Highland Heart

Heartless MacDonald not even heed the word of his queen?"

  Pressing a square of linen to his face, he dried himself. Lindsey

  stared in fascination as he ran the linen over his chest and arms.

  "I am more than Willing to offer my hand to Ian MacPherson, should the

  queen declare him to be what he claims. If, however, he is the liar I

  think him to be, it will not be my hand but my sword he faces."

  "Do you really believe that one of my abductors would return to my

  father's camp and risk his wrath?"

  Jamie crushed the linen as his hand formed a tight fist.

  His eyes blazed for a moment before he said quietly, "Your question is

  not worthy of a reply."

  Lindsey felt her temper growing. With her hands on her hips she

  taunted, "What must it feel like to be so perfect?"

  He ignored her taunt and turned away. As he began to walk she

  followed, feeling her anger begin to spill over.

  "Why can you not admit that you may be wrong?"

  He spun around so quickly she nearly collided with him. Before she

  could take a step back he caught her roughly by the arms and dragged

  her even closer.

  "Woman," he snarled, his eyes narrowed in anger, "you sorely try my

  patience." "Patience?" She tossed her head, as if to defy him.

  "I have seen no trace of this virtue you claim, my lord."

  "Nor will you, if you continue on this dangerous course you have

  set."

  For a moment his hands tightened on her arms and she felt a tiny thread

  of fear course along her spine. For long minutes he stared into her

  eyes. She refused to blink or look away. Abruptly he released her and

  turned on his heel.

  Lindsey had no idea what drove her to behave in such a foolish

  manner.

  But now that her temper had been aroused, she seemed unable to back

  away. Once again she flounced behind him, her biting words mocking

  him.

  "I see that you do not intend to admit that you could be wrong. Is

  this why some men claim the Heartless Mac Donald is never defeated? He

  merely insists that his way is the right way?"

  She saw his hands clench at his sides as he continued on his way. Her

  words had obviously found their mark. Flushed with victory she stalked

  him as they passed through a stand of trees that blocked the light of

  the moon and stars.

  "So. The mighty warrior now is reduced to threatening women if they

  dare to vex him. Is this how you earned your name?"

  "Damn you, woman."

  She did not even see him as he spun around and caught her arms in a

  painful grasp. His breath was hot against her cheek.

  "I am sick to death of that name."

  "It suits you. The Heartless MacDonald."

  His voice was a low whisper of fury as he took both her hands and

  pressed them to his chest, She felt the sudden jolt and tried to pull

  away, but he held her fast.

  "Can you feel the pounding of my heart?"

  Her voice was little more than a strangled whisper.

  "Aye. I can."

  "Is it less a heart than that of other men?"

  She swallowed.

  "Nay."

  "Then you admit I am not heartless, my lady?"

  Her palms were damp where they touched his chest. His mat of hair was

  soft and springy against her flesh. Aye, he was far from heartless.

  His heartbeat was every bit as thunderous as hers.

  When she did not reply, he ran his thumbs across her palms, splaying

  her fingers wide across his ribs.

  His voice was still rough with barely controlled anger.

  "It is a heart that bleeds, my lady." His voice lowered.

  "And yearns often for that which it can never have."

  She stared into eyes that were shrouded in mystery. The intense anger

  in him was evident. But there were deeper, darker passions that he

  seemed loath to reveal. Passions that terrified her, yet intrigued

  her.

  She saw his gaze center on her mouth as his hands slowly moved along

  her arms. When she attempted to pull away, his strong fingers cloed

  over her upper arms, holding her firmly against him.

  "What is it you fear, my lady? Did you not, after all, come out here

  to spar with me? Where are your taunts and arguments now?"

  She ran a tongue over her lips. He watched the movement through

  narrowed eyes.

  "I----came out here to---persuade you to join our company when your

  tasks were completed."

  A hint of a smile touched his lips.

  "That is all you wanted?"

  He was laughing at her. Her fear of him dissolved as her temper took

  over.

  "Aye. But I can see that I have made a blunder. You are much more

  suited to being alone."

  As she tried to push away his fingers tightened on her upper arms,

  causing her to gasp.

  "Aye. I have been alone too long. Perhaps that is why even an angry

  wildcat can tempt me."

  Wildcat. The gibe hit its mark.

  "I am not some wild creature. Nor did I come here to tempt you."

  "Nay. You prefer to goad me into a fight. But fighting with women has

  never whetted my appetite." He drew her fractionally closer and his

  tone deepened.

  "Women were made to be kissed."

  He lowered his head until his lips barely brushed hers. He felt her

  flinch and thrilled to his first victory.

  Against her lips he murmured, "Slowly and thoroughly and with great

  care."

  With her palms against his chest she pushed with all her might, but she

  was no match for his strength and determination.

  His arms came around her, pinning her to the length of him. His mouth

  closed over hers in a hot, hungry kiss.

  Splinters of fire and ice danced along Lindsey's spine. She trembled

  as a chill swept her. She was cold. So cold. Of their own volition

  her hands crept along his chest, pressed over his heart. And then, as

  he lingered over her lips, the chill became a wave of heat and she was

  hot. Liquid heat poured through her, filling her veins with molten

  fire. She gave a little moan as her hands gripped his shoulders. And

  as he took the kiss deeper, she was forced to hold on, lest her legs

  fail to support her.

  She felt his strong hands press into her lower back, drawing her close

  against him. Heat seemed to pour from his naked torso, heating her,

  tormenting her.

  Against her lips he muttered, "What? Have you no words left to hurl,

  my lady?"

  She moaned as his lips left hers to roam the curve of her cheek, the

  arch of her brow. He pressed his mouth to a tangle of hair at her

  temple and could feel the furious beating of her pulse.

  He had meant only to silence her voice, to still the taunts that fueled

  his anger. But from the first moment his lips covered hers, he was

  lost. Reason fled. And in its place was a burning, desperate need.

  He had known passion before. And desire. But never before had he

  known such wild, pulsing needs. He was driven to take her higher, then

  higher still, even though he sensed that she had never dealt with such

  emotions before. He wanted more than to silence her. He wanted her r />
  weak and clinging. His lips moved slowly over her face, feeling her

  breath straining in her lungs. His lips found hers, and this time she

  offered no resistance. Aye. This was how he wanted her. Warm and

  willing. But as he took the kiss deeper, he wanted more. He wanted

  all.

  He wanted her naked and desperate. As desperate as he. He wanted to

  take all she had to give. To drain her; to fill her. To make her

  his.

  Lindsey trembled in his arms and struggled with feelings she had never

  known. Always before she had been afraid. Afraid of a man's touch,

  his kiss. Until this moment, she had always fought and won. But with

  this man, the wish to fight had suddenly left her. In its place was a

  need to taste him, to touch him, to feel him, until she was desperate

  to crawl inside his skin. What had this man done to her? How had he

  bewitched her that she had surrendered with hardly a whimper?

  Dazed, Jamie struggled to clear his mind. He knew he had taken her too

  far. But his mind was befuddled. Her words, her taunts had blinded

  him to all reason.

  He kissed her again, tasting the wild, sweet taste that was like no

  other woman. He wanted her. God in heaven, he wanted to take her

  here, now.

  The forest closed around them, enveloping them in a cocoon of velvet

  darkness. The only sounds were the rippling waters of the stream, the

  call of the night birds and the occasional laughter from the distant

  campfire. Even the stars in the heavens were curtained off by the

  towering spires of evergreen. They were alone, and no one would ever

  be the wiser.

  Jamie knew he would have to be strong enough to walk away. And still

  he lingered, wanting one more taste, one more kiss.

  When at last he lifted his lips from hers, Lindsey stood very still,

  fighting the tremors that rocked her.

  Very deliberately Jamie took a step back, then another. The need for

  her still pulsed. The desire to take her still tugged at him.

  "Consider this a warning, my lady. It would seem I have found the

  ideal way to silence your taunts."

  "It is as I already knew, Jamie MacDonald." She turned away and prayed

  she would not stumble.

  "You have revealed yourself as the bully I thought you to be."

  On trembling legs she made her way to camp. As she rolled herself into

  her cloak, she struggled with a rush of troubling feelings. How had

  she gone from battle to surrender in the blink of an eye? What magic

  did this man use?

  Under the cover of darkness Jamie pulled on his shirt and tunic and

  thought about what had happened. Damn the woman. How was he going to

  continue avoiding her, when the need for her was becoming an

  obsession?

  Chapter Ten

  The sun was barely up when Jamie signaled that they should break camp

  for another day. This morning he seemed even more abrupt than usual.

  He carefully avoided Lindsey and he spoke only when necessary as he'

  went about his chores. When he saw Ian helping Lindsey into her

  saddle, he turned away so quickly he nearly jostled Douglas Gordon, who

  was standing beside him.

  The older man watched as Jamie pulled himself into the saddle and set

  out at a fast clip. He did not know what had transpired between Jamie

  MacDonald and his daughter last night, but he had seen the fire in her

  eyes as she had exited the circle of firelight.

  Douglas smiled to himself. He had often sampled his daughter's temper

  through the years. She could lay a man flat with but a few well-chosen

  words. Still, he wondered if even Lindsey could get the better of

  Jamie MacDonald. The man had fire enodgh for a dozen men. And his

  temper had been building for many miles.

  As he mounted, Douglas swallowed a chuckle. He would have enjoyed

  seeing his daughter spar with the Heartless MacDonald. Aye. He would

  have enjoyed it immensely. The two were evenly matched. Still, there

  seemed some thing more than anger between them. He had seen it several

  times; in the way the lad watched her when she talked and laughed with

  her brothers; in the way she studied Jamie when she thought no one was

  looking. Lindsey's gaze followed Jamie's mount as it disappeared into

  the forest mist, her eyes narrowed in thought. There was a softness

  around her mouth. Aye. There was indeed something more than anger

  between them.

  With a few sharp words, the old man sent their company racing to catch

  up with the fast pace set by their leader. In a weary gesture he

  pressed i hand to his back. He would be grateful when they reached

  their goal. The years were beginning to take their toll.

  It was nearly dusk when their weary party rode through the spotless

  streets of Edinburgh. Lindsey and her brothers swiveled their heads,

  craning their necks to drink in all the strange new sights and sounds,

  So many people and animals crowded together on the streets. So many

  lovely buildings, towering one above the other.

  Vendors in wagons and carts clattered along the wide, clean streets, on

  their way home from Lawnmarket. In Market Cross the crowds were

  thinner, as men and women hurried home to prepare their supper, The

  crowds were dressed somberly, befitting the mood of the city since the

  advent of the austere churchman, John Knox. Some said he held more

  power with the people than the queen. It was no secret that Knox

  despised the woman who wore the crown, branding her a harlot.

  Their silent party rode past the grand houses and gardens of Canongate.

  Towering above the rooftops of the great stone houses were the towers

  and battlements of Holy- rood house the stone fortress that was home to

  the queen.

  Lindsey glanced at her youngest brother, Neal. He fairly twitched with

  anticipation. As did Robbie, whose face was wreathed with smiles.

  Murray looked stunned by the assault of sound and color, Donald bemused

  by the sight of dozens of young women in every manner of dress.

  Lindsey shared the emotions of all her brothers. This world was so new

  and wonderful. And soon they would be in the presence of the queen.

  Jamie drew to a halt before a comfortable inn and handed his reins to a

  waiting groom.

  "It is too late this night to present ourselves at Holy- rood," he said

  wearily.

  "I will secure rooms for us here until the morrow."

  Lindsey felt a wave of regret. She had waited so long. Another night

  would seem like an eternity.

  Following the innkeeper, she watched as her father and brothers were

  given a large suite of rooms on the second floor. Across the hall a

  cluster of rooms was assigned to the men who accompanied them.

  Lindsey's feeling of regret deepened. Being the only woman in their

  party, she would most probably be assigned to an upper floor,

  sequestered from the others for her own protection.

  From his position beside her, Jamie swallowed his smile. Lindsey's

  every mood was easy to read. The lass's emotions were evident on her

  face. It was clear that she was expecting not
hing more than a

  cheerless room with a hard bed and a pitcher of cold water.

  Wearily Lindsey followed Jamie and the innkeeper down a long hall and

  halted in front of afiother suite of rooms. Once inside, her regret

  turned to pleasure. In the sleeping chamber, the large feather bed was

  ringed by sheer curtains. Through the balcony windows drifted the

  muted sounds of the city. In the adjoining sitting chamber, an

  inviting chaise was drawn up before a" roaring fire, and set up before

  the fireplace was a tub of steaming water. Beside the tub was a young

  maidservant waiting to assist her guest.

  "Is this acceptable, my lord?" the innkeeper asked Jamie.

  Jamie turned to Lindsey.

  "Does it meet with your approval my lady?"

  "Oh. Aye." Her smile grew as she realized that Jamie had thoughtfully

  made these arrangements.

  How could he know what it meant to her to look her best for her first

  meeting with Queen Mary? Because of Jamie's kindness, she would have a

  chance to wash away the grime of their long journey. And in the

  morning, rested and renewed, she would finally be presented to the

  queen, wearing her finest gown.

  "When you have had a chance to refresh yourself," the innkeeper said,

  "there will be a meal awaiting you below stairs, my lady."

  "Thank you." Lindsey's gaze moved beyond the inn keeper to where Jamie

  stood watching her.

  "Thank you very much. You are most kind."

  With a nod Jamie turned and left, followed by the inn keeper.

  With a sigh of pleasure Lindsey gave herself over to the servant, who

  assisted her in removing her clothes. She sank into the perfumed water

  and luxuriated in the maid's ministrations

  An hour later, her hair freshly washed and arranged, and wearing a

  neatly pressed gown from her trunk, she entered a small dining alcove

  below stairs where her father and the others awaited her.

  A fire crackled in the fireplace. The men, goblets in hand; seemed

  relaxed and cheerful to have their long journey at an end.

  Jamie, who stood beside the fireplace, was deep in conversation with

  Douglas Gordon. The two glanced up as Lindsey entered. Douglas

  excused himself and crossed the room to take his daughter's hand.

  Jamie remained at the fireplace, one hand resting atop the mantel, the

  other holding a goblet. At the sight that greeted him, his hand

  tightened around the stem.

  Lindsey's gown was emerald satin, with a jeweled bodice that molded her

  firm young breasts, then fell in soft folds to the tips of her kid

  slippers. A necklace of emeralds and diamonds adorned her throat, the

  gleaming stones catching and reflecting the light of the candles. At

  her lobes were matching earrings. Her waist-length hair was held away

  from her face with jeweled combs.

  This was a far cry from the lass who fought like a man and who rolled

  herself into a rough cloak to sleep along the forest trails. This

  woman, Jamie knew, would put the wealthy, titled women at court to

  shame. And the peacocks who surrounded the queen would all right for

  her attention.

  He watched as Ian MacPherson pushed past her brothers to catch

  Lindsey's hand.

  "My lady. You light this room with your radiance." Lindsey smiled

  sweetly at his compliment. But as he bowed over her hand, she gazed

  beyond him to where Jamie stood alone. For one long moment their gazes

  met and held. He inclined his head slightly. She felt her cheeks

  redden.

  As she crossed the room on her father's arm, Jamie signaled to a

  serving wench, who brought him another goblet.

  When Lindsey approached, he offered it.