His gaze flickered over her. His eyes narrowed, noticing Meg’s disheveled appearance and unmistakably swollen lips. He schooled his features into a mask of equanimity, though rage rushed through his veins. It was obvious what they had been doing. The bitch would pay for soiling herself. And MacLeod would die for touching her.
He should have rid himself of Alex MacLeod four years ago. Dougal didn’t regret many things in his life, but not eliminating Alex MacLeod when he had the chance was one of them. Almost immediately, Dougal had regretted that rare display of mercy at Cuillin when he’d spared Alex’s life. Although young, Dougal had recognized Alex’s potential danger: Alex would demand vengeance for the deaths of his kin.
He did not usually leave such volatile loose ends.
But at the time, he’d been more concerned about Alex’s brother. There was no question that Rory MacLeod would have avenged his brother’s death. Dougal would have been a marked man. But Dougal now realized that he’d only traded one vengeful enemy for another.
But he didn’t waste his time on regrets, not when they would soon be rectified.
The opportunity to take care of Alex MacLeod would materialize, and he would be ready.
“What are you doing here?” MacLeod demanded. Obviously, he’d noticed the palace guards, or Dougal felt certain he would have relished the opportunity to use the sword he had only now just lowered.
Dougal ignored him, addressing Meg instead. He was finding it difficult to look at her ravished face while hiding his anger, but he did his best to sound the concerned suitor. “When you did not return, your mother became worried,” he explained. “I offered to ride out after you. I can see that it was a good thing I did. Are you all right? What happened?” He leapt down from his horse and started toward her.
“I’m fine. We were attacked,” Meg said, and provided him with a brief description of what had happened.
To reach her, Dougal had to pass a number of bodies. He recognized one.
Stupid fool, he thought, stepping over Thomas Mackinnon. He couldn’t pretend to be upset. He was glad to be rid of Thomas Mackinnon. MacLeod had done him a favor in ridding him of a man who’d outlived his usefulness. Initially, he’d planned to gain the Mackinnon’s land through Thomas Mackinnon—a disgruntled man who valued his skills far beyond their worth. Mackinnon was only too happy to find a sympathetic ear in Dougal. But it had all changed once Meg had rejected her father’s captain. Then, when Dougal had arrived at Dunakin, he’d changed his mind and decided to marry her himself. The change of plans had not sat well with Thomas Mackinnon, and he’d decided to take matters into his own hands. The fool could have ruined everything.
As he drew closer, Dougal noticed the awkwardness between the two. Maybe he was wrong. A bit of his anger dissipated.
“Come,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “This is no place for you. Let me take you to your mother. My men will see to cleaning up this mess.” He had to restrain himself from slapping her when Meg looked at Alex, as if begging him to disagree.
Alex stood immovable, making no claim. Dougal smiled, realizing that it must gall MacLeod no end to have her go with his enemy. He could only imagine how furious it would make him when Dougal announced their betrothal. Dougal had waited too long already to ask for her.
MacLeod was up to something. Something that prevented him from pursuing Meg Mackinnon, though it was clear he wanted her. Dougal knew the man, as well as any man would know a prisoner he’d watched over—and tried to break—for months. MacLeod was involved in something, and Dougal guessed that it probably involved the Isle of Lewis. Any resistance by the Highlanders to the arrival of the Fife Adventurers on Lewis would come from Rory MacLeod; and his loyal brother, Alex, would not be far behind.
He would bear watching. Any information Dougal uncovered was bound to be well rewarded by Seton. Being forced to pander to a man like Seton chafed. Lord Chancellor Seton treated all Highlanders with scorn, not discriminating between men of obvious civility like himself and useless scourges like the MacLeods.
But Dougal would smile and nod, acting the loyal cur, grateful for the meager scraps from the master’s hand. It would be worth it in the end. The MacDonalds would be well rewarded by King James for betraying the Highland rebellion. Though Dougal didn’t approve of King James’s methods, he approved of his gold. Any hesitation Dougal felt about betraying his fellow Highlanders was tempered by the fact that it was the MacLeods who would suffer. And this MacLeod in particular.
“Thank you for your offer,” Meg said. “But I would like to see to my men.”
Dougal bit back his anger, knowing she wanted to stay with MacLeod. He smiled stiffly. “I’m sure MacLeod will see to it.” He looked meaningfully at Alex, who didn’t disagree, and then turned back to Meg. “Your mother was quite concerned. I really think you should come now.”
Meg gave Alex one more pathetically heartbroken glance before she turned, reluctantly, to accept Dougal’s assistance. “Very well, I’ll go.”
Perhaps Alex’s rejection of the chit would work right into his hands. He would ask for her tonight, while she was still vulnerable. He would take her mind off Alex MacLeod. There really was no comparison.
Chapter 13
The gentle tinkle of laughter sliced across the din of the crowd, drawing his gaze like a fiery beacon to the woman across the room. Meg stood beside her mother, Elizabeth, Jamie Campbell, and a handful of other men, laughing at something one of the men had said. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight with the warm effervescence of her laughter.
Laughter that stabbed like a dirk in Alex’s gut.
Did she have to look so damn beautiful? Taunting him in a delightful concoction of white and pale gold that displayed all the womanly curves of her delectable figure. Curves that Alex remembered all too well. Soft waves of chestnut fell in beguiling curls down her back, emphasizing the snowy whiteness of her skin. Skin that had felt as smooth as velvet under his hands and tasted like honey. He knew he was staring, glowering actually, but he could not stop himself.
Jealousy ate at his resolve like acid.
He’d been like this all week. Anxious. Angry. Twisted into a tight ball of knots; feeling as though he were ready to explode. He told himself it was because Rory was due to arrive any day with the orders that would send him to the Isle of Lewis, but he knew the real reason was the beautiful woman holding court across the room.
Watching Meg be wooed by a bevy of suitors, knowing he could do nothing about it, was pure torture. This feeling of powerlessness for a man of action like Alex was both alien and unnatural. What he wanted to do was stake his claim in the most primitive way. Right now, he felt every inch the barbarian that Lowlanders claimed.
He knew he had no right to feel jealous. She needed what he could not give her: a marriage proposal. She had every right to look elsewhere. Why was he so damn angry that she would do so?
He tossed back what remained of his claret and slammed the empty goblet down on the card table with frustration. Nothing could calm the tangle of knots coiling inside him.
Not even the knowledge that he was doing the right thing.
But right or not, letting Meg go was the hardest thing he’d ever done. The memory of her face before she’d ridden away with Dougal MacDonald haunted him. The hurt. The confusion. The tender plea that tore at his conscience. He hated causing her pain, no matter the cause.
Nor could he get what almost happened between them out of his mind.
He couldn’t forget the feel of her mouth under his. Of the soft silk of her breast. Of the honey dampness between her legs. And of the ecstasy on her face as she shattered in his arms. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to fight the overwhelming urge to take her into his arms and finish what they’d started.
If only it were simply about lust. But it was so much more than that. The feelings Meg aroused in him were like nothing that had come before. He admired everything about her. Her beauty, her intelligence, her frank
honesty, her compassion, her drive. The confidence with which she approached everything. He wanted her on so many levels, each day that passed it had been increasingly difficult to remind himself why he couldn’t have her. Forced to stand to the side as other men took the place that belonged to him.
Frustrated by the futility of it all, he tore his gaze from Meg and turned back to his card game. With Lord Chancellor Seton and Secretary Balmerino absent from tonight’s entertainment, Alex had focused his attention on the Marquess of Huntly—his current opponent at maw.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she,” the Marquess of Huntly said. “Rich, too, I hear.”
Alex’s gaze slid over his cards to the man across from him. The man who so far had yielded no new useful information. “Who?” Alex asked, feigning disinterest.
“The Mackinnon lass. I thought I saw you looking at her. I hear she’s to marry young Campbell over there.”
The news he’d been dreading burned a black hole in his chest. He fought to control his reaction. “I wasn’t aware of the announcement.”
Lord Huntly shrugged. “There hasn’t been one. But I assume there will be in a few days. My daughter says it has been all but decided.”
Bianca Gordon would know nothing about it, Alex assured himself. She would be the last person Meg would confide in. Speculation, that was all. Relieved, he loosened his hold on the cards, realizing he’d been crushing them.
“I heard you put on quite a display in Holyrood Park last week. My daughter can hardly talk about anything else.”
Alex shrugged, knowing he had Rosalind Mackinnon to thank for spreading the story of his alleged heroics. He would have preferred to keep his part out of it. “Fortunately, I was there to lend my assistance.”
Huntly shook his head. “Terrible, terrible thing to have happened to the poor girl. In this day and age, for a man to try to murder a girl for refusing to marry him. These barbarians in the Isles must be contained.” Alex could feel him watching him closely, gauging his reaction. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course,” Alex said.
Huntly gazed at him appraisingly. “I may have need for a man of your talents, if you ever want to put that sword to use.”
Alex held perfectly still, well aware that Huntly might be hiring mercenaries to protect the Fife Adventurers. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said, not wanting to appear too anxious.
“Do that,” Huntly said, rising from the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I have an appointment that cannot be delayed.”
Alex stood up as Huntly left, his shoulders tensing when he heard a burst of fresh laughter. He didn’t care that it seemed forced. His resentment intensified, especially when he noticed Dougal MacDonald at her side. Though she seemed barely to tolerate him, Dougal had made his intentions clear. Alex had been keeping an eye on Dougal, hoping for the opportunity to discover what he was really doing at court. Alex didn’t believe it was solely to woo Meg.
“He’s asked for her.”
Alex turned to find Jamie at his side. The black expression on Campbell’s face mirrored Alex’s sentiments exactly. Nonetheless, even if they were in agreement about Dougal, Alex had been doing his best to avoid Jamie since his return from Argyll last week. Not only was Alex sure that Jamie suspected him of lying about his purpose in being here, there was also a subtle rivalry between the two of them that could not be denied. It was clear Jamie blamed him in some way for the attack on Meg in the forest, even if it was only for being the one to rescue her.
“She’ll never accept him,” Alex said finally.
“No, she won’t,” he agreed. He gave Alex an unmistakably challenging look. “Because she’ll accept me.”
Every muscle in Alex’s body tensed. “I assume you have reason for your confidence?”
“I do. I know what she’s searching for in a husband, and I’m her best choice.”
Annoyed by Jamie’s conclusions, even if they were accurate, Alex couldn’t resist pointing out, “Not her only choice, perhaps.”
Jamie didn’t miss his meaning. “Stay away from Meg.”
The words landed between them like a gauntlet dropped at Alex’s feet. Alex lifted his gaze and met Jamie’s hard stare with one of his own. He didn’t like being threatened. By anyone. “Or what?”
Jamie did not back down, even though they both knew that he would be on the losing side of any fight between them. There could well come a day when Jamie would prove a challenge to Alex’s battle skills, but that day was not now. If nothing else, Alex had to admire his courage.
“I have my suspicions about your true purpose in being at court,” Jamie said. “Suspicions that I’m sure my cousin Argyll would find interesting. Of course, they are only suspicions, and as such I will be happy to keep to myself.”
Alex smiled, though there was no amusement in the expression, only a warning. “You are more like your cousin than I realized. However, your suspicions and your attempts at blackmail are misplaced.”
“Then you have no intention of making Meg an offer of marriage?”
There it was. The question that rose like a rock wall in the path of his destiny. It was the question that had come to haunt him.
Many times this past week he’d been tempted to ask her to wait for him, but he knew he could not. Hell, he could very well be dead in a few weeks. At best, he would be considered a traitor. That was how most Lowlanders would see him for aiding his kin, the MacLeods of Lewis, in their fight to repel colonization by the Fife Adventurers. Alex wasn’t even sure that Meg wouldn’t agree. She had argued for a compromise with King James with respect to his Highland policies; she seemed unlikely to support armed warfare against the king’s men. A man who could soon be put to the horn was hardly the emblematic negotiator that Meg had in mind for a husband to better her clan’s position with the king.
Moreover, Alex would not risk placing her in more danger. The threat from Thomas Mackinnon had only just ended. If it were discovered that he was helping the MacLeods on Lewis, a connection with him would be dangerous. Very dangerous. His enemies could decide to use Meg to get to him.
When he did leave Edinburgh, Alex would make sure that Meg’s loyalty to King James was not in question because of a connection with him. It would be left to her father to determine how vocal his clan’s involvement with the effort to repel the Fife Adventurers would be. The Mackinnon chief would decide what to tell his daughter. Alex would not do so for him.
But Alex acknowledged that his reasons went even deeper. He could not be the leader she needed for her clan, not until he put his past behind him. The demons of second-guessing haunted him unrelentingly. If he could only go back and change the moment when he’d refused to surrender to Dougal, his cousins might still be alive. But he’d defied Dougal, even when the battle was lost. He’d been filled with all the arrogance of youth, the sense of invincibility. And his recklessness had cost his cousins their lives.
Now he had the opportunity to make retribution. What kind of man would he be to turn his back on his kin, on those he’d let down before?
Alex looked Jamie straight in the face. “I have no intention of making Mistress Mackinnon an offer of marriage.” He kept the bitter disappointment from his voice but was unable to prevent the uncomfortable tightening in his chest.
“Good.” Realizing that he’d perhaps come dangerously close to pressing his luck, Jamie retreated from Alex and made his way back to Meg’s side. Alex watched him with barely repressed fury.
Just then, as if Meg knew the direction of his thoughts, their eyes met. He felt a strange tightening that started in his core and spread through his entire body.
He knew she’d been watching him all week, confused by his sudden withdrawal. He didn’t want to hurt her. But he could not give her what she most needed. It was better that she realize it now.
Turning away, he broke the connection. Every day—nay, every minute in her presence was a chink in his armor of resolve. Soon there wo
uld be nothing left.
He only had to hold out a few more days. But it was damn difficult, when every fiber of his being craved the one thing he couldn’t have.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dougal slip out of the room. It was just the opportunity Alex had been waiting for. Any excuse to get the hell out of here before he did something he regretted, like storm over there, pull her into his arms, and kiss her until everyone in the room knew that she was his.
He tracked Dougal through the cool palace corridors in a direction that Alex quickly recognized. His instincts heightened as he realized this might be it, the proof he’d been waiting for. Curbing his excitement, he concentrated on not getting caught. Dougal checked behind him a number of times, almost as if he expected someone to be following him, but Alex anticipated his moves and quickly ducked out of sight. As he became even more certain of Dougal’s destination, he was able to drop farther and farther back, minimizing his chances of discovery.
When Dougal entered the same room where Alex had previously spied Seton and Balmerino, Alex knew his instincts had proved correct. The MacDonalds were double-crossing Rory and the other Highland chiefs. Cautiously, Alex approached the room, sliding into the same uncomfortable niche he’d hidden in before.
“Glad you could join us, MacDonald.”
Alex just caught the end of Lord Chancellor Seton’s greeting, but he’d heard enough to discern the sarcasm in his voice.
“Gentlemen,” Dougal said. “I apologize for the delay, Lord Chancellor, but it could not be helped. I wanted to make sure my departure from the hall was not remarked upon.”
“Do you have reason to be concerned?” Seton asked suspiciously. His voice sharpened. “Have you been compromised?”
“No, my lord,” Dougal replied hastily. “I just thought it prudent to keep an eye on the Highlanders that are here at court, especially Alex MacLeod. I don’t trust the man.”
“I’m not interested in your petty clan feuds, MacDonald,” Seton said. “I leave the barbarians to you. Do whatever you think is necessary. If the man is a threat, remove him. As I’ve just been telling the others, the king will not tolerate another failure. All contingencies must be accounted for. This time, the Fife Adventurers will colonize the Isle of Lewis.”