Highland Destiny (5 page)

"We'll dismount soon and break our fast. We should be there before the noon hour," he cautioned. And then he couldn't resist teasing her, "How did you sleep?"

She peered up at him through her thick lashes before answering, "Well. Thank you."

They rode in silence for another half hour before Connor spoke again, "We'll stop here." He glanced at his captain, Dougal, who rode to his left, and they all pulled off to the edge of the trees. Beyond that, there was clearing where one could see where the three lochs met: Loch Alsh, Loch Duich, and Loch Long, with his castle on the northwestern island.

Connor looked down sharply as he both heard and felt her gasp. There was a look of sheer delight on her face, and his lips turned up as he followed her gaze. She was staring at the loch, and the mountains that surrounded it. It pleased him that she found his lands beautiful. But it shouldn't. Connor's smile fell as he reminded himself that his duty was to his clan. He didn't have time for distractions, and this Miss Stewart was unequivocally a distraction.

His voice was sharp as he told her, "Take a moment, Miss Stewart, tend to your needs, but be quick about it. Doona take too long, or I might think you've run off; I'd rather not chase you down."

Connor leaped down from his horse, and raised his hands to her waist to pull her down. He slipped the plaid from around her shoulders, wrapping it quickly around himself. Her scent was overpowering. If she noticed the internal battle, the 42

Mackenzie felt so cozy and snug that she almost didn't want to open her eyes. But she did, and as she woke up her first thought was,
Wow, it really all was a dream, a really
elaborate strange dream.
She sighed, at least she hadn't had her nightmare again. And then reality set in. She felt the very real horse beneath her, and the strong and very real arm around her waist. Definitely not a dream. There was a male hand resting on her thigh and holding the reins. That hand was burning through the wool of her cloak like a branding iron. The day before came rushing back; the castle tour, the first kidnapping, the second, Connor...Mackenzie turned to look at him and he was staring down at her. His lips twitched; he looked as if he was trying to keep from laughing at her. It was probably because he could feel her embarrassment at having fallen asleep in his arms. And one of those arms was wrapped around her, pulling her close against him, his hand splayed across her ribs. She could feel every single bump in the road, and she imagined he could feel her breasts with every one of those bumps. She had to break the silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep." Nothing. "Where are we?"

Connor told her that they'd stop to eat soon, but she really didn't mind if they had to ride for a while longer, she was really quite cozy.
Woah, wait, what?
Her thoughts were slightly incoherent as she scrambled to figure out where that 43

Mackenzie intended to ignore him, but after about thirty minutes, she saw a break in the trees and was stunned by the beauty of the lake. It was bordered by thick trees and jagged, snow-capped mountains. Farther out Mackenzie saw a beautiful ethereal sight; a tall grey and white stone castle surrounded by mists. It was hard to distinguish any details of the castle, the fog was too thick. She gasped audibly at the staggering beauty of it all. Being raised in the desert, this was unlike anything Mackenzie had ever experienced. The air smelled clean, and crisp, so unlike the dry, smoggy air back home. She had always found the desert beautiful, in its own way, but the lush greens of the Scottish Highlands were undeniably breathtaking. There were three lakes that met at a small island and it reminded her of where she'd spent her first night.

The landscape was unspoiled by modern, well, by modern
anything
. It was magical. There was no other way to describe the view of this lake: it was magical. And Mackenzie no longer doubted the existence of magic in the world; not just the Lance Burton or Siegfried and Roy type of magic, but the real thing. She had no clue what other fairy magic existed, but her 44

Mackenzie noticed that during the night the previously warm air had dropped in temperature considerably. Grateful for the wool cloak, she pulled it closer to her neck, only to have it whisked out of her grip. Looking down at Connor, who had just dismounted, she watched him intricately twist his plaid over his shirt and leather pants. It hadn't been the cloak at all keeping her from freezing, but this rough Highland warrior had tucked her into his plaid so she wouldn't get cold.

Strangely thoughtful of her kidnapper.

And she felt it down into her bones as his hands had brushed her neck before tugging off the plaid.

After being unnecessarily warned by Connor not to go too far, Mackenzie wandered to the meadow to look around. She dropped the cloak at the edge of the water, and washed her face and arms. The cold water felt refreshing to her overheated skin. She walked along the edge of the lake and marveled at the way the fog danced across the water, and idly wondered if the Loch Ness Monster swam in these waters.

Mackenzie sighed as she pushed her hair behind her ear before the wind whipped it around her face. She had spent so long carefully straightening her curls out the day before, and she'd used her flat iron to flip out the ends. It seemed so silly now, here, in this place. It made her realize how so many of her day-to-day troubles were rather insignificant when compared to the grandeur of this land. Another gust of icy wind made her shiver as it lifted her blonde strands off her neck and swirled them around her face. Her white camisole 45

Her reverie was interrupted as a tall shadow appeared next to her. Connor, of course. He was well above six feet tall, at least 6'4" and strong. Very strong. He had lifted Mackenzie off the horse as if she weighed nothing, and his large hands spanning her waist had made her feel small and dainty. She was 5'9" neither small nor short, and yet Connor easily made her feel tiny. She glanced up at him and could see his ancestors' Norse influences in his high cheekbones and blue eyes. The dark hair should have looked out of place with eyes so bright, but it fit him. It added a rugged quality to this handsome man who exuded sexuality. But there was no doubt in her mind about what he was. He was dangerous.

"Are you ready?" he passed her a canteen of water, no, Mackenzie mentally corrected herself, a bladder, probably sheep...eewww...oh well, she was pretty thirsty. She held it bravely to her lips and drank deeply. Then she sighed, well it wasn't her usual brand of bottled water, but it worked.

"Thank you." She handed it back to Connor, noting the way he was staring at her mouth. Did she have something on her face? She nervously darted her tongue out to moisten her lips, and she watched Connor's eyes follow the movement. He gave nothing away though, his face was masked as if through years of keeping everything inside himself. She briefly wondered what it would be like if Connor were to look at her without his guard up; if he caused this much havoc to her 46

"Come along, Miss Stewart. We must ride." He put his hand on her wrist to pull her along.

"Where are we going?" The searing heat from his hand made her question less of a demand and more breathless than she liked. She frowned. It seemed a bad habit she was picking up just by being near him. Perhaps he'd put it off to the fact that she was trotting to keep up with him.

She could tell that Connor didn't like to have his commands questioned. He raised an eyebrow at her and placing both hands on her shoulders, spun her around to face the lake. He pointed.

"There." Monosyllabic, typical.

Mackenzie followed his arm. The heavy fog rolled away from the castle she'd been looking at.
Typical, even the
elements follow his commands
Mackenzie grumbled to herself. Her grumbling was cut short by the mythical sight before her. She gasped. A whitewashed castle stood prominently on an island jutting out into the water. The gray waters danced beneath the mist, and the medieval castle slipped out of sight behind the rolling fog. The glimpse she'd caught earlier through the fog had nothing on the beauty of a clear view.

"We're going to a castle? Wow, is that
your
castle?"

She didn't want to admit it, but she was impressed. She never really knew what to expect from Connor; he kept surprising her. The castle looked exactly like the one she'd been staying in just the day before. Had it really just been 47

This time there wasn't any accompanying nausea with the thought of where, and more precisely,
when
she was. She didn't know if that was good or not, that she was getting used to the idea that it was the 1700s. Perhaps it had something to do with his lairdship's blue eyes? He didn't answer her, and she didn't like the silence, it made her uncomfortable.

Perhaps that was why she felt the need to ask him,

"Is this where you live?" Her hand encompassed the whole area; lake, forests, and mountains. It suited him. He hadn't answered her, so she turned to him, "It's so beautiful."

He stared at her for a long time before he answered her,

"Aye."

Monosyllabic again. Great. She was annoyed, she was trying really hard here, he could at least make an effort to be civil. She tried again,

"Has it been in your family for very long?"

"For several generations, off and on. You are trying my patience Miss Stewart."

"Mackenzie," she answered automatically, a reflex to being called "Miss."

She'd been studying the lake, thinking, without really paying attention to the fact that Connor hadn't yet answered her, when the grip on her wrist tightened until she winced.

Her eyes flew to his, confused, and she gasped. The black fury on his face had her trying to yank her hand free and step back. Her forehead creased in her confusion.

Connor growled at her, "Your name is Stewart, is it not?"

48

"Your name, lass." He was still glowering at her, but at least his grip had loosened fractionally.

"Mackenzie Isabella Stewart. Why? What's the matter?"

She was whispering now.

"Your given name is Mackenzie?" For a brief second she thought Connor looked confused, but she couldn't be sure; he hid his emotions well and his poker face was back.

"Yes." Her voice was stronger now, and impatience flashed in her green eyes. He hadn't said anything. Her chin tilted a fraction, and she challenged, "Is that a problem?"

She should know by now not to challenge him. His anger was palpable, and she knew he was dangerous. He'd noticed her irritation, of course. She realized that there probably wasn't much this Highlander would miss. Mackenzie didn't know too much about Scottish history, but she'd seen enough movies to know that Highlanders liked to fight. They'd fought to the death for their laws and principles during the Jacobite Risings, so she really shouldn't antagonize Connor. They reminded her of the Vikings they were descended from. He was a warrior. Perhaps he'd honed his skills at reading people on the battlefield?

"We have been at war with the clan Mackenzie for years."

Whatever she expected, it wasn't his softly spoken answer.

"They are a brutal people who care not for whom they hurt, or from whom they steal. We had been allies for a long time, but now, they are backed by your betrothed. Surely you are 49

"Actually, no, I wasn't. I'm not from here, in case you can't tell, and my Scottish history is minimal." Mackenzie was furious at the assumption that she would approve of any violence or cruelty. "So please forgive me, my
Lord
, as I am not familiar with your little feud." Her sarcasm was not overlooked, which she would have noticed by the narrowing of his eyes, if she'd been looking. But she had yanked her wrist free and was stalking away. For a split-second, she remembered that she was supposed to use her middle name, and thought that perhaps his over-reaction might be the reason why, but she was interrupted by a long arm catching her about the waist and dragging her back to him. Her breath hitched as her breasts grazed his chest.

"You'd best guard your tongue, lass, or I'll be forced to help you do so." His threat was so soft and low that she almost missed the menacing tone.

Mackenzie was weary and annoyed, and the idea of being chastised for her lack of etiquette and knowledge had her at her breaking point. She had been asked to accept quite a bit on faith, and her mind was rebelling at the idea of being scolded for her understandable ignorance.

"Oh, right, and what'll you do, cut out my tongue? You need me and we both know it, so cut the bullshit, and tell me what your problem is?" She was breathing heavily after her tirade, and her breasts were pressed up against Connor's chest, making her aware of just how close they were. She tried to put some distance between them, but when she 50