She moved cautiously back out of his reach, sucking in air, trying to retrieve her breath. Surely she must look ravaged, with her mussed hair and bruised lips. But she didn’t care. She had to get out of here.
“What the hell was that for?” he moaned, his voice hoarse.
“I wanted you to stop.”
“You might have said something first.”
“I…” Mortified, she put her hand over her mouth, realizing she hadn’t even tried to push him away. She’d simply reacted. Overreacted. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears building behind her eyes, threatening to break.
Shaking, whether with panic or still blistering desire she did not know, Meg turned and fled toward the sanctuary of her chamber.
The urge to spill the contents of his stomach passed. Eyes burning, Alex watched Meg race down the corridor. What the hell had just happened? One minute she’d been responding as if she couldn’t get enough of him, the next his bollocks had been smashed up to his rib cage. All of his training with the MacGregors had not adequately prepared him for that particular move. But it was not one he’d likely forget. Ever.
Slowly, the pain ebbed. Had he frightened her? He must have. She was innocent. He shouldn’t have rushed her. But one taste had nearly driven him over the edge.
He never would have imagined that such passion lay dormant under that innocent exterior. It amazed him that such a serious young woman could inspire such wickedly carnal feelings.
Her response had driven him half-mad with lust. Although inexperienced, she’d returned his kiss with eagerness and enough instinctive skill to make him forget she was so innocent. Her erotic little groans of pleasure had urged him on. But the tentative touch of her hands on his shoulders and the slight rubbing of her unmistakably hard nipples against his chest had been a potent aphrodisiac that proved impossible to resist.
At that point, he’d completely forgotten that it was merely a kiss of convenience to cover up his presence in the corridor.
No, he was lying to himself.
He’d forgotten about that the moment their lips touched. He’d wanted her since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. And seeing her with Dougal had simply pushed him beyond endurance. He’d wanted to brand her with his kiss, to drive all thoughts of other men from her consciousness. To possess her in the most basic way.
But he’d never intended to take it so far. A few more minutes and he would have been doing a hell of a lot more than kissing her. He grew hard even at the memory. The honey sweet taste of her mouth and tongue, the pressure of her full breasts on his chest, the torture of her hips pressed against his rock-hard erection. He’d sensed her reaction when he’d moved against her. She’d liked it. She was ripe and so sweetly passionate. The urge to make her come had nearly overwhelmed him. Just the thought of rubbing her sensitive mound up and down his thick column over and over until she shattered…
He groaned. He couldn’t even think about it. His was so hard, he could explode.
How had one small kiss progressed to such a passionate conflagration so quickly? A conflagration that had scared Meg enough to cause her to nearly make him a eunuch. He should have anticipated her fear. The force of their passion had surprised him. Somewhere between the moan and the knee he had lost himself in the heat, in the lust, and hadn’t even realized that she might be frightened.
Hell, it even scared him.
Kissing Meg Mackinnon had been every bit as dangerous as Alex had expected. Meg made him think of things he’d never thought about before. Of a family. A home. Of a future that was not for him. One wee lass could wield the power to undo him. To make him lose focus—and if he wasn’t careful, to destroy all that he’d worked for. His duty right now was to his brother and his clan, and to a certain extent to his dead cousins. A duty that was at cross-purposes to the type of man Meg needed to ensure the stability of her clan.
He might not approve her methods, but he should be thanking Meg for putting a stop to it. Indeed, it would be better if he avoided Meg Mackinnon altogether.
Like the black death.
Indeed, she’d already caused him enough trouble, including alerting the men he’d been spying on to his presence in the corridor. At least their kiss had prevented him from being discovered. And Meg’s giggling had prevented further investigation, turning the men back to their meeting—albeit this time with the door shut.
Of course, he would apologize to her. But not right now. He still needed to learn when the ships would be leaving. He could only hope the king’s minions were still discussing their plans. He was just about to slip back down the corridor when he heard more footsteps coming toward him from the direction of the hall.
From the shadows, he watched as a man crept slowly past the corridor and peered down the hall in his direction. Alex held perfectly still. It was dark, but he could see that the large, heavyset man was not a guest at the masque. He wore the breeches and jerkin of a guardsman. Seeing no one, the man continued on, heading in the direction where Meg had disappeared, not back toward the hall.
He felt a flicker of unease. There was something devious about the man’s movements. Like Alex, he did not want to be seen. But there was more. Something niggled at the back of his memory. The man looked familiar. The realization hit him: He could be one of the men from the tavern. But he couldn’t be sure; he’d never seen his face and had only a quick glance at the rest of him.
Alex looked back down the hall to the chamber where Lord Chancellor Seton and Secretary Balmerino were still meeting. An opportunity like this might not come again. He might never learn when they planned to leave, vital information if he and his kin were going to have any kind of chance of repelling the incursion. This was his sole purpose for being at court. Not to chase after some tiny stubborn woman and protect her from a phantom threat.
He knew what he should do. His head urged him back down the corridor toward the meeting. But another part of him, a deeper part of him, wouldn’t let him go. Meg could be in danger. He just couldn’t ignore the possibility that the two men were one and the same.
It might be ridiculous, but if something happened to her, Alex would never forgive himself. Cursing the mess he’d managed to embroil himself in, he started down the passageway after Meg’s would-be assailant.
But this was the last time he would put her before his mission.
Chapter 9
Meg’s resolve had been torn to shreds by the events of the evening before. She felt an almost desperate need to see Jamie. To prove that kissing Alex had not changed anything and that she would still go through with her plan. She resisted the urge to press her fingers to her mouth for the hundredth time, still able to feel him on her lips.
She glanced at Elizabeth seated in the chair opposite her. They’d decided to spend a quiet morning in the salon after the “excitement” (if only Elizabeth knew) of the masque last night. Meg was glad of the short reprieve.
Holding her cup to her lips, she took a long sip of warm beef broth, peering at her friend over the rim. “Jamie should be returning soon?” she asked innocuously.
Not fooled for an instant, Elizabeth glanced up from the chess pieces she was organizing. “In a day or two. You’re eager to see him?”
Meg ignored the hint of surprise in Elizabeth’s voice. “I’m always pleased to see your brother,” she replied firmly. “What was the urgent business for your cousin, anyway? Jamie was unusually vague.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m not sure. Something to do with ships for the king, I think.”
Meg’s brows gathered across her nose. “Ships? What for?”
“I don’t know. But he did mention that he’d have to travel to Fife in a few weeks because the ships would be leaving. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when he returns.” Elizabeth studied her face a little longer. A wrinkle appeared between her brows. “Are you sure you are feeling well today, Meg? You look a little pale.”
Meg shook her head. “I’m tired, that’s all. Last night was
—” She stopped, feeling the presence of someone beside her. She glanced up, startled to see Alex. How long had he been standing there listening to them? His ability to move so soundlessly was disconcerting. Not as disconcerting, however, as seeing him so soon after last night.
Color rose in her cheeks, realizing he’d probably heard Elizabeth’s comments about her wan appearance. And Alex, unlike Elizabeth, knew the reason why. Their eyes met, and the memory of what happened between them rushed back to her consciousness full force. She lowered her lashes, not trusting herself to look at him for fear that he would read her turbulent emotions as easily as she read Latin.
The strain of the situation was wearing on her. Meg felt like a tightly wrought bundle of nerves. Always before she’d been able to manage the stress of her duties and responsibilities, but this was different. This was personal. Her emotions lay so close to the surface, at any moment she felt as though she could burst into tears.
It was horrifying.
Meg was not the type of woman who cried. Ever. Tears, she knew, were a sign of weakness, of giving over to emotion. She’d always tried to solve her problems with logic. But there was nothing logical about last night. The truth was that Meg did not know how to solve this sort of problem. How could she forget about Alex MacLeod when each day he seemed more permanently imprinted on her consciousness?
So last night, for once, Meg’s vaunted control over her emotions had lost to the powerful relief brought by a healthy deluge of tears. Tears that had begun to fall the moment she’d made it to the safety of her bedchamber and hadn’t stopped for some time.
Never had she been so embarrassed. Her conduct had been outrageous. She’d responded to Alex as eagerly as a wanton and then lashed out, causing him real pain, when her own lack of control had gripped her in a moment of terror. Thinking only of escape, she’d reacted reflexively. What must he think of her? She owed him an apology, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject delicately.
Why, why, why had she allowed him to kiss her? And how could she have succumbed so easily? When he’d kissed her, she’d lost the ability to form a coherent thought. She hadn’t wanted to think at all. She’d only…wanted. She would never be able to look at him again without remembering precisely how it felt to have his mouth on hers, devouring her as if she were a delicious sweet. Meg’s cheeks flamed. But it wasn’t only the kiss. Never would she forget the erotic sensation of his hand on her breast and his arousal pressed firmly against her. Or of how close she wanted to be to him.
Grateful for small mercies, Meg had made it back to her room without seeing anyone. One look at her face would have announced her just-been-thoroughly-ravished state to all. She’d managed to clear away all vestiges of her tears by the time Rosalind and Elizabeth arrived to check on her.
According to her mother, when Meg didn’t return to the hall, Alex had insisted that she check and make sure Meg had arrived safely in her room. His concern for her, especially after what she’d done to him, only sufficed to make her feel worse.
Meg was more confused than she’d ever been in her life. She had a duty to her father and to her clan. She thought of the unspoken plan hatched all those years ago. The plan that would ensure her brother would be chief and the clan safe from an outside threat. The plan that hinged on her choice of husband. Never had she thought it would be a sacrifice to fulfill that duty. But neither had she counted on meeting a man like Alex MacLeod.
He could ruin everything. How was she supposed to make the right decision if all she could think about was a man who was completely wrong for her?
Or was he?
That was the question that kept ricocheting around inside her head. She’d had her doubts from the first, and the more she knew of him, the more his reason for being at court did not make sense. There were too many things about him that simply did not add up. She wanted to believe that he was more than a mercenary who’d sold his sword and fallen out with his chief. But what if it was only wishful thinking on her part?
Her heart had failed her before; she would never forget how thoroughly she’d been deceived by Ewen Mackinnon. Alex was nothing like Ewen, but he was hiding something.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Alex said. Meg looked up when he spoke to find him staring at her. “Your mother asked me to tell you that she will be delayed and unfortunately will have to miss your ride this afternoon.”
Meg frowned, looking down at the gown she’d donned in anticipation of their outing. Her mother had been looking forward to riding in Holyrood Park. What had changed her mind. As if Alex could read her mind, he added, “I believe she is attending to Lady Seton.”
Lady Seton could be quite demanding. Her mother had probably been conscripted into an afternoon of cards or embroidery. Lady Seton…That was it. The voice she’d heard last night had belonged to Lord Chancellor Seton. What had Alex been doing in that corridor?
Alex stood there, watching her with a strange expression on his face. Uncomfortable, Meg said, “Yes, well, thank you for the message, but as you can see, we were just about to play a game.”
“Perhaps Alex would like to play instead?” Elizabeth asked smoothly, without a hint of a stutter.
Meg’s pulse leapt as she shot her friend a chilling glare. She didn’t want to be in the same room with him, let alone stare at him across a chessboard for who knew how long—well, probably not that long. But she didn’t relish even a few minutes. So before he could respond, Meg interjected, “I’m sure Laird MacLeod is much too busy—”
“Thank you, Lizzie,” he said, cutting Meg off. “I believe I could spare time for a game or two.” His piercing blue eyes held hers, and Meg temporarily forgot everything but the deafening pounding of her heart wrought by the smoky intensity of his gaze. The intimacy they’d shared last night hung between them. Awareness settled low in her belly as she remembered the rough scrape of his chin against her skin, and the feel of his mouth roaming across her jaw, down her neck, and along her bodice, marking her.
She dropped her gaze. “You play chess?” she asked. Chess was not the typical warrior’s game. It required exceptional skill, patience, and strategy. Intrigued, Meg wondered what type of player he might be. He was a leader, a man who liked to be in control. She assumed he’d play a straightforward attack.
Alex lifted one eyebrow, perhaps reading her surprise. “A bit.”
Elizabeth stood up, relinquishing her chair to Alex with a grin of amusement. “I must warn you, Alex, Meg is an exceptional player. Virtually unbeatable.”
Alex returned her smile. “I appreciate the warning, Lizzie. Although I would have expected as much.”
Meg would have liked to murmur some maidenly words of modesty, but Elizabeth spoke the truth, better for him to have fair warning. She considered him from beneath her lashes. Alex was a fiercely proud man; she’d make sure to have care and not trounce him too thoroughly.
Assuming she could concentrate, of course. When he sat down, his large frame seemed to overwhelm the small area. The wooden chair where Elizabeth had sat now looked as if it had been made for a child. He moved, and a hint of spice wafted through the air, harkening back to the corridor. She remembered that intoxicating scent all too well and the way the masculine essence had enveloped her, drowning her in heat. Her body prickled with awareness. The space was too small. Too intimate. Too much of a reminder of last night.
And of how easily she’d succumbed.
Forcing herself to focus on the game, Meg reached across the board and nervously adjusted some of the ebony pieces that Elizabeth had been setting up.
Alex stopped her, circling her wrist with his strong fingers. Startled by the heat of his touch and the sensation rippling through her, Meg looked up into his face to see an amused glint in his blue eyes. “They’re fine. I don’t think it’s necessary for the pieces to all face precisely the same direction.”
Meg cheeks fired; she hadn’t even realized what she’d been doing. Her penchant for orderliness was a great source o
f amusement to her mother and Elizabeth, and now, apparently, to Alex. But his smile could stop her heart. She responded with one of her own, realizing that she liked his teasing. Liked the fact that he noticed the small things about her.
“After you,” he said, releasing her wrist and motioning to the ivory pieces set out before her.
She took a deep breath and studied the board intently. Though she was confident in her abilities, only a fool would dismiss an opponent without ascertaining something of his skill, so Meg paid close attention to his defense of her opening bishop’s attack. After the first few moves, however, she relaxed. He was not a novice player but was also not a very sophisticated one, using a rather plebeian defense strategy against her attack. She’d already captured one of his pawns, and one of his bishops was in jeopardy. This shouldn’t take too long.
He moved a pawn, and Meg noticed how his large, battle-scarred hands dwarfed the carved chess pieces. She remembered exactly how gentle those callused warrior’s fingers could be.
“You received a message from your father yesterday?” he asked, breaking her trance.
“How did you know about that?”
“Your mother told me last night.” He saw the look on her face and explained, “I saw a man following you and didn’t realize he was one of your father’s captains.”
Meg repressed a flicker of unease. Thomas Mackinnon had arrived yesterday with the missive from her father. Ever since she’d refused his suit, she’d felt uncomfortable around the man, but thankfully he would be returning to Skye right away. “Bishop—” She lifted her gaze, taking the piece. “Is that why you asked my mother to check on me?”
He nodded, and warmth spread over her. It was somehow comforting to realize that he was watching out for her. But why was he? “Do you still believe that the attack was not random?”