Highlander Unmasked Read online

Chapter 20

  Near Stornoway, Isle of Lewis

  Alex wiped the dirt from his eyes with the back of his hand and succeeded only in smearing it from one corner of his eye to the other. God’s blood, what I’d do right now for a bath and a fresh leine. Three weeks of living in virtual squalor, with an occasional dunk in the salty sea loch to rinse off the caked-on layers of filth, had begun to chafe.

  He was ready for this battle to end. And if all went as planned, it would—soon.

  From his post along the rocky banks of Arnish point, the small horn of land that served as a perfect lookout into Stornoway harbor, Alex kept his vigilant watch. Weariness tugged at his eyelids, but his steady gaze swept back and forth across the water. Even with the full moon, it was dark as molasses out here, and since the mist had descended a few hours ago, the night was nearly impenetrable. The conditions, however, only contributed to the general sense of unease. His senses were flared on high alert, the threat of danger unnaturally ripe on an eerie night like this.

  Normally, the anticipation of coming danger would invigorate him. But no longer did he draw overriding satisfaction from the thought of battle. No longer was it enough.

  Fighting with his kin on Lewis should be the culmination of his ambitions. Leading. Making decisions in the heat of battle. Testing himself. Undeniably, the hard work and training of the last few years had paid off. With much smaller numbers than their foe, the MacLeods’ precision attacks had seriously crippled the Fife Adventurers’ position on Lewis. Soon, it would all be over and he would have the decisive victory that he’d sought for years. His kin would have their land, and Highlanders would have their justice against the machinations of a greedy and bloodthirsty king.

  Alex should be ecstatic. Yet, inexplicably, success rang hollow.

  Instead, all he could think about was Meg and how horribly he’d hurt her. He dreamed of her at night. He pictured her face at the most inopportune times during the day. He couldn’t forget her gut-wrenching expression that morning, the heartbreak, the utter anguish. And during the long, lonely nights, he remembered all too well the erotic sensation of her body pressed against his. Even the mere thought caused his body to stir. He’d been too long without a woman, but from the moment he’d met her, she was the only woman who could sate his maddening lust.

  For three long years, he’d lived and breathed nothing but battle. Now, however, something had changed. He’d changed. The all-encompassing drive for vengeance that had shadowed him unrelentingly since Binquihillin had quieted. No longer did the force of his single-minded determination snuff out everything else around him. For he knew what this battle had cost him.

  He smiled sadly. Meg Mackinnon was proving to be as much of a distraction in her absence as she had been at court. Perhaps more so. The burning emptiness in his chest was a constant reminder of all that he’d lost.

  Out of the darkness, the sound of footsteps drew his attention from his melancholy. The soft hoot of a short-eared owl identified the intruder as a friend.

  “See anything?”

  Alex turned to find Neil MacLeod, his cousin and current MacLeod claimant to Lewis, at his side. He shook his head. “No, but with the supply ship scheduled to arrive in a couple of days, I’m making damn certain there aren’t any surprises. Dougal MacDonald is missing.”

  “Since when?”

  “A few days ago. He didn’t return from your last errand.”

  “Fool’s errand.”

  Alex smiled, thinking of the various “missions” they’d sent Dougal on the past few weeks, all fraught with misinformation. “Yes, it was only a matter of time before he realized that we were on to him. But I don’t want anything interfering with our plans to intercept that ship.”

  “And with it our best chance to take the castle.”

  “Aye,” Alex answered. So far, it had been a delicate game of cat and mouse. They might not have had the fighting force to prevent the Lowland scourge from landing and taking the castle, but they’d had men enough to sink most of the Fife Adventurers’ cargo. And with the help of Rory’s spies, they’d prevented more food and supplies from getting through. With the MacLeods’ constant raids, the Adventurers’ stores must be dangerously low. “They need this shipment and will send out enough men to make sure they get it. We will take advantage of their desperation.”

  “You have a plan?”

  Alex picked up a stick to scratch out a map in the rocky mud at his feet to illustrate his points. “I’ll intercept the ship and divest it of its crew and cargo. A few of my men will row it through the harbor, and I’ll circle around with the rest of my men to attack those waiting on shore from behind. At the same time, while the defenders are distracted, you will mount your attack on the castle.”

  Neil nodded, stroking the long hairs on his chin into a fine point. “It should work. You won’t have many men.”

  “I won’t need many. My men are well trained. I’ll take a handful of MacLeods and MacGregors over an army of Lowlanders any day.”

  Neil laughed. “You’re probably right.” He looked back down at Alex’s sketch, barely visible in the moonlight. “And with the castle considerably weakened by its defenders, it will be our best chance yet to take it.”

  “The ‘colonists’ are already demoralized. One more defeat should send the Fife Adventurers scurrying back to the Lowlands—for a second time.”

  Alex stood up, wiping out the plan with his foot. The two men stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching and waiting for the slightest disturbance in the rhythmic sounds of the night.

  A sudden movement caught Alex’s eye, the vague shadow of a boat slipping stealthily across the waves.

  “Who the hell is that?” Neil asked.

  “I don’t know,” Alex said, peering intently into the darkness. His hand reached over his back to grasp his claymore. He was just about to give the signal for an attack when he heard the distinctive hoot of the owl. His grip on his sword relaxed. A friend. As the birlinn drew nearer, Alex recognized one of the Mackinnon’s men.

  He blinked and then rubbed his eyes again. He must be more tired than he thought, because he could swear that he saw the distinctive form of a woman perched near the helm of the boat.

  The birlinn drew closer. His pulse climbed.

  No. Not just any woman.

  Meg.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Jamie grumbled as the birlinn slid toward a small inlet along the eastern coast of Lewis banded by a small horn, just south of Stornoway harbor.

  In truth, over the last few hours, Meg had questioned the wisdom of her plan herself. Their “simple” journey had been much more difficult—and taken far longer—than she’d expected. The winds were light, forcing the men to row harder than usual. But she refused to be dissuaded from her purpose.

  She pulled her cloak tight across her chest to ward off a sudden chill. The mist had descended without warning. “Of course I do,” she said, lifting her chin stubbornly. “You worry needlessly. My mother agreed to let me go, didn’t she?”

  “With the way you presented our wee errand, it’s hardly a surprise.”

  Meg’s lips curved into a sly grin. “Can I help it if she’s a hopeless romantic? And I thought my analogy to the heroic deeds of Roland was inspired.”

  Despite his somber mood since they’d departed Skye, Jamie chuckled. “I never realized you had such prolific talent as a bard. You spun a tale so fanciful, I’m surprised you didn’t cast blame on the fairies.”

  Meg shrugged. “No need to gild the lily. An allusion to a heroic journey interrupted by unrequited love and an ambush to rival that of Ganelon’s for Roland did the trick.”

  Jamie shot her a look, wanting to challenge her use of the word unrequited. Instead, he shook his head and sighed deeply. “It’s not Rosalind that I’m thinking about—it’s Alex.”

  The thought of Alex’s reaction to her arrival caused an annoying, and not insubstantial, shiver of apprehension to run down her sp