Chapter Eight
Alec’s mouth touched her lips, and he inhaled the fresh sea rose scent of her. She slanted, opening immediately. He’d expected cold and distant. Instead the woman was kissing him back, her fingers curling into his shirt at his shoulders as she molded herself in to him. She was all curves and heat, and tasted slightly of honeyed ale. Her hands worked up to circle behind his head, nails raking through his hair, battering his restraint.
He crushed her to him, leaning over to taste her deeply. She was more intoxicating than whisky. Thoughts of strategy melted away as erotic fire beat with each thrum of his heart. More. He wanted more of Mairi Maclean.
A noise hummed from the back of her throat, much like a moan, making him grow rigid beneath his kilt. Holding her with one arm, his other hand roamed down her back, pressing her lovely, rounded arse against him. His body demanded he strip her bare, and she wasn’t helping. It was as if she’d given in to the carnal heat flaring between them, the one he’d tried to ignore from the moment of their first kiss.
She rubbed her pelvis against his length, driving him wild with want. He groaned, lifting her until only her toes touched the floor. The bed was only two steps away. Cold logic beat against the inferno coursing through Alec’s body. Nay. This was wrong. She considered herself his prisoner with no ability to escape him. Would he add ravishment to stealing away a woman who he was realizing was innocent?
Alec’s hands came to Mairi’s shoulders. With one last taste, he broke the kiss. She panted, her large eyes dark, as if she too had let the kiss sweep away her good sense. Lips still damp, Mairi rubbed them closed against each other. “Go ahead,” she said, still breathless, but her eyes clearing of the frantic passion between them. She swallowed and wiped a hand over her mouth. “Ask me to marry ye now.” She stepped back, crossing her arms, her answer obvious.
Alec adjusted himself and watched her gaze drop to his kilt. Her eyes rose when he crossed his arms to mimic her stance. “Ye can kiss a man like that and still love another?” he said, his words cutting. Were all women disloyal? Joyce had kissed him, but then left without a word. His mother had said she loved her son, but then abandoned him to Kisimul.
“I never said I was in love with Geoff MacInnes,” Mairi said, blinking. She tipped her chin up again. “I was marrying him for duty, a duty I chose to uphold.”
“For duty? Or a need to prove yourself worthy to your family?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes, tipping her head to the side. “And why do ye stay on a rock in the sea, alone? For duty? Or to prove yourself worthy of being the laird of Barra?”
Knock. Knock. “Mairi? Da?” Weylyn’s voice came through the door.
Without breaking her stare, Mairi called out. “Aye, come in.”
Alec’s son pushed inward with Artemis rushing past his legs to circle them before the hearth.
“Did ye give Mairi her signal?” Weylyn asked Alec, making Mairi finally break the stare between them.
“Signal?” she asked.
Weylyn pointed to the whistle tied about Alec’s neck. “The whistle. I’m two short blasts. Cinnia is two long blasts, and yours is to be one short and one long blast.”
Ballocks. Alec released a long breath as he waited.
Mairi tipped her gaze upward, moving from Weylyn’s innocent face to the ceiling and back down, in an arc, to land on Alec. “And what is your father’s signal?”
“There’s only one whistle,” Weylyn explained, his young face pinching in confusion. “It belongs to the chief, so he doesn’t have a signal.”
Her eyes cut into Alec, for the space of a heartbeat, then she threw her hands up in the air. “Out! Everybody out,” she yelled. “Except Daisy.”
“But—” Weylyn started.
“Out, and I will have no signal.” She pointed at the door and took a deep breath to center a look on Weylyn. “And neither will ye or your sister, Weylyn,” Mairi said. She glared at Alec. “We are not dogs.”
“But it will be easier to hear when he needs one of us,” Weylyn demanded, his shock turning to belligerent loyalty.
“He has a voice and a pair of legs,” Mairi fumed. “Now both of ye, out.” She pointed to the door where Daniel, one of the four seamen who knew of Mairi on Kisimul, stood. They’d come back with him earlier in case Mairi’s brother tried to dock.
“And who the bloody hell are ye?” she asked, her temper still high.
“Daniel MacNeil,” he answered, but his gaze shifted to Alec and darkened.
Alec immediately reached for his sword. “What’s amiss?”
“A ship is docking on the back side of Kisimul.”
…
Mairi raced after Alec as he strode down the steps into the great hall where two other men, whom she recognized from the journey over to Barra, stood, swords in hand. Alec’s massive wolfhounds took up station on either side of him.
“I said for ye to stay in your room,” Alec said, looking back at her. He pointed to Cinnia and Weylyn. “Ye two also, with Mairi up in her room. Now.”
The children grabbed Mairi’s hands, tugging her back toward the steps above. “I told ye they’d come for me,” she said.
The red-haired man, Ian, jogged in through the door from the courtyard. “’Tis Angus Cameron,” he said, catching his breath. “He’s here on George Macrae’s ship. He landed with five men and…his sister.”
Mairi’s hope drained out of her like water through sand. Neither the Camerons, nor the Macraes, knew or cared who she was. Fergus MacInnes had disliked the Camerons, and they had threatened him with sending the English to Kilchoan. If they knew her identity, they’d likely applaud Alec’s efforts or try to take her themselves. Mo chreach.
Alec cursed low but sheathed his sword. He looked back toward her. “Take the children above. Angus Cameron is a childhood friend and will not carry ye away from Kisimul on a Macrae ship.” She narrowed her eyes silently. “Take the children and yourself above…please.”
It was the please that moved her. Had the word tasted bitter on his tongue, having to use it before his men? Cinnia and Weylyn tugged again, and she followed stiffly. They made it up to the landing when a man’s voice boomed out.
“Lo, MacNeil. I’ve brought ye a prize to fix all your bloody problems.”
Mairi followed the children into her room and gently shut the door. “Who is Angus Cameron?”
“One of Da’s old friends from the mainland,” Cinnia said, picking up the fire poker to push the burned peat around inside the hearth. “There was a festival with the Macdonnell clan when Da was a lad, and his father would take him there to compete.” She frowned at the fire that licked up anew.
“Ye don’t like him?” Mairi asked. She could hear the man’s voice from below but not the words.
“He’s loud,” Cinnia said. “And big, like a bear. And he smells.”
“He’s a warrior, Cin. Of course, he smells,” Weylyn said, as if she were the silliest creature he’d met. He turned to look at Mairi, excitement on his face. “He’s also funny, and whenever he comes, things happen.”
Cinnia rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Da likes things happening when Angus is here.”
Alec surely wouldn’t like disruption to his routine. Maybe she would like Angus Cameron. For no reason other than he messed up Alec MacNeil’s carefully laid plans.
“And George Macrae?” she asked.
Weylyn shrugged. “He’s been here a few times to discuss trade, but that’s all I know.”
“I wonder why Angus brought his sister,” Cinnia said.
“Do ye like her?” Mairi asked.
Cinnia shrugged. “I’ve only met her once. Bessy Cameron. She’s pretty, in a breakable kind of way.”
“Aye,” Weylyn said, scrunching his face. “With a brother so big and gruff, it’s strange she’s tiny and thin. Like her folks gave all her food to Angus instead of her. And I don’t remember her saying much.”
Pretty, obedient, and quiet. Alec was sure to like Bessy Cameron. Mairi’s jaw felt tight, and she rubbed just under her ears to ease the tension. Alec had touched her there when he kissed her, barely ten minutes ago. She dropped her arms. It would be a blessing if Alec liked another woman. Maybe he’d give up his foolish plan to wed her.
Mairi moved to the door. “Your father won’t tell us anything. If we want to know why they’ve come, we need to listen.” She cracked the door, and, using the hand signal she’d seen Alec use with the dogs, she looked at Daisy. “Stay,” she whispered.
“’Tis terrible,” Angus said, his voice easily heard. “Her death. Revenge, my friend, will help ease the pain.”
“Shut the door,” Cinnia whispered.
Weylyn crept up to the crack with Mairi. Cinnia threw her arms out wide, looking to Heaven, and paced over to the fire.
Where Angus’s voice was a tempest of blasts and booms, Alec’s answers were strong, constant, and even.
“The bastard responsible is dead,” Alec said.
Angus snorted loudly. “Most likely by one of his own, on the way back, after his foulness killing a woman. Bloody cod.”
“And he curses all the time,” Cinnia said from the hearth.
Another voice came from the stairs. “The Macraes stand behind ye, Alec. I know ye have two of your own ships, but mine is available if ye intend to attack the MacInnes.”
“Aye,” Angus boomed. “The Camerons stand behind ye, of course. In fact, I’m here to offer ye a new wife. My sister.”
Mairi lost her balance, falling against the door. It shut hard with a loud crack.
“Shhhh,” Cinnia hissed, eyes wide.
Weylyn crossed his arms. “They’re bound to have heard that.”
Damnation. She opened the door again.
“Ghosts perhaps?” Angus said and laughed. “To add to the curse of the place.”
“More likely my children. Without their mother looking after them, they don’t follow orders very well,” Alec’s voice rose as if he were talking directly to Mairi. She scrunched her face like an angry child.
“Another reason Bessy should become your wife as soon as possible. There’s a priest on Barra. It is summer with plenty of honey ale about and wildflowers that Bessy is fond of. Wait until ye see the sandy beaches on the west side of Barra, Bessy. And the land here is extremely fertile.”
“Aye, MacNeil,” George Macrae said. “I’d like to take a look at this soil Angus raves about. I would like—”
Alec’s voice cut through. “I won’t be taking her to wife; no offense, Bessy.”
The whisper of her response barely made it up the short set of stairs. The woman was a mouse. What would Alec do with a mouse? Whistle for her? Send her scurrying with different blast patterns on that damn little rod?
“Why the bloody hell not?” Angus roared, sounding like a beast on a battlefield. “Ah… Someone in the village warming your bed?” Angus chuckled, his good humor restored. “I’m sure Bessy could overlook a lass or two. She’s quite the obedient and forgiving woman.”
Overlook? Change of mind. Mairi did not like Angus Cameron. At. All.
Weylyn looked at Mairi with raised eyebrows. “That’s absolutely not appropriate, nor honorable,” Mairi whispered to him. God forbid the boy grew up thinking he could tup other women after he wed. Did he even know what happened between a man and woman yet? She’d have to make sure Alec talked with him. The boy certainly didn’t need to gain his information from a man like Angus Cameron.
“I appreciate your generous offer, but I decline,” Alec said, his voice lower, making Mairi open the door wider to hear.
As if she’d been called to run a race, Daisy flew through the room and scooted out the door. Mairi caught Weylyn’s arm as he made to run after her, because it was too late. The dog ran down the steps and into the hall.
Bessy cried out and Angus cursed while Daisy barked. The high-pitched whistle broke through the voices. “Daisy,” Alec called. “Artemis, come.” The dog stopped barking. “We have quite a few dogs about,” Alec said. “I apologize for the surprise. She was supposed to stay abovestairs with the children.”
“Are there more?” Bessy asked.
“Aye,” Alec said. “Lots. I train them to help people in the village and guard our shores.”
“She’ll grow used to the beasts,” Angus said. “Now back to the wedding plans.”
Mairi was beginning to feel an itch to kick Angus Cameron in the shins. Alec said something, but it was low, so Mairi stepped quietly into the hallway. Even though she motioned for Weylyn to stay behind, he followed, making an exaggerated effort to be as silent as the shadows around them.
“Decline, decline,” Angus said, his voice riding even higher. “What plans are better than creating an alliance with the Camerons? With England infiltrating the mainland of Scotland like a ravenous beast, we both need alliances to keep a strong Scotland. Yet ye refuse my sister? Why?”
The sound of a sword being drawn brought on the scrape of many blades unleashing.
“Ballocks,” Weylyn whispered, his eyes wide.
Ballocks was right. Was there about to be a bloodbath in Kisimul’s great hall? Children above, Daisy below, along with an apparently very breakable woman. Intercession was needed.
Grabbing her skirts with one hand, Mairi ran down the steps. “Stop,” she called, the scene much like she’d imagined. Kilted men stood opposite one another, crowding the room with Alec in the middle, sword out. Before him, a short, burly man with a full beard and narrowed eyes held his own sword high. Another man with graying hair stood beside Angus, sword drawn, point toward Alec. Dodging behind the Camerons was a petite woman, terror squeezing her face.
Alec looked fierce, his features darkened to a lethal glare. Strength and power radiated from his stance, as if he stood on a hill about to charge down over a doomed enemy. Mairi ran to the table, hiked her skirts and stepped up to stand above everyone. Angus looked her way, surprise muting the look of brutality in his stance.
“Stad, stop,” she called again.
“Who in fiery damnation are ye?” Angus asked.
Alec glanced her way but kept his eyes on Angus. One step forward and war would break out on Kisimul.
Mairi took a big breath in. “I am Alec MacNeil’s betrothed.”