Highlander Unmasked

by Monica McCarty

Blood pooled hot and heavy in his loins. Alex fought to keep his passion in check, but he knew it was a losing battle.

  She wanted him.

  This sweet, willing surrender was the last thing he’d expected, burying his resolve under a blanket of white hot lust.

  Her tongue drove him wild, entwining with his in a dark, delicious dance. She sank into him, pressing her body against his and clutching his shoulders as if she couldn’t get enough of him.

  He kissed her harder, wanting more, wanting to devour her very essence, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel her press up against him, naked, rubbing her breasts against his chest, circling her hips against his. Opening for him. He wanted her as mindless with lust as he was.

  His mouth slid across her jaw and down the warm length of her neck. He was drowning in the scent of roses and smooth, baby soft skin. Her luscious round breasts pressed against him, too tempting to ignore. All he could think about was inhaling her, tasting her, touching her, plying all that soft, ivory flesh in his hands. Sucking her until she came apart in his arms.

  But he knew he had to proceed cautiously, having care for her innocence—and for his bollocks. He remembered all too well how the force of her own response had terrified her.

  Deftly, his hands skimmed over her tiny waist, stretched up along her stomach, and came to rest under the heavy curve of her breasts. He forced his pulse to slow, harnessing the sharp stab of desire. He kissed her mouth again, distracting her with his tongue as his hand finally covered her breast.

  He groaned. God, she was lush. So achingly ripe.

  She shuddered with desire, and Alex thought he might explode.

  His need for her gripped him like a steel vise. He wanted to rip off the velvet gown that hid her nakedness and bury his face in her hot, fragrant skin. Biting back the lust, he gently rolled his thumb over her nipple, suffering another surge of pressure in his loins when she hardened immediately under his fingertips.

  Her responsiveness taunted him, giving him a taste of her passion and hinting at the dangerously sensual creature hiding under a veil of innocence. His mind exploded with erotic possibilities. Of what he could do to her. Of what she could do to him.

  She arched into his hand, silently begging and putting an end to his patience. He stroked her harder, feeling the excited flutter of her heart beneath his palm, lifting her breasts toward his mouth. He lingered along the creamy ivory skin of her bodice, teasing her with his tongue, kissing the sensitive flesh until she groaned. Only then did he slide his tongue beneath the fabric, flickering over the puckered edge of her nipple.

  It was too much…it wasn’t enough. With each taste of her, he wanted more; he had to have her.

  He wanted to sink into her. To possess her. To put an end to this torment.

  “Mistress, is everything all right?”

  The sound of voices brought him harshly back to reality. It was her men coming to check on her. He jerked away, breaking the kiss. His breath came in uneven gasps as lust pounded through his body.

  What the hell?

  She looked just as dazed as he felt. It took her a moment to respond. “In here. I’m fine,” she called out. Her hands went to her head as she attempted to put some semblance of order back into the curls he’d mussed. “I’ll be right out.”

  Alex paced a few steps, raking his fingers back through his hair, more confused about what had just happened than he’d ever been in his life. One minute he was furious, and the next he was kissing her as if his life depended on it. That it very well might was something he could not consider.

  She turned, presumably to leave, but he stopped her. “You will return with me.” He would protect her. A hundred men wouldn’t be enough to ease his mind, let alone the paltry few she’d brought along as escorts. “Ready your men, I will return in a moment.” He would have to conclude his business with Robbie quickly. “And Meg?” She looked back at him. “This discussion is not over.”

  They rode in silence, the guardsmen she’d brought with her trailing behind. The heat of passion had faded, leaving Meg in a state of confusion. Alex claimed to want her to leave him alone, but then he’d kissed her—again. And not just any kiss, but a kiss of possession that branded her as his. A soul-wrenching kiss that had drained her with its emotional intensity, leaving her wanting more. Those moments in his arms, she could almost feel that he was hers.

  Why was he trying to push her away?

  She’d get no answers from Alex. The silence was deafening. They’d been riding for nearly half an hour and he’d hardly said more than a few words to her. She almost wished he’d resume their earlier conversation, as he’d threatened.

  Was he still angry? She peeked out at him from under her lashes. She didn’t think so. The taut lines around his mouth had softened. He looked glorious with the warm afternoon sun shining on his fair head, in stunning contrast with his deeply tanned skin and crystal-clear blue eyes. He was truly the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

  From the way his eyes darted around, Meg knew he was on alert for anything unusual. Still, he seemed more relaxed than he’d been the entire time she’d known him. She suspected it had to do with being away from court.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, indicating the breathtaking views of crags and a strange-looking flat mountain off to the west. “It’s hard to believe we are so close to the palace.”

  Alex nodded in agreement. “Aye. That large rise over there behind Salisbury crags is called Arthur’s Seat.” He must have seen her look of confusion. “At one time it was called Archer’s Seat. And you can see why—it looks like a ledge with an unobstructed view for as far as the eye can see.”

  “It’s magnificent,” she said wistfully. “It makes me feel not quite so far from home.”

  Alex broke into a wide smile, obviously appreciating her enthusiasm. Meg felt as though she’d been felled by a bolt of lightning. The radiance of that smile transformed his face. He looked charmingly young, revealing a glimpse of the lighthearted boy he must have been before life and war had hardened him.

  “You miss Skye?” he asked.

  “Don’t you?”

  “Of course,” he answered, clearly taken aback that she would even question it.

  “I miss everything about it.” She sighed. “I miss the hypnotic roll of the water that fills every vista at Dunakin, the sounds of the pipers, the evenings spent around a fire listening to the stories of the seannachie, the smell of the sea, the sight of the birlinns bobbing on the loch, and so much more.” She wrinkled her nose with a playful smile. “Even the smell of herring.”

  “All the symbols of our Island way of life that King James seeks to destroy,” Alex said, not hiding his resentment. “Even our language is offensive to the king and serves only as further evidence of our barbarity.”

  “I fear that the old ways of the clans are coming to an end,” Meg said, her voice tinged with regret.

  England. Scotland’s enemy for generations was now ruled by a Scot. Delicious irony, perhaps, but old prejudices and old habits were hard to forget. And now the king had the means to enforce his policies against those he termed the “barbarians” of the Isles.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  The fire in his voice caught her attention. She spun around to look at him. Anger consumed his whole body. This was not a man interested only in fighting. She gave him an appraising glance. He was much more involved in politics than he let on.

  His response was typical of her countrymen. She understood his frustration, but she also understood the reality of their predicament. She’d had this conversation with Jamie and Elizabeth countless times. “James is king of England now, not just Scotland. He has the strength of two governments behind him. Already the authority of the chiefs has been curtailed by the General Band. Whether you like it or not, Alex, there will not be much the chiefs can do to prevent change.”

  He looked at her as if she were a traitor. “How can you sound so philosophical, so complac
ent, about something so important? Don’t you care about your home, about your people?”

  His voice teemed with passion and conviction. But what did a mercenary care about justice or politics?

  “Of course I do,” she said evenly. “I love everything about our Highland way of life. But I’m also trying to be practical. It is not a matter of black or white. We must seek new solutions with King James or we can all end up like the MacGregors.”

  “What do you know about the MacGregors?”

  Meg was surprised by the vehemence in his tone. He’d reacted as if she’d slurred him personally. “Enough to know that they are doomed. The king has stripped them of their land and even of their name. I know that they are hunted men forced to turn outlaw to survive.” He was trying not to show it, but Meg could see that every muscle in his body rejected what she was trying to say. Her voice lowered to soften the blow of her words. “I know enough to understand that if we don’t find a way to get along with King James, our own clans will suffer the same fate as the MacGregors. Aren’t your brother’s lands already forfeit?”

  His grip on his reins tightened, turning his knuckles white. Clearly he wanted to disagree, but he couldn’t. “Technically, perhaps. But King James will never hold Dunvegan.”

  “I hope you are right, for the Mackinnons’ fate is tied to the fate of the other clans on Skye. If Dunvegan falls, Dunakin would also be in jeopardy. I don’t want Skye to be the next Lewis, with the king attempting to colonize our land with Lowlanders.”

  “It won’t be,” he said flatly.

  She’d barely heard him, but from his tone Meg realized there was something important that he’d left unsaid. Abruptly, Alex turned away from her. He was shutting her out, trying to put the wall between them again. Whenever she felt they were starting to get close, he pulled back. But not this time. She wouldn’t let him. “For a man so obviously passionate about his home, why have you been fighting someone else’s wars?”

  He looked at her and shook his head. “You don’t ever give up.” A smile hovered at the edges of his mouth.

  She shrugged. “Where did you say you’d been fighting?”

  His jaw fell in a hard, uncompromising line. By his reaction, Meg knew she was getting close.

  “I didn’t,” he said.

  “Well, then, where were you?”

  “Here and there,” he answered vaguely, clearly growing impatient with her interrogation.

  From the set of his shoulders, she could tell that she’d pushed him as far as he would go. So she switched tactics. “How long have you been away from home?”

  “Almost three years.”

  Meg couldn’t imagine leaving home for so long. “But why?” she asked.

  “I had to get away for a while.”

  “After your imprisonment?”

  “Shortly thereafter.” He sounded disgusted with himself for even talking about this. “After I was released, I returned to Dunvegan for a while to stand in for my brother, who was being held by Argyll at the bequest of the king. The king was angry about the feuding between the clans. Rory returned, and I left soon after he hand-fasted Isabel.”

  Were the rumors of his falling-out with his brother true? “But why did you leave?”

  He shrugged. “It was time for me to get out on my own for a while. There were things I needed to do. I suppose I was restless.”

  Meg was beginning to understand. A man like Alex would not be content to live under another man’s shadow. A leader in his own right, Alex needed to make his own way. But she felt there was more that he wasn’t telling her. Something that was calamitous enough to drive him away from his home and family. And to keep him from her.

  “And have you found what you were looking for?” she asked quietly.

  He gave her a long, meaningful look. “No,” he said. “Not yet.”

  Her heart fell to the floor. It was a warning. A not too subtle way of telling her to keep her distance, that there was no future for them. But from the dull ache in her chest, Meg suspected that it was a warning that may have come too late.

  They entered the shadow of the trees, and the temperature dropped considerably. The heavy wool fabric of her gown, which had been too warm a few minutes ago, now felt quite comfortable. Although there were still a few hours of daylight, it was eerily dark; the soft orange rays of the sun had not the strength to penetrate the thick canopy of trees.

  Meg sighed, disheartened by Alex’s comments. She sank deeper into her saddle, tired and anxious to return to her rooms, both to rest and to consider what she’d learned. One thing was for certain, Alex was not simply the mercenary soldier he wanted her to think he was.

  And with the way her heart skipped every time she looked at him, discovering the truth had become imperative.

  Alex didn’t like being put on the spot, being scrutinized so carefully. He could sense her disappointment, but she wanted answers he just could not give her. “What about you, Meg? Have you found what you were looking for?’

  She collected herself and said matter-of-factly, “Perhaps, but I have to be sure. The future of our clan is at stake; there is no room for mistakes.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “Your father seems to expect much from you.”

  “He trusts me.” She sighed. “I always make the right decisions.”

  It was not said as a boast but was simply stated as fact. And it bothered him. “It seems like an inordinate amount of pressure to put on a young woman. From what I have heard, you practically run the clan lands already.”

  “There is no one else that my father trusts; most of the chieftains are old men. Those that aren’t have not demonstrated any propensity to lead.” She hesitated for a moment. “You know of my brother?”

  He nodded.

  “Of course you do,” she said bitterly. “It is a small island, and people like to gossip. My brother will be chief, and I will be there to support him. As will my husband.”

  “What about for you, Meg? Have you found the right man for you?”

  “It’s all the same,” she said tersely. “The right man for Dunakin is the right man for me.”

  He could sense her increasing anxiety, as if his questions dug deeper than she would like. But Alex realized that he was close to the truth, to the core of what drove Meg. “Are you so sure of that? What of your own happiness?”

  He could see the color climb in her cheeks. Her eyes sparked with anger. “You don’t understand.”

  He could see her resistance in the stiffness of her back and the tightness around her mouth. The façade of control had slipped. “Don’t understand what, Meg?” he prodded gently.

  She gazed at him with wide, glassy eyes. “I can’t let them down,” she said fervently. “They are all counting on me.”

  Alex hadn’t meant to upset her. But he could see from the intensity of her response how important it was to her to do what was right. What was expected. And for some reason, that had become a struggle. He suspected he knew why.

  A sound drew his attention to the bank of trees on their right.

  His senses flared. He didn’t like the feel of this at all. Something wasn’t right. He held up his hand for them to stop.

  “What’s wrong?” Meg asked.

  “I heard something.” He paused, stone still, all of his senses honed to his surroundings. He moved his horse in front of hers, putting himself in the line of fire, and with a gesture of his hand ordered her guardsmen to surround her.

  It was almost too still. The light had faded to near dark. They’d moved into the densest part of the forest, where the path narrowed to accommodate the enormous birch trees. It was the perfect place for an—

  Suddenly, he detected the unmistakable whiz of arrows in flight.

  Attack!

  Chapter 11

  “Get down!” Alex shouted, forcing Meg’s head down moments before an arrow sped by, missing her by mere inches.

  He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if he’d just had twenty y
ears of his life shaved off. That had been too damn close. Later, he’d be furious with her for scaring him half to death. But right now he had other things to worry about—like how to get them out of this alive, which at the moment didn’t look too promising.

  He quickly assessed their situation.

  Even though he’d anticipated an attack, the brigands, if that’s who they were, had chosen a perfect spot for an ambush. Alex had sensed the danger, but too late to move them to safety. It was no conciliation that he’d been right about the threat to Meg, not when they would be in a fight for their lives in a matter of minutes.

  One of Meg’s guardsmen slid off his horse, an arrow protruding from his gut. Alex could do nothing for him. If he wasn’t dead now, he would be soon. With two men left and little room to maneuver, he knew that he had only moments to make a decision or they would each be picked off one at a time.

  The rush of battle hit him full force. His only focus was to protect Meg and kill anyone who dared to threaten her.

  He didn’t need to look to know that they were surrounded. His first instinct was to ride hard and try to outrun them or fight his way through their position blocking the path. If he were alone, it would not be a problem. But with Meg he dared not risk it. Riding, she would be too exposed. He would have to take them down one by one, but not here.

  From what he could tell, there were at least half a dozen men scattered around them. They had to get out of the open and draw in the attackers, taking away the use of their bows.

  “Follow me,” he ordered the men, quickly shouting out instructions. To Meg he said, “Keep your head down, and stay behind us.” He knew she was frightened, so he made sure his voice sounded calm and controlled. He wished he had time to reassure her further, but every second they stayed out in the open they were vulnerable.

  Heedless of the danger posed by the arrows, he plunged into the trees, hoping the archers would not be expecting a frontal assault. He was right. One of the men managed to get off another arrow, this one poorly aimed, before Alex cut him down with his claymore. One of Meg’s guardsmen dispatched another. Meg’s scream alerted him to the third. Alex whirled around, but not in time to prevent a powerful blow of the villain’s sword from landing on his exposed left side. He barely acknowledged the pain, though the heavy weight of the blade had at the very least bruised a few of his ribs. Without thought, he sank his blade deep into the heart of his attacker, his reaction honed by years of training.