Highlander Unmasked Read online

  The closer he drew, the more he sensed her wariness. He was used to his size eliciting a certain amount of consternation among the lasses, but he knew she had even more reason to fear him. She’d seen him in the heat of battle. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he realized that a certain amount of caution on her part would be beneficial to his goal. Perhaps if she were a little off balance, she would be less confident in her memory.

  It wasn’t until he was standing right in front of her that he realized she was even smaller than he’d thought. The top of her head wouldn’t even reach his shoulders. Behind the stiff stomacher, farthingale, and voluminous skirts, she was a wee slip of a thing. So frail, she looked as if she might break. But he knew the frailty was deceptive. He’d seen her courage.

  He could probably span her waist with his hands, and he had a sudden urge to prove it. He yearned to wrap his callused palms around the silky, soft skin of her waist and hips, lifting her over his hard…

  He nearly groaned. Living like a monk had obviously addled him, making him lose focus. In his youth, he’d been insatiable. But like many of the things in his carefree youth, the regular bedding of lasses had given way to steely determination and undaunted purpose. So focused on his task, he’d didn’t have much time for anything else. Clearly, he’d been too long without a woman; the faint scent of roses that wafted from her hair was doing strange things to him.

  Jamie began the formal introductions. After so many years of living in virtual squalor, most nights without a roof over his head, Alex found the pomp and ceremony of court maddening and the social niceties absurd. Court was about the last place a warrior wanted to be. But he had a job to do, so he would set aside his distaste. For the moment.

  He could still feel the heat of her gaze on his face. She was trying, not very subtly, to get him to look at her. Clearly, she found his lack of response vexing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her lips purse. She looked so charmingly befuddled, he fought a strange urge to laugh.

  When it was her turn, and Alex was forced at last to acknowledge her, she looked him squarely in the eye and said, “We’ve met before.”

  Forthright, he realized.

  Indeed, her frankness took him momentarily aback. It was not a characteristic he typically associated with ladies at court or with one so young.

  And there was no mistaking the undertone of challenge in her voice. Though he admired the direct attack, given that she had to lift her chin to prodigious heights just to look at him, he also found it somewhat amusing.

  “I’m surprised you remember,” he said. “You were but a child the last time I enjoyed the hospitality of Dunakin.”

  She frowned, and adorable little lines appeared between her furrowed brows. “But that’s not—”

  He cut her off by addressing Lizzie. “It’s good to see you again, Lizzie.”

  The poor girl blushed to her roots and murmured something unintelligible. Apparently, Elizabeth Campbell had not lost the extreme shyness that he remembered from when she was a girl.

  Jamie must have noticed Meg’s confusion at Alex’s casual greeting, because he explained, “Alex and his brother were fostered with our cousin Argyll. My sister and I spent quite a bit of time at Inveraray Castle in our youth, as did Alex’s sister Flora.”

  “And if I remember correctly,” Alex said to Lizzie, “you and Flora were always underfoot. Scampering around getting into some sort of mischief.” His mouth quirked at the memory of the pretty flaxen-haired child who’d traipsed after his willful wee hellion of a sister. It had been too long since he’d seen Flora, he realized. He wondered if she’d fulfilled her earlier promise of beauty. He hoped so. With a temper like hers, she’d need it. Lizzie was still pretty, in a quiet, understated fashion. Much like her friend.

  “Flora?” Meg asked.

  “My youngest sister.” At her look of surprise, he explained, “She lived with my stepmother, Janet Campbell, Argyll’s aunt, after our father died.”

  “Then your sister is—”

  “Argyll’s cousin also, yes,” he finished. It was hardly a connection he could forget.

  Alex turned back to Elizabeth. “How long has it been, Lizzie?”

  “O-o-ver fi-i-ifteen y-years,” Lizzie stammered, her cheeks flaming.

  Meg had finally turned her gaze from him and was watching her friend struggle with barely concealed distress. Her gaze flickered back to him as if trying to gauge his reaction. Alex felt his annoyance grow. What the hell did she expect, that he would laugh at her friend?

  Yes, he realized with a start. Knowing the vicious tongues at court, he imagined that was the typical reaction to Lizzie’s stammering.

  “Fifteen years ago?” Meg interjected smoothly—obviously she’d done this more than once. “You truly were a child, Elizabeth.” She turned to Alex, fixing him with those enormous eyes. The effect was instantaneous. God’s breath, he could drown in those luminous depths. Up close, he could see the smooth translucence of her skin and the soft green of her eyes, fringed by long feathery lashes. He felt a powerful yearning to touch her. To brush his finger across the delicate curve of her cheek and see if it was as unbelievably soft as it looked. This time, he was the one who was staring. “Are you recently arrived at Holyrood, then, Laird MacLeod?” she asked, breaking his trance.

  Despite his temporary fixation, Alex didn’t miss how the Mackinnon lass adroitly took control of the conversation, protecting her friend from further embarrassment. From the look of barely concealed adulation on Jamie’s face, he realized it as well.

  Alex was not unaffected. Lizzie had found herself quite a protector. He shook off the twinge of admiration. He should be focusing on Jamie Campbell and not Meg Mackinnon. He had no time to be distracted by a lass, no matter how intriguing.

  Alex nodded. “I only arrived yesterday.”

  “Where from?” Meg asked not so innocently. “Skye?”

  All vestiges of convivial thought fled. He gave her a hard look, one meant to stop further questions. “No.” His voice must have sounded harsher than he intended because she took an almost imperceptible step back. In a somewhat softer tone, he asked, “And what of you, Mistress Mackinnon, have you been at court long?”

  He could tell that she wanted to press the matter but thought better of it. “Just two weeks.”

  Jamie, apparently not liking what had essentially become a private conversation, made a possessive move toward Meg and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Meg and her party were attacked on the way to court,” he explained.

  Alex lifted a brow in feigned surprise. “How unfortunate. You were not harmed, I hope?”

  Meg looked him straight in the eye again. He couldn’t help but admire her fortitude. “No, though six of my father’s men were killed, and my mother suffered a blow to the head. They would have killed us all, but we were fortunate to have been rescued by a mysterious band of warriors.”

  “Fortunate indeed,” Alex agreed. The way she was watching him didn’t bode well. He tensed. She was going to say something—

  “Actually,” she said with a provoking little smile, “the leader looked remarkably like you.”

  Damn. Alex quickly masked his flash of anger with a chuckle, as if she’d just said something incredibly amusing. But he didn’t miss the slight sharpening of Jamie’s gaze.

  “Though I’d like to take credit, Mistress Mackinnon, I’m afraid you must be mistaken. You know what they say around here—all of us barbarians look alike.”

  She didn’t laugh; rather, her study of his face intensified.

  Jamie frowned.

  Alex knew he’d better think of something fast. Suddenly, it came to him. “Actually, it sounds more like something my brother might do. We look much alike, don’t we, Jamie?”

  Jamie studied him carefully and finally nodded. “Yes. Very alike.”

  But Alex could see that the damage had been done. Jamie’s suspicions had been aroused. Alex would have to tread carefully.