. So was he. The lass had become a thorn in his side for more reasons than one. She drove him to distraction. Her mere presence toyed with his senses. Did she have to smell like damn roses all the time? And did she have to chew on her lip with that adorably pensive look on her face? He could almost hear her mind work. Worse, he found himself wondering what she would say next. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else when she was in the room.

The most innocent of movements or gestures seemed sensual and provocative when she made them. Captivated, he watched as she repeatedly attempted to tuck away a stray lock of hair that had loosened from its taut moorings, her dainty fingers drawing attention to the long ivory line of her neck and the tiny pink shell of her ear. He wanted to tear out the pins that bound her hair and bury his face against her neck and hair, inhaling the sweet fragrance that he knew would be intoxicatingly intense. He’d run his mouth along the smooth soft velvet of her neck, take her tiny ear between his teeth, and kiss her until she writhed in his arms. And he wouldn’t stop there. He felt the blood rush to his cock; he stiffened, imagining all that he’d like to do.

“Do I have a smudge on my face?” she asked.

Her question snapped him from his lust-filled trance, but the ache in his groin would not be so easily dismissed. He was hard as a damn rock. “No. Why?” His voice sounded rough, even to his own ears.

“You’re staring at me.”

Only Meg would be so innocently blunt. Alex nearly flushed like some besotted squire and not a man with enough experience, more than enough experience, to know better. What the hell was the matter with him? Holding his expression impassive, he carefully lifted one brow. “Am I? I didn’t realize. Nice of you to point it out.”

But Meg either missed or chose to ignore the sarcasm. “And you had quite a furious expression on your face,” she added primly. “You’re liable to scare people half out of their wits if you don’t temper those dark looks.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Alex said dryly.

Jamie looked decidedly smug. Tossing him a fierce glare, Alex dared him to crack a smile.

Since she’d apparently ruined his chances of overhearing anything of import right now, he might as well do what he could to allay his other concern. Her safety.

Alex tossed another card on the table and glanced over at her. Briefly.

“Have you had word about whether they have captured any of the men who attacked you?”

She shook her head. “No. My father is certain they’ve left the area.” She beamed at Jamie. “Thanks to Jamie, his cousin sent his men to aid in the search. They’ve scoured every inch of Lochalsh, but to no avail.”

I’m sure they have,
Alex thought. He knew from experience how thorough Argyll’s men could be. “Did you by chance recognize any of the men who attacked you?”

She appeared taken aback. “Should I have?”

Alex shrugged.

“No. I’d never seen any of the men before.” Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t be thinking that someone attacked us on purpose?”

Once again, Alex found himself impressed by her quick thinking. “It did cross my mind.”

“You’ve been too long at battle, my laird. You see war in places where it is not.”

Alex’s temper flared. Not because she was wrong, but because she just might be right. Had he grown so distrustful that he was seeing trouble everywhere?

“What reason would someone have to attack Meg and her mother?” Jamie asked.

Alex had considered this issue most of the night. He had a few theories. “It’s no secret that Mistress Mackinnon has a large fortune.”

“The men who attacked us were not interested in my fortune. If they had been, they would have tried to abduct me. But the cutthroats were intent on killing, not on taking hostages.”

“What of feuds?” Alex asked. “Is your father at war with anyone?”

She shook her head. “The past few years have been peaceful. Nothing more than a few exchanges of cattle with the MacDonalds.”

Alex’s fingers tightened around his glass, the only outward sign of the turmoil inside him unleashed with the name MacDonald. But as much as he’d like to lay blame at his enemy’s feet, Meg was right: Lifting cattle was no cause for the murder of women.

“If you had been there”—she paused meaningfully—“you would have seen it for yourself. This was a random attack perpetrated by brigands, nothing more.”

“Unfortunately, it’s all too common an occurrence in the Highlands,” Jamie said. “Do you have reason to believe it was not a random attack, Alex?”

Did he?
A vague discussion of a murderous plot in an Edinburgh tavern hardly qualified. He shook his head. “No.”

Jamie stared at him for a long moment before turning back to Meg. “Perhaps you should exercise a bit of caution just to make sure.”

Meg laughed. “If someone intended me or my mother harm, court would be the last place they’d try anything. There are people everywhere. I long for a bit of privacy.” She smiled sweetly at Jamie. “Besides, I have you to look after me.”

Alex stiffened. His entire body rebelled at the idea of another man protecting her. But it was clear what she’d decided, though Jamie had not yet realized it.

Jamie shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Yes, well, about that, Meg. It seems I may be gone for a bit.” Obviously not concentrating on the play of cards at the table, he errantly tossed out a knave of trumps, which Alex scooped up. “I must leave tomorrow on some business for my cousin Argyll.”

Business that Alex suspected had something to do with the Fife Adventurers’ plan to invade the Isle of Lewis. Upon receiving the letter from his cousin Argyll this morning, Jamie had gone immediately to the lord chancellor’s chambers. Alex had tagged along. Something was going on, and he intended to find out what.

Meg’s face fell. “But you can’t go now, not when I—” She stopped what she’d been about to say, but Alex could fill in the blanks. Not when she’d decided on Jamie. “How long will you be gone?” she asked instead.

“A few days, perhaps one or two longer. MacLeod here has agreed to escort your mother, you, and Elizabeth over the next few evenings.” Jamie’s words were uttered with the reluctance of an extracted tooth. It was clear he did not like the idea of Alex escorting Meg anywhere.

“That won’t be necessary,” Meg said quickly. “I’m sure Laird MacLeod has other obligations that require his attention. I daresay we will be fine on our own for a few days.”

Alex locked his gaze on hers. “I’m afraid it has already been decided.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did I mention that your mother suggested the arrangement?”

Meg groaned.

Alex could commiserate. Rosalind Mackinnon was a force of nature. Somehow he’d found himself the conscripted escort of three ladies without uttering a word. But he supposed this would give him an opportunity to keep an eye on Meg and assure himself that the attack in the forest was as random as she thought.

He didn’t know whether it was the prospect of Jamie leaving or Alex staying that had Meg so upset. But she was clearly agitated by the news.

“No wonder she…,” Meg said, more to herself.

“No wonder she what?” Alex asked.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “But how did my mother even know of your leaving?” she asked Jamie.

“By chance, your mother intercepted us in the corridor on our way here,” he explained. “She brought up the masque—”

“You will be gone for the masque?” Meg sounded so crestfallen, Alex felt a strange urge to sweep her into his arms and soothe her obvious distress.

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