Highlander Unmasked

by Monica McCarty

  Alex tensed. She was venturing into dangerous territory.

  She paused, heeding the subtle warning. She bit at her lip anxiously, measuring her words. “I was worried. I could tell something was wrong.” Her hand settled on his forearm. Despite the thick velvet of his doublet, a surge of warmth spread through his body from her touch. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d held her in his arms, and the memory proved a powerful one.

  But Alex didn’t want her comfort. He wanted to put her out of his mind.

  He vowed to remain detached, but her small upturned face looked so damn lovely. Those beseeching green eyes, wide with concern. Her thin arched brows drawn together in a delightful wrinkle above her tiny tilted nose. Even in the soft light, he could see the sensual line of her delicate lips. A wave of possessiveness hurled over him. Mine. But she wasn’t, nor ever could be. He fought the primitive urge to cover her mouth with his, to claim her, and to eviscerate all vestiges of Dougal MacDonald from her memory.

  Hell. He dropped her arm and stepped purposefully away from her. “You don’t take advice very well,” he said darkly. “I warned you to have care.”

  “Advice?” She quirked a brow sarcastically. “Don’t you mean orders? And no, I don’t. Do you?”

  Alex refused to bite. “You had better get used to it if you intend to marry.”

  She pressed her lips closed and said nothing, but Alex caught the flash of defiance in her eyes.

  His eyes narrowed. “Or is that one of the criteria for a husband? A man who will let you do as you please.”

  “Of course not,” she retorted.

  Alex’s gaze slid over her indignant face, but he suspected he’d hit upon at least a partial truth. Meg had carved out an unusual position for herself, and from all accounts she relished her responsibilities. Responsibilities he doubted she was eager to give up.

  He studied her upturned face for a long moment. “If you think Jamie Campbell will be led around by his nose, you do not know him very well.”

  “You have no right to talk to me like this. My marriage is no concern of yours.”

  Alex noticed that she hadn’t argued with his premise—she intended to marry Campbell. It riled him more than he wanted to acknowledge. “You’re right,” he said curtly. “You shouldn’t be here. I could have been anyone.” His mind harkened back to the conversation he’d overheard in the tavern. “These darkened corridors are no place for a woman alone. It’s dangerous.” I’m dangerous. “If you cried out, no one would come to your rescue.”

  Though she tried to hide it, Alex saw the flicker of apprehension cross her face. “You’d never hurt me.”

  “How can you be so sure?” He bent his head, unable to resist the urge to inhale her intoxicating scent, a mixture of roses and a subtle feminine perfume all her own. Her lips were softly parted, and he could hear her uneven breathing. Caught up in the irresistible lure, he slid his thumb over the frantic pulse on her neck as his fingers brushed the side of her velvety smooth cheek. Her body trembled at his touch, and the knowledge that she wanted him only fueled his hunger. His body hammered with need. It took every ounce of his resolve not to feed it.

  He stepped back. “What do you want from me?” he asked roughly, dragging his fingers through his hair.

  “Nothing,” she replied automatically.

  “I think you do.”

  He could see the hot blush stain her cheeks, and she looked flustered. “I told you I was worried.”

  “As you can see, there was no cause for concern. Return to the masque.”

  Despite the curt dismissal, she didn’t budge an inch. “Why did seeing Dougal MacDonald anger you so?”

  Alex stilled. Meg had a way of peeling off the layers and cutting right to the core. He schooled his features into a model of indifference. “The MacLeods and MacDonalds are enemies.”

  Clearly, his explanation did not satisfy her. Not only was she direct and to the point herself, but she had an uncanny ability to appraise those around her in the same way. Never before had he met another woman who was so confident in her ability to see the truth. “Is that all?” she asked patiently.

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Return to the masque, Meg. But take my advice. Stay away from Dougal MacDonald. He is not the man for you.”

  Damn. Alex heard sounds behind them, coming from the direction of the antechamber. If the lord chancellor and the secretary found him here, he risked someone asking questions about what he was doing lurking in a secluded corridor so close to the door of a secret meeting. Nor did he trust Meg not to blurt out the same question.

  He had to stop her from talking.

  A floorboard creaked behind him. They were coming this way. He had to do something. He didn’t have a choice. There was only one thing to do. What he’d ached to do since the first moment he’d seen her. He’d finish what he’d started on the balcony.

  “Why—”

  But her words were cut off when, without warning, he pushed her back against the wall, screening her face from the curious men intent on discovering the source of their interruption and them from hers. He didn’t want her to see who had been in the room. He knew her; she’d ask too many questions.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly in his grasp.

  He wrapped his hand around her small waist, turning her slight body into his. His body reacted instantaneously. He nearly groaned with the erotic sensation of her hips molded snugly against the crook of his pelvis. Relief pulsed through his body. His cock rose hard against her. No doubt she could feel the proof of his desire even through her gown. Did her body dampen for him? The erotic thought only fueled his agony.

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. The gaze that met his was not quite so self-assured. Alex’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin. Those beautiful green eyes fringed with sooty black lashes widened at the hard evidence of his arousal.

  The delicate arches of her brows peaked atop a worried forehead, an expressive compliment to the small wrinkle furrowing her tiny nose. She tipped her head back to meet his stare, and her loose curls tumbled lower down her back.

  “You should have just let me walk away,” he said, lowering his head.

  “You’re going to kiss me again,” she blurted out.

  Alex chuckled. Always so damn blunt. “Aye, but this kiss will be nothing like the first.” He tipped her chin and looked deep into her confused eyes, feeling the impossible lure of destiny. He’d been waiting too long to have her lips beneath his, to slide his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth, to taste her passion. And to unleash his own. His body strained to feel her pressed against him, responding to his kiss.

  This time there would be no holding back.

  The dark, sensual promise of his words coiled inside her. Dear God, he was going to kiss her. And this time it would not be so gentle. Her body felt taut with anticipation, and her heart fluttered wildly in its small cage. Anticipation, she acknowledged. But this wasn’t what she’d wanted when she’d come after him…was it?

  Meg had seen his expression in the hall and simply reacted. Her only thought had been to find him and discover what had caused him pain. Tonight, she’d caught a glimpse of the dark turmoil simmering beneath the surface. She’d seen him angry before, yes, but nothing like the raw emotion she’d witnessed when he’d looked at Dougal MacDonald. But for a moment, before the cold, murderous rage set in, there had been a bleakness in his gaze of such immeasurable pain, it had cut her to the quick. It was as if he’d bared a tiny window of his soul.

  He always appeared so remote and untouchable. A fierce, indestructible warrior in complete control of everything around him. But seeing Dougal had caused a crack, even if only a temporary one, in that wall of reserve. Alex wasn’t detached at all, she realized. He felt things very strongly, more than she ever would have guessed.

  So she’d gone after him. But she’d sought only
to comfort him, not end up in his arms. No matter how much her body claimed otherwise.

  He’d been furious that she’d followed him. For a moment, she’d had the fleeting feeling that she was disturbing him. But his anger had quickly dissolved into an emotion far more terrifying. Passion.

  He pulled her tight against him, enveloping her with the force of his overwhelming masculinity. Masculinity that no longer felt like a threat. All she could think of was heat and strength. She should feel vulnerable, pinned between the cold stone wall at her back and the hot muscular wall of his chest. But instead she felt a rush of excitement, a sensual thrill of pure feminine pleasure. Alex MacLeod was built to dominate. But he wasn’t overpowering her. As much as she’d like to claim otherwise, Meg was not helpless to resist. She could resist, she just didn’t want to.

  God help her, she could feel every inch of his long, hard body pressed against her. She shuddered, suddenly aware of one very long, hard part in particular, intimately wedged against her stomach. The overwhelming evidence of his arousal sent a rush of heat pooling in her breasts and stomach and between her legs. She felt his passion as her own.

  Half-hidden in the shadows, the lean, handsome lines of his face were fixed in a taut mask of desire. His ice blue eyes bored into her, almost as if he were silently challenging her. He’d laid down the gauntlet, forced her to acknowledge the strength of his desire and dared her to accept. He nudged his hips against her just a little closer, so there could be no mistaking his intent. Meg’s breath caught high in her throat. The slight friction had set off a thousand tiny bursts of awareness. Her body tingled where they joined, as if awakening from a deep slumber. It felt like nothing she’d ever felt before. It left her…wanting.

  What was he doing to her? He hadn’t even kissed her, and she had never been more intimately aware of the wicked cravings of her body.

  After what seemed like an eternity, though it had been only seconds, he cupped her chin in his fingers and lifted her mouth to his. He brushed his lips against hers, just as he had on the balcony. And just as before, Meg’s heart stopped, feeling the sharp yearning for something more. He seemed to be waging an internal battle, looking deep into her eyes for the answer.

  Apparently he found it, because he kissed her again, this time harder. His lips covered hers with a raw, possessive hunger that took her breath away. No longer reverent and gentle, his mouth was warm and demanding, moving over hers with a skill that demanded her response. His lips were achingly soft, the masculine taste of him divine. Of wine and spice and dark desires.

  Awash in sensation, she dissolved in his arms, succumbing willingly to his exquisite plunder. Her body sighed with relief. She’d been fighting desire and attraction for too long. His kiss had shattered whatever fragile barrier had existed to protect her from the truth. There was something so right, so perfect, in the feel of his mouth on hers.

  She could no longer deny it. And neither could he. The fierce pounding of his heart against hers told her that he was just as affected as she.

  His strong hands covered her body, roaming over her back and waist with a firm caress as if to memorize every inch of her, leaving a trail of fiery sensation in his wake. He skimmed over her hips and cupped her bottom, nudging her ever closer, moaning when he found that perfect fit.

  A sound of voices down the corridor, not that far away, startled her. She protested against his mouth, and Alex lifted his head, breaking the kiss. Her breath came hard as their eyes met in the darkness.

  “Someone’s coming,” she whispered in a breathy voice that seemed not her own.

  “Ignore them,” he said in a tight voice. “Perhaps they’ll leave.”

  Meg knew that hidden in the shadows they could not be seen unless someone was almost on top of them. The voices drew nearer. She broke their stare and lifted up on her toes, attempting to look over his shoulder. As if he knew what she planned, he lowered his mouth to hers again, preventing her from doing anything other than reveling in the exquisite feelings wrought by his mouth moving over hers in a slow, sensual dance.

  She would have forgotten all about the sounds, but a voice called out, “Who’s there?”

  Alex’s body tensed. She might not have noticed if she hadn’t been practically molded to him.

  “Giggle,” he ordered with his mouth still pressed against hers.

  Appalled, she pulled back her head. “What!”

  “Do you want them to see you? Just do it.”

  Meg did her best imitation of a simpering maid and tried to laugh. Apparently, it wasn’t good enough, because Alex rolled his eyes and slid his fingers under her arm. Meg gasped with shock, only to giggle in earnest when he began to tickle her.

  It worked. Meg heard a man say “find a chamber” and “tryst.” The sound of voices retreated, punctuated by the firm slam of a door only moments later.

  Meg’s cheeks burned when she realized what those men had thought and could have seen. But something wasn’t right. Questions began to form. With the masque going on tonight, this part of the palace should be deserted. Who were those men? One of the voices had sounded familiar. She turned to study Alex, realizing that he was watching her with a strange expression on his face. He never had explained what he was doing lurking in the shadows. She opened her mouth to question him, but, sensing her transient thoughts, Alex pulled her closer, driving all lucidity from her mind as his mouth came down on hers again.

  Meg gasped at the unexpected invasion of his tongue. She heard his groan as he plundered the soft recesses of her mouth with the warm, seductive stroke. For a moment she stilled, not sure what to do. This couldn’t be proper. Nothing that felt this wantonly delicious could be. But the intense sensations shooting through her body soon brought her past the point of caring.

  Her body felt liquid, dissolved in the dark heat of his mouth and tongue. He stroked deeper and deeper, until anticipation filled every part of her body. His mouth moved over her jaw and down her neck as he ravaged her with heated kisses that sent her skin aflame.

  A soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Meg couldn’t believe the throaty sound had possibly come from her. His mouth moved across her chest, achingly close to the edge of her bodice. Her body softened in response, melting deeper into his hold. She could feel the hard chisel of his muscles crushing her body to his. All that warmth. It was going to her head, she felt so dreamy.

  She’d never felt like this before. Helpless. Mindless. At the utter mercy of a force much stronger than rationality. What had she done, unleashing something she could not control? All she could do was respond, melting against him, giving herself over to the heat that flamed between them.

  Slowly, tentatively, she reached up and grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, but perhaps also because for some strange reason she yearned to feel his strength under her fingertips. To test his impossible hardness, to see whether he burned as hot as she. He did. His shoulders were as hard as rock. Her hands spread across their wide breadth and slid down the steely muscles of his arms. Instinctively the muscles flexed, and Meg felt the strange urge to pull off his doublet. To see the bare layers of hard muscle under her fingertips. God he was magnificent.

  Touching him only made her want more. Drunk with wanton urges, she couldn’t get close enough. Stretching up against him, she pressed her breasts to him and her nipples strained against the granite wall of his chest. For a moment, she even wondered how it would feel to rub herself up and down against the hard naked planes of his chest. Skin to skin.

  As if he could read her thoughts, his kiss grew more demanding, deeper, harder, wetter—as if he sought to devour her. The rough stubble on his chin tore the soft skin around her mouth. His hips circled against her, pressing her back even harder against the wall. His hand came up to cup her breast, and Meg moaned again, delirious with pleasure.

  The massive evidence of his arousal pressed into her stomach, demanding. An odd wave of heat gushed below her abdomen. Heavy with desire, she felt a strange urge to m
ove against him, to rub her tingling flesh against the rigid column pressed so firmly against her, to ease the restlessness quivering uncontrollably in her body. The world had seemingly spun out of control, and Meg fought to hang on.

  Meg was innocent, but not ignorant. Inquisitive by nature, she understood what happened between a man and a woman—privacy was not a Highland way of life. She’d also sought to further her education by studying the mating habits of animals. She’d never dreamed that her body would compel her to the deed. But she wanted him deep within her, filling her with his heat. Surely she was wicked, and that she craved him between her legs would assuredly send her to eternal damnation. But, oh, what a way to fall.

  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.