Highlander Mine (15 page)

His tentative confusion lingered. “Good,” he finally said.

That he would think that my assurances were sincere was enough to find my laughter bubbling up. I tried to stop myself. I covered my mouth with my hand, yet I couldn’t prevent a small laugh from escaping.

He frowned, contemplating my face, but his expression was inflected with a new openness that encouraged me. His fascination was connective; it made me want to inspire more of it. I still had yet to see him smile. I wanted to change that and I wondered how I could. I had no idea, so I decided to just be myself. I had the distinct sense that my reaction to him was not only noticeable but pleasing him on a deep and wholly masculine level.

“I was teasing you,” I said softly. “I’m not really going to try not to displease you. I can’t.”

His silence lingered, and his eyes were unwavering. “You can’t,” he finally repeated. After a moment, he said, “And why is that?”

I had a strange conflicting urge to both rile him and entice him. “What I mean is—” I almost called him “Your Majesty” or “Your Eminence” but held myself back. “I’m sorry I cannot offer you blind obedience, like all your loyal subjects. I will try to please you, but not because you order me to.”

His gaze bored into me, but I refused to look away. His eyes wandered to the creamy curve of my exposed shoulder, where the neckline had fallen as I’d played with it, to the cling of my new and very flattering dress. It was some time before he spoke. “How?” he said.

“How what?”

“How will you try to please me?”

“I—” I wasn’t sure how to answer this. He was testing me, and quite possibly inviting me. I couldn’t entirely tell. In my zealous state of heightened, heated sensibility, my response was breathy, almost coy. “How would you like me to try to please you, Laird Mackenzie?”

Our eyes were locked. Once again we were linked by this mutual challenge. “I can think of several ways to answer that question,” he said. “All of which are best kept to myself, for now.”

The shape of his mouth was having that same effect on me as it had once before. Twice, actually. That mesmerizing impact that funneled into my secret places, already moist, painting them now with a sweet, throbbing softness that caused me to squirm. “I think you should tell me all of them,” I said. “Honestly and with all the solemnity and grandeur of your unequalled lairdly position.”

And there it was. His mouth curled into a laconic half smile and he exhaled what might have been a light chuckle. And if I thought Knox Mackenzie was handsome in all his severe seriousness, it was nothing to this brief flash of heartbreaking radiance. He literally took my breath away.

I found myself leaning closer.

The sun was dipping below the horizon now and the light of day was beginning to fade.

The enveloping purple-tinged dusk was comforting to me and stoked a growing inner boldness. The combined effects of this new, heated ache in my deepest depths and the graceful curve of his eyelashes as he looked across the water were feeding an intrepid abandon. His profile might have been carved from marble by a genius. It was this unearthliness to him, this utter perfection that found me reaching to touch his hair to smooth a wayward strand back into place. The texture of it was rich and wildly appealing. So thick. Coarse yet soft. I fingered the small gold band that held his braid in place. He turned to look at my face and his light, dark-rimmed eyes speared a bolt of longing directly to that dewy, secret place that was brimming with fluttery intensity.

“Is that why you came to find me?” I said softly. “To tell me of the Munros?” I let my thumb rove to the ridge of his jawbone, feeling the prickled beginnings of his beard.
I was touching his face.
I had never touched a man this way before. I didn’t know why I was touching him now. Actually, I
did
know. The craving to do so was severe, studded with anticipation and rife with a reckless need. Spurred by this unexpected, stunningly romantic setting. “Or for something else?”

His lips parted as he watched me.
That mouth.
“Something else,” he whispered, almost too low to hear. He was leaning closer, accepting whatever invitation I was issuing. My fingers slid farther, touching his jaw and his cheek. His breath mingled with my own and I breathed him in, the scent of him unfurling something in me. Every unrestrained inclination I had ever had was concentrated here and now, gathering momentum.

“How can I please you, Knox Mackenzie?” I said, leaning closer still, so my mouth was only inches from his. My breasts strained at the soft fabric of my gown. His draw was too strong. I couldn’t fight this, and I didn’t want to. Very, very slowly, I touched my lips to his in a single, featherlight kiss. “Does this please you?” I whispered.

He remained utterly, perfectly still, but his breathing was heavier, his eyes lustrous with heat. I could sense that he was holding back, willing himself to resist.

I
was not so disciplined.

I had never kissed a man before and I had no idea how to do such a thing properly. My instincts guided me. Touching my lips to his once more, I nipped gently. The feel of him was so decadent, so resplendent, I dared to touch my tongue to the velvety softness.
I am tasting him.
I gasped lightly at the revelation of him, the drugging flavor of his lips. He tasted too good. It wasn’t enough. I licked the tip of my tongue into his mouth to get closer, to taste more of him.

He made a sound. A soft sigh. Of fathomless longing and of near surrender.

I could feel him relenting. I could
taste
his desire. His self-control was unraveling. He fought for command and I, in my abandon, wanted nothing more than to break through his authoritative barrier. I knew he was on the verge of succumbing to an insatiability that was so profound and so ravaging that it was equally daunting and necessary. I wanted him to react so feverishly I was surprising even myself with my vehemence. I curled my hands around his neck, into that thick, silken hair, holding him in place.

His fingers entwined in the long coils of my hair. “You can’t be real,” he whispered. “I’m dreaming.”

“I’m real,” I said, kissing his lips gently. “I’m real and I’m here. I can help you. I can please you.” I remembered how he had spoken the same words to me, and it was true: I knew I
could
help him. I could temper his grief and help him heal.

It was entirely possible that my life would be forever changed by my impending journey back to Edinburgh. The removal over past days of the heavy, compounding threats of destitution and disgrace had changed me. I
loved
this place. I loved its peace and most of all, its peacemaker. I wanted
this
experience to hold on to, to remember when the darkness closed in. The beauty of this moment and this connection was one that I could take with me to my grave or my imprisonment.

Did I dare? Would he relent?

It was then that the night air rang with the curling note of a far-off horn.

Knox pulled back, albeit with some reluctance, glancing back toward the manor.

“What is it?” I said.

“A summons. For me. I’m needed.”

Of course he was. He had an entire clan awaiting his directives. A fleet of underlings requiring his commands. In the distance, voices could be heard. They were looking for him.

I wanted to lead him away, beyond their call, to keep him all to myself.
Ignore them,
I wanted to say.
Make this—make me—your priority. Before it’s too late.

He disengaged, but not before smoothing a curl of my hair back from my face. The gesture was tender and dreamlike: a still, treasured moment in the fading daylight.

With that, silently, Knox rose to his full height, looming once again, the shield of his leadership already firmly reestablished. So much so that if my lips weren’t tingling and sultry from the kisses I might have thought I’d imagined them. The little devil in me was irate not only at the interruption but at the abrupt reappearance of Knox’s emotionless shield. My more logical side, however, was barely grateful.
You’ve only known the man for two days. What will he think of you? Already you’re offering yourself to him like some desperate hussy from Madame Blondeau’s brothel! You can thank your lucky stars that he’s an important laird whose presence is sought out, or at this very moment you’d likely be either scorned and humiliated or, worse, naked and thoroughly, massively compromised!

Oh, Jesus.
I fought against the fierce longing to actually
be
naked and massively compromised. Right now.
Pinned down by his big, sculpted body. With his strong hands gripping and his hard—

The horn sounded again. And again. The voices were getting closer and shadowy figures appeared in the distance. The subjects were impatient for the return of their king.

“Walk with me,” Knox said. Then, as though realizing how terse he sounded: “If you would, milady.”

I stood, and my mood was fiery and discontent. I’d been so very close to reaching him. I’d felt it, the first stones of his fortress walls beginning to crumble. All that was gone now, replaced by his full composure. He extended a hand in a gentlemanly offer, but I refused it, scrambling to my feet unassisted. I wanted nothing to do with his courtesies.

He regarded me as we walked, his eyes as churlish as I felt.

A messenger was quickly approaching as we made our way.

“Laird Mackenzie,” the young man puffed, winded from his run. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“For what, Sully?”

“A visitor has arrived, the letter carriers have returned from Edinburgh and there’s a matter with one of the children. The lad.”

“Which lad?” Knox said.

The young man looked at me. “The lady’s brother.”

“Is he all right?” I asked urgently, cold panic flooding me.
A visitor? Had they arrived? Had Fawkes found us? Had he taken Hamish?
I grabbed the young messenger’s shirt at his throat with both my fists. “Where is he?”

Sully seemed taken aback by my overwrought reaction. “He’s fine, milady. Unharmed. There’s been an argument, that’s all. He’s being reprimanded by one of the women.”

My panic had eased but now my hackles were raised. “Reprimanded?”

“Aye, milady,” said Sully.

Damned if I didn’t know
which
of the women had reprimanded my darling nephew. I glared at Sully, fuming.

Knox Mackenzie’s smooth, deep voice was close behind me. “There’s no need to manhandle my messenger, lass,” he said. “I’m sure the matter can be resolved easily enough.”

“Oh,” I said, flustered by my inappropriate outburst. I released Sully, patting his shirt back into place, taking a step back from him. “I— Of course. I must go see him at once.”

I turned and began walking toward the manor at a brisk pace. The messenger had given me a fright. The thought of something happening to Hamish, of the dark threats infiltrating this haven and drawing us back into the abyss of fear and adversity, was enough to put me on edge. I wanted to see Hamish, to reassure myself that he was safe and well.

Knox and Sully kept up with me easily, walking with me. Knox was looking at me sideways in a nonchalant yet curious manner, as though something I’d done had surprised him. I ignored him, now thoroughly frustrated and incensed. Which one of my misdemeanors had piqued his interest this time? The list would soon need its own scroll to fully catalogue it.

Knox’s absence had drawn attention. People were gathered. A man opened the door for us as we neared it and I strode through without hesitation.

The hall was crowded, clustered with groups of clanspeople enjoying a drink, celebrating the end of the workday, preparing for the evening meal. Near the fire, I could see Hamish, seated in a chair. He never sat that still. Near him, Katriona stood with her hand on Greer’s shoulder. Ailie and Christie had just arrived and were entering the room from the opposite door.

I walked over to Hamish, followed closely by Laird Mackenzie, who was being spoken to with questions and news as he made his way through the gathering; I took little notice. I was focused on the situation at hand and my nephew’s face. He looked less than remorseful. He also looked healthy, I couldn’t help noting. His cheeks were flushed with sun and activity. He did not leap up and run to me, but remained seated as though he’d been instructed to. I touched my finger under his chin, tipping his face up to mine. “Are you all right?”

“Aye, Ami. I didn’t mean any harm.”

I turned to Katriona. “What has happened?”

Katriona looked at Hamish pointedly. He frowned, and held out his hand, revealing two small objects cupped in his palm. Katriona didn’t immediately speak, but her expression was indignant as she stared at the evidence, then at me, as though the two small, white cubes were explanation and incrimination enough.

“Dice,” I stated.

“He was teaching Greer how to use them,” Katriona accused dramatically. “To determine which of the two would get the last spoonful of honey. I will
not
have my children gambling and I will now have to seriously rethink your appointment as their temporary teacher.”

God help me—I almost laughed.
That
was his crime? Hamish and I used the roll of the dice all the time, to decide any minor dispute we were confronted with. We had several pairs, one undoctored, one that was weighted from within to always roll double sixes and one that would roll double ones: snake eyes, we called them. The ones he held now were, I knew from sight, the double sixes. It bothered me, of course, that Hamish was using these die with the intention of cheating his way to his prize. But I could hardly fault him for that. We played such tricks on a daily basis against our patrons until they grew wise to us. This trick alone had been enough to keep us from going hungry many a winter’s night.

Hamish had let his guard down and forgotten to act his part. Something I, too, was admittedly having some difficulty with.

“Give them to me,” I told him.

“Why?” he protested. “I always carry dice. It’s how I settle my disputes, Ami. As you showed me.”