His chest felt heavy, as if a cow had just trampled him. He missed a step, but Hamish didn’t notice.
“Ye will have to watch out for her brothers. They are a protective lot.” Maybe he could find a way to scare the Covenanter from her without giving away his true feelings.
Alan was walking a thin line. He had to prove he wasn’t loyal to the Camerons and the Royalists, but at the same time, he had to look out for Kirstie.
Besides, this man was too English for her, too boring, too stiff. Hamish wouldn’t go for rides with her, or walks in the hills, or lay her down and make love to her in the heather in the shadow of Ben Nevis. The man would preach to her and make her miserable.
Hamish peered at him and did that thing with his teeth and tongue again.
Watching to see how I’ll react.
The man’s tongue stilled. His features remained eerily unreadable except for a small, almost unperceivable smirk that slowly curved up one side of his lip.
Hamish said, “Let me worry about that.”
Alan fought to hide the chill that ran through his body as he caught a hint of something that almost felt evil beneath the calmly spoken words. This man was either the naive zealot he appeared to be or the devil incarnate. Either way, he would have to keep Kirstie far away from Hamish Menzies.
Managing a smile, he slanted his head as if to say do what ye wish. Hamish’s grin widened. Relaxing in the knowledge that he’d just garnered a point in the game of treachery, he rounded and walked toward the stables while he wrestled with the unease that swelled in his gut.
Cursing to himself as he strode away, he grappled with the fact the zealot was fully intent on wooing Lachlan’s sister. How would he keep an eye on her and rendezvous with the Covenanters tonight?
Malcolm, Finlay, and Dougal were the only people he could trust with her, but his laird’s brother and friends might be in danger as well, and under the guise of their estrangement, he couldn’t risk being seen with them.
After hearing of the murder early this morning of the trusted cousin of the Marquess of Montrose, leader of the Royalist cause, Alan had decided that even though the threat was supposed to come after the meeting, someone was getting a head start on attacking those loyal to King Charles. If these men were daring enough to attack the leader’s kin in a crowded castle, there was no telling how low they would stoop.
He might just have to shove Kirstie and Malcolm in a wagon and ship them back to Kentillie. That was the only place they were safe.
The smell of dried grass and grain floated in the air as he entered through the main stable door. Malcolm and Blair stood guard at the entrance, waiting on Kirstie to join them, but he skirted around, making no eye contact with his adopted brother.
Where is she?
Hurrying to find her, he looked into each stall crowded with the horses of all the visiting clan chiefs. Dozens more belonged to curious Scots who had come to Edinburgh to see what would come from the meeting.
He saw her just ahead. Stilling, he slid into the shadows. She brushed the horse he’d seen her riding moments earlier. As she stroked, she whispered in its ear as if telling the beast her most intimate secrets. The steed nickered and nudged in to listen. He tilted his head but couldn’t make out the words.
She’d always had a way with horses. It was like they understood each other on some fundamental level no one else could see. They had a secret language.
There had always been something soothing about watching her with the horses. Maybe it was the calm, nurturing way she cared for the animals or the quiet, lilting tone she saved for them alone.
She’d always had bonny eyes, but now he saw that with one heated gaze, she could send a man down to his knees begging for her touch. But it was more than that. She was more confident and knew how to wield her feminine charms. She had become dangerous.
Hell, what was he thinking? She’d always been dangerous.
He shouldn’t have followed her here. Something hidden down deep drew him closer to her, pulling him toward the peaceful ritual he’d lost when she left.
“The animals at Kentillie have missed ye,” he said as he rested his arm on the beam at the entrance to the stall. Leaning against it, he took her in and hoped to give off an air of nonchalance.
“I am sure Wallace has taken good care of them.” She stopped brushing and looked up at him. He liked that she was tall and didn’t have to crane her neck to meet his eyes.
“Aye, but he’s no’ ye.”
“I’m fair certain that he has treated them well.”
“Why did ye go?” He stepped into the stall and shut the door, cutting off her escape.
She angled her chin up and stiffened, but her tone remained calm. It was as if they were discussing someone else, not her, not him. “Ye ken why I left.”
“But ye didnae have to be gone so long.” He reached out and fingered a ringlet of her hair. She didn’t retreat, but she didn’t encourage him to move closer.
“Aye. I did. I was not going to follow Brodie down that path.”
How could she compare herself to Brodie? The man had nearly gone mad when Skye had left him. Kirstie had just been a girl. There was no way she could have had those types of feelings for Alan. He’d done the right thing by telling her there would never be anything between them.
She backed and reached to hang the brush on a hook. It seemed a natural movement, but it was her attempt at putting distance between them. Once, he’d been the one to push her away, so why did it bother him now that she retreated from his touch?
“Skye is back, and they are happy,” he said.
“Aye, that may be true. But ye of all people ken that ’twould no’ be the same outcome for me. ’Tis better that I found my own way.”
No one had ever told him she had left because of him. As far as he knew, her departure had been planned for weeks. He just woke up one day and she was gone to Blair’s for a visit with a story that the Macnabs were in need of her assistance with their stables. He had never imagined that trip would last for years and she wouldn’t even come home to visit.
Time went by and life had gone on, but had it for her? Even if it hadn’t, circumstances would never change. Even if he had had feelings for her, she was Lachlan’s sister. The one man on earth he would never betray.
Kirstie shrugged past him in the small space, her skirts swishing across his legs; he had to fight the urge to coil his arm around her waist and draw her to him. The proximity felt intimate, or maybe it was the conversation.
She opened the door, went through, and waited for him to follow. He did, and she continued down the corridor to the main door with him trailing behind like she had followed him as a youth.
“Yer family has missed ye.”
They came out into the fresh air, and he had to squint from the brightness of the midday sun. Thankfully, Malcolm had already retreated with Blair.
“I see them.” Her hands were fisted in her skirts.
He wished for the days when she wasn’t afraid to talk to him, the days when her thoughts and emotions were laid bare on her face for him to see. Now, he realized how he’d enjoyed her fixation on him. He missed her affections. Why? Maybe because he felt undeserving.
“But do ye miss Kentillie?”
He read the longing in her eyes. It seemed the more they talked, the more their old familiar ways were returning. It was comfortable and easy. He felt the urge to take one of her hands in his. When they had been children, they had held hands frequently, but as they grew, he’d pulled back. Being several years older than her, he’d come to the conclusion sooner than she that a relationship between them was impossible.
“Aye, I do. With all my heart.” She released her skirts and clasped her hands together behind her back as they continued to edge their way toward the castle.
“Then ye should come back.” His thumbs
slid in circles over his forefingers.
“Nae, ’tis better this way. I am needed where I am now.” A resigned sadness appeared in the depths of her eyes.
She’d moved on. Strangely, it felt as if the air had been knocked out of him.
“’Tis time I marry soon. I am sure my husband would take me away from Kentillie anyway.”
His steps faltered, but she was focused on something ahead and didn’t notice. Recovering, he caved to the temptation and reached for her hand, urging her to a stop. Her long, delicate fingers were warm as they lay motionless in his grasp. Freezing at his touch, she shifted her gaze slowly back to him. Her cheeks reddened to the hue of a mountain bearberry bush as their leaves burst into a crimson shade with the coming of cooler weather.
“Ye should come home and find a Cameron.”
“Nae, I have plenty of options. I just have to choose.” She pulled her hand free and clasped it to the other in front of her skirts.
“Who are they?” He heard the edge in his voice and despised the traitorous tone that reverberated in his chest. Lachlan needed to keep a closer eye on her.
“Why should I tell ye?” Her tone taunted him.
“Because I want to ken ye will be well cared for.”
“I willnae let ye choose my husband for me.” She laughed.
“Then ye should let Lachlan.”
She indulged him with a smile but turned and kept walking.
“’Tis Blair and John.” She picked up her stride.
“Are ye considering John, then?”
“For what?”
“Yer husband?” He growled.
“Oh, aye.” She shrugged. She was almost at a run now, but he kept pace.
“Ye dinnae sound enthusiastic. Do ye love him?”
She stopped, turning back to face him, her brow crinkled. She had to think about it, then.
“He will do.”
What did that mean? She deserved someone she would be happy with. But some part of him was happy she didn’t love John Macnab. He would be just as bad for her as Hamish. No one knew for sure where the Macnab loyalties lay.
Her tone took on a tinge of annoyance. “Stop this talk of husbands. ’Tis the last thing I want to think of on such a beautiful day.”
Did she just roll her eyes at me? She pivoted and started walking again.
He couldn’t let it go. “Hamish. Are ye considering that peacock?” his voice rumbled.
“I thought he was yer friend. I saw ye with him today.”
Wanting to deny the claim, he clamped his teeth shut to prevent the truth from spilling out, because he had to pretend to like that stuffy, poor excuse of a Highlander.
Reaching the Macnabs, he opened his mouth to ask for her answer, but Blair grabbed Kirstie’s arm, guiding her toward the hall as she broke into excited chatter. “What took ye so long? I’m famished.”
Without another word to him, Kirstie followed, leaving him to trail in their wake with John in tow.
John’s gaze lit on him as speculation and accusation swirled in the distrustful depths of his eyes. “Ye have been seen with Hamish Menzies at Greyfriars. Ye should watch what company ye keep.” His brows rose disapprovingly, and the lines around his lips tightened.
“Ye should keep Blair and Kirstie away from him,” Alan countered, hoping the man held some sway with the lasses.
“I will look out for my sister, but shouldnae Kirstie’s welfare be the job of a Cameron?” Dark eyes peered at him. “Mackenzie?”
As Lachlan and Malcolm trusted John to keep an eye on Kirstie, which meant he was likely a Royalist despite his father’s political vacillation, Alan took his use of the Mackenzie name as a direct challenge. Everyone knew the Mackenzies were Covenanters.
“My family was exiled by the Mackenzies. The Camerons raised me.” It was evasive but would give the man an idea of where his loyalties lay without having to admit them.
John clasped him on the shoulder. “I’m happy to hear that.”
A group of unattended little boys ran into the hall tossing a potato around. One threw too hard and missed his target. Landing on a table, the vegetable knocked over a cup of ale, causing it to splash onto a man seated on the bench.
Despite the man’s large girth, he had an elongated neck, big beady eyes, and rounded ears that reminded Alan of a weasel. The ale-soaked man stood and wobbled around the table, starting toward the lad who had thrown it. Rushing, Alan got to the child just before the other man’s palm connected with the boy’s cheek, catching and holding his wrist midair.
“What the hell?” Face reddening, the weasel jerked free from his grasp and backed, taking in the size of the threat that stood between the man’s rage and the small child.
“’Twas an accident. There is no need to harm the lad,” he managed to say with calm even though every muscle in his body twitched and urged him to escort the man outside and take him to task for raising a hand to a defenseless child.
“’Twill teach him to no’ do it again.” Spittle flew from his mouth.
“Touch him and I will take ye outside and show ye what it looks like when someone bigger than ye picks a fight with someone weaker.”
The man’s gaze roamed over his solid frame to assess the situation, then eyes darting down in defeat, the weasel let out a frustrated growl. Backing off slightly, but returning cold fury to his gaze, the man huffed, “Ye do him no’ favors by protecting him.”
“Aye, I believe I do,” Alan said.
The man pinned him with a defiant stare then turned on his heels and stalked away.
Alan watched to make sure the man wasn’t a threat before looking to the boy and pointing, indicating a spot where he wished to talk to the lad. He stopped to retrieve the potato along the way. The other boys joined them, appreciation showing in their faces as he knelt down to their level.
“’Tis probably a good idea to save this”—he nodded toward the potato he held in his hand—“for outside play.”
The youngest of the three stared at him wide eyed, while the middle child nodded and the oldest studiously avoided his gaze. “There are a lot of men and women in here who have forgotten what ’tis like to be a child.” Alan tossed the makeshift toy from hand to hand.
“Will ye be giving us that back?” The oldest, who stood with feet braced shoulder width apart, crossed his arms.
“Aye, but ye must ken since yer are the biggest, ’tis yer responsibility to look out for these two.”
The child pouted but nodded.
“Can I rely on ye to keep them safe and out of trouble? Ye look verra capable.” The boy straightened his shoulders but also seemed less tense, obviously realizing Alan was not a threat to the younger boys.
“Aye,” the leader said.
He tossed the potato back to the oldest and winked. The boy finally gave him a smile.
“Now, make sure ye avoid that man. He willnae be happy I didnae let him strike yer friend.”
“’Twill no’ let him hurt Artair. He’s me brother.”
“Good. Take care of them both. Now run along and stay out of trouble.”
The trio brushed by him and headed straight for the open door.
When he turned his attention back to the room, the first thing he noticed was that John Macnab was no longer by his side; the second was that Kirstie’s gaze was fixed on him. She looked away, but a small part of him rejoiced until he noticed she had gone straight to the table where the Campbell she’d been dancing with the night before sat. The one whose arms had been all over her as they’d danced.
Hell, she cannae be considering him.
Kirstie gave the rogue a smile and dipped low enough to entice him with a peek at the round globes of the top of her breasts. The corner of the man’s mouth went up, and even from this distance, he could see the arse’s eyes spark with interest. He w
as a dangerous man. What was she doing?
Sitting just on the other side of him was The Earl of Argyll. Did she know the vipers she was getting mixed up with?
As soon as the midday meal was over, despite the plan to keep his distance, he would find a way to get a message to Malcolm. Someone had to tighten the reins on the man’s sister.
If Malcolm didn’t put an end to it, he would.
Chapter Four
Kirstie easily shook her guard and spent the afternoon exploring. The last thing she wanted was to waste the day hidden away in that stuffy castle. After learning earlier he would be out of the stone fortress and in Edinburgh tonight, she planned to try Argyll’s room again before the halls filled with the rest of the guests scheduled to arrive. Before that, she would force herself to dance in the great hall with anyone who might have the plans for the imminent attack on her brothers, so she needed this fresh air to bolster her courage.
She didn’t want to contend with the men who felt they had the right to put their hands on her wherever they pleased, Campbell being one of them. But he seemed to be the one closest to Argyll and would be the one most likely aware of Argyll’s plans, so she had to put up with his pawing for now.
This spying business wasn’t for her. But if it meant saving her family, she would stay in this filthy city and see her plans through. It was a shame she couldn’t confide in Malcolm. But he was hot tempered, and she couldn’t rely on him to not do something that might jeopardize his life sooner. Lachlan would know what to do, but he wasn’t here.
That left Alan.
He could help, but he was cavorting with Covenanters. She had an excuse for being around them. The Macnab laird, whose clan she’d been residing with, had become sympathetic to the Covenanter cause, even hosting some of them on occasion. It was how she’d grown to know Hamish, as he frequently visited the laird. But how could Alan associate with them?
After all the time he’d spent with the Camerons, he must know they wished her brothers harm.
What had happened between her family and Alan in her absence? The man she knew wouldn’t betray her brothers, but there it was: she no longer knew Alan Mackenzie. When he’d introduced himself earlier, he’d aligned himself with his birth family instead of her clan.
Highland Temptation Page 4
