Highland Destiny (6 page)

"I warned you to control yourself."

Connor's anger was obvious in the fierceness of his kiss.

When his lips slammed down on hers she gasped. It gave him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into her mouth. With one arm wrapped around her waist, crushing her up to him, and the other tangled in her hair, holding her still, it left his mouth free to ravish hers.

It was unnecessary, anyways, since she couldn't have broken free if she'd wanted to. She'd placed her hands on his chest to push him away, but he was immobile, a rock. And through his anger, there was something else, something, more... passion. That's what it was. Mackenzie felt the moment his kiss became more hungry than angry, because at that exact moment, she was kissing him back. A low burn started smoldering in her belly, and her hands slid up to his shoulders, and then crept behind his neck until she was clutching his hair as if by letting go she would lose her balance, when in reality it was Connor who was holding her up.

Once she'd weakened, it was obvious Connor felt it; his muscles bunched under her hands with restraint, as if he struggled with something. Then his head snapped up, and he stared down into her eyes for a moment. His eyes were clear.

If he'd been as surprised by the heat behind their kiss as she, he didn't show it. If anything, it was the opposite; he was 51

"We'd be needin' to leave. Now." He released his hold on her waist, but gripped her wrist again, and she let him tow her behind.

Mackenzie didn't say anything in response; her mind was too busy trying to figure out his motives. She must have imagined the passion she'd felt in the kiss; Connor was just too cool. He'd even seemed annoyed that she had responded, well,
she
was annoyed by how she'd responded to that kiss. It hadn't even fazed
him
, and here she was, dazed, disoriented, and still thinking about it, over and over. That must have been his game all along. Mackenzie growled in irritation in her head. She hated arrogance. Connor was definitely arrogant.

And he must have known how she would react to his kiss. He was attractive, no doubt, and he obviously knew his appeal to women. There was no way he was ignorant of the fact that he was incredibly hot, so he must think that if Mackenzie were attracted to him, she'd be more likely to follow his orders. It was the only reason that made sense. Well, Connor would see that she was not some schoolgirl who would cave at a mere kiss. Although to be fair, it had been more than a
mere
kiss.

Her body had never actually melted into someone else like that before. But it was probably just the strain of the trip and the magical backdrop of the lake. She sighed. She was over-thinking everything.

When they reached his destrier, Mackenzie stepped ahead of Connor to mount his horse, rather than let his warm hands span her waist again. She had regrouped her scattered 52

After she had situated her cloak around her, now understanding that her legs were bared to these men and that she was riding astride, she knew how that must look to them, Connor leapt up behind her. One hand was on the reigns of his horse his arm brushing her waist, and the other was tucking her hair behind her ear. She felt his lips against her ear, and she couldn't repress the shiver that ran down her spine.

"Once we arrive at my keep, you will dress accordingly. I doona care how you dressed in America, but while here, you'll dress appropriately." His voice was so low she mostly felt his breath rather than heard his words, causing the hair on her arms to stand on end. But the implicit threat in his command got under her skin.

"And if I refuse? My clothes are perfectly fine."
Fine for the
21st century.

"Doona test me, lass. Your state of undress is an invitation, and be careful someone doesna take you up on it."

Connor trailed his fingers from where he was holding her hair back at her ear down her neck, sliding underneath her cloak, to her shoulder, slipping her spaghetti strap down as his 53

"Self-contro...huh!" Mackenzie huffed, and shrugged her strap back into place. She glared straight ahead and prepared to give him the silent treatment.

When Connor had gone down to the loch to offer the Stewart lass some water, he'd been stunned by how her blonde hair was swirled about her face by no breeze he could sense. The dawning sun streaked the skies and her hair with golds, and yellows, and reds. The red in her hair was undetectable normally, but when the sun peeked out from behind a few clouds, her hair had been ablaze with the fiery colors. He'd been stunned by the ethereal beauty of this girl.

As her filmy white shirt, something akin to a shortened sark, had lifted in the unfelt breeze, it showed a tantalizing glimpse of skin. Something glinted in her navel, but before he could see what, her shirt fell around her once more.

He was irritated with himself for being so distracted with her, but he knew she must be thirsty. Connor stepped up next to her and handed her the water. When she drank, his eyes never left her lips. He was imagining what those lips would feel like on his, and what they could do. Dangerous thoughts. He almost groaned aloud as her tongue flicked out to catch any drops left on her incredibly sensual lips.

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He should have known she'd be defiant. She did nothing that a proper lady should. And he did not like having his commands questioned. So when she questioned him as to their destination, he spun her back towards the loch, and pointed at his home. She didn't turn when she asked him if that was where he lived, and he wondered what he would see in her eyes. She turned toward him then, and he realized that he hadn't answered her. She stared up at him, a little nervously, he thought, when she said his land was beautiful.

But on the last word,
beautiful
, she sounded wistful. What did
that
mean? So when Connor finally answered her, he was more abrupt that he'd meant to be, but she was not what he had expected. He'd thought she would be a spoiled, simpering, silly girl. Instead she was intriguing, headstrong, and brave. But when he'd heard her correct his use of her name to
Mackenzie
, his temper had flared. If she were related to the thieving, murdering clan Mackenzie, well he would make sure she would be sorry for that lie.

Her little tantrum had eaten away at his unusually firm resolve. He had never encountered anyone who was so maddening in his entire life. His "little feud" as she'd so dismissively called it, had eaten away at his men's spirits, and crops and livestock for two years now. Even now, as he and the Mackenzie were at a tentative peace, he'd known that something was being planned to out maneuver him. But he'd gotten Campbell's betrothed. It had been so simple. His informant had been accurate with the information of when and where they would find the girl. He had been unsure as to 55

Connor knew there would be repercussions, but the question was how soon?

She definitely evoked emotions he didn't want to admit he felt, and didn't understand why; frustration, an urge to protect, an urge to crush her to him, the urge to wring her neck when she questioned his authority....

Her emerald green eyes were so easy to read; she would be an awful liar. Connor frowned as he thought
Either that or
she was a very good actress
.

He'd given in to the temptation he'd been fighting since he'd first dragged her against his body the night before.

He kissed her.

It had been meant as a warning, but when Mackenzie wound her arms around his neck and responded so passionately, it surprised him. Her sweet scent floated around him, making him want to take her right there. But Connor forced himself to remember that she was strictly a bargaining chip with his enemy, and could only ever be that. So he forced his expression cool and aloof as he broke the kiss. Her pupils were dilated, her green eyes darkened with passion, and her face was flushed from the rush of blood to her cheeks. He wanted to run his thumb across her swollen lips; he felt disgust at himself that he had been so rough that he'd bruised her lips. She looked so soft and fragile, with her fair skin; she brought out protective instincts in him. Looks were deceiving, though, as remembered her initial reaction to being abducted. Instead of touching her lips as he wanted to 56

She wasn't as immune as she'd like to pretend.

Connor couldn't resist; her scent pulled him in and he wanted so badly to bury his face in her neck and hair.

Instead, he swept her hair back away from her ear, and put his lips close to remind her that upon arrival at his keep, she would dress according to custom. His lips brushed the skin of her ear as he spoke, and while he delighted in the response from her, his own response shocked him. Connor forced his attention to what she had said.

"And if I refuse?" Mackenzie raised a delicate eyebrow.

This aggravating lass dared where most men feared to tread.

At her petulant refusal, Connor reminded her of what happened to women who wandered around nearly naked.

Connor ran his fingers down her neck, and slipped her strap down off her shoulder, but he couldn't resist her silky skin, and his hands trailed down her arm. The pink flush that followed where his fingers brushed pleased him more than it should; she was not indifferent to his touch. So he continued down her arm until his hand rested on her waist.

Most men would take what she put on display without hesitating, but Connor was not most men. He was controlled.

He was a chief, the leader of his clan. He could not afford to take what she offered; no distractions. However, he could not control the reaction his body had every time Mackenzie 57

Mackenzie's eyes were the size of saucers as she took in the castle. It looked so similar to the castle she and Jenna were staying in. Could it be the same castle? It looked the same, just smaller, somehow. The more she studied the castle, the more she realized that it was too similar to be coincidence. Of course, she thought wryly, nothing was coincidence anymore. It didn't have the renovations that took place after the first World War, but she was certain that this was the same castle where she'd spent her first night in Scotland, except that would be 200 years from now.

"Connor, what did you say the name of your castle is?" she said faintly, shock winning as the dominant emotion.

"'Tis the Castle Eilean Donan." There was pride in his voice, and it was understandable; he was the lord of a castle.

"This is the Isle Donan. On a clear day ye can see to the Isle of Skye, the stronghold of the clan MacLeod."

"That's what I thought." Mackenzie whispered. The reality of the fantasy was closing down on her. The feeling only intensified as they rode into the courtyard. Everyone who was there stopped and stared. Some cheered as they saw their lord, but most were silent when they saw her, staring with open curiosity. She unknowingly cringed back into Connor's chest at the blatant hate coming from some. Connor murmured something soft and low in her ear, something soothing, she imagined, but she couldn't understand it. All of 59

A young boy of maybe thirteen or fourteen came up to them as Connor reined his horse in. He dismounted and reached for Mackenzie. This time she let him help her down, and she didn't complain when he took her hand. Mackenzie was sure that her face showed her apprehension, and hoped that the fear was hidden, but mostly she just prayed that she wouldn't throw up. One woman was glaring daggers at Mackenzie and when Mackenzie met her glare with very wide eyes, the woman turned on her heel and stalked off. The only reason Mackenzie could think of for the blatant hostility was because of her engagement to the Campbell. Maybe it was something else, but she just didn't have the time or energy to expend on thinking of more than keeping her feet moving.

With her free hand she clutched the cloak to her throat, and let Connor drag her by the other hand. Her breathing had accelerated so much that in order to keep from hyperventilating, she was matching each breath she took with Connor's. Nonetheless, she was dizzy.

Above the barred and studded door, something was inscribed in Gaelic. Mackenzie idly wondered what it meant.

When they reached the door to the castle, someone opened it for Connor and said, "My Laird" as they passed.
Laird
?

Mackenzie vaguely thought that must be his title, and she filed it away for later. For now, though, she just looked around with wide, slightly unfocused eyes. She noticed that they were in a large room with tables and chairs...the Banqueting Hall? Connor just towed her toward a stairway.

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