Highlander Unmasked (17 page)

Through the haze of pleasure, her mind sounded caution. He was not the man for her. But her heart urged him on, knowing that nothing could be more right than kissing him, making love to him.

This was how it felt to lose control.

The bubble burst. One lucid thought brought her back to reality. What was she doing? It was too much: his fervor, her inexperience. The intensity of her own response.

This was passion at its most terrifying extreme. This was passion unlike anything she’d experienced before, the type that could make her lose her head. The strength of her desire for Alex was nothing like what had come before. Her heart hammered with sudden panic, with a sudden fear of the loss of control.

Ewen’s handsome, smiling face swam before her eyes.

Only once before had she allowed emotions to cloud her judgment, but it had been a lesson well learned. The mistake with Ewen had nearly cost her everything. She couldn’t let it happen again.

The reversal of emotion that came over her was startling in its intensity. It was as if all of the hot waves of passion surging through her veins had suddenly turned to shards of ice.

She couldn’t do this.

Without thought but to escape, in one swift movement she brought her knee up hard against his crotch, as her father had taught her to do if she ever found herself in such a circumstance.

She was free. Alex hunched over and uttered what was surely the most vile expletive she’d ever heard. His face contorted. Meg bit her lip, feeling a wave of remorse. Her father had not mentioned this amount of pain.

She moved cautiously back out of his reach, sucking in air, trying to retrieve her breath. Surely she must look ravaged, with her mussed hair and bruised lips. But she didn’t care. She had to get out of here.

“What the hell was that for?” he moaned, his voice hoarse.

“I wanted you to stop.”

“You might have said something first.”

“I…” Mortified, she put her hand over her mouth, realizing she hadn’t even tried to push him away. She’d simply reacted. Overreacted. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears building behind her eyes, threatening to break.

Shaking, whether with panic or still blistering desire she did not know, Meg turned and fled toward the sanctuary of her chamber.

The urge to spill the contents of his stomach passed. Eyes burning, Alex watched Meg race down the corridor. What the hell had just happened? One minute she’d been responding as if she couldn’t get enough of him, the next his bollocks had been smashed up to his rib cage. All of his training with the MacGregors had not adequately prepared him for that particular move. But it was not one he’d likely forget. Ever.

Slowly, the pain ebbed. Had he frightened her? He must have. She was innocent. He shouldn’t have rushed her. But one taste had nearly driven him over the edge.

He never would have imagined that such passion lay dormant under that innocent exterior. It amazed him that such a serious young woman could inspire such wickedly carnal feelings.

Her response had driven him half-mad with lust. Although inexperienced, she’d returned his kiss with eagerness and enough instinctive skill to make him forget she was so innocent. Her erotic little groans of pleasure had urged him on. But the tentative touch of her hands on his shoulders and the slight rubbing of her unmistakably hard nipples against his chest had been a potent aphrodisiac that proved impossible to resist.

At that point, he’d completely forgotten that it was merely a kiss of convenience to cover up his presence in the corridor.

No, he was lying to himself.

He’d forgotten about that the moment their lips touched. He’d wanted her since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. And seeing her with Dougal had simply pushed him beyond endurance. He’d wanted to brand her with his kiss, to drive all thoughts of other men from her consciousness. To possess her in the most basic way.

But he’d never intended to take it so far. A few more minutes and he would have been doing a hell of a lot more than kissing her. He grew hard even at the memory. The honey sweet taste of her mouth and tongue, the pressure of her full breasts on his chest, the torture of her hips pressed against his rock-hard erection. He’d sensed her reaction when he’d moved against her. She’d liked it. She was ripe and so sweetly passionate. The urge to make her come had nearly overwhelmed him. Just the thought of rubbing her sensitive mound up and down his thick column over and over until she shattered…

He groaned. He couldn’t even think about it. His was so hard, he could explode.

How had one small kiss progressed to such a passionate conflagration so quickly? A conflagration that had scared Meg enough to cause her to nearly make him a eunuch. He should have anticipated her fear. The force of their passion had surprised him. Somewhere between the moan and the knee he had lost himself in the heat, in the lust, and hadn’t even realized that she might be frightened.

Hell, it even scared him.

Kissing Meg Mackinnon had been every bit as dangerous as Alex had expected. Meg made him think of things he’d never thought about before. Of a family. A home. Of a future that was not for him. One wee lass could wield the power to undo him. To make him lose focus—and if he wasn’t careful, to destroy all that he’d worked for. His duty right now was to his brother and his clan, and to a certain extent to his dead cousins. A duty that was at cross-purposes to the type of man Meg needed to ensure the stability of her clan.

He might not approve her methods, but he should be thanking Meg for putting a stop to it. Indeed, it would be better if he avoided Meg Mackinnon altogether.

Like the black death.

Indeed, she’d already caused him enough trouble, including alerting the men he’d been spying on to his presence in the corridor. At least their kiss had prevented him from being discovered. And Meg’s giggling had prevented further investigation, turning the men back to their meeting—albeit this time with the door shut.

Of course, he would apologize to her. But not right now. He still needed to learn when the ships would be leaving. He could only hope the king’s minions were still discussing their plans. He was just about to slip back down the corridor when he heard more footsteps coming toward him from the direction of the hall.

From the shadows, he watched as a man crept slowly past the corridor and peered down the hall in his direction. Alex held perfectly still. It was dark, but he could see that the large, heavyset man was not a guest at the masque. He wore the breeches and jerkin of a guardsman. Seeing no one, the man continued on, heading in the direction where Meg had disappeared, not back toward the hall.

He felt a flicker of unease. There was something devious about the man’s movements. Like Alex, he did not want to be seen. But there was more. Something niggled at the back of his memory. The man looked familiar. The realization hit him: He could be one of the men from the tavern. But he couldn’t be sure; he’d never seen his face and had only a quick glance at the rest of him.

Alex looked back down the hall to the chamber where Lord Chancellor Seton and Secretary Balmerino were still meeting. An opportunity like this might not come again. He might never learn when they planned to leave, vital information if he and his kin were going to have any kind of chance of repelling the incursion. This was his sole purpose for being at court. Not to chase after some tiny stubborn woman and protect her from a phantom threat.

He knew what he
should
do. His head urged him back down the corridor toward the meeting. But another part of him, a deeper part of him, wouldn’t let him go. Meg could be in danger. He just couldn’t ignore the possibility that the two men were one and the same.

It might be ridiculous, but if something happened to her, Alex would never forgive himself. Cursing the mess he’d managed to embroil himself in, he started down the passageway after Meg’s would-be assailant.

But this was the last time he would put her before his mission.

Chapter 9

Meg’s resolve had been torn to shreds by the events of the evening before. She felt an almost desperate need to see Jamie. To prove that kissing Alex had not changed anything and that she would still go through with her plan. She resisted the urge to press her fingers to her mouth for the hundredth time, still able to feel him on her lips.

She glanced at Elizabeth seated in the chair opposite her. They’d decided to spend a quiet morning in the salon after the “excitement” (if only Elizabeth knew) of the masque last night. Meg was glad of the short reprieve.

Holding her cup to her lips, she took a long sip of warm beef broth, peering at her friend over the rim. “Jamie should be returning soon?” she asked innocuously.

Not fooled for an instant, Elizabeth glanced up from the chess pieces she was organizing. “In a day or two. You’re eager to see him?”

Meg ignored the hint of surprise in Elizabeth’s voice. “I’m always pleased to see your brother,” she replied firmly. “What was the urgent business for your cousin, anyway? Jamie was unusually vague.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m not sure. Something to do with ships for the king, I think.”

Meg’s brows gathered across her nose. “Ships? What for?”

“I don’t know. But he did mention that he’d have to travel to Fife in a few weeks because the ships would be leaving. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when he returns.” Elizabeth studied her face a little longer. A wrinkle appeared between her brows. “Are you sure you are feeling well today, Meg? You look a little pale.”

Meg shook her head. “I’m tired, that’s all. Last night was—” She stopped, feeling the presence of someone beside her. She glanced up, startled to see Alex. How long had he been standing there listening to them? His ability to move so soundlessly was disconcerting. Not as disconcerting, however, as seeing him so soon after last night.

Color rose in her cheeks, realizing he’d probably heard Elizabeth’s comments about her wan appearance. And Alex, unlike Elizabeth, knew the reason why. Their eyes met, and the memory of what happened between them rushed back to her consciousness full force. She lowered her lashes, not trusting herself to look at him for fear that he would read her turbulent emotions as easily as she read Latin.

The strain of the situation was wearing on her. Meg felt like a tightly wrought bundle of nerves. Always before she’d been able to manage the stress of her duties and responsibilities, but this was different. This was personal. Her emotions lay so close to the surface, at any moment she felt as though she could burst into tears.

It was horrifying.

Meg was not the type of woman who cried. Ever. Tears, she knew, were a sign of weakness, of giving over to emotion. She’d always tried to solve her problems with logic. But there was nothing logical about last night. The truth was that Meg did not know how to solve this sort of problem. How could she forget about Alex MacLeod when each day he seemed more permanently imprinted on her consciousness?

So last night, for once, Meg’s vaunted control over her emotions had lost to the powerful relief brought by a healthy deluge of tears. Tears that had begun to fall the moment she’d made it to the safety of her bedchamber and hadn’t stopped for some time.

Never had she been so embarrassed. Her conduct had been outrageous. She’d responded to Alex as eagerly as a wanton and then lashed out, causing him real pain, when her own lack of control had gripped her in a moment of terror. Thinking only of escape, she’d reacted reflexively. What must he think of her? She owed him an apology, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject delicately.

Why, why, why
had she allowed him to kiss her? And how could she have succumbed so easily? When he’d kissed her, she’d lost the ability to form a coherent thought. She hadn’t wanted to think at all. She’d only…wanted. She would never be able to look at him again without remembering precisely how it felt to have his mouth on hers, devouring her as if she were a delicious sweet. Meg’s cheeks flamed. But it wasn’t only the kiss. Never would she forget the erotic sensation of his hand on her breast and his arousal pressed firmly against her. Or of how close she wanted to be to him.

Grateful for small mercies, Meg had made it back to her room without seeing anyone. One look at her face would have announced her just-been-thoroughly-ravished state to all. She’d managed to clear away all vestiges of her tears by the time Rosalind and Elizabeth arrived to check on her.

According to her mother, when Meg didn’t return to the hall, Alex had insisted that she check and make sure Meg had arrived safely in her room. His concern for her, especially after what she’d done to him, only sufficed to make her feel worse.

Meg was more confused than she’d ever been in her life. She had a duty to her father and to her clan. She thought of the unspoken plan hatched all those years ago. The plan that would ensure her brother would be chief and the clan safe from an outside threat. The plan that hinged on her choice of husband. Never had she thought it would be a sacrifice to fulfill that duty. But neither had she counted on meeting a man like Alex MacLeod.