Devil in a Kilt (3 page)

Ranald
MacDonnell bristled visibly. "We mean to see our sister safely to Eilean
Creag Castle."

"Think
you I canna protect her on the journey to my own keep?"

"What
you propose is an insult to my sister," Jamie protested. "We meant to
stay a few nights to discuss the wedding preparations. Our father expects
tidings upon our return."

Duncan
adjusted his hold, pulling Linnet backward against his chest. "Inform your
sire all has been arranged, the banns read. We shall wed the morn after we
reach Eilean Creag. ‘Tis no need for Magnus MacDonnell to bother himself with
the journey."

"Surely
you jest!" Jamie's face colored. "Linnet canna marry without her
kinsmen present. ‘Twillna—"

"
‘Twould be wise to remember I do not jest." Duncan turned back to
Linnet's elder brother, tossing him her pony's reins. "See to your
sister's mount and be gone from my land."

Ranald
caught the reins with one hand, his other going to the hilt of his sword.
"I dinna ken who be more the bastard, you or my father. Dismount and
unsheathe your blade. I canna—"

"Humor
an old woman and cease bickering, all of you!" Her gray hair badly
disheveled from the journey, and her plump cheeks red with exertion, Elspeth
Beaton spurred her pony through the circle of men. With a shrewd gaze, she
turned first to the MacKenzie guardsmen, then to the MacDonnell brothers.
"Unhand your blade, Ranald. ‘Tis no secret your sister would enjoy her
wedding more without the likes o' her father present. ‘Twould be foolish to
shed blood over what we all know to be better for the lass."

She
waited until Ranald let go of his sword, then stared straight at Duncan.
"Will you not allow the lass to have her brothers present at her
wedding?"

"And
who are you?"

"Elspeth
Beaton. I've cared for Linnet since her mother died birthing her, and I dinna
mean to stop now." Her voice held the confidence and authority of a
well-loved and devoted servant. "Your broad shoulders speak o' hard
training, milord, but I am not afeared of you. I willna allow anyone to
mistreat my lady, not even you."

Turning
to gaze up at him, Linnet saw a corner of her betrothed's lips rise at
Elspeth's words. But the faint smile vanished in a heartbeat, quickly replaced
by... nothing.

Suddenly
she knew what had bothered her the most since he'd hauled her onto his horse.

The
rumors were true.

Duncan
MacKenzie possessed neither heart nor soul. Naught but emptiness filled the
huge man who held her.

"
‘Tis I who decide who sleeps under my roof. Linnet of Dundonnell's kinsmen may
rest here this night and depart MacKenzie land at daybreak. You, milady, shall
continue with us to Eilean Creag."

Duncan
signaled to a young man, who promptly rode forward leading a riderless gray
mare. Turning his attention back to Elspeth, he said, "The mare was meant
for your mistress, but she shall ride with me." He gave the squire a curt
nod. "Lachlan, help the lady mount. We've tarried long enough."

The
squire, young but well muscled, sprang from his own horse and plucked Elspeth
off her pony as if she weighed no more than a feather. In one fluid motion, he
hoisted her onto the saddle of the larger gray. As soon as she'd settled, he
made her a low bow, then swung back onto his own steed.

Elspeth
blushed. No one else would notice—for her cheeks were already mightily flushed
from the long ride and her anger.

But
Linnet
knew.

Her
beloved Elspeth had been charmed by the squire's gallantry.

Then
Duncan MacKenzie gave the order to ride. In a daring move, her brothers spurred
their horses forward to block the way. "Hold, MacKenzie! I'll have a word
with you first," Ranald yelled, and Linnet's betrothed reined in
immediately, having no choice unless he cared to plow through the wall of
horseflesh made by her brothers.

"Speak
your piece and be quick about it," the MacKenzie said curtly. "Do not
think I will hesitate to ride straight through you if you try my patience
overlong."

"A
warning, naught else," Ranald called. "Know this. Our father is not
the man he once was, and he may not care for Linnet as he should, but my
brothers and I do. These Highlands won't be big enough to hide you should you
harm a single hair on our sister's head."

"Your
sister will be well treated at Eilean Creag," came Duncan MacKenzie's
terse reply.

Ranald
gave him a sharp nod, then, one by one, her brothers freed the path, and the
MacKenzie warriors kneed their horses. The lot of them surged forward as one.
Linnet barely managed to bid her brothers good-bye. Their own shouts of
farewell were lost in the thunder of hooves, the clank of heavily armed men,
and the creak of saddle leather.

Her
betrothed held her well and ‘twas glad she was for his strong grip. Ne'er had
she sat upon a beast so large, and the distance to the hard ground speeding
past beneath them was daunting.

But
while Duncan MacKenzie's firm hold kept her secure, and his mighty presence
kept her physical body warm, he exuded an unholy chill that went straight to
her core. ‘Twas a deep cold, more biting than the darkest winter wind.

A
shudder shook her and, immediately, his arm tightened, drawing her nearer. To
her surprise, the gesture, whether meant to be protective or done out of sheer
instinct, made her feel secure. It warmed her, too, making her belly feel all
soft and fluttery.

Warm.

Despite
the cold of the man.

Linnet
sighed and let herself rest against him... only for a moment, then she'd
straighten. He
was
a MacKenzie after all. But ne'er before had she been
held in a man's arms. None could blame her if she relaxed for just a wee bit
and tried to understand the unusual sensations stirring deep within her.

Several
hours later she awoke, stretched out upon a bed of soft grass, her leather
pouch of herbs beneath her head. Someone had wrapped her in a warm wool plaid.

She
found herself in the midst of a camp full of MacKenzies.

All
in varying stages of undress.

Elspeth
slept nearby, next to a crackling fire, and Linnet did not fail to notice the
old woman's snores sounded quite content.

Too
content.

Apparently
her beloved servant had accepted their predicament. Pushing herself up on her
elbows, Linnet peered at the sleeping woman. Elspeth might be swayed by the
courtly flirtations of a MacKenzie squire, but she wouldn't be.

She
didn't care how many MacKenzie men played the gallant. Nor did it matter that
being held by her husband-to-be's strong arms had nigh turned her belly to
mush. The pleasurable feeling had surely been caused by her relief upon knowing
he wouldn't let her be dashed to the ground.

Ne'er
would a MacKenzie arouse stirrings of passion in her. Nay, ‘twas unthinkable.

And,
unlike Elspeth, she found naught appealing about being surrounded by the enemy.

Especially
near-naked ones!

"Lachlan,
help me off with my hauberk." Her betrothed's voice, deep and masculine,
came from the other side of the fire.

"As
you wish, milord." The young man scrambled at the MacKenzie's command,
fair falling over his feet to do his master's bidding.

Linnet
stared as her future husband pulled his helm from his head, revealing a tousled
mane of lustrous dark hair.

Praise
be the saints he stood with his back to her, for she'd begun to tremble.

As
she watched, he let the steel headgear fall to the ground with a heavy thump,
then removed his gauntlets. With both hands, he ran his fingers roughly through
black hair that fell in thick, sweat-sheened waves almost to his shoulders.

Linnet
swallowed hard, uncomfortably aware that her stomach was beginning to grow
mushy again. Could the man be a spellcaster? Had he bewitched her? With hair as
dark as sin, and glossy as a raven's wing, she supposed the rumors about the
devil spawning him could be true.

‘Twas
common knowledge beauty and evil often walked hand in hand.

When
his squire pulled the black mail hauberk over Duncan MacKenzie's head, her
breath left her in an audible rush, and she feared her heart would stop
beating. The sight of Sir Duncan's broad back captivated her as thoroughly as
if a sorcerer had indeed cast an enchantment over her.

Flickering
light from the campfire played upon finely honed muscles that rippled with each
move he made as he bent to aid his squire in removing the rest of his garb. Not
even Ranald's fearsome build matched Duncan MacKenzie's.

Her
heart sprang back to life, leaping to her throat as he rolled a pair of thin
woolen braies down his muscular legs. Faith, even his buttocks appeared fierce
and proud! Linnet wet her lips and gulped, hoping to ease the sudden dryness
in her mouth.

She'd
seen every one of her eight brothers and a goodly number of her cousins
unclothed. But nary a one had looked as intimidating as the giant who stood
across the fire from her.

Nor
as fine.

As
she gaped, unable to tear her gaze away, he stretched his arms above his head.
Powerful shoulder muscles rolled and bunched beneath skin burnished deep gold
by the firelight. Faith and mercy, naught in her score o' years had prepared
her for such a sight! He could pass for a pagan god, so magnificent was his
form.

The
thought of being
bedded
by such a man filled her with more trepidation
than if she'd been ordered to tame one of the sea monsters known to dwell in
Highland lochs!

But
even
that
fear dwindled in the face of the terror that seized her when
he turned around. She didn't even spare more than a quick glance at the
impressive array of virility displayed proudly at his dark groin.

Nay,
‘twas her first good glimpse of his face what chilled her to the very marrow of
her bones and brought back a long-suppressed memory.

With
horrible clarity, she realized why she'd gotten gooseflesh upon hearing her
betrothed referred to as the Black Stag.

St.
Columba and his host of holy brothers preserve her condemned soul: She'd been
sold to the man of her most frightening girlhood vision.

The
man without a heart.

All
through the night, fragments from Linnet's most unsettling girlhood vision
plagued her, robbing her of sleep and alarming her more than if she'd been
visited by a thousand nightmares.

Long-suppressed
images of a mortally wounded stag, black with its own blood, its heart torn
from its body, rose in her mind, and she relived the shocking scene she'd
endured on the day of her last unmarried sister's wedding.

She'd
fled the drunken merrymakers at the
ceilidh
celebrating Caterine's
nuptials, escaping to Dundonnell's bailey where the vision overtook her at the
courtyard well. Ne'er had she suspected she was seeing her own betrothed!

As
vividly as then, Linnet saw herself nearing the stag, hoping to ease its pain.
But before she could help, the animal had transformed itself into a man. A
fierce-looking but handsome warrior, and like the stag, he was covered with
blood, his heart missing. The man had stared at her with pain-filled eyes,
beseeching her to help him. He'd reached out to her, but terror had consumed
her, and she'd run away.

As
she must run now, for the frightful creature was nigh upon her. She could
almost feel his bloodied hands on her flesh. With a scream, Linnet came fully
awake. The image that greeted her was almost more upsetting than her long-ago
vision.

Duncan
MacKenzie straddled her, his iron-hard thighs pressed tight against her hips.
His broad shoulders loomed above her, and light from the moon glinted off his
dark hair. And he was unclothed ... fully naked!

Linnet's
pulse quickened, and an unexpected thrill of excitement shot through her at the
feel of his warm, well-muscled body so intimately close to hers.

"Saints,
Maria, and Joseph, lass," he swore then, his breath coming hard and fast,
his rough words breaking the spell, reminding her who he was. "I thought
you'd ne'er cease fighting me," he panted. " ‘Tis trying to calm you
I was, not harm you."

Calm
her?
Linnet swallowed hard. How could she be calm with
that
part of him mere inches from her belly?

Slowly,
her wits cleared, and the remaining dread from reliving the vision eased out of
her, but these strange new sensations increased. A pleasurable ache began deep
inside her, its center low in her abdomen near where the MacKenzie's male parts
almost touched her. Then
that
part of her started pulsing, and she knew.

‘Twas
desire she felt.

Her
first true stirrings of passion ... and ignited by a MacKenzie!

Indignation
ripped through her, followed by an alarming thought: Did he feel the same
things he'd awakened in her? Her gaze flew to his face, and she saw he did. He
still scowled, but the look in his eyes revealed his lust.