The struggle for dominance between the two powerful branches of Somerled’s descendants—the MacDonalds and the MacDougalls—dominated West Highland politics. Right now the MacDougalls, who’d aligned themselves with Edward, were favored, but that would all change when Bruce reclaimed his crown. Seeing John MacDougall of Lorn suffer would be just as satisfying as seeing Edward kicked back to England with his English tail between his legs.
Erik could have tried to get the message through by boat, but it would be much simpler to swim—simpler for him, at least. The castle guards would be on the watch for a boat, but they wouldn’t be expecting a swimmer.
He grinned. It would be unexpected. Dangerous. Extreme. Just the way he liked it.
And it had worked. Last night he’d swum the two-mile divide between Spoon Island and Dunaverty and passed a message to one of his cousin’s men.
As Erik approached the door of Meg’s house, he heard the muffled rumble of Duncan’s laughter mixed with the much lighter—almost girlish—tinkle of a woman’s. Not Meg’s, he knew instinctively, but Ellie’s.
Something about the sound didn’t sit well with him. With a perfunctory knock, he pushed the door open.
And stopped cold.
Duncan had his hands around Ellie’s waist to lift her high in the air, as she reached for something on one of the large store shelves built into the rafters along the edge of the ceiling. But all Erik could see was his kinsman’s eyes fastened on her bottom, the surprisingly shapely curve of which was revealed all too clearly in the borrowed oldleine, the linen thin from wear.
Ellie and Duncan startled at the interruption. Duncan’s grip slid from around her waist, and Ellie cried out when he nearly dropped her. But Duncan managed to catch her in his arms before she fell to the floor.
Bloody convenient, Erik thought, every nerve ending set at a blistering edge.
Ellie’s look of surprise turned to amusement as she met Duncan’s gaze, and they both burst out laughing again. Ignoring Erik’s presence entirely.
“I think maybe we should have gotten the ladder after all,” she said. Her eyes suddenly grew concerned. “Is your arm all right?”
Duncan laughed. “My arm is fine, lass, just like I told you. I could lift a wee thing like you with one arm—injured or nay. You must give me another chance to prove it to you or my pride will be wounded beyond repair.” He gave her a wink. “Besides, this is much more fun than a ladder.”
Erik almost felt sorry for his kinsman, knowing that Ellie was impervious to much more skillful flirting than his cousin’s feeble attempts at charm. Anticipating the set-down she was about to make, he was shocked instead to see a very maidenly blush stain Ellie’s cheeks.
Erik would have been dumbfounded, but he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about ripping Ellie out of his cousin’s arms, and then perhaps driving his fist through Duncan’s crooked grin.
His eyes narrowed on the other man. His mother claimed there was a resemblance between the cousins, but he didn’t see it. Duncan’s hair was darker, and Erik was at least two inches taller and had three stone of muscle on his younger-by-three-years kinsman.
Ellie finally remembered he was there. She glanced over him—briefly—then gave Duncan a little nod in Erik’s direction. “Perhaps we should see what your captain wants before we try again?”
Duncan didn’t appear to be in any hurry to set her down—until he met Erik’s gaze. With a puzzled frown, he reluctantly set her feet to the floor.
Erik felt his blood cool—marginally.
“Did you want something, Captain?”
Erik bit back the inexplicable rage he was feeling toward his kinsman. “Why aren’t you at your post?” he snapped.
Ellie stepped in front of him, and Erik would have laughed if the protective gesture didn’t irritate him so much. “It was my fault,” she said. “Meg asked me to fix a tincture for Thomas when he woke, and I couldn’t reach the rosemary hanging from the ceiling, so I asked Duncan to help me bring the ladder in from outside.”
Duncan grinned at her appreciatively. “And I told her we didn’t need a ladder.”
Since when had his only-think-of-battle cousin turned into such a rogue?
“Duncan has been a wonderful help,” Ellie said.
Erik could hear his teeth grinding together.I’m sure he bloody well has. “Unfortunately, Duncan is needed down at camp.”
One of his cousin’s brows shot up as if he knew Erik was lying. “I am?”
The look on Erik’s face must have convinced him. “I’m afraid the rosemary will have to wait, lass,” Duncan apologized. “But I’ll be back.”
The hell you will. If Erik couldn’t trust his own cousin to control himself, he was going to be forced to watch the lass himself. He was the one responsible for her, after all. One kiss didn’t mean he couldn’t control himself. He’d merely been taken by surprise that such an ordinary lass could get him so … hot. He was sure the novelty had worn off.
But when the door closed behind Duncan, the room suddenly felt very small. Ellie moved to stand before the fire, watching him, but she kept her distance, as if she sensed the strange energy in the room as well. Yet that only exacerbated the restlessness teeming inside him, as he could see the curve of her breasts and hips outlined in the light.
