Highlander Unmasked

by Monica McCarty

  “Doesn’t it?” Isabel encouraged.

  Perhaps it did, Meg realized. If Alex felt there was still something he had to do. “Do you know why Alex is really at court, Isabel? Does it have to do with what you’ve just told me?”

  Something distinctly resembling guilt flashed across Isabel’s stunning face. “I’ve said too much already,” she murmured dismissively. “But I do know that the loss of that battle weighs heavily on him. It changed him. In many ways, Alex is living in the past, trying to make up for his perceived failure that day.” Isabel looked as though she wanted to say something more, but she held her tongue.

  “But what can I do?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to discover the rest from Alex. He deserves to find happiness. If there’s any chance that he can find it with you—”

  “You two look as thick as thieves at a fair,” Elizabeth said, approaching them from across the room.

  A quick glance over to Rosalind forced a smile to Meg’s lips.

  “I see your conversation is as enthralling as ever, Elizabeth,” Meg teased, eyeing her mother napping peacefully in her chair.

  Elizabeth laughed. “I think we may have missed the truly scintillating conversation. But I’ll wager I can guess what—or should I say whom—you were conversing about.” Elizabeth turned to Isabel and said, “Your brother by marriage has made quite an impression on my friend.”

  “I think it’s mutual,” Isabel said, returning her smile.

  “I think you’re right,” Elizabeth agreed.

  “If you two are finished speaking about me as if I’m not here, I believe I’m ready for that game of chess you promised me, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth ignored her. “Isabel, did Meg tell you about the game of chess that she—”

  “That’s enough for now, Elizabeth.” Meg stood up and playfully pulled her smirking friend across the room.

  Meg knew that she was only delaying the inevitable. She’d hear all about her prodigious loss to Alex yet again. But the teasing didn’t bother her. Alex was a worthy foe—or ally, for that matter. She’d always thought of him as invincible. But in a strange way, learning about his past loss on the battlefield made him seem more human. The failure in no way diminished the man he had become, but rather explained it. The loss had framed his life. But had it overtaken it?

  Talking with Isabel had only strengthened Meg’s belief that whatever Alex was doing at court, it was for good. She didn’t care who he was. Mercenary. Outlaw. It didn’t matter. He was still the man for her. She knew the truth in her heart.

  But Isabel had also made her realize something else. She had to do something soon or she would lose him.

  But what could she possibly do to show him how much she trusted him?

  Though Rory and Isabel had arrived only yesterday, to Alex it seemed intolerably longer. He had been anxious to advise his brother of what he’d learned but had been forced to wait until they could ride well away from the palace to preserve the damn pretext of a falling-out. Now that he’d confided in his brother, Alex was relieved to have unburdened himself, but at the same time he was uneasy, realizing that the time for him to depart court was drawing near.

  Rory rode next to him in prolonged silence, no doubt considering the ramifications of the MacDonalds’ treachery and King James’s insatiable thirst for Highland bloodshed. His brother’s reaction had been much the same as Alex’s: shock followed quickly by anger and resolve. The grim set of Rory’s chin and the tightness around his mouth told Alex just how determined his brother was to battle this last betrayal.

  When they figured out exactly how best to do so, Alex would be on his way to the Isle of Lewis.

  Alex brushed the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. But it was useless, he was drenched. The heat clung to him like a wet plaid. After a long day in the saddle, he was hot, tired, and in desperate need of a good dunking. The scorching summer sun crested high in the clear blue sky, reminding him of the last time he’d gone riding. In deference to that day, a handful of Rory’s fiercest warriors trailed close behind them. With Dougal MacDonald thirsting for blood, they were taking no chances.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” Rory said, breaking the silence.

  Alex snapped his head around in surprise. That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. His gaze narrowed as he assessed his brother, not sure how to react.

  Alex knew exactly what “this” meant—leave for Lewis. What he didn’t know was why Rory would suggest that Alex abandon his plan to join the fight with their kin.

  “Of course I do.” If Alex’s voice sounded sharper than necessary, it was because he wanted to make sure Rory understood just how important this was to him.

  “I’m not questioning your fighting skills,” Rory said, knowing that was precisely the conclusion Alex had jumped to. A wide grin spread across his deeply tanned face. “I haven’t forgotten the dunking I took on the lists a few years ago.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Or the soreness of my muscles afterward.”

  Alex smiled, remembering their invigorating battle and Isabel’s effective way of putting a stop to it. He’d had a few aches of his own.

  Rory’s hard blue eyes met his own. “You’ve changed in the last month, Alex. And I’m glad of it. I wondered whether you’d ever settle down long enough to fall in—”

  “There’s nothing—”

  “Don’t bother denying it.” Rory lifted his hand from the reins, staving off Alex’s denial. “You forget, I’ve been there myself.”

  Alex clamped his mouth shut. Rory was wrong, but there was no point in arguing with him.

  “In fact, I think it’s an excellent match and a golden opportunity for you. I wouldn’t blame you if you were tempted to take it. You’ve risked enough here already. Our cousin Douglas can go to Lewis in your stead.”

  Alex could tell from Rory’s voice that he was not convinced. They both knew that although Douglas was a strong warrior, Alex was the only one with the skills and experience necessary to help their kin—other than Rory himself. But because he was chief, there could be no question of his going. “You know as well as I do that I must go,” Alex said. “I’m needed on Lewis. I want to finish what I started.”

  Rory’s gaze intensified, but Alex didn’t flinch. His fearsome brother hadn’t been able to intimidate him in a long time. They’d been through too much together. But Rory’s continued scrutiny was uncomfortable all the same.

  After a moment, Rory reached a decision. “You weren’t to blame, Alex,” he said gently, broaching the forbidden subject.

  Alex flinched. His brother understood him better than anyone. Rory knew well why he pushed himself so hard. He turned away, focusing his attention on the rugged terrain of the grassy moors and rocky crags that surrounded them. Soon, the gray stone walls of the palace would come into view. Holyrood. What was once a guesthouse for the old Abbey of the Holy Rood, where a miraculous cross had appeared to King David I, was now a royal bastion of greed and deception.

  “It could have happened to anyone, Alex. No one blames you.”

  The bloody image of his murdered cousins flashed through his mind. “But I do,” he said to himself, hoping his voice was drowned out by the steady pounding of the horses. But Rory had the hearing of a hawk.

  “There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing anyone could have done. Dougal MacDonald is a bloodthirsty cur, he was looking for any excuse to kill them. Getting yourself killed on Lewis won’t bring them back.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Alex said tightly.

  “I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did. I almost lost Isabel for the sake of revenge.”

  The raw emotion in Rory’s voice took the edge off Alex’s anger. He remembered that long week a few years ago when Rory thought Isabel had betrayed him. He’d never seen his seemingly invincible brother suffer like that before and probably never would again. Rory and Isabel were more in love than he ever thought two people co
uld be.

  He understood what had brought this unexpected halfhearted offer from his brother. Rory didn’t want to be the one to force his brother to choose between love and duty.

  “It’s not the same,” Alex said.

  Rory lifted an eyebrow sardonically. “It’s not?”

  Alex shook his head. “No, I’m not the right man for her.” His brother was aware of the Mackinnon’s recent troubles, but Alex filled him in on the rest. “I won’t put her in any more danger, and I can’t be the man she needs to help her clan right now. I know how important it is to her to do the right thing by her clan. I won’t ask her to sacrifice that for me. She’s driven herself so hard over the past few years, I won’t be the cause of her failure.”

  Rory gave him a wry smile. “Driven? Sounds like someone I know.”

  His brother’s observation took him aback. “Perhaps,” Alex admitted ruefully. They were alike in that.

  “You’re not being fair to yourself or the lass. Shouldn’t she make that decision for herself?”

  “That’s not an option. Meg knows nothing about our plans.” Alex deflected his brother’s impending interruption. “And before you say anything, I have my reasons for not telling her. She’s close to the Campbells, and if Argyll gets wind of this…”

  All vestiges of humor vanished from Rory’s face. “It could be disastrous. Argyll works for no one but himself. He’s highly unpredictable, and if he decides it’s in his best interests to inform King James of our plans, warding off the Fife Adventurers will be a much more difficult proposition—if not a losing one. Right now all we have is the element of surprise on our side.”

  “And we can’t lose it,” Alex finished for him. “I don’t believe that Meg would betray us intentionally, but I will not take the chance that she lets something slip accidentally. And it’s not just Argyll that holds me back from confiding in her. Knowledge of our plans and an attachment to me could put Meg in danger. I won’t risk her safety.” Alex held his brother’s gaze. “I appreciate what you are trying to do, but it’s not necessary. I know well what I risk, but it can’t be helped.”

  Rory looked visibly relieved. “I’m sorry there isn’t another way to resolve things with the lass, but I trust your judgment. Our kin need our help, and there is no one I’d rather send in my stead. You’ll leave tomorrow night. There will be a boat ready to depart that can take you to Lewis. I’ll take care of the MacDonalds, but the rest will be up to you.”

  “I won’t let you down.”

  Rory turned to him and gave him a long look. “I never thought that you would, little brother.”

  Chapter 15

  Meg prayed this was not an enormous mistake.

  She hesitated for a moment, contemplating the momentous decision she was about to make. If she went much further, there would be no turning back. What did she have to lose? Nothing, she thought wryly. Other than total disgrace and every ounce of her pride.

  She was a fool to risk so much.

  Still, she could not turn back while there was even a remote chance for happiness. When her happiness had even become important, she did not know. What mattered was that it had. Come what may, she’d decided to follow her heart and not her head.

  So she continued on, winding through the unfamiliar territory, hoping that the maidservant’s directions were accurate.

  She pulled the hood of her cloak farther down over her head—she hadn’t completely lost her senses—as she approached the gentlemen’s living quarters, doing her best to avoid the curious stares of the servants she passed. Her features were well hidden, and she hoped it was enough. She’d made her decision; she’d have to live with the consequences.

  At least there was a certain amount of logic to her plan. That fact should comfort her, as it always had before. But it didn’t. Because if Alex did not listen to reason, she would be forced to play her final card. And there was not much logic to that particular part of the plan. And that fact made her nervous. Very nervous indeed.

  If only she knew what to expect. But the riddle of Alex MacLeod was not an easy one to solve. Isabel’s insight into Alex yesterday was at the core of what was pushing him away, but it wasn’t the entirety. But Meg had made her decision. Whatever had happened to him in the past, it didn’t matter. Meg believed in the man he was today. Enough to trust the future of her clan to him. For she’d decided to prove to Alex just how much she believed in him by offering him an alternative to whatever he was doing at court. One where his leadership and battle skills could shine.

  Alex was the perfect man for her clan and the perfect man for her. She’d take the direct approach and tell him, and if that didn’t work, she’d show him. First she’d appeal to his logic, then to their attraction. She bit her lip nervously. She hoped it wouldn’t come to the latter. But if necessary, she would give him the ultimate proof of her love and trust.

  It had to work. Rejection would be humiliating. Was this how men felt? she wondered, feeling an unexpected twinge of sympathy for Thomas Mackinnon. It was nerve-racking to put yourself in such a position of vulnerability.

  She halted before a small closed door. His door. This was it. She took a deep breath, but the tumultuous pounding of her heart betrayed her unease. In twenty years, they’d probably sit around the hearth fire and laugh about it. She hoped.

  Before Meg could change her mind, she rapped firmly on the door.

  Nothing happened.

  Her heart sank. What if he wasn’t here? No, the maidservant had assured her that he had retired for the evening. Meg drew up her shoulders and banged on the door.

  The door burst open and slammed against the wall.

  “What the hell!” he bellowed at the unknown person who had dared to disturb him.

  Meg flipped back her hood and watched his face register shock as he realized just who had knocked on his door. His expression would have been comical if he didn’t look so distraught.

  His beautiful golden hair was tousled, his blue eyes tired, his face strained. He looked sad. Weary. But for a moment, before his face hardened, she saw a flicker of happiness at the sight of her. He wasn’t indifferent. And the knowledge bolstered her courage.

  But only for a moment.

  Her eyes fell to his chest and widened. Oh my. It was a warm evening, and he’d removed his doublet. He wore a simple linen shirt and trews. A simple linen shirt that was opened at the neck, displaying a triangle of fine golden hair sprinkled across a broad, tanned chest plainly visible through the thin fabric. There was a raw sensuality to him that made her tremble with awareness, raising gooseflesh on her arms. The intimacy of the scene was hardly lost on her. Half-clothed. In his chamber. Alone. She hoped.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  She lifted her chin, tearing her eyes from the naked flesh revealed by his shirt. “I need to talk to you.”

  He didn’t respond, but simply stared at her with a dark intensity that sent shivers racing up her spine.

  Nonetheless, Meg took his silence, brooding though it was, as sufficient welcome and pushed past him into the room, immediately smelling the peaty aroma of whisky. Noticing the half glass on the table, she thought she could use a glass herself. But, no, she didn’t want her senses muddled. His seemed as sharp as ever.

  She glanced around, curious to view the lion’s den. It was a small chamber, nowhere near as fine as her rooms. But she supposed the stark furnishings were adequate, if not luxurious. She ignored the rumpled bed. The rest of the room was surprisingly neat and tidy, with no personal items scattered about as she would have expected. Disappointed not to learn anything further about him from his room, Meg was nonetheless glad to confirm that he was alone—it would be impossible to do what she had to do with an audience.

  “Why don’t you come in?”

  Meg frowned at his sarcasm and glanced at him again. His expression was hard and impenetrable, his body tense and watchful. He looked awfully forbidding, she thought, losing a bit of courage.

  “Y
ou said you needed to talk to me?” he asked impatiently.

  This was more difficult than she’d realized. She bit her lip. How to start? “I just wanted to let you know that I don’t care what you are really doing at court. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. I think I can offer a solution, one that will be beneficial to both of us.”

  Alex went still. If it weren’t for the quickening pulse in his jaw, she might have thought he had not heard her. But he had.

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “An alliance—”

  “Bloody hell, are you proposing to me?”

  Meg blushed. At least he wasn’t frowning any longer, she thought, looking at his expression of utter incredulity. That was a start. She took a deep breath and blurted out, “I suppose so. Yes. Whatever has happened in the past doesn’t matter. I know you’ve helped manage your brother’s lands before—”

  “What did you say?” he asked sharply.

  “Isabel told me about Rory’s injury a few years back. She spoke of how well you managed Rory’s lands.” If the fabled Rory Mor had trusted Alex with his clan, it spoke much of Alex’s abilities.

  “What else did she tell you?” he asked, suspicion edging his voice.

  Meg shrugged. “Oh, nothing much.”

  Alex folded his arms across his chest and glared at her, brilliant sapphire eyes hard and piercing. He was doing his masculine best to intimidate her. It might have worked had the bulging display of muscles straining against thin linen not set her mind on something else. Her mouth went dry. Unconsciously, her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. He truly was magnificent.

  “What else, Meg?” He took a threatening step toward her, enveloping her with the heady scent of whisky tinged with the heather and myrtle of his soap. Her pulse raced. The room felt even warmer and smaller. And teeming with raw masculinity.