Highland Temptation Page 8

  “I was hoping to escort you on a walk today.” He raised his hands palm up and looked to the sky.

  “Sounds lovely, but I’m afraid we have missed our opportunity. Maybe we could tomorrow morning.”

  “She will need an escort,” Finlay interjected as he stepped up beside them.

  “Nonsense. Hamish is a good friend of the Macnabs. I have kenned him for quite some time. Finlay, have ye ever met him?”

  “I have now,” Finlay snapped, and she noticed he’d positioned himself between Blair and Hamish. “I have heard ye are a radical Covenanter.” Her guess was that he would pull her away if he felt he could, too.

  Her mouth fell open at the animosity she’d not thought him capable of. “Finlay,” she protested, but then she remembered Finlay had another life. She knew little of it, other than his father, who was English, was a close friend to King Charles.

  “No, Kirstie, it is right for a Cameron to be wary with everything going on.” Hamish put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and Finlay looked like he would knock it off. Slowly removing it, he ran his tongue over his teeth as he studied her brother’s man.

  “’Tis all right,” Blair said, reaching out to touch Finlay’s arm. The gesture soothed him, but only slightly.

  “I may not be the same religion, but I do not believe force is the way to God. You have nothing to fear from me.” Hamish gave a gentle smile, but Finlay’s scrutiny shifted between the two of them, obviously not believing a word.

  “I believe the lasses need to get some dry clothes on.” Holding onto Blair with one hand, Finlay grabbed Kirstie’s arm with the other and pulled them in the direction of their room.

  “Will I see you at dinner tonight?” Hamish called out as she looked over her shoulder and gave him a quick smile she hoped conveyed her embarrassment over being dragged off like a child.

  “Aye. I will be there.”

  Hours later, when they were leaving the room for dinner, the rain had stopped but the dank smell of the castle persisted.

  “How do I look?” Blair twirled, and her pink skirts swished around.

  “Ye are so bonny. Ye make the dress look nice.”

  “I am growing fond of the clothing.” She had to admit that the shapely curves of the gowns were more flattering to a woman’s figure than the folds of a plaid they were accustomed to wearing, but they weren’t as comfortable.

  “I admit if yer father had no’ insisted on the dresses during the visit, I probably never would have put one on, but they arneae so bad.”

  “I think they are wonderful.” Blair sashayed from side to side as her hands gripped the rustling material.

  “Even this one would be nice if it were no’ so tight in the chest.” Running her fingers up the side of her ribs, Kirstie wondered how she was going to breathe tonight.

  “Ah, but that’s the best part of it. Ye will have them all spilling their secrets tonight.”

  Aye, if she didnae spill from the confines of the tight material that threatened to cut off her circulation. “I hope so.” She was growing tired of Niall’s wandering hands and Hamish’s nonstop chatter.

  “Did ye tell Malcolm what ye heard?”

  “Nae, but I will soon. Whatever the plot, at least I ken ’tis no’ supposed to take place until after the meeting. We still have two days, but Royalists are already turning up dead, so I must act swiftly.” She twirled at the ribbons that held locks of hair from her temples to the middle of the back of her head in a plain but stylish look as she contemplated how she would discover something that would help put an end to the scheme against her family.

  “Mayhap ye could just get Malcolm to leave as soon as the gathering is done.”

  “I dinnae think ’tis likely, since the assembly will be in the afternoon. He may want me to leave with him, too.”

  “What will ye do?”

  “If ’tis the only way to get him to leave, I will go. I dinnae think I could travel with Alan, though.” The less time she spent around the pompous man, the better.

  “I dinnae think that was money he was giving the tavern wench. It looked like ’twas a message he was having sent to someone.”

  “Doesnnae matter. I am done pining for a man who doesnae want me. Tonight, I will flirt with the Covenanters, and then when all this business is over, I’ll start looking for a husband.” It just had to be one that met her long list of criteria, but she knew even now, the only man for her didn’t want her.

  “I think Alan will surprise ye. And are ye sure ye are ready to look for a husband?”

  “Aye. If ye are going to wed, Henry, ’twill no’ be long before I will need to leave yer father’s home.”

  “John would never turn ye out.” Blair looped an arm through hers as they stepped toward the door, to be met by Dougal, ready to escort them to dinner.

  “I ken he wouldnae, but I wouldnae feel comfortable without ye there, especially considering yer father’s views and my religion,” she continued, knowing their guard wouldn’t understand what they were discussing.

  The door clicked shut behind them, and she moved to lock it then hide the key in a cleverly sewn pocket in the folds of her skirts. Walking down the hall, she steeled her nerve and peeked down once more to make sure her breasts weren’t spilling from the gown. It was time to go pry a few secrets out of some Covenanters.

  …

  Rushing into the great hall, Alan cursed to notice the room was already filling. There would be no easy way to find the Covenanters he needed to make inroads with before the meal started. Malcolm stood not too far from the main entrance, flanked by Finlay and Dougal. Upon seeing him, Lachlan’s younger brother pointed down with two fingers on his right hand, the signal that the Camerons had received the message he’d had the tavern owner’s niece deliver.

  The lass had returned and reported that Malcolm read it in front of her then tossed it into a fire to burn the evidence. The missive had let them know that a group of Macphersons and MacDonalds had been attacked on their way to Edinburgh. The Royalist Resistance, a rebel group fighting against the Covenanters, had swooped in to help, but not before the Macpherson laird’s eldest son had been killed. The group would no longer be making their way to the city and were returning to Macpherson lands. The letter also told Malcolm that Kirstie was up to something other than just flirting with the enemy.

  Maybe Malcolm would keep an eye on her or, better yet, send her home, leaving him to concentrate on his job.

  How was he to mingle with the Campbell and Menzie men if he was constantly distracted by her presence?

  Discovering who was behind the plot to eliminate the lairds of the Royalist-supporting clans had to be his top priority because if the bastards eluded him here, next time they might not be forewarned of an attack. If they’d known of the extent of the threat before they’d left Kentillie, Lachlan never would have let Malcolm come. As it is, he’d probably go into a rage when he learned that his sister is in the thick of it.

  As he scanned the crowd around Malcolm to assure himself that his friend’s brother was in no danger, he noticed Malcolm’s eyes widen. Turning, his jaw dropped as Kirstie and Blair strolled into the room. Kirstie was wearing, oh hell, what was she wearing?

  Each time he saw her, he seemed to see more of her. The cut on this dress was low and squared; the curves of her breasts were like ripe melons peeking from behind an elaborately woven blue frame. He swallowed.

  Before he had a chance to react and close the short distance between them, Niall Campbell had found her. Niall was a drop taller than Kirstie, and the way he stood it appeared the man was glued to her chest instead of looking into her blue eyes. She seemed to notice, and she smiled.

  Knowing she had no intentions of seducing a known Covenanter, he was convinced now that somehow, she had discovered there was more to this week’s events than a simple meeting and was putting herself in da
nger in order to get the details. It was the only reason she could be toying with this man.

  His chest tightened. She deserved someone to love and care for her, but by God, he was not going to let that man be an enemy of the Cameron clan.

  Stewing as Niall escorted Kirstie to the table and sat next to her, he had to push away the flush of anger that had assailed him. Before Alan could make it to the table, she was surrounded. Hamish was on her other side with the radical clergyman Robert Baillie next to him. Argyll and his men had also moved in with a couple of ladies he didn’t know. There was no way to get close to her without offending one of the men he needed to trust him.

  Hamish passed Kirstie a platter, and his hand stayed on hers a little too long for comfort. Niall noticed, and his eyes narrowed. Pouring her some wine, the Campbell man offered her the cup to steal her attention from Hamish. It was like watching two grown men play tug-a-war with a steak they both wanted to sink their teeth into.

  Kirstie wasn’t oblivious to their affections, smiling and flirting with both men. She was even able to send glances to Argyll that made Alan want to hurry her from the room and bend her over his knee. The Earl of Argyll wasn’t a man to trifle with. That lass had been too long without a firm hand to guide her through behaving like a lady should.

  He found a table that afforded him a good view of the scene playing out in front of him. Resting her chin on the back of her hand, elbow on table, Kirstie smiled at Niall as he rambled on about something. She looked quite alluring.

  Hamish said something that caught her attention on the other side. Turning to him, she said something that made him laugh. Niall peered at Hamish, and from where Alan was sitting, he could just make out the anger burning in the Campbell man’s eyes. Seeming unaware of the currents roiling between the two men, Kirstie twirled a ringlet with one finger.

  Skirts swished beside him. His eyes never left Kirstie and the men he would have to kill if they made one wrong move. Maybe it would only be one by the time they took care of each other.

  “Ye are the most stubborn, lack-witted man in all of Scotland,” a high, soft voice accused.

  Turning, he was surprised to see Blair had taken the seat beside him. “What makes ye say that?”

  “Ye are going to lose her. She is going to have to marry soon, and if ye dinnae do something, ye will both be on the losing side of that arrangement.”

  He shouldn’t have been affected by those words, but they somehow cut. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, cutting his glance back to the object of his frustration. “She should have done so already.”

  “What do ye think of the two men vying for attention now?” His gaze drifted back to the small blonde, who pierced him with an indignant challenge.

  She didn’t need to hear what he thought of those men in particular. Her pretty little ears would probably ache with the curses he would use to describe them.

  “They arennae worthy even to speak with her.” His stare returned to Niall and Hamish as a burning clawed at his chest.

  “The first intelligent words I’ve heard ye say. Are ye going to do something about it?” Her palm landed on the table, surprising him and causing the trencher set out in front of him to wobble with the force.

  “I amnae good enough, either.” His gaze shifted down to his folded arms.

  “Why do ye no’ let her decide that? What if she thinks ye are? ’Tis going to be yer own fault when someone undeserving gets her.”

  He remained silent.

  “She will be miserable, and I will blame ye.” The wench folded her arms and dared him to challenge her. She was a good friend to have. “Ye ken she gave up her home because ’twas too hard for her to be around ye.”

  His gaze cut back toward Kirstie, mostly because he didn’t want Blair to see the guilt that must show in his eyes.

  “And she may believe yer lies about brotherly feelings, but I see the truth. ’Twill tear ye apart when she chooses someone else.”

  Hell, did she ever stop?

  “Hamish is determined to have her, and yer going to stand back and let that happen.”

  He slammed his fist onto the table and cut his gaze back to Blair.

  “’Tis no’ my place to stop it,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

  “Aye, ’twould that be because ye are nothing like a brother to her?” She pinned him with steely determination then, dismissing him, turned away and began speaking to her brother.

  Returning his gaze to the smiling lass who dominated the attention of those at her table, he felt his heart plunge as Blair’s words gnawed their way into his thoughts. Kirstie’s dark chestnut hair had been pinned back in a fashion he’d never seen on her, but rebellious strands broke free at her temple and framed her rosy cheeks.

  He glanced at the opposite end of the room to see why Malcolm wasn’t doing anything to protect his sister, but he was engrossed in a conversation with a priest, of all people. He didn’t know what that was about, but he’d tear into Malcolm about watching out for her as soon as it was safe to get him another message.

  His scrutiny moved to Kirstie. Her neck was long and slender. It arched enticingly as she sat with her shoulders back and head held high. Licking his lips, he imagined the tilt of her neck and noises she would make if he kissed her there.

  Niall stared at her neck, too, as she glanced at Hamish to laugh at something he’d said. A haze of anger clouded Alan’s eyes, and he started to stand to remove her from the man’s marauding gaze.

  “Sit.” The order came from Blair. “Ye have no right. ’Tis yer own fault she is over there with them and no’ ye. Do ye think that is a real smile she wears on her face?”

  He hadn’t thought about it, but now that Blair had brought it up… Kirstie’s smile was normally subtler; the one she wore now did appear forced.

  The rest of the meal was just as painful, but at some point, Malcolm did appear at Kirstie’s side, draping a plaid across her shoulders and covering her then whispering something in her ear. The Covenanters tensed with Malcolm’s arrival, and Kirstie’s behavior changed. She must have realized that Malcolm being at her side put him in danger, and she was more reserved the rest of the meal.

  When Alan wasn’t bearing the brunt of Blair’s tongue, the most annoying lass in Scotland, the lass on his other side talked about baking, needlework, and trivial stuff until he thought his ears would bleed. It dawned on him the only lass who could keep him entertained was Kirstie, with her knowledge of how to care for animals and the stories she would read. He never felt bored in her presence.

  When dinner was done, he tried to make his way toward Kirstie, but she was dancing with Niall before he could get to her. He should just leave; he needed to get to the pub to see if he could discover more of the plot, but Lachlan would never forgive him if he let something happen to Kirstie or to Malcolm.

  Hell, he’d never forgive himself.

  As he fumed on the side of the crowd, Hamish came up to talk to him. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

  “Aye, ’tis the reason I am here.”

  “It is good that at least you made it to represent the Mackenzies. We will need your help to persuade the Camerons it is in their best interest to follow the Covenant.”

  “Think ’twill be a hard thing to do. They willnae listen to me.”

  “It must have been tough living there with them. At least you got to look on that every day.” Alan stiffened as he noticed whom Hamish was talking about. Although Kirstie had kept the plaid draped over her shoulders, her bonny face was flushed, and she outshone all the women present.

  “The Camerons abandoned me. I am glad I ken who my real family is now.” He tried to steer the conversation to something more useful.

  “Yes, ye will have to tell me more of this rift between ye, but still, I plan to have Kirstie as my wife.”

  He somehow had to
convince this fool he didn’t have a chance with Kirstie. “I dinnae think she will convert.”

  “I think she will be biddable when the time comes. I will wed her. She has an accepting heart.”

  Alan balled his hands at his side and fought the urge to punch Hamish. “She has a mind of her own.”

  “I think she will come around. You have.” The calm confidence in the steady voice and the man’s piercing, unblinking eyes sent a chill through his backbone, even as he noticed how the room had turned hot like the kitchens at Kentillie on a summer day. Thinking of Kirstie’s aversion to crowds, his gaze strayed back toward the dance floor to evaluate her condition.

  “Aye.” Was all he could say as he tore his gaze from Kirstie to focus on Hamish and ignore the despair threatening his senses.

  “I do not like the way Niall looks at her.” Hamish ran a tongue over white teeth.

  “I dinnae, either. Despite my differences with her brothers, I still see her as a sister.”

  Hoping the man beside him didn’t see the reflex, he felt his jaw tick as Kirstie urged Niall’s hand back to her waist. The bastard was again trying to touch her in places that only a lover would dare.

  “There. She has put him in his place.”

  Alan didn’t see that; Campbell still looked at her as if she were the dessert at the end of a long meal, one he was more than willing to wait for.

  The music was ending, and Hamish hurried out and took Kirstie’s hand. Oh hell, he had to watch another man with greedy hands all over her.

  The lass who had been seated next to him appeared at his side. “Will ye dance with me? I dinnae ken many people here.”

  “Aye.” He reached out and took her clammy hand. It would be rude to turn her down, and it gave him the opportunity to get closer to Kirstie. The lass’s incessant talking was back, and she went on and on even when he didn’t respond.

  Alan didn’t take his eyes off of Kirstie as she and Hamish moved around the floor. At least the man was respectful with his hands, but the possessiveness in his gaze probably reflected what was in his own.