Highlander Unmasked Read online

  He just never thought he’d be forced to cut out his heart to save his lost soul.

  Hours later, her tears at last extinguished, a soft knock on the door broke her reverie. “Meg, it’s me.” She recognized Jamie’s voice. “I know you’re in there. Please, I must speak with you.”

  Jamie was the last person she wanted to see. Well, second to last. But she also owed him an explanation. Assuming she could find one. She rose from her seat by the window and straightened her skirts and hair, knowing there was nothing she could do to hide her tearstained cheeks and eyes.

  Slowly, she opened the door. “Jamie,” she said in a much weaker voice than normal. “I’m surprised you’re here”—her eyes dropped to the floor self-consciously—“after last night.”

  “We’re friends, Meg. Nothing has changed that. May I come in?”

  She nodded, relieved that he hadn’t said anything about her appearance. “Of course, if you want to. But I’m afraid I’m not very good company right now.”

  Jamie moved into the room and closed the door behind him. “I wouldn’t disturb you if it wasn’t important.”

  She nodded and led him into the adjoining parlor, a room that she usually found pleasure in. The neat orderliness was strangely calming. She glanced at a section of books in the cupboard: Seneca, Shakespeare, Sidney, Sophocles, Spenser, every book alphabetized and aligned perfectly. But she felt…nothing. Empty. She wondered if she would ever feel anything again.

  There were two seating areas, one around a small fireplace and one near a small window. A vase of white roses was perfectly centered on a small table in the center of the room, two enameled boxes placed in front equidistant from the vase. She indicated for him to sit before the window, then took a seat next to him on the small bench.

  Jamie took her hand in his, surprising her. Deeply embarrassed, she dropped her gaze to her lap.

  “I need to apologize for what happened last night,” he began.

  Her head jerked up, and her eyes widened. “What are you talking about? If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I feel horrible.”

  He shook his head. “Please, let me explain. I had no right to barge into Alex’s room. I was angry and worried about you. I regret that I forced the very thing that I’d hoped to prevent.”

  His kindness only made her feel worse. She’d treated him badly, and he’d been nothing but a friend to her. “Jamie, I’m so sorry—”

  He squeezed her hand, cutting off her reply. “I’d be honored if you would consent to be my wife.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You must be joking.”

  He bristled at her astonishment. “I’m quite serious. I would never jest about something so important.”

  “But, Jamie,” she started, still aghast. “After what you witnessed, surely you can’t want to marry me.”

  “I care for you very much, Meg. We share many of the same interests, we think alike.” He smiled at her. “It is a good match, our families would approve. And nothing Alex MacLeod does can change that.”

  Meg couldn’t believe it. She’d never dreamed that Jamie would still want to marry her. He was offering her the ability to salvage everything she’d worked for.

  She studied his face, searching. “But do you love me?” she asked quietly.

  “Of course I love you. I love you as much as I love my sister—”

  “That’s just it,” she interrupted, a crooked smile on her lips. “Don’t you see? I’m not your sister. Are you in love with me?”

  A flush stained his cheeks. “Of course I’m in love with you, whatever ‘in love’ means.”

  “If you have to ask, you are not in love with me.”

  Jamie raked his fingers through his hair. “Meg, why is this so important? Our positions dictate that we marry where our duty lies. You have a duty to your father”—she flinched at the blunt reminder—“to marry. A marriage tie with the Campbells is just what your clan needs. I can help Ian. I can protect your clan. I want you to have a choice. You don’t need to marry Alex MacLeod. He’s not what you think.”

  No, he wasn’t. “I’m not marrying Alex.”

  Jamie looked taken aback. “But I thought—”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Good, then marry me.”

  “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself, Jamie. I don’t blame you for anything. I knew what I was doing.”

  “I assure you, Meg,” he said stiffly, “marrying you would not be a sacrifice.”

  She reached for his hand. “Don’t be angry. I meant no offense. You are a good friend, Jamie. You must think me terribly ungracious. To ask me to marry you after what you saw…Well, not many men would do that.”

  “Now is not the right time.” He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t decide right now. I’m confident that when you’ve had time to think over my offer, you will realize that it is indeed for the best.” He cupped her chin with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I do love you. I will make you happy.”

  Her eyes misted. She nodded, seeming to reach a decision. “You are truly a good friend, I don’t deserve you. I must return to Dunakin. Perhaps on Skye things will seem more clear.”

  “Very well, then. Talk it over with your father. You will see that what I’m proposing is best, when you are away from here.”

  She knew what he meant. Away from Alex MacLeod.

  Chapter 18

  Dunakin, Isle of Skye, September 1605

  Three weeks was apparently time enough to fall in love, but not long enough to fall out of love. Meg had this unfortunate truth drummed into her head each morning when she woke, hoping this would be the day that she forgot about Alex, this would be the day she could get on with her life and put Edinburgh behind her.

  She grimaced. Three weeks, three years, it didn’t make a difference. She would remember. Everything. Every detail of those precious few weeks rolled through her mind as vivid as if it were yesterday. Alex’s strength and natural command. The way he walked into a room and made every other man superfluous. The calm under pressure and immediate control he displayed in the midst of danger. The way he made her feel safe. But most of all, she remembered the exquisite pressure of his arms around her, the warmth of his skin heating hers, the way her heart fluttered when he kissed her, and the erotic sensation of him inside her. Filling her. Making her complete.

  She tried to forget. Oh, she made a valiant effort to force him out of her mind by conjuring up the last image that she had of him, when he’d broken her heart and then simply walked away. But nothing could erase the haunting memories of love and passion before the betrayal.

  She still loved the man she thought he was—even if that man had never really existed.

  The shock waned, but not the pain. It would be a constant reminder of her mistake.

  “What are you doing cloistered up here again, dearest?” Rosalind’s chirpy voice startled her from her reverie.

  Meg turned, meeting the worried gaze of her mother. “Enjoying the view. I love this part of the old tower. It’s so peaceful up here, watching the birlinns cross the kyle.”

  “Tallying the daily profits, are you?”

  Meg smiled. For hundreds of years, since her enterprising ancestor “Saucy Mary” strung a heavy chain across the kyle, the Mackinnons had collected tolls for boats passing through the narrow strait that separated Skye from the mainland. Tallying profits was what she should be doing, would be doing, if she could concentrate on anything other than…

  She shook her head, clearing her mind. “No, not today.”

  “With Michaelmas approaching, I expected you to be huddled with your father somewhere.” Rosalind approached the chair where Meg was seated. Her dainty fingers cupped Meg’s chin, tilting her face gently. Soulful green eyes gazed at her with sadness. “What’s wrong, love? You have not been acting yourself ever since we returned from court. I never thought I’d complain of such things, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you read a book,