Highlander Unmasked (20 page)

Dismounting, he glanced around the stable yard and was glad to see Robbie coming toward him from the stone-and-thatch inn. Except for a bit more dirt, the lad appeared no worse for the wear. He clapped Robbie on the back in greeting. “I see you’ve managed to stay in one piece.”

Robbie grinned. “So far, my laird.”

Alex lowered his voice. “Any problems?”

The boy shook his head.

“Good. We have much to discuss. But not here. Inside.”

Robbie took the reins and led Alex’s destrier into the stables. After putting the fear of God in the stable lads, he left them with specific instructions for tending the prized mount. They’d crossed the yard and were just about to enter the inn when Alex felt the unmistakable weight of eyes upon him. Someone was watching him.

He tensed and quickly scanned the surrounding countryside. The sight that met his eyes flooded him with a swift rush of anger—nay, with rage. A party of riders was heading for him, led by none other than Meg Mackinnon. He swore, causing Robbie to immediately reach for his dagger. Alex clenched his fists at his sides, trying to rein in his emotions. He recalled her earlier challenge:
I’ll discover the truth, don’t you doubt it.

She’d followed him. And her stubborn foolishness could put his entire plan in jeopardy.
God’s blood, he’d warned her….

Meg Mackinnon was about to learn that he was a man of his word.

This was exactly what she’d needed. As the imposing shadow of Holyrood House faded into the distance behind them, Meg and the party of guardsmen she’d brought as an escort wound through the copse of trees that banded the palace and headed deeper into Holyrood Park—the vast expanse of land that extended for hundreds of acres south of the palace. James V had enclosed the park only about fifty years ago, but for hundreds of years this land had been the hunting ground of kings. Now it was mostly green stretches of moors and glens with breathtaking vistas of dramatic rocky crags.

It felt like another world, yet she was barely beyond reach of the palace walls.

Meg took a deep breath, inhaling the freshness that surrounded her while relishing the rare moment of freedom from the rigidity of court. God, how she missed Skye. The quiet, the seclusion. This little piece of the Highlands tucked into a small corner of Edinburgh reminded her of all that awaited her at home.

Just as soon as she found a husband.

On that note, she decided it was time to return to the palace. Taking one last glance around, she caught a flash of gold shimmering in the sunlight ahead through a break in the trees. She could just make out the solitary figure of a man on horseback, riding toward a small building. Meg had to look twice just to make sure she hadn’t imagined him. But the golden brown hair and tall, muscular form had become achingly familiar to her.

Alex.
But what was he doing this far from the palace? Strange that he hadn’t mentioned anything earlier, especially as he knew that her plans to go riding had been canceled. Unless he didn’t want her to know. Meg debated for a moment—though in truth it wasn’t much of a debate—and decided to follow him. She needed answers. Answers that would enable her to quiet the persistent voice in her head challenging her resolve.

Jamie would return to court soon, and when he did she wanted to be ready.

She and her guardsmen had just crested the hill behind the building when a tall, lanky man came out to greet Alex. Meg’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she recognized the newcomer. He was one of the band of warriors who’d helped rescue her party in the forest. At the time, he’d struck her because of his youth and comparatively less fierce visage.

I knew it,
she thought.
Let Alex try to deny it now.
But why had he lied? Why did he not want anyone to know it was he who’d come to their rescue that day in the forest?

Alex must have the instincts of a wolf. She had only just come into view, but he sensed her immediately. His head snapped around, and piercing ice blue eyes locked on to her. Even from a distance, she could feel the force of his anger. Anger that sent a shudder of trepidation reverberating through her body.

Which she promptly ignored.

Meg would not allow fear to get in the way of discovering the truth.

However, a bit of her bravado faltered under the ferocious onslaught of fiery rage. He really was quite menacing. She thought for a moment about returning to the palace, giving his anger time to dissipate, but she had a feeling he would follow her anyway. No, it was best not to show weakness, Alex would only smell blood. Stiffening her spine, she informed the guardsmen that they would take refreshment at what she now realized was an inn. Meg rode into the yard, pretending not to notice the fierce glare of the man waiting for her.

He looked different. It took her a moment to realize that he was dressed as he’d been the first time she’d seen him—in the traditional garb of a Highlander. He wore a fine woolen plaid of the softest blues and greens over a saffron linen tunic, secured at the waist with a thick leather belt and impressive dirk attached at his side. After weeks of being surrounded by colorful silks and satins, the
breacan feile
and
leine
that had fallen out of favor among the Lowlanders was a powerful reminder of home.

But it wasn’t longing for home that was twisting her stomach in knots. It was the sheer magnetism of the man standing before her. Her mouth went dry just looking at him. Every inch the fierce, battle-hardened warrior who had rescued her, he looked big, strong, and heart-stoppingly male. It was hard to believe this was the same man who’d beaten her at chess a few hours ago. Perhaps it was that very dichotomy that drew her. And gave her reason to hope.

As she moved closer, she realized her error. Alex wasn’t just angry, he was enraged. He strode toward her, every muscle of his body taut, taking the bridle in hand as if to forestall any thoughts of escape.

Gathering the reins of her courage, Meg lifted her chin and met his withering stare. “Laird MacLeod, what a surprise to find you here.”

Alex didn’t bother to respond; instead he turned to the young clansman at his side and said in a hard, clipped voice, “Robbie, take these men inside and get them some refreshment. Mistress Mackinnon and I have some things we need to discuss.” His eyes fell on her, billowing her with heat. “In private.”

When it looked as though her guardsmen were about to argue, Meg waved them inside, assuring them she would follow in a moment. She couldn’t help noticing that the young warrior Robbie was gazing at her as if he felt sorry for her. As she watched them leave, a chill swept over her despite the warmth of the midsummer sun. Hesitantly, her gaze shifted back to Alex. Her pulse quickened. They were all alone.

Without a word, his hands circled her waist and he lifted her effortlessly from the saddle as if she weighed no more than a child. For a moment, she was pressed against him, and the familiar rush of pleasure softened her limbs. But she barely had time to savor the sensation before he’d set her firmly away from him, as if he didn’t trust himself not to take out his anger on her person in an entirely different manner.

It shocked her to realize that the idea of his hot, violent passion didn’t frighten her as it should.

His voice cracked like a whip. “In the stables. Now.”

Meg bristled at his tone, digging in her heels. “Here will be fine.”

A dangerous glint sparked in his eyes. “Either you can go on your own two feet or I will carry you there myself. But I don’t think you will like how I do it.”

Outraged, Meg pursed her lips together and walked as proudly as she could into the stables. She was relieved to see a couple of stable lads tending to a massive black horse that she’d seen once before. Her relief, however, was short-lived.

“Leave us,” Alex ordered.

The lads took one look at him and scampered out as fast as they could. Chivalry was truly dead, she thought, watching them leave without a backward glance. As soon as the lads were gone, Alex rounded on her, his eyes pinning her to the ground. But he didn’t touch her. She almost wished he would grab her arms and shake her; the dead calm on his face was infinitely more disconcerting. Unconsciously, she took a step back. “I warned you not to follow me. If you were a man, you’d be dead right now.”

From the flatness of his tone, Meg did not doubt that he meant it. “Well, it’s a good thing for me, then, that I’m a woman.”

Apparently, now was not a good time for sarcasm. His eyes flared, and Meg could tell by the way the muscles twitched in his forearms that he was holding himself by a very thin thread. A very thin thread indeed.

“You test my patience, little one. Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with fire?” His voice went deceptively soft. “You might get burned.”

“You are making far too much of this,” she said nervously. “I only thought to ride through the park, I had no intention of following you. But then I saw you, and…well, you can hardly blame me for being curious. You made no mention of riding today.”

“I was not aware that I had to explain my comings and goings to you, Mistress Mackinnon.”

Meg felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. He was right, of course. He had no obligation to invite her along or inform her of his plans. Nor did she miss the formal mode of address. He was trying to put distance between them.

“You should never have left the palace,” he continued. “I thought you agreed to have care until the men who attacked you are caught.”

Was part of his anger because he was concerned for her safety?

“I brought an escort. Surely you would not see me chained to the palace for no good reason?”

His nostrils flared. “Almost being killed isn’t reason enough? And I told you that I would watch over you. You should not have left without telling me.”

A sugary smile curled her lips. “And if you had told me of your plans, I would have.”

He took a step closer. “Don’t push me, Meg.”

She didn’t like being put on the defensive. He had some explaining to do as well. “And what of you, Alex? Did you think that I would not remember your man Robbie?” She waved her hand toward his horse. “Or that terrifying beast over there? It was you in the forest that day. You
lied
to me. And I want to know why.”

His jaw locked in stubborn silence.

Meg’s emotions bubbled dangerously close to the surface. She wanted him to trust her. To give proof to the connection that had grown between them. She wanted some sign that her feelings were not the only ones in jeopardy. “What is it that you are not telling me?”

She took a few cautious steps toward him and gently laid her hand on his arm, feeling the tension coil under her fingertips. She stood so close, she could see the faint hint of stubble on his chin and the telltale pulse in his neck. The scar that crossed his brow seemed more prominent. And menacing. Yet she felt a strange urge to trace it with her fingertip.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he said tightly.

“Then why can’t you tell me—” Her voice broke. “Please, Alex.”

Something in his expression shifted. The fury had been tempered by something that she could describe only as longing. She could see the tumult in his gaze. Deep inside, there was an internal battle being waged that she did not understand.

“Why can’t you let it go?” His voice was strangely hoarse.

She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t admit it even to herself. She couldn’t let it go because she didn’t want to make the wrong decision, and she’d begun to feel that the only right decision was standing before her.

“Do you really want me to?” she asked softly.

He knew what she was asking. She could see it on his face. She waited, not wanting to acknowledge how much his answer mattered. How much she wanted him to acknowledge what had grown between them.

“Yes, damn it. I want you to leave me alone.”

Her heart plummeted. He didn’t want her. Oh God, she was a fool. Chasing after a man who wanted nothing to do with her. Stricken, she turned away, not wanting him to see how much his rejection stung.

He swore. And before she realized what was happening, she was in his arms and his mouth fell on hers with a savage hunger that belied his indifference and took her breath away.

Meg was relentless, pushing him in a way that no one ever had before. Pushing him until he snapped.

From the moment she’d ridden into the inn yard, head held high with that adorable stubborn tilt to her tiny pointed chin, he’d been waging an internal battle. A battle between desire and reality. He wanted what he could not have.

It hurt just to look at her. The sun drenched her hair with flecks of gold light and flooded her translucent skin with a gentle pink warmth. Artfully arranged chestnut curls framed her moss green eyes to perfection. But it was her mouth that drove him wild. The memory of her honey soft sweetness laid siege to the fortress of his restraint.

Still, his anger held him in check. She’d followed him and interfered in his mission once again. He intended to be harsh, to ensure that she put an end to her foolish quest to discover his true purpose. With one wrong word, she could destroy everything.

But the hurt in her eyes undid him.

For a moment, he’d wanted to tell her why it was so important to him. Why he needed to do this. Why he wasn’t for her. But for her own sake, as well as his, he could not embroil her in his scheme. A scheme that would brand him a traitor.

She thought that he was fighting for gold, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He was fighting for justice. For a way of life. For the land held by their clans for generations. But fighting was all that he knew how to do. He couldn’t give her what she wanted.

But she’d stood there, achingly lovely, with hurt brimming in her eyes, and he’d reacted. With passion. As if he could wipe away the sting of his words with the force of his mouth.

At the first touch of her lips, he groaned, tasting the subtle sweetness that had been impossible to forget. Her heart fluttered wildly against his chest. He wanted to tame her, to kiss her into submission, to unleash the maelstrom of his passion, but his anger was immediately drenched in a flood of unexpected tenderness. He forced himself to be gentle, wooing a response with the soft urging of his mouth and tongue.