Today he wore a leather jerkin, and his plaid was still slung over his shoulder. Annabella was drawn again to the brooch on his shoulder. She wanted to step closer to see the crest at its centre, but would not dare increase their proximity. The man was like a burning flame and she the delicate moth drawn to it. She gazed across his broad chest and lower to his tapered waist, and lower still. She could not seem to help herself. He had a warrior’s build, with a rugged edge to him that she found impossible to ignore.
“Do you wish to touch it?”
She gasped, and her gaze shot up to lock with his. What a question to ask a lady! Her cheeks burned.
“The brooch, Lady Annabella. You have stared at it on more than one occasion. Would you like to take a closer look?”
As he spoke, he stepped closer to her. She started to take a step back, but he slipped his hands around her waist and drew her nearer. She had to tip her head almost all the way back now in order to meet his gaze.
He shoved his shoulder forward so she could see it better; the brooch was now eye-level with her. The amethyst stones were clear and beautiful. The crest in the centre of the brooch consisted of an armoured hand holding a cross, which sat atop a crown.
“Whether your cousin’s husband wishes to believe it or not, my father is king of the Western Isles. We recognize only his authority here.”
“Why are the stones amethyst?”
“To represent the colour of heather which blooms in late summer all over the Western Highlands. ‘Tis a most glorious sight.”
“And the motto,Per Mare Per Terrasmeans ‘by land and sea’. I have to admit, this place is nothing like I was led to believe.”
“You had thought us barbarians and uncivilized, but the reality is that our way of life requires more loyalty than you can imagine. We thrive when we work together up here. If one person fails to do their job, the rest of us suffer. That kind of commitment will not come if the people do not respect those who are sworn to protect them.” MacDonald stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “There is much you do not know about us.”
His mouth was mere inches from hers, and his warm breath fanned her face. He smelled of leather and something sweet, like honey. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, but dared not encourage him. He had claimed her lips before and she had become powerless against him. Surely there was magic in him to cast such a spell over her.
A heartbeat later, his expression masked. “I will grant you your message to your cousin, and will have parchment and quill brought up to you today, but in return you will grant me a favour.”
“And what is this favour?”
“You will dine with me this eve.”
“Only if you grant me one more favour.”
His brows raised. “Demanding wee lass, are you not?”
She smiled. She had him. “I wish to clean my signet, and require salt of ammonium.”
His jaw slacked, and for one brief moment Annabella was convinced her ruse had been unravelled before it had even been weaved.
After a few heartbeats, he smiled. “Very well, Lady Annabella. I will also send salt of ammonium.”
MacDonald released her then left the chamber. Annabella winced as the lock clicked into place.
* * *
Angus was determined to discover Lady Annabella’s scheme. There could be no other reason for her to want to send a message to her cousin but to share information about his intentions to release her.
What a clever little fox she was. Salt of ammonium? She must think him completely daft if he did not realize what she was up to. Either way, it appeared she had every intention of thwarting his plans.
The thought of her leaving did not sit well with him, and that should not be. He hardly knew the woman. She was his prisoner, and he should rejoice when she was gone. But worse—she would betray his trust. She owed him nothing, but loyalty was one of his clan’s greatest strengths. By sending a message to her cousin, she would prove that she was not worthy of his trust. That did not sit well with him, either. Logic, it would seem, had fled where the lass was concerned.
Angus left instructions with Osla to bring the parchment, quill, ink, and salt of ammonium to Lady Annabella. He frowned when she looked worried.
“Do you think that is wise, my lord?”
“Wise or no, I will allow it, and I will also read it myself before it is sent.”
“Very well,” she said. “I will have the items sent up immediately.”
Angus thanked her and went in search of Graham. His current worry would be abated if a message had been received from the Stewart. Angus located him in the armoury sharpening a broadsword.
