Highlander Unmasked Read online

  “You’ve certainly met your share of them,” Elizabeth agreed. “But with your list of requirements in a husband, I fear you are going to have to expand your search.”

  Meg lifted a brow, intrigued. “How so?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes danced. “Perhaps one man is not enough.”

  Meg would have laughed if it didn’t feel as though Elizabeth might be right. Already two weeks gone, and she was no closer to finding a husband than when she’d first arrived. Her task was proving much more difficult than she’d originally anticipated. It almost made her understand why marriages were arranged by fathers. Initially, she’d considered herself fortunate to choose her own husband. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure. Less than a month remained before they must return to Dunakin in preparation for Michaelmas. Yet despite the urgency of the situation, try as she might, Meg just couldn’t muster up the proper enthusiasm for the task at hand.

  As if to prove her point, a man not much taller than her, dressed head to toe in shiny white satin with his trunk hose puffed out as wide as a pumpkin, strode by with a gallant bow in her direction. It wasn’t a secret that Meg sought a husband, and her fortune attracted plenty of interest. She forced a smile to her lips and acknowledged his attentions with a small nod, all the while knowing that he would never do. Ticking through her mental checklist of requirements, she just couldn’t picture this man leading her braw Mackinnon warriors into battle at her brother’s side.

  Unfortunately, he was quite typical of the Lowland gentlemen who frequented court. Lowlanders bore closer resemblance to Englishmen than their Highland countrymen. The king’s disdain for Highland “barbarians” was well-known, which in part had compelled this trip to court—to broaden the scope of her search for a husband to include influential men connected to King James’s government.

  But how was she supposed to find a man of strength and valor in this garden of preening peacocks?

  Not for the first time, Meg’s thoughts slid back to the copse of trees and to the mysterious warrior who’d rescued her. As handsome as Adonis, with the prowess of Ares. Both qualities unnerved her. But perhaps even more unnerving was the realization that she’d been attracted to the man. Despite his too handsome face and what she’d witnessed on the battlefield.

  He was not at all the sort of man she typically found attractive. His size, for one, was too overwhelming. Big braw men made her…well…nervous. She frowned. Actually, now that she thought about it, everything about him was overwhelming. From his fierce, handsome face, to his unfettered fighting skills, to his blatant masculinity.

  Still, she could not forget him, which given the task at hand was disconcerting to say the least. It was an odd experience for her. Meg was not at all the sort of woman to be distracted by a pleasing countenance. She knew better.

  It was ridiculous. She didn’t even know who he was, and as she usually did her best to avoid consorting with outlaws, she would most likely never see him again. Her subtle attempts to glean more information about him from the men who’d accompanied them through the forest had been unsuccessful. From their silence, she was even more certain that the men were outlaws. They asked no questions and answered just as many. A more circumspect escort she could not imagine. Even learning their names had been a challenge. They claimed to be Murrays, a name she knew that many MacGregors had assumed after their clan was proscribed. Could her warrior be a MacGregor? It wouldn’t surprise her. But what were MacGregors doing so close to Skye?

  Of course, his identity, or lack thereof, only added to the mystery, which no doubt explained her illogical fascination with a man she knew nothing about.

  Except that he saved us. And perhaps that was all she needed to know.

  She’d been surprised, and disappointed, that he’d left without speaking to her. She wished she’d found the nerve at least to thank him. She should have put aside her qualms, marched over there, and done it right away. But truth be told, she’d been more than a little bit frightened. The controlled frenzy of his fighting had taken her aback.

  She’d been too aware of him and too unsure of herself.

  She consoled herself that it was probably just the unusual circumstances she was responding to. A Greek god riding to the rescue at the last moment would make an impression on anyone. Even someone as otherwise level-headed as Meg.

  Unfortunately, however, she did not have the luxury of a fairy tale. She needed a real man, not a mythical one. And soon. The thought of returning to Dunakin empty-handed was a sobering one. Her father would be disappointed. And disappointment was the one thing Meg could not bear.

  She’d delayed her decision long enough. She could not allow thoughts of her mysterious warrior to distract her from her duty any longer.

  “You have that far-off look in your eyes.” Elizabeth spoke, startling Meg from her reverie. “Daydreaming about your handsome rescuer again?”

  Her cheeks heated. Not for the first time, she wished she hadn’t confided quite so many details about the man who’d rescued her. She covered her embarrassment with a frown. “I don’t daydream.”

  “But you were thinking of him?”

  Meg gave her friend a sharp look. Elizabeth was not easily put off. “Very well. Yes. I was thinking about him.”

  “It’s so romantic,” Elizabeth said, sighing dreamily.

  Meg rolled her eyes. “You sound like my mother. But I assure you, there was nothing romantic about it.” She couldn’t quite repress the shiver as her thoughts flew back to the melee in the forest. “It was awful. We were very lucky to escape with our lives, and Mother with only a knot on her head. So many others weren’t as fortunate,” she said, thinking of Ruadh and the other Mackinnon warriors who’d lost their lives that day.

  “I’m s-s-sorry, Meg. I didn’t m-m-mean to s-s-sound insen-n-nsitive. I can’t im-m-magine what you w-w-went through.”

  Meg heard her friend’s stammer and felt horrible for making her anxious. Elizabeth rarely stammered around her, as she did when in company with others she felt less comfortable with. She took Elizabeth’s hands and forced a bright smile on her face. “What happened is in the past, and I must look to the future. And an outlaw, no matter how heroic, is not the man for me.”

  If only she knew who was.

  Finding a suitable husband shouldn’t be so difficult. A warrior her clansmen would follow into battle. A skilled negotiator to pacify the Privy Council. A man of integrity and loyalty to support her brother. But it was difficult. With each day that passed, it had become more and more clear that there was only one man who might be suitable: Jamie Campbell, her best friend’s brother.

  Elizabeth gave her hands a little squeeze. “Don’t worry, Meg. You will find the right man. Or perhaps you already have?” she asked hopefully. It was no secret that Elizabeth wished Meg to marry her brother.

  “Perhaps,” Meg replied with an encouraging smile.

  In many ways, Jamie Campbell epitomized the type of man her father entrusted her to find. Cousin to Archibald “the Grim” Campbell, Earl of Argyll, Jamie could not be better connected. The Campbells were the most powerful clan in the Highlands, thanks in large part to Argyll’s influence with the king. Jamie had something of his wily cousin in him, and Meg knew that Argyll was becoming increasingly reliant on his young cousin both to exert his influence at court and to enforce his authority in the Highlands.

  By virtue of his extraordinary height and natural command, Jamie also had the makings of a great leader. Only two years older than Meg at four and twenty, Jamie still possessed a young man’s build. But in a few years’ time, when he added girth to his frame, he would be a formidable man. A strong, powerful man who would be more than capable of defending Dunakin.

  And most important, Jamie was a man of integrity, honor, and unswerving loyalty.

  He seemed the perfect choice.

  But something still held her back. His youth, perhaps? And his connection to Argyll would be viewed by many Highlanders as a black mark against him. In som