Highlander Unmasked Read online

  “Shall we try again?” Dougal asked pleasantly. “Surrender, or I will give my men leave to kill them all.”

  The taste of defeat bitter on his tongue, Alex turned to the rest of his men. His pride had killed his cousins, it wouldn’t kill the rest of them. “Throw down your arms,” he said hoarsely. “’Tis over.”

  The pipers had longed ceased playing as Alex and the surviving MacLeods were bound and led away—prisoners instead of victors.

  Twenty-two of his clansmen were left dead in the “Corrie of the Foray.”

  Dead under his command.

  And now the man who’d murdered his cousins and held Alex prisoner for those long months afterward stood not twenty feet in front of him, with his vile hands on Meg and a familiar gloating smile twisting his mouth. At one time, that smile had held the power to make Alex lose control, but no longer.

  Alex’s face was a mask of ice while rage festered inside him like an open wound. Every instinct cried out for battle, to avenge his cousins’ deaths, to raise his sword and crush Dougal MacDonald into the ground. He struggled to contain that hatred rising inside him, threatening to erupt. Hatred that would turn this glittering hall into a melee of death and destruction. But he would never allow Dougal MacDonald to see his anger.

  Slowly the shock ebbed, replaced by cold certainty. Alex would have his retribution; he and Dougal would cross swords again. But not here. This was not the place.

  There was only one way to atone for his past, and that was to help his cousins defeat the incursion by the Fife Adventurers. Seeing Dougal had done one thing: It had brought back the importance of his mission full force, reminding him of why he’d driven himself so relentlessly the last five years. All the fighting, all the toil, had been to bring him to this point.

  Nothing would divert him from his path.

  His gaze shifted to Meg, and he could see the hesitancy in her gaze, as if she realized something had changed. It had. He’d allowed himself to be distracted by a green-eyed enchantress. Lust had made him temporarily lose his focus, but it would not happen again. Hell, he’d had a chance to follow Seton and had wasted it on jealousy.

  Meg Mackinnon was not for him.

  With one last deadly glance at Dougal, Alex turned on his heel and headed in the direction he’d last seen Lord Chancellor Seton. His mission was all that mattered. It had taken Dougal MacDonald to remind him of the stakes.

  Alex would find the information he needed to help save his kin, the MacLeods of Lewis.

  Or die trying.

  Chapter 8

  Meg was trying to stay focused on the man before her. If she hadn’t already decided upon Jamie, perhaps she would be more attentive. By all accounts, Dougal MacDonald would be a good match—the MacDonalds controlled a considerable portion of Skye—but something about the man rubbed her the wrong way. He was physically imposing, nearly as large as Alex, and attractive enough, she supposed. On the surface, he seemed quite charming. But beneath the flattery and warm smiles, Meg detected a ruthless glint in his hard blue eyes.

  But her wariness where Dougal was concerned wasn’t the only reason she was distracted. Her thoughts kept sliding back to Alex. Where was he? She’d wanted him to leave her alone, to stop confusing her…or had she? His expression when she’d left him with Bianca had been priceless. It was no less than he deserved for his high-handedness; he had no call to order her about. But Meg had immediately regretted her actions when she saw how stunning they looked together on the dance floor. Alex had made no secret of his unwillingness to partner with Bianca, but Meg had felt a twinge of something suspiciously like jealousy all the same.

  He had no right to dictate to her, no right to kiss her. A kiss that had lingered on her lips long after he was done. She knew she should stop thinking about it; it was a momentary lapse, that was all.

  Realizing her gaze was wandering again, she forced her eyes back on Dougal. He was looking at her expectantly, and she realized he’d asked her something. When she asked him to repeat it, he leaned closer, much closer than was necessary. She tried not to show her discomfort. After all, she was hardly an expert in courtly flirtations.

  “I was sorry to hear about your father’s illness,” he repeated. “I heard there was some trouble.” At her obviously confused look, he continued, “With the issue of his successor undecided and all.”

  Her eyes narrowed, surprised that the grumbling of a few of her father’s men would have reached the MacDonalds. She smiled thinly. “I’m afraid you are misinformed. My brother is my father’s tanaiste.”

  He smiled indulgently. “But his, uh…limitations…make the situation uncertain, do they not?”

  Meg fought to control her temper. “They do not.”

  Perhaps realizing that he’d overstepped his bounds, he at once turned contrite. “Of course. Of course. I could see for myself on my stay at Dunakin last month that the rumors of Ian being a half-wit were greatly exaggerated.”

  Meg stiffened, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “And I suppose if you were married, if you had a strong husband…maybe even one whose lands closely border your own?”

  Pretending that she didn’t realize he was talking about himself, she forced a smile. She’d thought his visit to Dunakin soon after her father’s recovery odd, but now she realized it had been with a purpose to woo her for marriage.

  When she didn’t respond, he said, “Walk with me outside. I yearn to see whether you are as beautiful by moonlight as you are by candlelight.”

  His finger trailed down her arm. Meg could not repress an involuntary shiver of distaste at his touch, but she literally flinched when his finger grazed her breast. Had he done that on purpose? She looked at him sharply, but his gaze revealed nothing. Now Meg was becoming very uncomfortable. “Perhaps later,” she said, keeping her voice light. “I’ve just returned from taking a turn outside.”

  “With Alex MacLeod?” he snapped.

  “Yes,” she answered, surprised that he’d been watching her so closely. “Do you know him?”

  “You might say that.”

  She didn’t like the tone of his voice. “Do you know him well, then?” They couldn’t be friends; the MacLeods and the MacDonalds had generations of enmity between them.

  For an instant, the thin veneer of charm cracked beneath the divulgence of a snide smile. “You might say we lived closely together at one time. But you can ask him all about it, he’s heading this way. With the devil nipping at his heels, I’d say by that black look on his face.”

  Meg looked over her shoulder to see a furious-looking Alex bearing down on them quickly from across the room. Intuitively, as she’d never inspired such an emotion before, Meg recognized his jealousy. Misplaced though it might be.

  Then suddenly, when almost upon them, he froze. His eyes locked on Dougal, and his eyes flashed with such intense hatred that she felt scorched in its wake. Alex looked as if he could kill him. But it was his expression only moments later, utterly devoid of emotion, that truly scared her. He looked cold and determined. And so remote that she knew he’d moved beyond her reach. Turning on his heel, without sparing her another glance, Alex strode away in the opposite direction. Away from her. Almost as if he no longer wanted anything to do with her.

  Something was terribly wrong.

  Her only thought was to go to him, to help, to see what could have caused such desolation. And such hatred.

  Meg forgot all about Dougal and pushed her way through the crowd, heading toward Alex. But before she could reach him, he’d disappeared. She turned around helplessly, searching the sea of inquiring faces gawking at her. But he was gone.

  She had to find him. For Meg knew that if she did not, he might just slip beyond her reach forever.

  Dougal MacDonald hid his outrage beneath a lazy smile as he watched his intended bride flee the hall, scampering after Alex MacLeod. She’d seemed oblivious to the whispers that followed or to the fact that she’d just abandoned him in the middle of the room.