MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel (8 page)

Evan’s brows rose. Apparently, Maggie hadn’t told her brother about that. “Oh?”

“I was sick and she nursed me through it.”

Evan’s brows slammed down. “How sick?”

Colin shrugged. “Enough that I was unconscious for a day or so. She kept us safe from the English. She’s a mighty fine warrior.”

“So ye spent days and nights alone with my sister?”

Colin had to laugh at that, which didn’t sit well with Evan Sinclair. He glared at Colin.

“I did more than spend days and nights with her. We were imprisoned together for weeks. If ye think anything untoward happened in that time, then ye’re sorely mistaken, Sinclair. I did no’ even know she was a woman until we escaped, and by then I was too sick to care.”

Evan’s expression cleared somewhat but he still didn’t look happy. “I was unaware of the sickness. Are ye well now?”

Colin shrugged.

“Tell me about the English prison.”

“We were in Fort Augustus. She was there longer than I was, so I canno’ tell ye much about her stay. But I was there for about a fortnight. A little less, maybe.”

“How’d ye escape?” Evan watched him closely, and Colin knew that Maggie had told her brother everything. Not that he blamed her; he certainly hadn’t told her to keep anything to herself.

“I had the help of Iain Campbell.” His back teeth came together and his jaw flexed. He hated that he was beholden to Campbell and still wasn’t certain why the man had felt the need to help him.

“Campbell’s a damn traitor,” Evan said, his face hardening. “Why are ye aligned with that limey bastard?”

“I’m no’ a fan, either.”

“Yet he helped ye,” Evan said suspiciously.

No one liked to be seen as an ally of Campbell except those who sided with the English. “I wasn’t about to turn down his offer, and ye should be glad I didn’t, because I brought Maggie with me.”

“Why?”

“Why did Campbell help me or why did I bring Maggie?”

“Both.”

“I do no’ know what Campbell’s motives are.” Colin wasn’t about to tell Sinclair that Campbell had claimed he’d been sent by Sutherland. Colin would straighten that out on his own. “I brought Maggie with me because…” Because those dark eyes had pleaded with him. Because her expression of defeat and acceptance of her circumstances hadn’t sat well with him. “Because I admired her grit,” he said instead.

“She said ye thought she was a lad.”

“Aye.” Colin shifted, remembering the scene at the creek when he saw her breasts. Good Lord, but they’d been perfect. He tore his mind from that, afraid Evan would see something in his expression that would give him away, and he had no desire for Sinclair to know that he’d seen his sister’s breasts.

“I thank ye, MacLean,” Evan said in a rough voice. “Thank ye for bringing my sister home.”

Colin tilted his head in acknowledgment. “If someone could bring my brothers home, I would hope they would.”

Evan grunted but didn’t ask about Colin’s brothers, which he was grateful for. “Gilroy said ye were molesting her in the clearing. That’s why ye were taken.”

Ye mean beaten?
“I was kissing her. There’s a difference.”

Evan’s expression darkened. “Maggie says the same.”

“Maggie would be correct and Gilroy wrong. I do no’ take it lightly when I’m accused of mistreating a woman, Sinclair.” He infused his voice with as much disdain and anger as he could, and most of it wasn’t a front. He highly disliked any man who would mistreat a woman, and the thought of anyone mistreating Maggie raised his ire.

Evan’s expression became thoughtful rather than angry.

Colin had meant to say goodbye to Maggie in that clearing. He’d meant to watch as she walked to the Sinclair holding, to make sure she arrived unharmed, and then he’d meant to ride away, but looking down at those dark eyes, he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d given in to the powerful urge to kiss her. A foolish mistake but one he wasn’t willing to regret.

Evan blew out a breath. “I suspect that ye were no’ totally to blame for that kiss. I know Maggie well enough to realize that.”

Colin wasn’t so sure “blame” was the correct word, but he kept silent.

Evan leveled him with a direct gaze. “And while she was kissing ye back, did Maggie tell ye that she’s betrothed?”

Colin stilled, the words ringing through the silent room, and then the air left him in a rush and he felt as if Evan just slammed a fist into his stomach.

“I can see that she did no’,” Evan said.

It does no’ matter,
he told himself.
Her life is here and mine is no’, and I was preparing to leave her anyway when I kissed her. ’Tis no matter that she belongs to another man.

So why did it feel like it mattered?

“It’s why she ran off to Culloden,” Evan was saying. “We have a difference of opinion on a few things.”

Colin struggled to focus on Evan’s face when all he could think about was kissing Maggie in that clearing. Lying on that rock by the stream and almost kissing her then.

What difference does it make, ye ijit? It’s no’ as if ye can make her yers.

Evan clapped Colin on the shoulder and squeezed. “Are ye feeling well, mate? I think that sickness is coming back. Maybe ye should rest awhile. Ye’re welcome for as long as ye need to stay.”

“I…” Colin had to swallow through a dry throat. “I thank ye.” He woodenly made his way to the door.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Sinclair said, causing Colin to pause. “There’ll be no more kissing my sister. Do ye understand?”

Colin heard the door to his bedchamber open. Over the past day and night, servants had come and gone. They’d lit the fire, brought food, taken the food away, stirred the embers. During all of that, he had not moved. It hurt too much to move. He felt as if he’d been trampled by a dozen horses. Everything on him hurt, and he wasn’t certain all of it had to do with his sickness.

He was faintly appalled by his reaction to hearing that Maggie was set to be married, and he’d spent a lot of the past day and a half wondering why he cared so much.

He finally decided that it didn’t have anything to do with kissing her—after all, he’d kissed a lot of women in his day and hadn’t had this reaction. No, what really bothered him was that she had kissed him back.

She had no right to kiss him back when she was promised to another man. She should have told him from the very beginning. Like when he saw her naked in the stream.

He was lying in bed and contemplating Maggie and the kiss and the surprising announcement of her betrothal when the woman herself walked into his bedchamber. At first he wanted to smile at her, but his anger overshadowed his pleasure at seeing her.

“Do ye want yer brother to kill me?” he asked.

She waved a hand in the air. “He does no’ know I’m here.”

“He’ll find out.”

She shut the door and he wanted to groan. She was going to be the death of him, and his death would be at her brother’s hands. “Ye best leave, lass.”

“Are ye feeling better?”

“Much. Now leave.”

She walked around the room, touching the back of a chair, the top of a table. Something was heavy on her mind, but alone in his bedchamber was not the place to tell him. Good God, not only did he have to think about Evan’s reaction, he had to think of her betrothed’s reaction.

“Ye’re angry with me,” she said, at last looking at him. She was dressed in clean breeches and a saffron shirt that neatly tucked into the waistband of the trousers. Her waist was small. He could probably span it with his hands and have his fingers touch. But he knew there was strength in that body. Strength enough to wield a sword and move his deadweight while he was sick. And yet she’d been so slight when she’d leaned against him during their kiss.

Hell and damnation, ye fool, keep yer head out of yer trousers.

“Why did no’ ye tell me ye were betrothed?”

She kept her gaze on the top of the small table where his dagger lay. She touched it with one finger, causing it to rock to one side. She’d tucked her hair behind her ears, and the short strands curled around her lobes. Almost all the women he knew wore their hair long, but he liked this look on her. It was curly and wavy and accentuated her sharp, chiseled cheekbones.

“He told ye that?” she asked.

He figured that wasn’t a real question, so he didn’t answer. The silence between them stretched as she continued to rock his dagger back and forth with the slight touch of her finger. Her shoulders were tense and her jaw clenched.

“Does it matter?” she finally asked.

“It would have been nice of ye to tell me early on.”
Before I kissed ye.

She looked up at him, those dark eyes big and round and unfathomable. “But would it have mattered?”

“Aye. It would have.”

“Why?”

“I would no’ have kissed ye.”

She looked away as color crept into her face. “I do no’ want to marry him, but Evan insists.”

For a moment Colin felt an immeasurable need to steal her away from Evan Sinclair, to take Maggie from an unwanted betrothal, but sensibility won out, thank the Lord. He knew nothing of the situation. Her betrothed could be the nicest man and Maggie could be overreacting. He also didn’t believe that Evan would force his sister into a marriage she didn’t want, definitely not into a marriage with a man she didn’t like.

“Is that why ye ran away to Culloden?” he asked. So much for staying out of the Sinclair family problems.

She nodded. “Evan would no’ listen. Still will no’ listen. He means to see me wed.”

Colin had done some irresponsible things in his life. He’d reacted rashly more than a time or two, but he didn’t think he’d ever overreact to the point that he’d run to battle.

“Nevertheless, ye should have told me,” he said.

“Aye,” she admitted softly.

Colin couldn’t help but think of that kiss and the realization that she’d never been kissed before. Had her betrothed not even kissed her? What kind of man was he that didn’t even want to kiss his wife-to-be?

Do no’ get involved in his. Do no’ get involved. Just walk away.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

Her gaze flew to his. “Why?”

“Because ye and I know that we canno’ pretend that nothing happened. And I can’t pretend that I do no’ want to kiss ye again.”

Maggie saw MacLean enter the great hall, but for the moment she stayed on the other side. He was looking much better than when she’d seen him a day and a half ago in his bedchamber. His eye wasn’t as swollen, although it was turning a nasty shade of purple. His face was a healthy color, and the sickness that had claimed him in the cave seemed to have passed.

MacLean looked over at her, his gaze unerringly finding hers. Her back went straight and she met his look boldly, but he turned away and sat on a bench with his back facing her.

Damn Evan for telling MacLean about her betrothal.

Damn him to hell.

A serving girl brought MacLean a plate of haggis and he smiled up at her, the action twisting Maggie’s stomach in an unfamiliar sensation. She’d never seen him smile like that. Usually, he looked pained or sometimes frustrated, but that smile nearly knocked the serving girl back on her heels. She blushed and hurried away, but not without a backward glance at MacLean, who was tucking in to his food.

Maggie pushed away from her table and stomped toward him, not considering what she was about to do. If she thought about it, she might lose her courage, and she had so very little time left that she couldn’t afford to risk it.

She plopped down on the other side of the table.

He glanced up, saw it was her, and paused in the act of chewing.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

He swallowed. “Much.”

“Evan says ye can stay as long as ye like.”

“That’s kind of him, but I need to keep moving.”

“Why?”

“I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Things.”

“What do ye do, Colin MacLean? Rumor has it that ye go home rarely and yer clan is being led by a steward.” She’d heard other rumors as well, but she wouldn’t voice them here.

“There is truth to that. I think…” He shrugged, looking down at his nearly empty plate. “I think it’s time for me to return home and take over my duties.”

She was taken aback by his hesitation. “Ye canno’ now,” she said. “The English will surely be looking for ye there.”

He leaned his elbows on the table and contemplated her with shrewd eyes, his uncertainty gone. “What are ye wanting, Maggie Sinclair?”

She pulled in a breath. His husky voice made her think of long, slow kisses in the dark and promises of other things that she had only an inkling of. Things she’d heard the serving girls whisper about. And she’d been around Evan’s warriors enough to know a little about other things.

Colin’s lips quirked, and his eyes heated to the point that she desperately wanted to look away but didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. “Ye look at me like that again,
a leanbh,
and I’ll be taking ye on this table right here and right now.”

She looked away, her face heating. “Ye would no’,” she said without much conviction.

Throughout the long pause, she couldn’t look at him, but she heard him growl. “Ye’ll be the death of me,” he warned.

“That’s no’ my plan.”

“Then what is yer plan?”

With her thumb, she traced a crack in the tabletop, trying to find the words that had suddenly deserted her. Around them, the great hall started to empty as people went about their day.

“Evan wants me out from under his roof,” she said.

“I doubt that.”

“He married Innis while I was gone. They want to start their life together. They do no’ need me cluttering up the place with my…ways.”

“Yer ways?”

She took in a deep breath. “He no longer likes that I wear breeches. Or that I go to the lists and fight. Or that I curse.”

“Well, all of that is a bit bizarre for a woman.”

She quickly looked up at him. “So ye think I’m bizarre?”

“Different?”

Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Better.”

“What about yer betrothed?” he asked.

She snorted and concentrated on digging her thumbnail into the crack. MacLean’s hands came into her line of sight and rested over hers, stilling her. His nails were closely trimmed and clean, his knuckles bruised and scraped from his fight with Gilroy and his men.

“Sinclair,” he warned.

She liked that he called her Sinclair rather than Maggie.

“His name is Hugh Fraser. I met him once, a few years back.”

“And ye took a dislike to him after one meeting?”

“I dislike him because he’ll expect me to act like a lady. He’ll want me to wear gowns and run his home. He’ll no’ let me train or carry my weapons.”

Maggie heard MacLean chuckle, and she looked up at him to find his lips pressed together but his eyes dancing in amusement. She yanked her hand from beneath his. “Ye find this funny?”

“Nae. Of course no’. So he told ye all of this when ye met him years ago?”

“Yes. No.” She huffed out an aggravated breath. “Evan keeps telling me that I must wear a gown and act like a lady when Fraser arrives. Why would he tell me that if Fraser does no’ want me to be that way?”

He seemed to think about that for a bit. “Ye might have a point there, but I would still give him a chance. Ye do no’ know what he’ll be like.”

Her shoulders drooped in defeat. She’d been foolishly hoping that MacLean would instantly take her side over Evan’s, but he seemed to be staying neutral. Did their kiss mean nothing? He’d said he wanted to take her on the table. Had that been a jest?

“Do ye no’ care? I mean, we were together in prison and I nursed ye and…” Ach, but she was sounding like a whining bairn, and that was the last thing she wanted. MacLean wouldn’t want to take a whining woman with him.

“Maggie.” He tilted her chin up so she was looking into his sympathetic eyes. “I canno’ get involved in what should be between ye and yer brother. It’s no’ my place.”

“Ye are my friend, so it is.” She held her breath and looked up at him. His look turned from sympathetic to something altogether opposite. She’d seen that look in the clearing right before he kissed her, and she held her breath, waiting for him to kiss her again. She leaned forward just a little bit more. His gaze dropped to her lips and she was almost positive he groaned.

He tilted his head and their faces were so close that she could feel his breath on her lips. More than anything, she wanted him to kiss her. A kiss that would steal her breath and her good sense. A kiss that would turn her world upside down.

They were practically draped across the table, so close that she could see the individual whiskers on his cheeks. He smelled of lilac, and she wanted to smile that a grown warrior smelled of such a feminine flower. No doubt it was the soap that the servants had given him for his bath.

One of the serving girls dropped a crock, and it shattered. The sound startled them and they jumped back, Colin surging to his feet. Maggie wanted to curse in frustration, and Colin ran a hand through his hair.

“Damnation, Sinclair. I may have saved ye from that prison, but ye’ll be the death of me.”

He turned to walk away, and Maggie felt her one chance slipping through her fingers. “MacLean.”

He turned back, and the naked desire on his face nearly stole her breath.

“I want ye to take me with ye.”