He stole a sidelong glance at her as they walked. Her hair, the color of ripe cherries, was tied back loosely, stray tendrils dancing around her face and she was humming a soft melody under her breath.
His breathing quickened. His fingers ached to touch her. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless. But he couldn’t.
Joseph’s warning rang in his head. It might not hurthisreputation to take Charlotte into his bed—but it would certainly harm hers. It was unfair but it was the way of the world. So he fixed his eyes firmly on their path and kept his hands by his sides.
They had reached the manor’s gates and were just about to enter the courtyard when Niall heard hoofbeats behind them. He turned and saw a rider on a horse as black as night thundering towards them up the southern road.
Niall stiffened at the sight, instinctively stepping closer to Charlotte and his hand going to the dagger strapped at his waist. He noted the ornate embroidery on the man’s doublet—gold thread woven into intricate patterns that gleamed in the evening sun. That alone screamed wealth and power.
But it was the pattern of the plaid that gave away the man’s identity long before he yanked his horse to a halt in front of them, kicking up clouts of mud.
Boyd MacAllister.
The man was pale with anger as he glared down at Niall. “What is the meaning of this, Campbell?”
Niall gave the man his most charming smile and affected a mocking bow. “And a good evening to ye. Although I’m afraid I canna answer yer question as I have no idea what ye are talking about.”
MacAllister’s face twisted in fury as he dismounted his horse with a swift, agile movement. “Dinna play games with me,” he spat, his voice cold and sharp. All pretense of polite gentility that he might practise in the capital was gone. “Why have ye taken my tenants onto yer lands?”
“Yertenants?” Niall replied, rubbing his chin in thought. “Odd. I thought ye and my brother evicted them from both yer lands. For sheep, I’ve been told. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding and ye are here to escort them back to their homes?”
MacAllister scowled. “We both know ye dinna have the means to house so many so what are ye up to? Trying to undermine my authority? Trying to ferment rebellion against me and yer brother?”
A spark of anger lit in Niall’s belly, seeping into his tone. “Rebellion? Is that what ye think I’m doing? Perhaps I should expect such paranoia from someone so well versed in the art.” Now it was Niall’s turn to drop the polite façade and he stepped forward and put his face close to MacAllister’s. “What I do on my lands is my own business,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “And I suggest ye think very carefully next time before ye come onto my land flinging around accusations.”
“Yerland?” MacAllister hissed. “We all know it’s only yer land because ye wheedled and connived yer way to it. Because ye sold yer soul and betrayed yer family to Alba’s enemies.”
“Careful now,” Niall said softly. “Ye tread dangerous ground. These lands were granted me by the king himself. Ishethe enemy of Alba ye speak of? Surely not. I’m sure ye dinna mean to speak treason.”
MacAllister paled slightly, perhaps realizing he’d said too much. He took a step back and his eyes darted to Charlotte. A second later, his eyes widened in recognition and he smirked.
“Ah! The counterfeit Countess of Argyle! The lass who’s caused such a stir in Edinburgh society. So this is where ye’ve hidden her! I might have guessed ye’d taken her as yer doxy. Is she another prize ye gained for yer treachery?”
Niall felt his fists clench. Suddenly his fury was a living, breathing thing, threatening to consume him. MacAllister could insulthimall he liked but he would be dead before he would allow him to speak to Charlotte in such a manner.
But, it seemed, Charlotte didn’t need defending. She stepped forward, her eyes blazing as she faced up to MacAllister.
“What did you just call me?” she snapped. “Doxy, was it? How the hell dare you? I’ve met some arrogant pieces of shit in my time but I think you’ve just taken the trophy!”
MacAllister blinked, taken aback. Clearly, he wasn’t used to women standing up to him.
“I’m Lord Boyd MacAllister,” he replied, his voice dripping with condescension. “And I suggest ye remember yer place.”
Charlotte snorted and poked him in the chest. “Myplace,”she growled. “Is wherever I damn well please. And right now, it’s here, in Niall’s company. You don’t get to dictate where I go, who I associate with, or how I live my life. So take your over-inflated ego and your narrow-minded views and kindly stuff them where the sun doesn’t shine!”
MacAllister’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish. “Ye...ye canna speak to me like that!”
“I just did,” Charlotte retorted, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. “And if you have a problem with that, you can take it up with my fists.”
Niall could have kissed her right then and there. The fury in her eyes, the power in her voice...she was magnificent. He doubted MacAllister had ever been spoken to like that before in his life and it was way overdue.
Niall stepped up to Charlotte’s side and glared at MacAllister. “I suggest ye leave,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “Before either of us do something we’ll regret.”
A nerve twitched in MacAllister’s cheek. He glanced between him and Charlotte then whirled and remounted his horse. He yanked the reins, bringing the horse around in a tight circle.
“This isnae over, Campbell,” he growled. “Ye’ve just made a powerful enemy.”
“Aye?” Niall said, meeting the lord’s furious stare. “Well, ye will have to get in line.”
