Alex heard the loud bang of a tankard slammed on the table. “Which wouldn’t be necessary had you done the job right in the first place. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just get it done. Now. Or ’tis you who will be the hunted.”
That the men had some foul purpose in mind was obvious, but there was something else about the conversation that bothered him. A feeling. They could have been speaking about the attack on the Mackinnons. Alex had assumed the attack had been random. But what if it hadn’t been? Could someone have been after Meg or her mother? But why? For what purpose?
Alex shook his head. He was being ridiculous. There was nothing in the men’s conversation to tie them to the attack on Meg. It was surely just a coincidence.
He turned back to his drink but could not quiet the persistent niggle of uncertainty. Was it too much of a coincidence? Could there have been another attack foiled in the Highlands by a group of skilled warriors?
The men stood up to leave. Alex slid out just enough on his bench to get a look at them. The first man was thinly built and of average height, with dark hair and sharply pointed features. His nose was long with a slight hook, and his eyes were deeply set with hooded lids. The second man had his back to him. He was large and heavyset, with scraggly dark red hair. Both men wore simple leather breeches and jerkins. Neither one seemed familiar, but Alex hadn’t seen all the attackers that day. Some of the villains had scattered quickly.
He was being foolish. Meg Mackinnon was a distraction he couldn’t afford. His sole focus must be on his mission. He took a final swig of his ale and set his tankard forcefully down on the wooden table.
But what if…
Alex cursed. He didn’t want to be drawn into the web of Meg Mackinnon. Heshouldjust walk away. But he just couldn’t ignore the sliver of suspicion. He’d keep an eye on her for a while, just to make sure. But as soon as he allayed this unreasonable concern, he intended to forget all about Meg Mackinnon.
Chapter 6
Now that she’d made her decision, Meg was anxious to have the matter resolved. Jamie had given her every indication that he intended to offer for her, and she intended to give him every opportunity to do so. But in the past few days, she’d seen very little of him.
Once she had secured a proposal, she could return to Dunakin Castle and the Isle of Skye. She’d been away from her father and brother for too long. Not to mention that she would have hours of reports to go over when she returned. But she knew that wasn’t the only reason she was so eager to leave Holyrood. Meg wanted to distance herself from Alex MacLeod and the strange feelings he aroused in her. Try as she might, she could not get the blasted man out of her head. It was embarrassing, really. She had always been careful to approach things logically, never allowing emotions to rule her head. But she couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at her or the way it felt when he’d had his hands—his very large, capable hands—on her. And neither could she forget the strength of her reaction to him or how much it had hurt when he’d found her appearance lacking.
It didn’t matter.
She’d made her decision. It was Jamie and not Alex MacLeod she should be worrying about.
When Jamie had not met them for a morning walk around the gardens as he usually did, Meg hadn’t been concerned. But when he’d skipped the midday meal, she’d wondered what could be keeping him. Jamie was usually so attentive, it was odd to have seen so little of him. Elizabeth mentioned that he’d received a missive from their cousin the Earl of Argyll this morning and had gone to discuss something with Lord Chancellor Seton. But she hadn’t heard from him since.
But it was her mother who truly gave Meg cause for concern. She was definitely up to something. Rosalind had spoken to Jamie earlier and had the look of a contented cat afterward. And it was her mother who had pointed her in the direction of the lord chancellor’s apartments.
Meg was not at all familiar with this wing of the palace—the section housing the apartments of Lord Chancellor Seton and his Privy Council. At court, unlike at Dunakin with her father, Meg did her best to avoid political discussions. She could see both sides of the issues facing her Highland clansmen and their Lowland adversaries, but at Holyrood there was no place for rational discourse. At Holyrood, it was all about power. And the king’s was greater than it had been in over one hundred years, since the fall of the Lordship of the Isles in 1493 to James IV. Change was coming for the Highlands, whether the chiefs wished it or not.
To prosper, the Mackinnons must learn to navigate the treacherous maze of Lowland government.
She strode purposefully down the corridor, methodically stopping to peer in each lavishly decorated room as she passed. Like the rest of the palace, the rooms had gilt-encrusted walls, heavily carved ceilings, and sumptuous jewel-toned velvets upholstered on the furniture. The king had been in debt for most of his reign, but his palaces showed no evidence of frugality.
Most of the chambers were empty, but a few, like this one, were occupied. Meg quickly scanned the men converging in the small antechamber for a tall man with a healthy head full of dark auburn hair. Not such an easy task in a palace full of Scotsmen.
Yet despite the profusion of red-haired men, something about Jamie stood out. It wasn’t just his size or handsome countenance. That realization took her aback. Jamie was actually quite handsome. She frowned. Odd that she’d never really noticed before. In some ways, Jamie was like a brother to her, as Elizabeth was like a sister. The three of them spent a great deal of time together. In addition to literature and philosophy, they discussed land administration, clan tensions, and politics. The Campbells were both open-minded and well-informed. She knew the way Jamie’s mind worked. She understood him. And he understood how hard she’d struggled to prove herself. Jamie would help her brother, leaving her free to manage the clan lands. Ian’s position would be protected with Jamie as her husband.
Moreover, Meg genuinely liked Jamie Campbell. And he was fond of her.
It would be enough. More important, her father would be thrilled with her choice.
Meg had just about given up her search when she heard voices coming from a room that she’d overlooked at the end of a dark corridor. She lifted her heavy skirts and hurried toward the sounds. Pausing at the entrance of a small library, she anxiously searched through the group of men gathered to pass the afternoon with the time-honored masculine pursuits of drinking and gaming.
And at last she found him, seated at a table, playing cards with the person she most wanted to avoid—Alex MacLeod. She fought the urge to turn right around. By now, she should have grown accustomed to his presence. But the effects of proximity to the man had not lessened one whit. Meg struggled to control the race of her pulse and the overwhelming sensation of heightened awareness that seemed to flow simply from being within a hundred paces of him.
Determined not to be affected, she turned immediately to Jamie. “Jamie, here you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Befuddled, Jamie said, “I’m sorry, Meg, was I supposed to meet you someplace?”
“No, but there is something I would like to discuss with you.” Her eyes flicked to Alex. “In private, if you don’t mind.”
Alex looked annoyed by her interruption. He leaned back and crossed his arms. His bulging muscular arms, folded across his broad chest, strained against the fabric of his thick doublet. Her mouth went dry. Such a raw display of manly power left her in a bit of a stupor. She’d never noticed how alluring arms could be. What would it feel like to be enfolded by those strong arms and crushed against that hard, broad chest?
“As you can see, Mistress Mackinnon, Jamie here and I are in the middle of a hand of maw,” he said, indicating the cards before him. He glanced around meaningfully. “Surely your discourse can wait.”
Jamie frowned at Alex. “Of course we can take a break—”
