Highlander Mine. Juliette Miller
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of them. I could acknowledge that there was a definite allure to the supreme Laird Knox Mackenzie. If I’d been a hapless debutante with good breeding and a cultured sense of gentility, I might have described him as utterly dazzling. But I was not a hapless debutante. I was in fact a skilled and underhanded cardshark with few prospects beside the strength of my own wit and, perhaps, the occasional use of my own physical attributes. Attributes that had so far brought me more trouble than advantage. I could see the way his gaze lingered on the lavish curves of my body, gliding over my full lips, touching the long, feminine coils of my softly fiery hair and caressing the plush bounty of my half-exposed breasts. It was a look I was accustomed to, for better or worse.
It was glaringly clear to us both that I was at a distinct disadvantage in the universal scheme of things. Despite this, there was some indescribable thread of imbalance, in the opposite direction, as though he was deferring to me on a base level and in a way that flustered some inner sanctum deep within his psyche that had not been flustered for some time. I saw the light touch of craving in his eyes, and it was laced, oddly, with a profound flicker of sadness. Again, a subtle contradiction. He was an enigma and one that, against my better judgment, I couldn’t help being drawn to. Knox Mackenzie was privileged but he was not at all unscathed: this was a pronounced feature of his mien.
So, he was clever. And so was I. I planned to explore these small intuitions, to use them to my best advantage. After all, they were the only advantages I had and were tenuous at best.
“Thank you, Laird Mackenzie. Aye, I am hungry. And thirsty. It has been a long trip.”
He walked over to where my shawl lay on the ground and picked it up. He didn’t just hand it to me but draped it carefully around my shoulders. A gentlemanly gesture—not something I was particularly accustomed to. I left the shawl where he had placed it, not bothering to fasten it yet with the pin. His eyes were on me and, as never before, with a sense of almost bashful amusement, I found I liked that he was watching me, feasting somehow on the look of me. It made me want to grant him whatever pleasure he might have been deriving from my femininity. After years of discouraging or altogether ignoring the forthright attention of men, this was an entirely new response.
He led me through the orchard to one of the side doors of the manor. There were servants and other clanspeople about, all of whom bowed to Laird Mackenzie as he walked by. They took little notice of me, beyond a light glance. In some circumstances, it might have been inappropriate for a young woman to be alone with a man. But lairds, I suspected, were above scandal. Either they were too highly respected to be accused of making untoward advances, or they were allowed whatever untoward advances they chose to make. I hardly cared. It wasn’t as though my reputation was as pure as the driven snow. That I had managed to traverse the path of my young adulthood without experiencing even so much as a first kiss was all but a miracle. I wasn’t afraid of being alone with Knox Mackenzie. And, in fact, I was hungry.
Our path was interrupted by the sudden approach of a young soldier, who was well armed and also bloodied and dirty as though from a fight. “Laird Mackenzie,” he said, with clear urgency in his voice. “A dispute between Eamon and Fraser is in full force in the sparring ring. I fear one of them might take the other’s life if they aren’t persuaded otherwise. I’ve attempted to intervene, but they’re in a blind, provoked rage. They’ve already injured themselves quite severely.” Then, as though noticing me despite the circumstances, he took a quick bow. “If you’ll forgive the intrusion, milady.”
I was unaccustomed to being addressed in such a way, and I fumbled with my answer before I could give a reply that might have sounded appropriate. “I, uh, not...not at all.”
Knox Mackenzie was too preoccupied—and annoyed, if I was reading him correctly—with the matter at hand to take notice of my response either way. “Isn’t there anyone else who can break up two hotheaded recruits? Where’s Lachlan?”
“I couldn’t find him,” the young soldier said.
Laird Mackenzie’s manner had changed markedly, his resolute seriousness shielding any fleeting, momentary connection we might have skirted around. “If you would be so kind, Miss Taylor,” he gruffed, “to wait for me in the hall, I will be with you shortly. This will not take long.”
“Of course, Laird Mackenzie,” I replied, and I was pleased with the gentility of my response; I sounded wholly proper, and suitably respectful. As I very nearly was.
As Laird Mackenzie retreated into the unseeable distance with his soldier, I made my way to the manor, entering through the side door and finding my way to the grand hall, where the tables had been set with cheese, fruit and bread.
There was no one about. The servers must have been preparing the remainder of the meal in the kitchens.
My stomach rumbled at the sight of the abundant food. Tiny tufts of steam still rose from the fresh-baked bread rolls, and the heavenly scent was enough to break down my barriers of etiquette. Surely they wouldn’t mind if I took something to eat before the others arrived. I had been offered food by the laird himself, after all, and also invited by Christie. My last meal had been a hearty one—more than twelve hours ago. And the apple...well, Knox Mackenzie had eaten most of it in the end. I’d always had a healthy appetite, yet more often than not I was left unsatisfied. And the bounty before me was simply more than my limited powers of resistance could handle. I picked up a small, rounded loaf of bread, breaking it open. I placed a hunk of the ripe cheese between the still-warm halves, watching it melt. Then I took a blissful bite. Unthinkingly, I reached for more bread, for Hamish, stuffing it in the pocket of my gown. And another. He’d be hungry after his morning in the barracks.
At that moment, Laird Mackenzie walked into the hall, accompanied by not only Christie but also Katriona.
Oh, damnation.
How uncouth I must have appeared. It occurred to me that I could have been just a wee bit less eager about helping myself to this food on offer. I didn’t believe they would mind that I’d taken a small bite of bread before the dinner bell was rung, but the way I was stuffing not only my mouth but also my pockets might have looked less than genteel.
Ah, well. My intentions were as true as they’d ever been: to look after my nephew as best I could, by finding food for him along my travels. Partaking in sustenance for myself was hardly a crime worth punishing, I reasoned.
I swallowed, brushing the crumbs from my chin with my hand, for lack of anything more suitable. All three of them were staring at me, of course. As I might have expected, this transgression would only fuel Katriona’s scorn; she looked almost amused by my total lack of decorum, as though I had proven a point she’d been trying unsuccessfully to make all along. I thought of stuttering out some excuses, but that might make matters worse. Instead, I squared my shoulders and smiled gracefully.
Knox Mackenzie’s face was virtually unreadable. This irked me. If it was pity he felt for me, or disdain, I wanted to be able to tell, I realized. But he wouldn’t even give me that. He just leaned his shoulder against a wooden pillar to watch me, his thumb casually laced beneath the belt at his hips, as though to take his time and carefully assess whether I should be regarded as a thief, a beggar, a nuisance or something else altogether.
Christie stepped forward and laced her arm through mine. “I’m famished, too,” she said conspiratorially, and I was grateful. Her benevolence was the most pronounced aspect of her character. I wished I might someday have a chance to reciprocate her kindness. “We didn’t even break our fast this morning, did we, Amelia? You and your brother must be half-starved by now, after the journey you’ve had.”
Before I could respond to her, to thank her for tactfully smoothing the awkwardness caused by my misdemeanor, Knox Mackenzie said brusquely, “Shall we conduct our meeting now, Amelia? I can offer you more food in my den...if you’re still hungry.” As if to imply that I might have already eaten my fill.
I thought of telling him that I could have eaten all the food in the room if he’d just leave me to it. Instead, I smiled and said, “As you wish, Laird Mackenzie.”
Katriona’s flicker of amusement faded. In a complete reversal,