“I was looking for my mother. I might ask you the same question. Why are you here?”
“It’s none of your damn business.”
She felt oddly deflated; part of her had hoped he would deny it. “You’re right, it’s not. And what you were doing is quite obvious. You may dally with whomever you wish, wherever you wish,” she said thickly, her throat tightening. “But next time, you might choose not to do it in the open, where anyone might see you.”
He pulled her even closer. “When I want advice from you, my sweet, I’ll ask for it.”
Heat seemed to radiate through her. She could swear she felt the fierce pounding of his heart against hers. The pulse at his jaw twitched. Every muscle in his body tensed with restraint; he seemed to be holding himself by a very thin thread.
Her own breathing was shallow and erratic. She was deeply conscious of the heavy rise and fall of her chest against him. He held her so tight, her breasts swelled high over her stays. A warm flush spread over her when she realized her nipples had hardened against him. Every part of her body felt heavy and achingly sensitive.
Tension crackled between them. His gaze dropped to her mouth.Dear God, he was going to kiss her.The strength of her desire rose high inside her, threatening to erupt, but she struggled to tamp it down. Her duty lay with Jamie. Her voice, when it came, was ragged. “Let go of me.”
From the expression on his face, Meg could see his shock. Without another word, he released her. This time Meg ran.
Chapter 7
“Margaret, stop fidgeting.”
“Ouch!” Meg cried, trying to evade the torture of her mother’s comb raking through her mop of tangled curls. The night of the masque had arrived, and with it the fulfillment of her promise to her mother.A promise made under duress,Meg thought crossly. “I’m not fidgeting. I don’t know why I agreed to this, especially after your part in arranging our escort for the evening.”
“You agreed because you want to make your mother happy,” her mother said. “And it will make me happy to see to your hair and wardrobe tonight.” She sighed dramatically. “You are a beautiful girl, darling, if only you’d attend to your appearance the way you attend to the rents.”
“The rents are important, the way I wear my hairisn’t,” Meg answered patiently, as if this were the first time they’d had this conversation rather than the hundredth. “And you can see how much trouble it is to tame this unruly mess.”
Her mother shook her head with disbelief and attempted a stern expression, failing miserably. It was impossible for her mother to ever look sharply at anyone. “I don’t know why you are so upset about our escort for the evening. Alex MacLeod is a perfectly delightful man.”
“I’m upset because you promised not to interfere. Besides, your efforts are all for naught. I’ve already decided that if he asks, I’m going to marry Jamie.”
Her mother frowned. “But you don’t love Jamie. I’ve seen the way you look at Laird MacLeod. You are obviously attracted to him. All I’ve done is arrange it so that you can spend some time with him. You should be thanking me.”
Meg’s cheeks heated. Her mother was far too observant. “I’m not blind, Mother. I’ll admit he’s handsome—forsooth, who wouldn’t? But there’s a difference between physical attraction and true sentiment. Besides, he has no interest in me.”
Her mother put down the comb and crossed her arms. “Fiddlesticks.”
Meg’s eyes widened. For her soft-spoken mother, that was akin to a curse.
“Youareblind if you can’t see that Alex MacLeod is far more than a handsome face. He is a laird in his own right, brother to one of the most powerful chiefs in the Highlands, a commanding presence, a warrior of obvious skill, intelligent, and witty. And more important, he can’t seem to take his eyes off you.”
“You’re imagining things,” she said, tamping down the swell of pleasure that her mother’s words inspired. “For heaven’s sake, Mother, he’s a mercenary. He sells his sword to the highest bidder.”
“Well, you have more than enough gold to bid.”
“Mother!”
Her mother lifted her pointed chin in a remarkable imitation of stubbornness. “We could use a good warrior at Dunakin.”
“We need more than a good fighter. What of loyalty? Have you not heard of his falling-out with his brother? How could I trust his loyalty to Ian?”
Rosalind waved her hand as if Meg’s concerns were meaningless. “Gossip.”
Meg couldn’t hide her frustration, especially since her mother seemed to be voicing the very thing she herself refused to consider. She could not risk her brother’s future, her clan’s future, on an unknown. After all, what did she really know about Alex MacLeod?
He was a man with questionable loyalties who’d arrived at court under an air of mystery and subterfuge. Why did he not want anyone to know he was near Skye? Why was he socializing with men who should be his enemies? And why had he been so quick to accuse her of spying on him? He was hiding something, of that she was sure.
Admittedly, he was an exceptional warrior. He had all of a warrior’s command and natural authority, without the usual arrogant swagger. But although his leadership skills might have impressed her on the battlefield, she didn’t know whether he had the cunning to lead her clan into the future in dealing with the king’s men. And most important, would he stay loyal to her brother, or would he try to claim power for himself? There was something else that bothered her. She sensed something simmering under the surface, something that he struggled to contain. Alex MacLeod was a man of dangerous passions.
She couldn’t trust him. Not enough to risk her brother’s future and her own. Nothing had changed. Jamie was still the only choice. “Stop interfering, Mother,” she said sharply. “I know what I’m doing.”
