Highlander Unmasked (13 page)

Since the moment of their arrival in the hall, a noticeable buzz had trailed Meg’s every move. She found herself thoroughly, and surprisingly, enjoying her newfound popularity. She’d never lacked for suitors—her fortune alone would compel many men to seek her hand—but tonight she detected a subtle difference in the intensity of their interest.

They did not want her just for the power and position she would bring them with an alliance, they wanted
her
. It surprised her that the difference mattered.

Meg felt a trickle of apprehension along the back of her neck. She’d been aware that Alex was watching her—he was so blatant, it was impossible not to be—but when he came storming toward her with a savage expression on his face, she decided that perhaps it would be prudent to avoid him. He was in a black mood, and she suspected that for some reason he blamed her. Though she couldn’t imagine why. She turned to one of the gentlemen at her side, accepted his arm, and started to move away. Only to find Alex had managed to cut in front of her to block her path.

That trickle turned into a full-fledged flood. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Not one bit. But, she reminded herself, she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Excuse me,” she said in a surprisingly calm voice. “I was just about to take some air with—”

“Good idea,” he snapped. “I’ll take you. Lord Maxwell here won’t mind.” He grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the balcony. Lord Maxwell appeared to mind very much, but he didn’t have the gumption to argue. Meg peeked out of the side of her lashes and noticed Alex’s taut mouth and clenched jaw. There was also the fact that his shoulders were twice as wide and he had at least eight inches of height on Lord Maxwell. She supposed she could hardly blame the poor man for standing aside. It was as if Alex had claimed her and dared any man to oppose him. She shook off the feeling. That was ridiculous.

For a man of his size, Alex moved with a surprising grace. But being pulled along beside him, she found it a struggle to keep up with his long, powerful strides. A burst of cool air smacked her senses as she exited the hall. The night air was a welcome reprieve from the stagnant heat of an overcrowded room. After glancing around to see that they were alone, she brusquely shook off his hold. He seethed beside her, but she refused to be intimidated. Even if he did outweigh her two times over. At least.

The realization took her aback. Though he looked every bit as forbidding as he had that day on the battlefield, she did not fear him. No matter how angry he was, she knew that he could never harm her. Even when he was furious, Meg felt safer with him than she’d ever felt with anyone before.

The knowledge both pleased and emboldened her. She turned to face him, toe-to-toe. “That was very rude,” she pointed out, resisting the urge to stick her finger in his chest. “Whatever is the matter with you? You’ve been glowering at me all night. You can’t still be angry about what happened the other day. I told you I wasn’t spying on you. I’m sorry for interrupting your little tryst, but really, you can’t blame me for walking down a corridor.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment but simply stared at her, piercing her with the heated intensity of his gaze. Somehow, she managed not to squirm.

“I’m not angry with you,” he said finally. “I’m simply attending to your welfare.”

Meg couldn’t help it, she let out a little snort of disbelief. “And was I in some kind of danger?”

Obviously, he didn’t like the flippancy of her response, because he took a step closer. An intimidating step closer. Close enough for Meg to feel the warmth of his body and see the tiny silk fibers on his black peascod doublet. His chest was a wall of granite. This man was built to dominate. Though the knowledge sent a perverse thrill through her, Meg knew she had to stand her ground. Drawing up every inch of her diminutive frame, she squared her shoulders, refusing to cower before him.

“Flirting like that, you could have been,” he said flatly.

Incredulous, she gaped at him. “You can’t be serious. Me, flirting? How dare you criticize my conduct! I was not the one kissing a serving maid in the open for everyone to see.”

He was obviously struggling to control his temper. His arms stretched taught along his side, and he looked up to the heavens as if asking for patience. “I was not kissing her,” he said through clenched teeth.

She turned away and made a sound, surprised by the painful twinge in her chest. Gazing up at the starry sky, she was keenly aware of the man standing next to her. The sinfully handsome face, the soft, shiny waves of dark golden hair that just grazed the top of his collar, the tall, powerful physique, the strength she felt beneath his callused warrior’s hand.

But Meg knew it was far more than simply physical attraction that she was responding to. It was his utter command over everything around him. Alex was a man who made her feel wonderfully feminine. His dominance was strangely reassuring; he had a subtle way of taking charge just by his presence of authority and strength. When she was with this man, she felt as if nothing could harm her. Her problems did not seem so insurmountable. She did not feel so alone. With Alex, she could relax.

He let out a long sigh. “It’s not what you think.”

For some reason, she sensed that he was telling the truth. Even hurt and angry, she remembered his gentle rebuff of the pretty maid and his attempt to unwind her arms from around his neck. “Then what was it?”

His face went blank. “It’s none of your affair,” he snapped. Then, more kindly: “It has nothing to do with you.”

His honesty hurt. He was right, Alex MacLeod had nothing to do with her.

She felt a suspicious burning behind her eyes, but she quickly put a grip on those unwelcome emotions. Meg never cried. But it seemed that ever since she’d met Alex, so much of what she’d thought she knew about herself had changed. She could read Latin, Greek, and French, could run an estate as well as any man, but at her core she was just as vulnerable as anyone else. She’d tried to hide from her emotions, but they’d found her. “You’re right,” she said with a catch in her voice. “It is none of my affair, but neither do you have any right to interfere in my business. From now on, I’ll thank you to mind your own.”

He took her arm again and whipped her around to face him, forcing her to meet his implacable gaze. “You go too far,” he said in a low voice that carried the faintest hint of a threat. “It is my responsibility to see you are safe tonight. So do as I say and stay well away from those men.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. He had no right to order her about. And her conduct tonight was beyond reproach. He’d taken his duties well beyond the scope of an escort. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t you? You play a dangerous game. Those men will eat an innocent like you for breakfast.”

She laughed. The pulse appeared in his jaw again, but Meg didn’t heed the warning. “Surely you jest? I’ve known most of those men for years. They are quite harmless, I assure you. I was merely enjoying myself. You might try it sometime.” She paused, daring to add, “And how do you know I’m innocent? You presume much, my laird.”

His eyes flared, and he tightened his grip on her arm. “Don’t press me, Meg.”

She didn’t miss the intimate use of her Christian name, but there was no mistaking the threat this time. His voice was deep and liquid and seemed to wrap around her. She knew she shouldn’t provoke him, but he brought out a mischievous side of her long forgotten. Lifting one brow, she asked, “Or what?”

Before the taunt had left her mouth, she was in his arms again and jerked firmly against the broad chest she’d just admired. She gasped. Not from shock, but from the realization of how much she liked being pressed against him. Of how she savored the sensation of her breasts and hips molded against the hard length of his body, of melting against him, of being secured in his arms. A wave of heated awareness shuddered through her.

His eyes were hooded, his expression dark and full of promise. “Or I will prove to you just how innocent you are, my sweet, and how very little control you have over a man and a man’s desires.”

In his eyes, she saw the very depths of his desire. The lust, the need, the hunger.

For me.
This fierce warrior, who held himself so aloof and remote, wanted her. And her body responded, softening.

Time stood still. The masque, the sounds from the hall, her responsibilities, all fell away. There was nothing left but the two of them alone in the moonlight. He lowered his head. Slowly. Inch by heart-stopping inch. Giving her every opportunity to object.

She could hear the fierce pounding of her heart. His mouth was so close. If she were breathing, their breath would have mingled in the cool night air. Her eyes felt heavy, begging to close. Desperately, she fought the magnetic pull of warmth and desire that beckoned from his seductive form. She’d been kissed before, and it had nearly led to disaster. But Alex’s mouth moved over hers, and God help her, she could not stop him.

A whisper. A breath. A warm scent of spice and then the barest, sweetest touch. A touch that sent a shock wave rippling through her body. Every inch of him was hard, unyielding male, but he startled her with a gentle brush of his mouth. She felt the softness of his lips for only an instant before he raised his head, leaving her with a tightness in her chest and a sharp yearning for more.

It was a kiss of aching tenderness that packed unexpected strength. With one swift touch, something inside her shifted, exposing a part of her best left buried. She didn’t want to feel. She wanted to do what was right and marry Jamie. Not dream of a fierce warrior with unknown loyalties. A man whose very nearness tossed her into a state of confusion.

It was all wrong,
she wanted to cry out in frustration. She wanted him to be rough and brutish, to make her not want him. To prove the validity of her decision in choosing Jamie. She didn’t want this gentle warrior who kissed her as if she were the most precious jewel in the world.

She stared at him, breathing fast through softly parted lips. Not knowing what to think. In truth, he looked just as stunned as she did.

I let him kiss me. I must be losing my mind.
She’d played with fire, but she’d never expected to be burned by tenderness.

“Why did you do that?” she asked dumbly.

He released her and took a determined step back. “I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t do it again.”

“On that account, you have nothing to fear.”

For some reason, the absolute certainty of his tone made her feel worse.

The sound of the balcony doors opening was a welcome reprieve. The woman who appeared, however, was not.

Bianca Gordon was the most empty-headed, selfish woman at court. And probably the most beautiful—which was convenient, since that happened to be her favorite subject. She epitomized the classical ideal of beauty: flaxen hair, eyes the sparkling blue of the sea, and refined features. But her disposition did not match her lovely features. Her father was the powerful Marquess of Huntly, and Bianca made sure everyone knew it and bowed accordingly.

Wanting to escape and still annoyed by Alex’s presumption in lecturing her on her conduct tonight, Meg took a step backward, her mind churning. Alex must have read her intentions.

“Don’t you dare, Meg,” he warned in a low voice.

Meg ignored him and flashed Bianca a brilliant smile. “Bianca Gordon, how nice to see you!”

Bianca looked perplexed. Meg had never welcomed her company before. “Meg, what have you done to yourself?” she asked rudely. Her eyes narrowed as she took in Meg’s hair and dress. “Why, you look pretty.”

Meg’s voice was honey sweet. “How kind of you to notice. But of course, I could never be as beautiful as you, Bianca.”

Bianca nodded with all the confidence of a queen accepting homage, obviously pleased to have the attention focused back on her.

Meg turned to Alex. “Bianca, do you know my neighbor from Skye, Laird Alex MacLeod? He’s been simply begging me for an introduction.”

Meg swore she heard Alex hiss.

Bianca beamed eagerly, fluttering her long lashes. “How do you do, my laird.”

“My lady,” Alex murmured, bending over her proffered hand.

Despite the threatening glower Alex threw her, Meg said, “Alex, didn’t you just say that you were looking for a partner for the next set of dances?”

Before Alex could strangle her—if his expression was any indication of his intent—Meg started away. She looked back over her shoulder and met Alex’s glare. “Enjoy your evening, you two.”

That should occupy him for a while.
Meg felt better already. She would not let one brief kiss from an over-bearing laird, no matter how unsettling, ruin her night.

Alex didn’t know whether to throttle her or stay as far away from Meg Mackinnon as possible.

After being foisted off on Bianca Gordon—as vain and insipid a woman as he’d ever met—he decided on the former. But that kiss made him reluctant to get anywhere near her.

Kissing Meg had been a mistake.

She’d felt so soft and sweet in his arms, the temptation had been nearly overwhelming. Still, he would have resisted if she hadn’t pushed him to the breaking point. The thought that she might not be as innocent as she seemed slammed him with a wave of possessiveness unlike anything he’d ever felt before. His iron control had snapped as easily as a dry twig. He’d wanted to ravage her senseless but found the primal instinct tempered by an unexpected wave of tenderness. He’d moved slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. If only she had.

The moment his lips touched hers, he knew she’d never known a man’s passion. But by God, she would have known his if he hadn’t felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. The honey taste of her and the soft tremble of her mouth had sent an ache of such sublime perfection to his chest, he’d pulled back, leveled by the force of it. It hadn’t been lust at all, but something altogether unfamiliar and far more powerful.

Not even an hour of listening to Bianca Gordon’s silly prattle could dampen the memory. That one little taste had irrepressibly whetted his appetite for more. He didn’t trust himself not to taste her again, and this time nothing would stop him from delving into the sweet recesses of her mouth and tasting her deeper. So rather than seek her out, to vent his anger or his lust, he did what he should have been doing the entire night and resumed his search for Lord Chancellor Seton.