Amanda Scott (21 page)

“Sakes, I didna say he would refuse it, only that he would refuse to undo a Papist marriage t’ seize the lass and her fortune.
The point o’ marrying her, I’d remind ye, is t’ make it less desirable for Donald t’ snatch her from ye. He’s smart enough
t’ see that Huntly would be loath t’ anger both the Pope and the King.”

“Almost do you persuade me, sir.”

“Think carefully on it,” Mackinnon advised. “Donald will want t’ gather his forces afore he attacks such a stronghold, so
ye’ve some time, but no verra much.”

“She won’t like this,” Fin said, wondering how much he would like it himself. He was undeniably attracted to the lass. She
had only to enter a room for his body to respond to her. Even now, the thought of taking her to his bed argued more strongly
in favor of exercising his right to marry her than anything Mackinnon had suggested, persuasive though that gentleman’s arguments
were.

Still, he had done little to tame the lass, so heaven alone knew to what lengths she would go to prevent the marriage or,
if he were successful in hailing her before his priest, what she would do to retaliate.

Molly had found a comfortable seat on a rocky outcropping conveniently shaped like a chair, where she settled to enjoy her
solitude. The only thing that would have pleased her more would have been riding her horse at Dunakin, or anywhere—galloping
full out with her hair loose and streaming behind her.

As it was, the wind blew softly from the west, and the air held a fresh salty tang, a pleasant change from the crowded hall
with its odor of too many unwashed bodies. Gulls and curlews soared and darted overhead, their cries contrasting likewise
to the buzz of human conversation she had left inside. Solitude was heady stuff if one chose it rather than having it thrust
upon one.

Thanks to the wind, the day was clear, and away to the west she could see the shadowy, humped shape of Skye. Her thoughts
rambled idly, and although they lingered frequently on Kintail, they turned to Mackinnon more than once, and to the reason
for his unexpected visit.

That Lady Mackinnon had not come with him made it clear from the outset that his visit was not social. It did not take much
imagination to decide that its most likely cause was that Donald the Grim knew that she had left Dunakin and where she was
now.

She wondered if Mackinnon himself had informed Donald and knew that for him to have done so would not be against his nature.
One reason he had been able to maintain the uneasy peace with MacLeod and Donald was his honesty, a trait that both of his
fellow leaders admired in him even if neither saw fit to adopt it.

“What the devil are you doing out here?”

Sighing, realizing that she had lost track of time and had been just staring at the water and listening to the birds and the
wind, and to the waves lapping against the shore, she turned reluctantly to face Kintail.

“It is peaceful out here,” she said.

He loomed over her, and she realized that the sounds that had fascinated her had deadened any noise behind her. She had not
heard the postern door open or shut, nor had she heard his footsteps approaching over the rocks.

Although he looked angry, he did not speak at once but drew a deep breath instead, as though to curb his temper. That frightened
her more than a fit of pique, for it warned her that he thought what he was about to tell her would upset her.

“Is it her ladyship?” she demanded, scrambling hastily to her feet. “Has something happened to her? Don’t stand gaping at
me, Kintail! Tell me!”

“Peace, lass, it is nothing like that.”

“Then why do you hesitate to speak?”

“Because I am tempted to shout at you,” he retorted, his voice louder than before. “Do you not realize how dangerous it is
for you out here?”

“I’m not going to be swept into the sea by a few waves spitting against the shore,” she said. “The water is calm today.”

“A sensible person does not heed only the sea at Eilean Donan,” he said, still controlling his temper with visible effort.
“Do you not see how near we are to the shore yonder? A skilled archer with a longbow—”

“He would have to be skilled,” she said, eyeing the distance, “and his bow would have to be stout.”

“Patrick could do it,” he said bluntly. “He has done it. More to the purpose, however, I have done it, and I am not as skilled
with a bow as Patrick is.”

“Aye, perhaps,” she said, nodding, knowing that in truth a man of moderate skill could accomplish such a feat. “Still, I doubt
that you’d do much damage to a target—if, indeed, you actually hit one. The wind being what it is presently—”

“Enough,” Kintail growled, glancing around. “I did not come out here to debate archery with you. I told you that you are not
to leave the castle without my permission. I doubt that you can have forgotten that order so quickly.”

“Nay, I did not forget,” she said, eyeing him warily, “but you told me only that I could not leave Eilean Donan without permission.
That is the islet, is it not?”

She could almost hear his teeth grind. Standing as he was on a small rise, he towered over her, and she knew that he was strong
enough to pick her up with one hand if he chose to do so. It was perhaps as well that he did not know she could swim. By the
look of him, he might have been tempted to fling her into the water, as he had Patrick, and it was still icy cold at this
time of year.

When he did not speak and seemed still to be struggling with his temper, she attempted a diversionary tactic. “How did you
chance to find me?”

“Chance had nothing to do with it,” he retorted. “I do not leave the castle unguarded, lass, least of all when so many are
gathered here. Watchmen stand above on the battlements, and one sent a lad to tell me when you came out here. Had I not been
closeted with Mackinnon, I’d have come for you sooner.”

“Why did he come? Has Donald learned that you brought me here?”

“Aye, and Mackinnon says the scoundrel’s in a foul temper over it. Apparently, Sleat hoped to use you to barter with your
cousin.”

“My cousin? What cousin?”

“Huntly.”

“He can scarcely know who I am,” Molly said, wrinkling her nose. “My father was indeed his cousin, but I doubt Huntly’s ever
clapped eyes on me.”

“Nonetheless, Sleat believes that if he can present you to him, Huntly will agree not to take up arms to fight his claim to
the Lordship of the Isles. To that end, Mackinnon thinks Sleat means to attack Kintail.”

“But he could not take Eilean Donan!”

He eyed her speculatively for a moment and then said, “You need not worry, mistress. Most men believe that a single man, woman,
or child could defend this castle. You are quite safe here.”

“I doubt that I’d feel safe with only one other to defend me, but you’d never leave Eilean Donan to be defended so,” she said,
certain that she already knew him that well, at least.

He sighed. “Believe me, lass, there are moments when I might cheerfully
say
that I’d leave you to look after yourself, but you’re right about Eilean Donan. If I truly had control of that fortune of
yours, the first thing I’d do is build a defensive hornwork here, and then I’d do similar things elsewhere to defend Kintail.”

“So you are just like all the others and care only about my fortune,” she said, surprised by the strength of her disappointment.
“I should have known, for that is all anyone has ever cared about.”

“That would not matter now, even if it were true,” he retorted. “What I care about now is your safety and that of my people.
And, as to that—”

“I’m going inside if only to stop you from barking at me any more,” she said.

“But—”

“Men’s words are nonsense, mostly. ’Tis their actions that speak the truth.”

It hurt more to hear him speak so casually about acquiring her fortune than it had to hear him speak lightly about leaving
her to defend herself. Then, she had known he was goading her, but accustomed though she was to her fortune being the primary
reason men paid her heed, she did not want Fin Mackenzie to be like the others, and certainly not to say as much to her face.
He stood too close to her, in any event. Her skin tingled. She needed distance.

When she turned toward the castle, he stopped her. “Wait,” he said. His warmth burned through her clothing where his hand
grasped her shoulder.

She stopped and let him turn her to face him, but she avoided his gaze even when his warm fingers cupped her chin, gently
tilting her face up.

“Molly, look at me.”

His tone was persuasive, compelling, and every nerve in her body shouted at her to do whatever he asked. But she kept her
eyes downcast, resisting, certain that he expected submission and would take full advantage of it if she relented. Moreover,
to give in so easily would render her vulnerable in other ways. If she let herself care, if she set even tentative roots at
Eilean Donan, then leaving would be that much harder to bear when he found it expedient to give her to another man.

When his lips touched hers, shock swept through her like a firestorm. The hand on her shoulder slipped down to her waist,
and the one holding her chin moved to caress her right arm, his thumb brushing against the side of her breast. She stiffened
at the desire his touch aroused in her, and her eyes flew open.

With a teasing smile and a swift glance around as if he expected someone to see him and object, he murmured close to her lips,
“I have wanted to kiss you since the night I first saw you.”

Fighting the feelings he stirred in her, she pulled back, saying tartly, “So you still regret that you did not take me to
your bed that night. Well, you will never do so, sir. Good day to you!” Turning sharply, she wanted to rub her burning lips,
but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had affected her so.

“Nay, lass, wait!” He caught her arm again. “I should not have— Pray, do not go in yet. There is something else I must tell
you… that is, something that I should discuss with you,” he amended hastily. Glancing around again, he added, “I keep feeling
as if someone were watching us. Perhaps we should go in.”

“What can you possibly want to discuss with me?”

A shout from the slope drew their attention to Mackinnon’s hurried approach. As Molly waved to him, she heard Kintail swear
under his breath.

“Did ye tell her yet?” Mackinnon said as he hurried down to them. “What did she say?”

“Tell me what?” Molly demanded, turning to Kintail.

To her surprise, his face reddened and for the first time since they had met, he seemed reluctant to look her in the eye.

Mackinnon caught her in a fierce hug, saying heartily, “Well, lass, is it t’ be your wedding or his funeral that I’ll be helping
ye t’ organize?”

Shooting Kintail a gimlet look, she said grimly, “What is he talking about?”

“This is not how I meant to bring up the subject,” he said ruefully.

“Ye didna tell her yet?” Mackinnon clapped a hand to his head. “I’d never ha’ taken ye for a coward, Kintail, and that be
plain fact.” Grinning at Molly, he said, “The man’s decided that he must marry ye t’ protect ye from Donald, lass. And a fine
notion it is, too. I say that the quicker ye’re wed, the better!”

“Not unless he’d enjoy a corpse for a bride,” Molly snapped, adding as she moved toward the castle, “because I’d be dead first!”

Mackinnon stepped out of her way, but Kintail did not.

“Wait, lass,” he muttered, reaching for her.

Dashing his hand aside, she swept past him, head high, practically daring him to lay a hand on her again, only to feel disappointed
when he did not. Telling herself that she had just hoped he would give her an excuse to slap him, she continued miserably
to the postern door and inside.

“Now, that did
not
go well,” Catriona said, watching Molly’s stormy departure through narrowed eyes. She and Claud sat side by side on a bit
of rock near Molly’s natural chair.

“Dinna be vexed, lass,” he said. “I told ye they dinna fancy each other.”

“What matters what they think of each other?” she replied lazily. “My laird requires your lady’s fortune, and she requires
only firm management. Think, Claud! Can you not
make
her care more for him?”