Alex realized Dougal had just been given license to kill him. He wondered how long he would take to use it.
“I’ve already begun going over the preliminaries,” Seton continued. “I’ve received final confirmation that the colonists will be ready to depart as scheduled. What have you learned of the resistance, MacDonald?”
“We have nothing new to report,” Alex heard Dougal respond. “The chiefs have met to discuss the possibility of another attempt to colonize the Isle of Lewis, but there is no indication that they believe anything is imminent. Resistance, if any, is still much in the planning stages.”
Alex knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but even faced with such indisputable evidence—hearing it straight from Dougal’s mouth—he still couldn’t believe the MacDonalds’ propensity for treachery. They had sworn allegiance to the other chiefs to help fight the king’s efforts to plunder the Isles, yet here they were—through Dougal—betraying them all.
No doubt MacDonald expected to insinuate himself into the good graces of King James by feeding Seton information about the Highlanders’ planned attacks. Rory would be furious to learn of their latest treachery.
But Lord Chancellor Seton’s next words pushed aside all thoughts of the MacDonalds. “I want to be informed as soon as you learn of the Highlanders’ plans. Any resistance to the Fife Adventurers’ colonization will be crushed. King James has been clear in his directives. Our men have been instructed to use whatever force they deem necessary to root out the barbarians on Lewis”—he paused—“including slaughter or mutilation to discourage further resistance. The same will go for their supporters.”
Alex couldn’t believe his ears. Slaughter and mutilation? Seton’s words sent a chill of foreboding straight to his bones. At that moment, Alex realized the full extent of King James’s humiliation from the failed first attempt to colonize Lewis by the original Fife Adventurers. No doubt the mockery of his new English subjects had influenced this savagery. The English claimed that a king who could not contain a handful of barbarians was not fit to rule England. King James was taking no chances with this second attempt.
By empowering the Lowland Fife Adventurers with the power to exterminate the inhabitants of Lewis, the king had just sanctioned the mass murder of his own people.
Even the black-hearted Dougal sounded somewhat taken aback. “But, my lord, when the Highlanders realize what is happening, they will have no choice but to resist.”
That’s what they are hoping, you traitorous fool. This was no friendly colonization, it was a bloody conquest and the desecration of a people. Their people.
Seton’s snort of laughter curdled Alex’s blood. “Yes, they will, won’t they?” Alex could almost envision Seton’s smirk. “It will all be quite tragic.”
Alex pressed his back up against the stone wall, trying to cool his rage. He took a deep breath. Resolve at last cleared the confusing cobwebs from his mind.
He had to see his mission through. He had temporarily lost his focus, lost sight of all that he’d worked for. Nearly undone by one wee wood nymph. But now that he was faced with such stunning evidence of viciousness promulgated by his own king, his duty was clear. Desire must come second.
There was really only one thing left to do. Fight.
He would leave for the Isle of Lewis as soon as Rory arrived.
And not look back at what might have been.
Meg watched Alex leave the hall, feeling the familiar curdle of disappointment. He’d barely spoken to her. Each night she hoped it would be different, that tonight would be the night that he changed his mind. But tonight was no different from the rest.
The past week had been the hardest of her life. Forced to maintain an air of conviviality when inside her heart was breaking. Every moment of that day in the forest was branded on her consciousness. He’d awakened her passion and her heart. She wanted him to kiss her again, to touch her, to make her his in truth. And she knew he remembered it, too.
He held himself apart, but his eyes watched her every move with a possessive heat that sent a shiver of awareness down her spine. She sensed the anger and frustration building in him, but he made no move toward her. It didn’t make sense. He wanted her, but something was keeping him from acting on those feelings. If only he would trust her enough to tell her why.
At the same time, she was almost scared to find out what it was. If what Thomas Mackinnon said was true, Alex had been fighting with the MacGregors. Alex was an outlaw—although she supposed it depended on one’s perspective. It troubled her, but Meg knew that if he’d become an outlaw, he’d done so for a higher purpose. But she still didn’t know what it meant as to his suitability as a husband and as a leader of her clan.
Had she given her heart to the wrong man?
Even worse, had she given her heart to a man who did not love her in return? Unrequited love, the fodder of poets and playwrights from time immemorial. And it had happened to her, to a woman who’d sworn never to fall prey to the dictates of her heart. Meg, the cold, hard pragmatist, had fallen in love.
She’d never dreamed that her heart could be at risk, but it might not matter. She could not lose sight of her purpose in being here. She needed to find a husband, and time was running out. What was she going to do? She would never consider Dougal MacDonald’s proposal—not after what she’d learned of him. Could she accept Jamie knowing that she didn’t love him? That she loved another?
If only she could discover what it was that was preventing Alex from stepping forward. Then he would be free to marry her.
“Is everything all right, Meg?” Elizabeth asked. “You seem distracted.”
Meg managed a feeble smile. “I’m fine, just a bit tired,” she said. My heart is breaking. “I think I’ll fetch us a couple of glasses of claret.”
“I can go with you,” Jamie offered.
But Meg had already moved away. “I’ll be right back.” She wanted a moment alone to clear her head. She knew her mother, Elizabeth, and Jamie were all concerned about her after what had happened.
It was still hard to believe that someone, a trusted captain of her father’s guard no less, had been trying to kill her. Her mother had fainted upon finding out what her daughter had narrowly avoided and later sent a letter to Meg’s father with the news of Thomas Mackinnon’s treachery.
Meg shuddered to think what would have happened without Alex there. Twice now, he’d ridden to her rescue. The attacks on her life had made Meg realize that no matter how hard she tried, there were some things she simply could not do. Defending herself against half a score of warriors bent on killing her was one. But she also realized how ill equipped she’d been to recognize the danger. With his experience, Alex had identified the possible threat well before Meg even realized there was one. An invaluable skill for a Highland chief—or rather a trusted adviser to a Highland chief.
For a woman who’d been dependent upon herself for so long, it was startling to realize how much she liked the idea of Alex protecting her.
Alex seemed to have an acute awareness of everything around him. The prototypical warrior. Self-contained. Self-possessed. He didn’t need anyone.
She felt a lump in her chest. He didn’t need me.
As much as she’d grown dependent on him, it had become patently obvious that the reverse was not true.
She made her way toward the refreshment table but was forced to stop a few times along the way to exchange greetings. She’d finally reached her destination only to duck behind a column at the last minute to avoid Bianca Gordon. She was the last person Meg wanted to see right now.
Bianca had made it well-known this last week that if Alex was looking for a wife, he need look no further than the Marquess of Huntly’s very willing daughter. Meg frowned, recalling that Alex had been playing cards with Huntly tonight. It seemed an odd pairing. And not the first time Meg had noticed Alex with some unusual companions. It was probably nothing. Alex would certainly never be interested in Bianca Gordon. Although excessivel
y unpleasant, Bianca was undeniably beautiful. But Meg recognized the impatience hiding beneath Alex’s smile whenever he was waylaid by Bianca. Bianca must have sensed it, too, because she took whatever opportunity she could to question Meg about her relationship with Alex.
Questions that Meg couldn’t answer, even if she wanted to.
Standing to one side of the column, she was tucked neatly from sight of the occupants in the room without seeming to be hiding. Only the broad skirts of her gown gave her away. But ironically, since Rosalind had chosen a cream gown embroidered with delicate gold threads that happened to match the décor of the room, Meg didn’t stick out too much. Good thing her mother had forbidden her to wear the orange gown again. There was something of the ridiculous in a grown woman having her mother pick out her clothes, but Meg had to admit that Rosalind had a flair for color and style Meg could never hope to emulate.
The derisive snort of her own name drew Meg’s attention to Bianca’s conversation. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but surely the pierce of that woman’s voice could be heard clear across Scotland.
“Of course he’s not interested in Meg Mackinnon,” Bianca scoffed, and followed with a tinkle of pretty laughter. “As if the most handsome man at court could really be interested in someone like her. She’s plain, far too serious, too learned by half, and she says the oddest things every time she opens her mouth. No maidenly modesty at all.”
Her chest squeezed, surprised by how much it hurt to be dismissed so easily. But it wasn’t the truth. Alex cared for her. She knew he did. She might not understand why he was holding himself back, but she knew that he was.
One of Bianca’s companions spoke. “But he certainly seems to have singled Meg out for his attentions. I agree that it does seem an unlikely match, but you must admit that Meg’s appearance has improved over the last few weeks.”
“There wasn’t much room for anything else.” They all laughed. Meg’s chest squeezed with each cruel giggle. “Even so, she can hardly be called a true beauty by any standards. Meg is merely a pale imitation of her mother. Mark my words, Alex MacLeod could have any woman at court. If he marries Meg Mackinnon, there is another reason.”
Perhaps Bianca’s cattiness might not have hurt so much if Meg hadn’t thought the same thing many times herself. Intellectually, she knew that she had many other things to offer other than her appearance, but for a short while—in Alex’s eyes—she’d felt beautiful. But Bianca effectively pierced the bubble of Meg’s newfound confidence. She cringed when she thought of how much she’d enjoyed the improvement in her appearance over the last fortnight. Bianca was right, Meg would never compare with her mother—even with her help.
But Bianca’s next words were not so easily dismissed.
“No doubt he’s after her land. Her brother is an imbecile after all.” Meg clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. She knew nothing about Ian. “If he can hold it, Alex would be the virtual chief of the Mackinnon lands at her father’s death. I know some men who would marry a horse for less.”
Meg’s cheeks burned at the cruel comparison. You have more land than I do, Meg wanted to shout after Bianca as she flounced away, her puffy skirts crinkling along the way. Why isn’t he chasing after you if that is all he wants?
Meg’s heart pounded, hearing her darkest fears being bandied about court by the likes of Bianca and her friends. It hurt, quite a lot. Even knowing there was no truth to what Bianca said.
Alex wasn’t Ewen or Thomas Mackinnon. He didn’t want to marry her. He could have compromised her and forced her to marry him, but the fact that he stopped proved the honorable man he was. He wasn’t after her land.
But Bianca’s snide remarks posed a darker question, one that she thought she’d resolved. She shook with the wave of sudden self-doubt. Alex would never be the type of man to wrest control from her brother. He was ambitious and a natural leader, but he was no opportunist. He was honorable. Loyal. She knew it, despite what he wanted others to believe.
But had she just convinced herself of this because she loved him? Had emotions blinded her to the truth of his character?
No. Don’t let that silly woman get to you, Meg, she told herself.
She couldn’t be that wrong.
Chapter 14
Meg and Elizabeth had just settled to finish some embroidery in the small salon that used to serve Queen Anne’s ladies-in-waiting when her mother entered with the most beautiful woman Meg had ever seen.
“Margaret, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” Meg tried not to gape, but the woman was truly exquisite. Long red gold hair, pale skin, and…Meg blinked disbelievingly…dark violet eyes. “Isabel MacLeod this is my daughter, Margaret.”
Alex’s sister-in-law, Meg thought with amazement. They exchanged pleasantries, and Meg learned that Isabel and her husband, Rory, had arrived only yesterday. Meg was surprised she hadn’t noticed her at the evening meal last night. Isabel MacLeod was hard to miss.
Isabel had seated herself next to Meg at the small wooden bench conveniently situated under a large window with a splendid view of the summer gardens. After a few moments, she said, “I’ve been eager to meet you.”
Meg arched her brow. “You have?”
Isabel nodded, studying Meg with unabashed interest. “I’ve heard your name linked with Alex’s more than once since I arrived, and I wondered at the woman who had finally captured my recalcitrant brother-in-law’s heart. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen proof of it last night.” When she saw Meg’s confusion, she explained, “I was walking with Alex past the dining room when he saw you.” Still grinning, she said, “I only wish his sister Margaret could be here to enjoy it with me, but her first child is due any day.”
Meg’s cheeks flamed under Isabel’s close scrutiny. Her heart beat a little faster.
“You’re wrong,” Meg said quickly. “Alex and I are friends, nothing more.” No matter how desperately she wished it differently. But if anything, Alex had seemed even more preoccupied and distant since that night two days past when she’d overheard that horrible conversation with Bianca. The conversation that still weighed on her despite her vow to ignore it.
If only she knew what it was that Alex was really doing at court. More and more, she thought it had to do with the MacGregors. She recalled his anger when she’d spoken of their plight with the king. Had he turned outlaw in an attempt to find some justice for the broken men? Was he at court not for a nefarious purpose, as she’d first assumed, but for a heroic one?
Isabel caught Meg’s troubled glance. “Did I say something wrong?”
Meg shook her head. “No, of course not.” She frowned, remembering something. “I’m just surprised to hear you speak so fondly of Alex. I’d heard rumors—” Meg blushed, realizing she’d spoken bluntly again.
Isabel returned her frown, appearing to weigh her words carefully. “Whatever is between Alex and my husband does not change how I feel about Alex. I will always care for him as a brother. I want him to be happy. And I sense he has found happiness with you.”
If only it were true. She didn’t want Isabel to see the pain her words had inadvertently caused. Self-consciously, Meg turned her face to the window, attempting to dry the sudden dampness brimming around her eyes with the warm sunlight.
“You love him.”
Isabel MacLeod was far too perceptive. Meg smiled wanly. “I’m afraid it does not matter. I must marry.”
If Isabel was shocked by Meg’s odd statement, her tone did not betray her. “Of course you must.”
Meg turned back to face Isabel, her face impassive. “No, I mean I must marry now.”
“I don’t understand. Are you already betrothed?”
“No. But there are unusual circumstances. I have promised my father that I will have chosen a husband by the time I leave court.”
Isabel’s delicate brows knit together across her forehead. “Is Alex aware of this?”
Meg nodded. “And he’s made it very clear
that he is not interested in marriage.”
Isabel bit her lip, looking a bit uncomfortable, as if weighing how much to say. “I very much doubt it is that he is not interested…”
“But something is holding him back,” Meg finished for her.
Isabel nodded.
“Does it have something to do with the MacGregors?”
Isabel looked at her sharply. “Did he tell you that?”
“Not exactly.”
Isabel frowned, appearing to debate with herself about whether to say more. Finally, she seemed to come to some sort of decision. With a quick glance at Elizabeth and Rosalind across the room, she leaned in toward Meg. “What do you know of Alex’s past?”
It took Meg a moment to comprehend what Isabel meant. “Do you mean about him being taken prisoner by the MacDonalds?” At Isabel’s nod of encouragement, Meg continued. “He told me that he was taken prisoner after the MacLeods’ defeat at the Corrie of the Foray. Although he did not say so, I got the impression that he took the loss personally.”
“You’re right. Did he tell you that he was the acting chief of the MacLeods at the time?”
Meg shook her head no, but understanding dawned.
Isabel continued, “The raid happened while Rory was away. He’d left Alex in charge for the first time. Alex took the loss to the MacDonalds as a personal failure—especially the deaths of his cousins.”
Meg gasped. “I didn’t realize….”
“About twenty MacLeod clansmen lost their lives that day. Two close cousins of his from Lewis were brutally murdered right before his eyes.”
Meg thought of the haunted look that she’d seen sweep his handsome features, his burning hatred of Dougal MacDonald, and the inner drive that she’d sensed but had not understood. “Poor Alex,” she said, her heart breaking for him. “I knew there was something in his past that weighed on him.” The death of his cousins under his first command was what drove him so relentlessly. “It explains so much,” she said, shaking her head. “But it still does not explain his refusal to marry.”