Highlander Unmasked (23 page)

A cold rage settled over him, fueled by a bloodlust so powerful that he could taste it. “Let her go,” Alex said. It was not a request; his voice resonated with the promise of death.

Alex sensed Hook Nose moving toward him, and he beat him back with a fierce glare.

Thomas Mackinnon directed his venom toward his compatriot. “You fool. You said there were only three guardsmen. What is Alex MacLeod doing here?”

“He didn’t ride out with her,” Hook Nose faltered nervously. “You need not have interfered, I have everything under control.”

“You should be thanking me, you idiot,” Mackinnon said. “You would be dead right now if not for me.”

Hook Nose studied Alex. “You look familiar…” Recognition dawned. “The outlaw.” He turned to Mackinnon excitedly. “It’s him. The man I told you about. Now you must believe me. I told you he fought with the skill of five men.”

“I thought you said they were MacGregors?” Mackinnon snapped.

“They were,” Hook Nose assured him. “My men recognized a good number of them.”

Mackinnon looked at him sharply. “What is the brother of Rory Mor doing fighting with outlawed MacGregors?”

Damn.
Alex heard Meg gasp. Doubtless he’d have some explaining to do later. He took a step closer. “Let her go and you can have me.”

“You are in no position to bargain,” Mackinnon said. “Drop your weapons.” He tightened his hold around Meg’s neck, causing the dirk to press deeper into that delicate flesh.

He’s a dead man.

“I’ll put down my weapons, but lower the blade.”

Mackinnon laughed. “And why should I do that?”

“A show of faith. How do I know you don’t intend to kill us both?”

Mackinnon smiled, lowering the blade from Meg’s neck. Alex breathed.

“Now your weapons,” Mackinnon said.

Alex’s dirk and claymore fell to his feet.

“Kick them away from you.”

He did as ordered.

“Stop standing there and gaping, you fool,” Mackinnon yelled to Hook Nose, who was hanging back, obviously hesitating to get within range of Alex. “Hurry up! Fetch the rope and tie him up.”

Alex had to do something soon before the other man had a chance to secure him. But he’d need Meg’s help. He had no choice; he’d have to look at her. Cautiously, he lowered his eyes to her pale face. She wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Her eyes were wide and glassy but lucid. Her lips trembled slightly. She was frightened but was holding her own. That innate look of control and confidence was less obvious, but it was still there.
Damn, he

was proud of her.

He just prayed that she would understand.

His voice turned soothing. “Everything will be all right, Meg. Just do what they say. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

“I want you to remember something, something that will help you. Can you do that?…Good. Think about the night of the masque when I kissed you.”

Her eyes opened a little wider. Thomas Mackinnon’s face flooded with rage.

“I want you to think about what you did to me—”

“Get the goddamn rope, Billy, and shut him up,” Mackinnon spat.

Hook Nose, or Billy, had gathered the rope and was approaching, but very cautiously, eyeing him as if he were a wild beast. Alex had only a few more moments. He stared at Meg, begging her to understand.

Something flashed in her eyes. “I re-mem-ber,” she stuttered.

“Whore. I’ll give you a real man’s kiss—” Mackinnon swung Meg around to face him and lowered his head.

“Now!” Alex yelled.

It was perfect timing. Meg jerked her knee hard into Mackinnon’s crotch and quickly dove out of harm’s way.

Thomas Mackinnon bent over, covering his groin, writhing in pain.

Alex turned crazed—as frenzied as a Berserker in battle. Bloodlust surged through his body. He pulled out the small dirk that he kept tucked in his boot and aimed it right for Billy’s heart. He died with a startled cry on his lips.

Alex spun around to see Mackinnon hobbling toward Meg, his sword raised. Alex was going to enjoy this.

Sensing Alex’s presence, Thomas Mackinnon turned, swinging his sword wildly at Alex. Alex swung his claymore in a high arc. Mackinnon met his blow, but he was no match. They both knew his end was a certainty. Alex could toy with him for a while, but Thomas Mackinnon wasn’t worth his time.

With one powerful blow, Alex knocked the sword from his hand. Mackinnon didn’t get the chance to pull the dirk from his belt. Alex had him pinned to a tree with the blade of his claymore.

“Please, I m-mean no harm to the lass—”

But the rest of his words were cut off as Alex slashed his dirk across Thomas Mackinnon’s throat.

Dead men couldn’t lie.

The attack happened so fast, Meg barely had time to think before it was all over. It wasn’t until after, when Alex had scooped her up and cradled her in his arms, that shock gave way to an uncontrollable shaking—and the vivid recollection of the violence that had occurred in the midst of this deceptively tranquil setting. The forest floor was strewn with the bloody carcasses of over a dozen men, three her own. She mourned their senseless loss. Three more deaths to add to the recent losses would hit her clan hard.

Yet nothing could feel more right than being held by the man who’d saved her. Again. From the start, Alex had taken control of the situation with the swift, decisive command that she’d admired from the first. His incredible battle skills and calm under pressure had acted as a balm to her rising panic. He would not be defeated.

She’d been scared, but not terrified. Not until Thomas Mackinnon had surprised her from behind. At first she’d thought he was there to help them. Only when he’d refused to let her go did she realize her mistake. She still could not believe that he’d tried to kill her. She felt sick with the implications of all that her father’s chieftain had done for ambition.

The terror that had eluded her during the attack rushed forth in full force once it was over. And Alex was there to be her rock, a steadying force merely by the solid strength of his presence. The callused hands that had taken life with such savage ferocity now stroked her hair as gently as if she were a newborn babe. He’d moved her away from the scene of carnage to the grassy bank of a nearby burn. After dampening the edge of his
leine
in the water, he carefully wiped the trickle of blood from her neck. She was lucky; she’d suffered nothing more than a scratch.

“Shush, love. It’s all over now.” His voice was low and soothing as he whispered words to calm her racing heart.

Through the wall of panic, her heart caught at the sweet endearment.
Love.
A sharp pang of longing hit her like a kick in the chest.
God, how she wished that it were so.

He smelled of sweat and blood, but somehow it reminded her that she was alive. His voice and hands worked magic, easing her panic. She allowed herself the luxury of being rocked in his arms, relishing the security offered by his powerful hold. She burrowed deeper in his lap and tightened her grip around his waist.

He winced.

Her head snapped back to look at him accusingly. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to brush away her concern.

But the fact that he was injured forced her back to reality as effectively as a hard slap. Meg was furious. “Why didn’t you say something?” she said, moving out of his lap. “How could you allow me to carry on about a tiny scratch and not even mention that you were injured?” She knelt before him and began exploring his side with her fingers.

“It wasn’t just a tiny scratch, Meg. His dirk was at your neck.”

Meg ignored him. She didn’t want to think about what she had barely averted, not when he was so obviously in pain.

He tensed as her hands moved across his tightly muscled stomach and back. He was not bleeding, and it didn’t feel as if anything were broken, but she couldn’t be sure. Carefully, she traced his ribs and the cut indentations of his muscled stomach with her fingertips through the
leine.
When her hand dipped low on his stomach, he made a sound and grabbed her wrist.

“I’m fine.” His voice sounded pained, but this time with restraint. “Just a few bruised ribs, that is all.” Their eyes met, and she could see the desire burning hot in his gaze. He wanted her, and the evidence was growing right before her eyes. She flushed, not with embarrassment, but with the knowledge that her innocent touch had aroused him so powerfully.

She wanted to touch him. To slide her hand along the sensitive flesh. To harness that strength beneath her hands. To revel in the wonder of being alive.

The air crackled between them. Temptation beckoned from the very depths of her soul. For a moment, Meg wavered on the edge of indecision. She wanted him. What was the point in denying it, or herself? Confronting her own mortality had made her yearn to experience life in the most basic way possible. The danger they’d just faced had stripped away everything but the fact that they were two people deeply attracted to each other. At that moment, nothing else mattered.

Desire stretched tautly between them. The dark intensity in his blue eyes bored straight through her. He held perfectly still, jaw clenched, his face an inscrutable puzzle of hard angles, every muscle in his body tense with restraint, awaiting her decision. One move would be all it would take, and his mouth would be on hers, erasing all memory of what had just happened.

The temptation was too powerful to resist.

So she succumbed to the moment, to Alex, and to the pull of desire that bound them in an undeniable way.

Having care for his injured ribs, she leaned over him, achingly aware of the warmth emanating from him and the long, hard muscles stretched out beneath her. Tentatively, she pressed her mouth against his.

It was all the excuse he needed. With a primal growl, Alex took hold of her, and Meg found herself rolled on her back, his body covering hers, and the full onslaught of his mouth returning her kiss with fervor.

“Your ribs,” she murmured.

“To hell with my ribs,” he growled. “Just let me taste you.”

Meg complied willingly. His mouth was hard and demanding, brutal with need. It was perfect. She tasted his hunger and opened to him, taking him deeper as his tongue swept her mouth. He was holding nothing back, and Meg met the force of his desire with her own.

She’d been right. His kiss made her forget. His kiss made her feel alive, alive in a way that she’d felt before. As if every inch of her body were aflame. The passion between them consumed everything in its wake. There was no room for analysis or thought, only for the desperate cravings of their bodies.

She returned his kiss the way he’d taught her. Tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence, she matched the thrust and parry of his tongue stroke for delicious stroke. She couldn’t get enough. The harder and deeper he kissed her, the more she wanted. Meg had succumbed, and she would do so not in half measure, but with verve, excitement, and eagerness.

This was dangerous.
Very
dangerous. She knew she should stop him, but it felt too good. She’d never dreamed that she could feel this way, that she could so crave a man’s touch. She’d thought that she was not capable of this type of emotion, this type of sensation, this type of burning desire. But when he held her in his arms and kissed her, her heart flipped, her blood rushed, her pulse quickened. All she could think of was drawing nearer to the heat. Of being surrounded by this man.

Her hands explored the breadth of his wide shoulders and powerfully muscled chest. She wanted to touch every part of him, to feel his skin under her fingertips. She clenched him harder as the force of his kiss intensified.

Her frenzy seemed only to increase his own. Alex lifted his head, breathing hard, and the depth of emotion in his eyes took her breath away. It was desire, but also something deeper. Something that made her heart leap high in her chest. Something that she wanted to believe with every fiber of her being.

He watched her face intently as his fingers traced an invisible line down her side, allowing his thumb to slip forward over the curve of her breast. The nipple hardened under his touch.

Meg gasped as his thumb began to stroke small circles over the sensitive tip. She closed her eyes, allowing the warm sensations to crash over her as she gave herself up to his touch. Her entire body felt flushed and hot with pleasure. Vaguely, she was aware that he’d loosened the laces of her bodice and tugged the fabric down below the edges of her stays.

She guessed what he meant to do but made no move to stop him, remembering all too well what he’d done before. His mouth fell on hers again, holding her captive, kissing her with an urgency that gave proof of his intent. His lips and tongue trailed a path down her neck and bodice, perilously close…agonizingly close.

Meg held her breath as his fingers dipped below the edges of her stays and linen sark to lift out her breasts from behind their delicate confinement. She startled at the erotic sensation of his callused finger sweeping the sensitive, naked flesh. Her body turned liquid, and a heavy warmth pooled between her legs.

She heard his sharp intake of breath.

She opened her eyes. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, suddenly aware that he was staring at her naked breasts.

“God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was tight and rough and held almost a touch of reverence. He outlined the swell of her breast with his finger, so feather soft that she wondered whether he was actually touching her or whether it was merely the strength of her own awareness. “So round,” he murmured, emphasizing with his finger. His voice was deep and dark as molten lava, seeping into her consciousness. “So full.” He moved to cup her, and Meg began to shiver, aroused by his observations. “So soft and creamy white.” He lifted her closer to his mouth. She could feel the heat of his breath brush across her sensitive tip.
Oh God, this was torture.
His voice lowered. “With perfect pink tips.” Meg felt a shudder go through her as his tongue flicked her nipple. “Mmm…so sweet.”

She moaned, writhing in innocent frustration, more aroused than she’d ever been in her life. Every nerve tingled with awareness; she felt ready to jump out of her skin. He teased her already taut nipples, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over the sensitive tips, then squeezing lightly. But it wasn’t enough. Meg knew it wasn’t enough. There was more. And finally, he gave it to her. His tongue circled her, and then his warm mouth closed over her.