But there was no smile in place today. Only a grim, lethal stare.
Lochlan’s younger brother Ewan stood two inches taller and possessed broad shoulders and a deadly swagger that made the men of the clan scurry at his approach. His darkly handsome face had rendered many a woman mute. But it was his dangerous countenance that kept any woman from pursuing him.
Most women were as afraid of him as were the men.
The third man stood between their heights and was dressed as an Englishman, and she knew him not at all. Still, he possessed that same lethal aura of all the MacAllister brothers, and his confident stride held a captivating, seductive quality to it. He reminded her of a dangerous dark beast pursuing his prey.
And the fourth…
He was the one her eyes feasted on, for she knew Braden MacAllister well. A friend to her older brothers, he had come often to her home while she was growing up.
Like some lovesick mooncalf, Maggie had adored him always.
Would there ever come a time in her life when the very sight of him wouldn’t quicken her breath? Make her heart beat out of control?
All of the MacAllister brothers were handsome, but there was something special about Braden. Something about him that was truly irresistible.
His wavy black hair fell just past his muscular shoulders and Maggie could easily recall the scent of elderberries that clung to the silken strands. Not that she knew for certain his hair felt like silk. ’Twas merely the sheen of it that suggested it would be wondrous to brush her hand through the long, dark locks.
He had a high forehead with finely arched black brows that lifted up when he laughed. And he laughed often. It was a deep, throaty sound that filled the air with music and warmth.
And his lips…
Full and well shaped, they were the kind of lips a woman went to bed at night dreaming of kissing. Or better yet, the kind of lips that could kiss a woman senseless.
Or so she had been told.
Unfortunately, Maggie had never known the pleasure of those lips herself. Braden had always viewed her as a pesky child, even though only three and a half years separated them in age.
Ever since she’d turned twelve, she had tried to get him to notice her, even to the point of biting him once when he failed to look her way. Yet she seemed to be the only woman alive he truly had no interest in.
Her brother Anghus had told her it was Braden’s loyalty to her brothers that kept him from looking twice at her, but inside she suspected it was more than that. Maggie wasn’t a fool.
She had never been the type of woman men pursued for anything other than a hot meal or advice on how to attract some other female.
As her twin brother Ian so often said, she was a good, reliable friend; the kind of woman a man could turn to for advice and never worry about her judging him.
At best, she was passably attractive, not a beauty by any stretch of even the most accomplished imagination.
But what she wouldn’t give to have the courage or beauty to make Braden notice her for just an instant. To be the one woman who could tame the wild wind.
However, today was not the day to try and gain his notice. In fact, today was the worst possible day she could ever see him. For in her heart, she knew he was the one man who could sneak past her defenses.
And today she couldn’t afford to lose. Not even to him.
Nay, she must keep the handsome warrior at arm’s length. That is, if any woman could keep a man like him at arm’s length.
While Maggie watched Braden’s approach, Pegeen came up behind her, asking about blankets.
Though she heard her friend’s question plainly enough, Maggie couldn’t speak. Her entire being was fixated on the most handsome Highlander ever to live.
Braden walked toward her sanctuary with a confident, masculine swagger that turned every maid’s head. The wind blew against his ebony hair, stirring strands of it about his chiseled face. He moved with his left hand on his sword, his shoulders thrown back in pride.
The hem of his black and green plaid slapped against the tanned, well-muscled flesh of his thighs. Thighs that moved sinuously with each step that brought him closer to her.
Mo chreach! he was gorgeous.
Raw, untamed masculine sensuality and attitude bled from every pore of his body.
Braden was a man comfortable with himself and assured of his place in the world. He’d never been one to follow the dictates of others, but rather he had always walked his own path, consequences be damned.
Today he seemed even more confident than he had the last time she had seen him.
He was up to something, she realized with a start. She could see it in the firm set of his jaw, in the sharpness of his gaze. There was an unmasked determination about him. He had a goal.
And in an instant she knew what he was about.
“Och, balgaire le sùilibh mear!” she said beneath her breath.
“What dog with lustful eyes?” Pegeen asked from her right.
“The one headed our way,” Maggie snarled, angered over the fact that his walk did affect her.
And even worse, she wasn’t keeping him at arm’s length!
Pegeen stood on her tiptoes to look out the window. “Oh, bother me,” she whispered. “There be four of them for sure. Handsome all.”
Maggie glared at the approaching group. “They say the devil himself is a handsome man, and I’d sooner meet with him than Braden MacAllister.”
“The devil ne’er saw a day he could rival a MacAllister for looks,” Pegeen whispered. “My, my, that Braden be the one for sure.”
A dreamy smile curved her lips.
Only a year older than Maggie, the attractive, raven-haired Pegeen had married four winters past, but she still had a roving eye that drifted toward any bonny man. And right now both of Pegeen’s eyes were fastened on Braden, and they were larger than platters.
“Oh, to have my Ross look like that one,” Pegeen said dreamily. “You can rest assured, if he did I’d not be hiding in here with you right now. But rather I’d be in my home giving him the—”
“Pegeen!” Maggie chided. “You’re inside a kirk.”
Pegeen waved her words aside with her hand. “The good Lord knows I mean no harm with my thoughts. I’m merely speaking the truth, and well He knows it.”
Maggie barely heard Pegeen’s words, for her attention had now shifted to the other women who were coming out of various buildings to peer over the walls at the men. Even from her distance, she could hear the breathless sighs and giggles of the women as they admired various parts of the men coming toward them.
“Braden’s home!” several of them shouted.
“Mary, how’s my hair look? Think you Braden will notice it?”
“Saints, that man gets bonnier with every year!”
“That man’s got the finest backside the good Lord ever saw fit to put on a man. Now if we could just get a good, strong wind to blow, we could be in for quite a wondrous sight!”
Maggie ground her teeth in anger as a plethora of such comments filled her ears.
Leave it to the laird to summon the one man home who could spoil her plan. She should have expected this. Indeed, she should have planned for it. But the idea had seemed so flawless, and with Braden gone she hadn’t thought about his possible effect on her senses.
Until now.
Her vision turning dark, Maggie gathered her skirts and headed out of the kirk to confront the devil before he came too close.
She reached the gate at about the same moment Braden did. She snatched open the door to see him standing there with his arm uplifted as if to knock.
“Maggie, my love,” he said, his face breaking into one of those wonderful, charming dimpled smiles that could make any woman weak in the knees.
Or worse, weak in the head.
His eyes shone with his confidence. Aye, the man knew he was irresistible.
But worse was the fact that she knew it as well.
“You’re ju
st the woman I was coming to see.”
“I can imagine that,” she said, her voice icy even though there was a treacherous part of her that thrilled at his words.
His gaze became daring, probing, as he boldly assessed her body from the top of her head, which reached right to his shoulders, all the way down to the bottom of her skirt.
“Och, Lochlan,” he said to his brother, “you failed to tell me what a bonny lass she’d become over the last year. Why, I doubt if there’s a maid in all of Kilgarigon who could come near to such beauty.”
Lochlan said nothing in response.
In spite of her best intentions, Maggie’s heart leapt at his words. She’d yearned all her life to hear such from a man, and especially from Braden.
Unfortunately, though, she knew it for the mere flattery it was. There wasn’t a bit of truth to it.
Lifting her chin, she met his bold look levelly. “You must think me lacking in the head to fall to your honeyed words, Braden MacAllister.”
“Ah!” his brother Ewan said from behind him. “You were wrong about her teeth, Braden. She’s not bucktoothed at all.”
Turning his head to glare at his brother over his shoulder, Braden elbowed the giant in his gut.
“Bucktoothed?” she asked, offended by the mere thought. That was probably the only insult one of her brothers had never hurled at her. And why would they? Her teeth were as straight as anyone’s teeth could ever be.
Braden’s stern glare melted as he flashed one of those devil-may-care smiles her way. “I never said you were bucktoothed.”
“Aye, you did. I heard it as well,” the Englishman said.
“Nay,” Braden said between clenched teeth as his malevolent stare went to the Englishman in turn. “I said no such thing.”
Braden took a step toward her and lifted her hand in his.
Maggie steeled herself as the contact sent chills along her arms. She could feel the rough calluses on his hand, the raw power of the man who was as much a fierce warrior as he was a woman’s downfall.
She watched, mesmerized, as he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss just over her knuckles. His lips were feather-light against her flesh. And as he moved those lips in a slow, searing circle around the back of her hand, he looked up at her with such bedroom eyes that for an instant she lost herself to the desire playing havoc with her senses.
At that moment, the terrible, treacherous part of her wanted to feel those lips against her own. She wanted to feel his strong arms wrap around her body and draw her close to his delectable heat.
Oh, heaven help her, she was as susceptible to him as all the other women were.
Braden ran his tongue over her flesh in a tender caress that both startled and titillated her before he gently nipped her skin with his teeth and moved her hand to rest just over his heart, which beat strongly beneath her palm.
It was all she could do not to close her eyes and moan in pleasure as his thumb toyed with her palm, sending wave after wave of heat through her.
“They misheard me, my love.” He all but purred the words at her.
Her body all but melted as she stared into eyes that were warm, inviting. A rich greenish brown, Braden’s eyes could compel a woman to forget everything else in the world.
Get hold of yourself, Maggie! The devil’ll take the rest of your loved ones if you yield to his charms.
Though it was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, she narrowed her gaze on him as she forced her wanton thoughts to the back of her mind.
She had to get control of the situation or all would be lost.
“Let me guess,” she said coldly, removing her hand from his grasp before she succumbed any more to his masterful touch. “Did you perchance say I was sweet-toothed? Or pearl-toothed, perhaps?” Maggie noted the stunned look he quickly hid. She was on to him for sure, and he knew it.
She took a moment to savor her victory.
But a moment was all she had, for in the next minute a scream rent the air.
“Maggie, come quick!”
She left the front gate open and rushed through the kirk yard toward the back gate, where the scream had originated. She reached the small courtyard in time to see one of the women, Bridget, being accosted by her bear of a husband. The man fairly dwarfed the petite blonde, who was doing her best to resist being pulled out the gate.
There were several women standing about, but none moved to help. Maggie couldn’t understand how they could just stand there and do nothing.
“I’ve had enough of this, woman,” Fergus said as he twisted his grip on Bridget’s arm.
“Nay, Fergus, I’ll not go home with you.” Bridget tried to loosen his grip, but he held fast.
“I’ll be taking no more disobedience from you,” he snarled, then backhanded her.
Bridget fell away, sobbing, but the grip on her arm kept her from hitting the ground. Fergus snatched at her, hauling her once more toward the gate.
Maggie shrieked in outrage. Without thought to her own safety, she launched herself at the oaf and knocked him away from Bridget.
Releasing Bridget, who instantly crumpled to the ground, Fergus stumbled back only a few steps. Maggie, on the other hand, collided with his massive chest and fell backward, hitting the ground dazed as if she had just bounced off a wall.
She quickly pushed herself to her feet and moved to face the man, who stood a full head and shoulders above her. Her own shoulder throbbed and her heart pounded in fear. The man really was tall. Much, much taller than she. And about twice as wide.
Still, Maggie would never stand by and watch someone be hurt. Not if she stood even a tiny chance of helping. “You leave her be,” Maggie warned.
Fergus drew back to hit her.
Maggie tensed in expectation of the blow, but before his hand could make contact with her face, his arm was grabbed and he was spun about.
Braden held Fergus by the front of his saffron shirt, and the fury on Braden’s face would have quelled an ogre’s wrath. “If you want to take issue with the women, Fergus, you’ll have to come through me to do it. I’ll not have you abuse a woman in such a fashion so long as I breathe.”
Fergus curled his lip as he shoved Braden away from him. “Bridget be my wife. I’ll do with her as I please.” He made a move for Bridget, who was now on the ground crying uncontrollably while Pegeen and two others held on to her.
Braden and the Englishman stepped between the two of them. Their spines rigid, it was obvious they were ready to fight Fergus if he made another move toward his wife.
“You should take better care of your wife,” Braden said. “If you treated her more kindly, she probably wouldn’t have locked herself up with the others.”
Fergus snorted in derision. “What would you know of it?”
Braden’s gaze hardened and sent a chill of foreboding up Maggie’s spine. “I know enough to take a stick to your arse if you don’t heed my words. Now get yourself home before I yield to that temptation.”
Fergus’s nostrils flared. He glared heatedly into Braden’s cold, deadly gaze.
For a moment Maggie feared he would push Braden into the fight, but he must have come to his senses, for he looked from Braden to the other three men.
Fergus’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Very well, I’ll return home, but she’d best be getting herself there afore much longer.”
Fergus took a step away.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Braden asked.
Fergus turned around with a frown. “Forgetting what?”
“You owe your wife an apology,” the Englishman said before Braden could.
His jaw tense, Fergus glared at the men. As his gaze swept over Ewan, Braden, Lochlan and the Englishman, he realized he’d have to fight them all unless he complied. Straightening his shirt with a tug, he looked to Bridget.
Maggie saw the indecision in his eyes until Bridget looked up at him, her pale face marred by an ugly red handprint.
The
anger fled Fergus’s face as he knelt by Bridget’s side. “I am sorry, bride. I dinna mean to harm you. But you shouldn’t have pressed me so.”
Braden bellowed in rage. “Leave her, Fergus. Now!”
Maggie swallowed in fear of the tone. She sensed Braden was only one finger away from seriously hurting Fergus. Not that she would have minded if he had. Men like Fergus deserved to be beaten. She had always hated such bullies.
In fact, all four of Braden’s group looked as if they were an inch away from harming him. But it was Ewan who stepped forward and quickly removed Fergus from the yard.
Maggie waited until the gate was firmly shut behind Fergus and Ewan was headed back toward them before she turned to face Braden.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice carrying the full depth of her gratitude.
Braden nodded, then went with Lochlan to check on Bridget. Braden knelt by Bridget’s side and gently touched her swollen red cheek. His eyes hardening, he looked up at Maggie. “How many such attacks have there been since you started this?”
“Five,” Lochlan answered for her.
Maggie’s throat tightened at the memory of how many women had been hurt. “Aye. The beatings are what prompted us to seek shelter with Father Bede. We had hoped by being on holy ground that the men would think twice before assaulting any of us again.”
The Englishman scoffed at her words. “As if that ever stood in the way of animals.”
Braden ignored the Englishman’s words as he raked a cold glare over Maggie. “Did you ever stop to consider the foolishness of your actions?” Braden asked, his voice filled with rage. “How many more women are going to suffer because of your stubbornness?”
Maggie’s own anger ignited at his accusatory words. She wasn’t some child in need of a reprimand. She knew the consequences of her actions. They all did.
Every single woman who was now gathered around them understood.
They were mere women, subject to the whims of men, but even so they had all agreed that this was a necessary measure to ensure the well-being of all.