Chapter Five

Waking to an odd pressure, Kirstie turned to see Blair laying on her unbraided hair. Confusion set in, and her head started to pound before she remembered Alan had walked her back, but she didn’t remember him leaving. Och, maybe the pain in her temples was from the drink and not her friend.

“Blair.” Kirstie pushed at her shoulder.

“What?”

“Ye are on my hair.”

“Ugh,” she groaned and lifted long enough for Kirstie to pull free before she fell back to the bed.

She ignored the fogginess and pushed through. “How was yer walk with Henry?”

“Ugh, let me sleep.” Her friend rolled over, giving her a nice view of the lass’s blonde hair and backside.

“Damn, Blair, wake up. I’m dying to ken what happened.” Rolling over to face her, Blair sighed. A sly teasing smile appeared, and her eyes lit even through their sleepy haze.

“He kissed me.”

“Well, how was it?” Forgetting her aches, a flush of excitement had her cheeks lifting with the corners of her lips. She was happy for her friend, even if she had reservations about Henry, who acted like a pompous arse.

“Pleasant.” Blair sat up and stretched.

“Well, will ye marry him?” She stepped over to the wardrobe and pulled out a dark green gown Blair had insisted she bring. The color did look good on her, but it made her long for the greens of the open fields she would not be seeing anywhere near this blasted castle.

“He hasnae asked yet.” When she glanced over her shoulder, Blair’s full lips pouted back at her.

“Do ye think he will?”

Her friend stood, finally looking awake, and rushed over to retrieve a dress, a sage color that complimented her pale skin and light eyes. “I dinnae ken. We were only able to steal a moment alone, and we didnae have time to discuss it. John says Father willnae approve, but John does.”

Although Kirstie lived on Macnab land, she hardly saw the Macnab laird and never discussed politics with him. Thinking on why The Macnab might not approve, she remembered that although Blair’s brother John held the belief that the people of Scotland should be able to choose whatever religion they wanted, her father was a staunch Covenanter. “’Tis because he is Montrose’s cousin and a firm Royalist?”

She almost asked the other question on her mind. ’Tis because he is so arrogant?

“Aye.”

“Will Montrose be here for the meeting?” She pulled the dark gown over her head just as Blair did the same with the sage one.

“Nae. John says Montrose and Argyll cannae stand to be in the same room together.” Blair went to work fastening the matching ribbons.

“Henry will marry ye, and then what am I to do?” Of course Henry wanted Blair on his arm. Every man wanted the petite blonde lass. “I’ll be all alone, and what if yer father decides I cannae stay and have to go back to Kentillie?” Her voice sounded sad, but buried deep, she could feel excitement bubbling up at the possibility of going home. She turned so that her friend could help her with her own ribbons and to hide the little thrill that might show on her face.

“Ye should. Alan was watching ye when I came into the room last night.”

“I am no more than an obligation to him. I undressed in front of him last night, and he didnae say a word or look the slight bit interested.”

“Ye dinnae see it, but I swear that man is as crazy about ye as ye have been over him. Ye just have to find out why he is holding back.” Blair grabbed the brush from the little table and ran it through her hair.

“I ken what it is. He sees me as a sister. I cannae go back, because at least in the Macnab stables I feel important.”

“Nae, that isnae brotherly concern I see in his eyes.”

“What do ye think I should do? If he doesnae want me, I’ll stay on yer father’s lands or find a husband who will let me take care of his horses.” She contemplated a million other things that would be better for her than Alan Mackenzie.

“Ye should make him jealous. Then ye’ll believe me.”

“How am I going to do that?” After running the brush through her hair, she set it back on the table.

“I think ye already are, and ye will not have to worry about it if ye keep cavorting with those Covenanters.”

“Ye ken what I’m doing.”

“Aye, but Alan doesnae,” Blair protested.

Well, he had an idea after catching her in Argyll’s room last night. “And he doesnnae need to ken it or he’ll tell Malcolm.”

“Tonight, wear the blue dress. That will get his attention.”

“I cannae wear that. I told ye ’twas too tight in my chest.”

“’Tis perfect.” A devilish grin teased at Blair’s lips.

“I can barely breathe, and ’tis indecent.” Stepping back over to the wardrobe, she pulled open the doors and ran her fingers down the silky blue material.

“Do ye want his attention?”

“Aye, but—”

“Do ye want the others to confide in ye?” Well, it was important she gain the confidences of whoever may be out to get to her family.

She swallowed, knowing the argument was lost.

“Then ye must wear the dress.”

Tightening her lips together, she pouted, knowing she couldn’t deny the dress would bring a lot of attention her way.

Blair smiled. “Let’s go eat. I’m famished.”

…

After breaking their fast, with Finlay as their guide, Kirstie and Blair strolled the streets of Edinburgh, taking in the early morning sun. The bustling city was pinned in by walls built many years ago to protect the residents from English invasion. The stone barriers, green with moss where they remained shaded, hadn’t been successful and now seemed more for controlling goods traversing into and out of the city than any threats of invasion.

Marveling at the tall buildings that sometimes eclipsed the height of Kentillie, the Cameron castle and stronghold, she imagined the claustrophobic feeling of being stuck on one of the higher floors of the structures. The homes were so close together that some of them were even touching, leaving room for windows only on the fronts and backs of the facades. Although her breath refused to fill her lungs as merchants and the townspeople crowded and hurried around, it was still better than the stifling environment of the castle.

Malcolm had been busy and could not accompany them but had reluctantly relented and let them go as long as Finlay came along. She agreed, determined she was not going to spend all day stuck in that fortress on the hill, especially now that the other guests were arriving.

“Is that Alan?” Blair cut into her thoughts.

“Where?” Squinting, she followed her friend’s gaze.

“Just outside that tavern.”

It was Alan. He was putting something in some wench’s hands. Too far away to see what it was, she concluded it was probably something innocent, but there was no mistaking the woman’s hand going to Alan’s shoulder. It lingered there, and then her finger trailed down his arm slowly in a seductive way.

Kirstie’s heart stopped, or at least it felt as if it had. A strange dizziness, or was it numbness, washed over her as her breaths came too fast. She made sure the head covering she had worn today was in place, then she strolled a little too fast farther down the street. She couldn’t let him see how she had been affected by the thought of him with another woman.

Blair continued to stare at Alan while Finlay struggled with whom to keep an eye on, finally muttering something to her friend Kirstie couldn’t hear. Blair stood her ground when their chaperone kept his watchful gaze on everything as he moved to her side. Their chaperone kept his watchful gaze on everything as he moved.

Finlay, who had been silently brooding the entire walk, chose now to speak up. “I’m sure ’tis no’ what it seems.”

Damn, she’d given too much away and now the man knew how she was affected by her brother’s best friend. She studied a port in the town wall, anything to seem uninterested, but her reaction had told the truth.

Finlay, suddenly talkative, continued, “Alan has never paid for a woman.”

Oh, that makes me feel so much better.

Meeting his eyes, she asked, “Does everyone ken?” She would have blushed if her face wasn’t already flushed with anger and a renewed sense of determination that she would not let Alan back into her heart.

“Nae, I just ken what it looks like to want something ye cannae have.” His gaze drifted longingly to Blair, who was still watching Alan with her hands on her hips and tapping her foot. Kirstie looked back to Finlay.

“Why does he no’ want me?” She wanted to cry, but she wasn’t going to let Finlay see her shed tears over that horse’s ass.

“I dinnae ken why some people dinnae see what’s right in front of them.”

Kirstie wasn’t sure if he was talking about Alan or Blair. It was really a shame Blair was infatuated with Henry, because Finlay was a good man and he obviously cared for her. If they married and she went back to Kentillie, she wouldn’t lose her friend. But she would have to be near Alan, and she would lose her position in the stables, again being reduced to a nuisance, decimating what sense of self-worth she’d accumulated during her time with the Macnabs.

“He didnae look at her as anything other than a woman selling bread in the market.”

Kirstie cringed at what was supposed to be a reassuring comment. “Let’s move on. I dinnae want him to see us.” She started walking without them.

The clouds darkened as they crested the top of the hill, and the sky opened up. By the time they got to the castle, she was wet, cold, and ready to escape to a quiet corner to lament over Alan and attempt to come up with a plan to save her brothers and find a suitable husband.

Hamish was at the door to meet her when they walked in. He wore a pale yellow jacket that stood out against the gray stones of the castle. He was dry, while she must look like a drowned rat. Her hair clung to her face, but despite the chill, she had welcomed the rain. It had cleansed the courtyard of the scores of people.

“I was worried you left without telling me. I couldn’t find Blair or John either.” He took her cool hand, the warmth of his instantly reminding her of the stifling nature of the castle, and she regretted pushing to get back so quickly after seeing Alan.

“I wouldnae leave without saying goodbye. I think I will stay as long as Malcolm does. I dinnae see him enough.”

“Yes, that’s right, your brother. Now how is it that he and Alan Mackenzie are no longer friends? I thought all of you were raised together.”

“I cannae tell ye what happened between them. I havenae asked. I’ve been away so long.” And she didn’t want to add that she’d purposely avoided the subject of Alan with her brothers, but now she saw she would need to change that, because the family that she knew stuck together. Something about the whole situation was off.

He let go, and she brought her hands to her elbows, making a protective circle and warding off the chill bumps that were threatening to erupt on her arms.

“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 danger 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.

When the music ended, he left the chattering lass with a brief “Thank ye for the dance,” and hastened toward Kirstie.

Taking her hands, he started to spin her but slowed a bit when he noticed she nearly tripped over the hem of her gown. He was so frustrated at that point that the first words from his mouth were clipped and angry. “Why are ye toying with those men?”

She tried to pull free, but he kept his hold. “’Tis none of yer concern.”

“Aye. It is.”

“I hear ye going about introducing yerself as a Mackenzie. Why are ye acting as if Malcolm doesenae exist?” A fierce protective spark lit in her eyes, one which told him despite her absence from Kentillie, family was above everything with her. Hell, he admired her, her loyalty, her compassion to animals in need. Even if he couldn’t have her, she had to come home.

“’Tis no’ what ye think.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“Nae, I cannae do that.”

“Then ye have no reason to be angry with me.”

He wasn’t just angry, he was furious, and she’d tried to evade his question. “I amnae angry. What are ye doing with Covenanters?”

“I will tell ye when ye explain to me what kind of game ye and Malcolm are playing.”

She tilted her chin up and pulled her shoulders back.

Guiding them toward the edge of the crowd, Alan took her arm to draw her into a secluded alcove to talk privately. He hoped her admirers weren’t watching, but this conversation couldn’t take place where just anyone might hear.

“Tell me what the hell ye think ye are doing.” His words came out harsher than he intended.

“What do ye mean?” She shrank into the corner as he shielded her from view.

Glancing around to make certain no one was near, he lowered his voice. “Breaking into Argyll’s room, associating with all these Covenanters. Making these men think they have a chance with ye. Take yer pick and start explaining.”

“I dinnae owe ye an explanation.” She pouted.

“Aye, I believe ye do.” He took her chin and lifted until her eyes met his. “If I had not found ye in Argyll’s room, ye could be dead or worse right now.” Glancing around to ensure they were still alone, he shuddered as he thought about what could have happened. “Ye are into something ye shouldnae be, and ye are going to tell me what it is.”

“I willnae.” She fisted her hands on her hips.

“Aye, ye will, or I will haul ye and Malcolm home tonight.”

She peeked around him to make sure no one could hear them. “Someone is trying to kill my brothers.” Her lip quivered.

“How would ye ken that? I want to kill them almost every day.” It was a poor attempt at trying to lighten the mood. He didn’t know how to react to the frightened lass who stared back at him. She was easier to manage angry.

“I was in the stables, and I overheard some men talking about it.” She gulped and bit her lip. He heard laughter and pivoted again to reassure himself no one could hear their conversation.

“So ye decided the best thing to do was break into the earl’s room? Have ye gone daft? Why did ye no’ talk to me?”

“Because I dinnae want to spend time with ye.” That stung. At least she was cautious enough to lean in and whisper, “And ye have only been with Covenanters since ye arrived. How do I ken ye are not part of it?” Her cheeks reddened, and she poked him in the chest.

She sounded confused and hurt when she continued, “I want to think ye wouldnae harm them, but I feel as if I dinnae ken yer heart anymore.”

“’Tis crazy, kitten, ye think I would do something to yer brothers.” Still looming over her, his fury abating, he gently clasped his fingers around the hand that had been assaulting him. She pulled back as if burned.

“Nae, but yer up to something.”

“Why did ye no’ tell Malcolm what ye overheard?” He leaned closer; she smelled earthy but floral at the same time.

“Because I was afraid he would do something foolish.”

“Anything he would have done couldnae have been worse than what ye attempted.” He wanted to pull her in and hold her, just to know she was safe. “Ye are lucky ye are no’ dead.” He was dangerously close to her ear now, and his breathing had become heavy.

“Please, leave me be,” she whispered. Her blue eyes were full of longing, fear, and unshed tears.

Some primitive part of him reacted to the luscious scent of her and the husky way her voice trembled. His hand went to her waist, and she shivered at his touch. Eyes fluttering for a moment, she bit her lip. She was beautiful, and he wanted to sink into her and give in to the emotions welling up, the ones he had worked so hard to hide.

She must have seen his reservations, because she shook her head. “Ye arenae my brother, and ye arenae anything more to me. Stay away from me. I dinnae wish to see ye.”

She pushed away from him, and emerging from their private alcove, she ran for the door.

Hell, that could have gone a little bit better. Och, he doubted Finlay or Dougal saw her leave, and she wasn’t safe out there on her own. Worse, she might not be safe with him. He followed but walked slow because he knew where she was going and he wanted to give her time to calm down. Hell, he needed time to simmer, too.

As he reached the entrance to the stable, Kirstie’s scream penetrated the cool night air, and his blood froze.