Chapter 7 #2
But he seemed, well, angry. His mouth fell into a hard, straight line.
A muscle in his cheek began to twitch. Even dressed in the elaborate court attire, his entire body tensed as if prepared to battle.
Alex MacLeod looked every bit the fierce and predatory Highland warrior as he had that day in the forest.
Whatever was the matter with him?
With one last burning glance, he turned to her mother and offered her his arm. Meg frowned. He was acting very strangely indeed.
Alex fumed in silence. The tenuous control he held on his restraint had been stretched to its limits.
With each minute of this blasted masque that passed, his anger intensified.
He tried not watching her, but it didn’t help.
He was only too aware of every damn lascivious cox-comb hanging all over her.
A small army of men had surrounded Meg, with her mother and Elizabeth nowhere to be seen.
Where the hell were they, anyway? Didn’t they know not to leave an innocent lamb alone among a pack of starving wolves?
You’d think the men at court had never seen a beautiful woman before.
Used to solving problems with his sword, Alex found it difficult to maintain the illusion of civility. He wanted nothing more than to smash a few of those lust-filled leers focused too often on her surprisingly generous bosom.
Meg Mackinnon was testing his patience, and other parts of him as well. He was as restless and edgy as a caged lion. Resisting his instincts was frustrating for a man used to living by them.
From the first moment he’d walked into the salon tonight and seen Meg, he’d realized what was going to happen, and it had enraged him. He’d known how these men would react, because he’d reacted the same way. With a warm rush of lust.
She looked like a damn goddess with her cascade of soft curls, her wide, innocent eyes, and her soft red rosebud of a mouth.
But it was the gown that made him half-crazed.
For the masque, the usual stiff bodices and wide skirts had given way to softer, more flowing gowns.
Meg’s gown hugged her body, revealing her high, firm breasts, tiny waist, and slim, narrow hips.
He no longer had to imagine the shapely curves she hid under her courtly armor, he could see every lush inch of her for himself. He clenched his fists and swore. But so could everyone else. His wee bookish nymph had a sensuality that left his mouth watering.
Bloody hell! Why did it have to be tonight that she unveiled her beauty for all the world to admire?
She’d always been popular with the older men for her wit and considerable fortune, but adding beauty had impossibly sweetened the pot.
Tonight, both young and old sought her out.
But it was the former that worried Alex.
Lord knew what kind of trouble she could find herself in with an overzealous young admirer.
The same sort of trouble she’d nearly found with him in the corridor.
He should be focusing his attention elsewhere.
So far, he’d seen nothing to suggest that Meg was in any danger.
The conversation he’d overheard in the tavern must have been a coincidence.
Alex told himself that since he’d agreed to act as escort, it was his duty to watch over her, as inexperienced as she must be with men—especially these men.
But he was spending far more time keeping an eye on Meg and her aggressive suitors than he was in keeping an eye out for Lord Chancellor Seton.
The only good thing to come out of the near debacle with Seton’s serving maid in the corridor a few days ago had been the news that Seton intended to attend the masque tonight.
Alex had flirted with the maid in the hopes of learning more, but apparently she was the only servant in the palace who didn’t listen to the conversations going on around her.
Yet in other ways she’d proved a surprisingly aggressive creature.
Indeed, he’d been trying to uncoil himself from her viselike tentacles when he’d caught sight of Meg.
He’d reacted without thinking, turning his discomfort at being caught in a compromising situation onto her.
He’d seen the flash of hurt in her eyes and wanted to explain, but he had his mission.
Holding Meg in his arms had been a mistake, but one that he could not regret. She’d felt too damn good.
But the small tease of pleasure had only made his hunger deepen.
He caught himself staring at her again. She’d changed, but she hadn’t.
Her hair might be more artfully arranged, but she still wore the same matter-of-fact, pensive expression.
An expression entirely without artifice.
That alone made her stand out and made her infinitely more attractive than the jaded courtiers who surrounded her.
There was no pretense with Meg Mackinnon.
It was one of the things he most admired about her, her confidence and ability to speak her mind.
But tonight there was a subtle difference in that expression. She looked more relaxed than he’d seen her before. Happier. It was the carefree young girl he’d sensed lurking beneath the serious facade. He’d wanted to see her laugh and smile. Just not with other men.
She smiled at something the man next to her whispered, too close to her ear for Alex’s comfort, and the pure radiance of that smile transformed her face beyond mere loveliness.
He couldn’t look away. He was mesmerized by the bewitching glint in those soft green eyes, the amused wrinkle in the small upturned nose, and the gentle curl of that pink bud mouth.
He ached to taste her, to press her close to him again, and to discover whether she tasted as impossibly sweet as she looked.
His groin tightened painfully.
Meg moved with such an artless, guileless grace. Movements that were all the more seductive for their rarity. She might never have the flamboyant beauty of her mother or his sister-in-law, Isabel, but though more understated, it was equally entrancing.
Unfortunately, now he was not the only one to notice.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her tip her head back and laugh at something one of her admirers said.
An admirer who was standing much too close and couldn’t keep his damn eyes from falling to the deep valley between her breasts.
The pounding started in his ears, and all Alex could see was red.
He’d had enough. His wee little seductress needed a severe talking-to.
Since the moment of their arrival in the hall, a noticeable buzz had trailed Meg’s every move.
She found herself thoroughly, and surprisingly, enjoying her newfound popularity.
She’d never lacked for suitors—her fortune alone would compel many men to seek her hand—but tonight she detected a subtle difference in the intensity of their interest.
They did not want her just for the power and position she would bring them with an alliance, they wanted her. It surprised her that the difference mattered.
Meg felt a trickle of apprehension along the back of her neck.
She’d been aware that Alex was watching her—he was so blatant, it was impossible not to be—but when he came storming toward her with a savage expression on his face, she decided that perhaps it would be prudent to avoid him.
He was in a black mood, and she suspected that for some reason he blamed her.
Though she couldn’t imagine why. She turned to one of the gentlemen at her side, accepted his arm, and started to move away.
Only to find Alex had managed to cut in front of her to block her path.
That trickle turned into a full-fledged flood. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Not one bit. But, she reminded herself, she hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Excuse me,” she said in a surprisingly calm voice. “I was just about to take some air with—”
“Good idea,” he snapped. “I’ll take you.
Lord Maxwell here won’t mind.” He grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the balcony.
Lord Maxwell appeared to mind very much, but he didn’t have the gumption to argue.
Meg peeked out of the side of her lashes and noticed Alex’s taut mouth and clenched jaw.
There was also the fact that his shoulders were twice as wide and he had at least eight inches of height on Lord Maxwell.
She supposed she could hardly blame the poor man for standing aside.
It was as if Alex had claimed her and dared any man to oppose him.
She shook off the feeling. That was ridiculous.
For a man of his size, Alex moved with a surprising grace.
But being pulled along beside him, she found it a struggle to keep up with his long, powerful strides.
A burst of cool air smacked her senses as she exited the hall.
The night air was a welcome reprieve from the stagnant heat of an overcrowded room.
After glancing around to see that they were alone, she brusquely shook off his hold.
He seethed beside her, but she refused to be intimidated.
Even if he did outweigh her two times over. At least.
The realization took her aback. Though he looked every bit as forbidding as he had that day on the battlefield, she did not fear him. No matter how angry he was, she knew that he could never harm her. Even when he was furious, Meg felt safer with him than she’d ever felt with anyone before.
The knowledge both pleased and emboldened her.
She turned to face him, toe-to-toe. “That was very rude,” she pointed out, resisting the urge to stick her finger in his chest. “Whatever is the matter with you? You’ve been glowering at me all night.
You can’t still be angry about what happened the other day.
I told you I wasn’t spying on you. I’m sorry for interrupting your little tryst, but really, you can’t blame me for walking down a corridor. ”