MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel (4 page)

Her.

Colin was sitting a few feet from a
female
Sinclair.

The boy wasn’t a boy at all.

Those were breasts.

Nice breasts.

Nice shoulders, too. For a lass.

She was standing in the stream, and the cold water made her nipples stand at attention, fully peaked and puckered. She leaned back and dipped her head into the water. Those marvelous breasts thrust upward, the peaks jutting toward the weak sun.

She came up quickly and ran her hand over her hair, slicking it back from her face. It was the first time Colin had gotten a good look at her face. She’d kept her face covered with her hair, and now he knew why.

She had large dark eyes and black eyebrows that winged upward. Her cheekbones were chiseled.

She was beautiful.

She was in the act of slicking her hair back one more time, her arm raised, when she caught sight of him. She gasped and froze, then quickly sank into the water until she was fully covered from the neck down.

“What in the hell are ye doing?” she demanded.

In the dark recesses of his mind, Colin noted that she swore like a Highland warrior. The forefront of his mind registered his engorged cock damn near on fire. “I—”

“Ye can just pop those eyes right back in yer head, ye big lunk.”

“I’m—”

“Canno’ a person get some privacy around here?”

“I—”

“Is that all ye can say?”

It was a good thing those large dark eyes weren’t daggers, because he’d be dead right where he sat. She was furious, but he couldn’t tell if it was because her secret was out or because she was naked.

“It’s all ye’ll let me say,” he said, standing up and brushing off his arse, his erection wilting.

Not fast enough. The Sinclair girl’s gaze immediately went to it, and her face turned a few shades redder.

“Ye can just pop yer eyes right back in yer head,” he said, mimicking her.

That got her to look away. Her cheeks were bright red and she was visibly shaking, more than likely from the cold water. “Ye looked first,” she mumbled.

“I thought I was looking at a boy.”

She glanced at him quickly and he realized his error. “That’s no’ what I meant.” He sighed, looking around to spy her clothes in a heap by the edge of the stream. “Get dressed. We’ll talk about this when ye get back to the cave.”

If Colin had thought the Lady Sinclair was going to be cowed when she entered the cave, he would have been wrong. She walked in with her head high and her dark eyes flashing defiance. There was no regret in that mulish expression.

And those cheekbones…Hell and damnation, but she was probably the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. She’d taken great pains to hide her beauty and he didn’t blame her one bit. If the English soldiers had known of the gem they’d had in their prison, they would have snatched her up right away, and Colin shuddered to think what they would have done to her.

He was a bit irritated with himself for not seeing what was in front of him all this time, but that only led to admiration of her spirit and brazenness. She stood on the other side of the fire, her feet apart, her hands loose at her sides. Her hair was still slicked back, and those eyes flashed black ice at him. She was clearly ready for anything he threw at her, be it words or daggers.

“This changes everything,” he said.

“This changes nothing.” Her voice was deep but feminine. How the hell had he not noticed this fact before? No wonder she’d kept mostly silent.

“How can ye say this changes nothing?” he asked.

“What does it change? We spent weeks together in that cell.”

“How the hell did ye do it? How did ye hide yer…” He waved his hand toward her, his voice trailing off as images of her magnificent breasts sprang to his mind.

She shrugged. “I stayed in the shadows and they forgot about me.”

“But…” He didn’t know how to finish. If she were a man, he would have said what was on his mind, but she was a woman. It most certainly did change everything.

“I used the bucket when ye were asleep,” she said with a gleam in her eye. She was goading him, and damn, but it was working. She had a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind; he would be a fool to take that lightly.

“So are ye a Sinclair or no’?”

“I’m a Sinclair.”

Colin sighed in agitation. “Yer name, lass. What is yer name?”

She pressed her lips together and looked defiant, but Colin merely waited her out. It wasn’t as if they had anywhere to be this day, considering he wasn’t strong enough to walk down to the stream and back, let alone ride a horse.

“Margaret,” she said. “People call me Maggie.”

The name didn’t sound familiar but that meant nothing. “Does yer chief know where ye are?”

She looked away, but not before he saw the flash of pain in her eyes. “Evan is my
bràthair, and he
does no’ know my whereabouts.
We
do no’ even know our whereabouts.”

He chose to ignore that last digging comment. He knew where they were, but she didn’t need to know that. “Tell me how a lass managed to get herself arrested and imprisoned by the English without them knowing she was a lass.”

She crossed her arms and looked away. And damn Colin’s traitorous mind, but all he could think about were those perfectly ripe breasts. “I’ve got nowhere to be and time on my hands, Sinclair.” Somehow calling her Maggie didn’t seem right. He’d yet to wrap his mind around the fact that she was a lass. “Although I might take another of those bannocks if ye have a mind to give me one.”

Her jaw worked as she stared at him. She was a tight-lipped one, to be sure. “Ye ate the last one.”

“Surely there’re more oats.”

“I’m not yer servant. Make yer own damn bannocks if ye want them.”

He hid his shock at her cursing. He shouldn’t have been surprised, since he’d heard her curse a dozen times, but that was before he’d known she was a she. What would make her want to dress and act like a man? Clearly, she’d been doing so for some time, for it came naturally to her.

“I’m weak. I’m recovering from a fever and sickness.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m no’ a cook.”

“The last batch of bannocks was no’ bad.”

“I’m
no’
a cook.” Her eyes dared him to say what he was thinking, so he did just to see her reaction.

“Ye’re a woman. Ye know how to cook.”

He could have sworn she growled as she reached for the
sgian dubh
at her waist.

Colin held up his hands in surrender as he laughed out loud. “I was jesting with ye, lass. No need to get so upset.”

It took a moment before her hand fell away from the
sgian dubh
. “That’s no’ funny.”

“So ye don’ cook, ye wear men’s clothing, and I’m assuming ye know how to handle that dagger and
sgian dubh
Campbell gave ye. Ye’re quite an interesting woman.” Far more interesting than she should be.

Her jaw worked again. He could detect the anger built up inside her. Colin was good at reading people. Far too many times he’d had to size up a person immediately and go by what his gut told him. Most of the time his gut was right, but when it failed him, someone got hurt.

“I like fighting more than I like cooking, and trousers allow me to ride astride.”

An image popped into his head of a whole hell of a lot more than her breasts and her riding astride. He pushed the thoughts away. What a cretinous ass he was being. The color was high on her perfectly sculpted cheeks. Her shoulders were rigid and she was still standing with her feet wide apart, primed to run or fight, whichever was needed.

“I’m in no condition to fight ye, lass. Sit down.”

She hesitated for a long moment, then gracefully sat where she’d been standing, folding her legs beneath her.

Despite the two bannocks he’d already consumed, Colin’s stomach rumbled. He was a big man, and two bannocks weren’t nearly enough to tide him over. Especially since he hadn’t eaten in days and hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.

“If ye tell me where the oats are, I’ll make more,” he offered.

She pointed to the side of the cave where the blankets had been stacked and a few pieces of dry wood remained. Colin collected the oats and the bucket of water and proceeded to mix the ingredients. When they were cooking on the fire, he sat back, exhausted just from that small act of domesticity.

She’d watched him warily, and he realized she’d done the same in their cell. How frightened she must have been, keeping her secret, afraid someone would find out. He knew what the English were doing to the Scottish women, and more than likely, so did she.

Yet “frightened” wasn’t a word he would use to describe her. Wary. Watchful but prepared. No doubt she’d had some plan for if she had been discovered.

“Did Evan teach ye to fight?” he asked, referring to her brother.

She nodded. Mayhap she wasn’t one for many words. Odd, considering he’d yet to meet a woman who didn’t like the sound of her own voice.

“Do ye know my brother?” she asked quietly, with a touch of uncertainty. Interesting, that. Why would she be uncertain when she’d been so defensive?

“We’ve met once or twice.” The last time Colin had seen Evan Sinclair had been at Abernathy Abbey, when Alasdair Graham had called together a dozen clan chiefs and asked them to protect the Scottish people against the English. But Colin wasn’t telling her that. The meeting had been conducted with utmost secrecy, and he would continue to honor that code.

He pushed the cooking stone out of the fire and let the bannocks sit to cool. His stomach rumbled again. Hopefully, in the near future he could eat a real meal with meat. His mouth watered at the thought.

The Sinclair lass shifted and covered her mouth as she yawned.

“When was the last time ye slept?” he asked.

She shrugged and looked into the fire, but her shoulders were beginning to droop in exhaustion.

“Sinclair.”

She looked up at him with those bottomless eyes.

“Have ye slept since we reached the cave?”

“Some. Ye were restless. Kept waking me up with yer fevered dreams, calling for Fergus and such.”

Could it be that she’d stayed awake to care for him?

“I’m awake now. I promise no’ to call out in my sleep. In fact, I’m wide awake. Why don’ ye get some rest.”

Her head jerked up and their gazes locked. He could see from her indecision, her inability to trust him, that she’d been able to trust no one in prison.

“If I sleep now, ye’ll eat all the bannocks, and they look and smell a sight better than mine did.”

“As ye wish.” Colin shrugged, knowing that he’d pushed her as far as he could and that if he insisted, she would get angry. But he understood that her stubbornness came from fear of letting her guard down.

She’d have to learn on her own that she could trust him. Telling her wouldn’t do it, but in time she would learn.

He hoped.

Maggie’s eyelids drooped and she forced them open. She’d been freezing while bathing in the stream, but sitting in front of the warm fire was relaxing, and even though she knew better, the cave and the fire and, yes, even the warrior on the other side of the fire made her feel safe. It was a stupid thought. Maybe it was because she hadn’t felt safe in weeks. Maybe she was latching on to whatever made her feel secure. She didn’t know. She just knew that she was more tired than she’d ever been in her entire life. Bone-tired. Soul-tired.

Her eyes popped open, her inner warrior awakening. The feeling of safety was false, and she needed to be aware. She didn’t know Colin MacLean well outside a jail cell. She had no idea how close the English really were. The fire might be warm and comforting, but it was a fake comfort. The wolves were at the door, ready to come in. Hell, the wolf might just be staring at her from across the fire.

She thought back to that incident at the stream. How had she been so stupid as to let MacLean sneak up on her? That was a novice mistake and a deadly one. If MacLean had been a redcoat, she would have been dead. She was furious with herself for letting her guard down just for the enjoyment of her bath. She couldn’t be so careless again.

“Sleep,” MacLean said from the other side of the fire.

She sat up straight and forced her eyes open wider. “I’m waiting for the bannocks to cool.”

He smirked. “Ye’re falling asleep where ye sit. I promise to save ye some.”

She snorted. “I do no’ believe ye. I’ll take my bannock when it’s cooled.”

“When was the last time ye slept?”

She shrugged. “I sleep when I can.”

“And when is that?”

“What does it matter to ye?”

His eyes narrowed. “Since we’ll be traveling together, it matters.”

She could feel her body listing to the side, desperate to lie down for a moment. Just a moment. That was all she needed. She straightened and cleared her throat. “So ye’re willing to travel with me? A lass?” It was a stupid question and one she regretted immediately, but she’d always had a problem with her mouth running away from her.

“Sinclair land is no’ too far. I’ll safely deliver ye to yer brother.”

Even though she missed her brother terribly, she didn’t want to think about going home to him. There were reasons she’d left, and she was almost certain those reasons would be waiting for her when she returned. She’d attained nothing from her flight to Culloden but heartache and fear. And she didn’t want to humiliate herself by admitting defeat.

“Where will ye go, then?” she asked to keep her mind off her own problems.

MacLean’s gaze moved to the fire and he contemplated the flames for a bit. “Home, probably.”

“Where is MacLean land?” She’d heard little of the MacLeans. All she knew was that they were a small clan. Evan had never spoken of them, so that must mean that Colin MacLean was not marriage material, as Evan’s main focus lately had been on finding Maggie a suitable husband. Unless MacLean was already wed. But he’d not mentioned a wife. Now she was doubly curious.

“The opposite coast,” he said shortly.

“The Minch?” she asked, referring to a large body of water on the eastern shore of Scotland.

“Atlantic Ocean and part of Firth of Lorn,” he said.

“I’ve never seen the Atlantic Ocean.”

“It’s much like the North Sea, only a bit warmer. One body of water is much the same as the others.”

Her eyelids drooped again, and this time she let her mind drift. She hadn’t been quite this weary before, but in the dungeon she’d had to be constantly vigilant. A full night’s sleep hadn’t been an option because she’d been in constant fear that a soldier would appear and discover she was a woman, and she had to protect that fact at all costs.

That MacLean now knew her secret was both disconcerting and a relief.