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Highland Temptation
by Lori Ann Bailey

Copyright © 2018 by Lori Ann Bailey. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

Edinburgh Castle, Scotland, June 1643

C’mon, open.

Kirstie Cameron fumbled with a hairpin she prayed would give her access to the locked door. After falling through her trembling fingers, it hit the floor. She cursed under her breath. Her brother’s life lay in the balance, and she couldn’t still her frayed nerves.

Scanning the darkened hall, she surveyed the shadows then bent. As she swiped her hands across the cold stone floor in search of the pin, her finger managed to knock into and push it beneath the locked door.

Breaking into the most dangerous man in all of Scotland’s room was not her brightest idea, but it was her only option, and now the opportunity was lost. She stood and looked around to see if there was anything else she could use to dislodge the lock on the Earl of Argyll’s door. Nothing but the bleak gray stones and scattered flickering sconces down the hallway of the castle stared back at her.

Wait. There was a shiny scrap of something just under the dancing flames a few feet away. Stepping away from the door and bending to inspect it, she froze at an unwanted familiar voice.

“Miss Cameron.”

Kirstie rose to see a shadowed figure glide toward her. How’d he do that? She’d not heard the man approaching. She shivered but plastered a smile on her lips to face one of the men who might hold answers to the Covenanter plot. “Hamish, how are ye this evening?”

“It’s a beautiful night now that I’ve found you.” He bowed like English gentry, and she was, as usual, at a loss for how to respond.

Knowing she was too tall and far from the fairest lass around, his words fell short of their intention. Even Hamish was shorter than her. Sure, she had other attributes men liked. Her breasts were large and she was fair of face, but as soon as a man stood next to her and realized he had to look up to catch her eye, he turned and bolted the other way.

Hamish’s flirtatious comments were commonplace, and she’d learned to take them as what they were. Practiced words to woo and seduce. Despite the urge to pull away from the man set on converting her to Presbyterianism, she would lead him to believe it possible, at least until her family was safe.

“’Tis many a bonny lass in residence this week. I’m fair certain ye could have yer pick.”

“Ah, but what if I have already chosen the lady I wish to court?”

Her gaze traveled from his hair down his form to make certain he knew she was looking and doing her part to gain his confidence. She was not unpracticed at flirtation as well. She glanced back up to see his lips curve in an appreciative smile. His shoulders straightened, and he moved closer.

I bet the English lasses are all prim and proper and dinnae spar with him this way.

“May I escort you to the hall? I’ve wanted to dance with you since we arrived.” He gently laced his arm through hers and turned her in the direction he’d approached from.

Her heart sank as she realized there was no way to get out of it. Breaking into the Covenanter leader’s room would have to wait for now, but she couldn’t delay long as more guests would be arriving soon. She would have to try again before the castle became crowded and the chance of discovery was too great.

“What brings you to this part of the castle?”

Her steps faltered, but she recovered quickly. “I was told that Malcolm arrived earlier. I cannae wait another minute to see him.”

The lie slid easily from her lips because it was also the truth. Too much time had passed, almost a year since she’d seen her younger brother. The urge to wrap her arms around him and know he was safe clawed at her.

The threat against her older brother, the Cameron laird, was the only reason she was here spying in this overcrowded, suffocating castle, and despite her desire to be back on Macnab land and tending to the horses in the stables, she was thankful Lachlan had not come to Edinburgh. If someone was after Lachlan, would they use Malcolm to get to him?

“It is not proper for a lady to be seen in the men’s quarters.”

A chuckle escaped her lips, and he turned a disapproving gaze on her.

She was reminded again of how different they were. His family had ties to the English aristocracy, so as a youth he’d gone to live with relatives in England and attend school there. She’d spent her whole life in the Highlands and couldn’t imagine calling any other place home.

He was but a year older, and she’d met him back in the fall. It was late June now, and in those few short months, she’d come to the conclusion that the only thing they had in common was an uncanny ability to turn any conversation into a flirtatious combat.

This was the first time she’d seen disapproval in his eyes, however. They were dark and held a hint of something dangerous beneath the surface. A chill prickled at the back of her neck, and she shuddered.

She wasn’t going to let a man tell her what to do, but she thought it best to pacify him. If for no other reason than to reinforce her half-truth.

“I was just hoping to see him before he was swept up by all the lasses who will be clamoring to be at his side. Ye will have some competition now that he is here. Ye will have to pick a lass and pursue her before he sets his sights on her.”

“The only lady I wish to woo is you, but you are correct. Apparently I am already at war with him for your attentions.” As they passed a sconce, she noticed the merriment had returned to his hazel eyes.

Kirstie pulled her skirts high with her free hand as they rounded the corner and started down the stairs. Slowing her pace, she kept her gaze focused on each step before her foot touched it.

Not much embarrassed her, but her awkwardness had caused many moments of humiliation. It was why she felt so at ease with her animals. They were graceful and lithe. Riding horses had been the perfect antidote to her inability to not walk a straight line without falling on her face.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she dropped her skirts. A lively tune floated on the air, and as they stepped into the hall, she swallowed. The warmth of the crush of people wafted over her, along with the smells of overly perfumed ladies and sweat.

Her mouth was suddenly dry. Just the thought of being next to the hordes of people she didn’t know made her head spin. Where had they all come from? Most of them must be staying in the city, because the castle still held many empty rooms, waiting on visiting lairds and their clansmen who were due to arrive in the coming days. She stopped at the edge of the floor as Hamish attempted to guide her out into the dancing crowd.

“I must have something to drink first.”

“How silly of me. I will get you a refreshment, and we can step out for some air. It is stifling in here, but I will not let you desert me until you have honored me with a dance.”

“I would never think to deny ye.” But oh, how I wish I could.

“Stay here. I shall return shortly, and we can go for a stroll.”

Hamish moved to the refreshment table. To keep herself busy, she scanned the crowds. She hoped for a glance of Malcolm, but she also stopped on each unfamiliar face and studied them for any signs that could give her a clue as to who was behind the plot against her older brother.

A flash of her cousin Fiona whirled by laughing in the arms of an attractive man who swept her away as soon as she’d appeared. It was nice to see her cousin enjoying herself. Since the man she was interested in had disappeared several months earlier, the lass had been miserable. Kirstie smiled at the thought that her friend might again find happiness.

Hamish appeared through the throng of people holding two cups. “Adam’s ale.” He winked at her. Her brow crinkled until she took a sip and realized it was water.

“Just what I needed.”

“Come.” He threaded his free arm through hers and guided her toward the exit. The smell of fresh air washed away the tightness that had enveloped her in the great room. She was made for outside and wide open spaces. Confined areas always left her with an unsettling rumbling in her belly. She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly.

“’Tis a bonny night.” She glanced up at the stars.

“Only matched by your beauty.”

He took her free hand in his and stared deep into her eyes. “You should join me tomorrow. Robert Baillie will be speaking at Greyfriars Kirk.”

“Nae, ye ken ’tis no’ where I belong.” She tried to look accepting but at the same time stern in her own beliefs. His hand tightened slightly.

“I will entice you to join me one day.” He smiled, but she had the sense he was only indulging her.

He really believed she would renounce her religion for his. He treated her as if she were a child who had not been able to comprehend a lesson he was attempting to teach her. It was the one quality about him that angered her. Of course she didn’t like that he was too English, but what really got under her skin was that he would not accept that she was Catholic and wanted to stay that way.

Pulling her hand free, she raised the other holding the cup to her lips to swallow the last sip of her water. “I am anxious to find Malcolm. Will ye please escort me back in to look for him?”

He perked up like a strutting peacock and resumed his position at her side. She regretted losing the cool night air, but it was the fastest way to change the conversation. He’d not tried to force his faith on her like the fanatics, but the last thing she wanted to do right now was talk about the Covenanters when they were out to kill her brother and force their beliefs on her clan.

Strolling back into the hall just as the notes of a song rose up in the air, he took her cup, set it near the wall, and whisked her straight out to the dance floor.

A familiar face appeared in the crowd. “Malcolm.” Hamish twisted to follow her eyes.

“Ah, he looks like ye.” She smiled because Malcolm glanced over, caught her eyes, and grinned from ear to ear.

“We have often been told we look alike.” Being away from her family had been hard on her, but she had purpose on the Macnab’s land, a position that made her feel needed and fulfilled. Back at Kentillie, she felt as if she was always under someone’s feet.

“I shall direct our movements that way. Why did the Laird send him? I thought he would want to be here for the meeting.”

“Aye, Lachlan would have come, but his wife is having their first bairn any moment. He chose to send Malcolm to represent the Cameron clan.”

For the first time, it occurred to her that she might have to make a trip to Kentillie. Maggie may not want to bring the babe to her, and she had to see her first niece or nephew.

Just as they were skirting around the last couple, the crowd parted, and the face of her oldest brother’s best friend appeared. Her heart dropped, and her feet faltered. The room started to spin, and she tripped over Hamish’s boot. She braced for the worst, but strong arms closed around her before she hit the floor.

“Still as graceful as a newborn foal.” Alan’s teasing voice invaded her ears and held her captive.

Warm, joking eyes from her past fixated on her as he held her so close she could feel the warmth that radiated from him. Soul-shattering embarrassment assailed her as a tremble of recognition rushed through her. And yet at the same time, she fought back the desire to sink into him.

“’Tis good to see ye, Kirstie.” Alan’s gaze softened to the sincere gray that reminded her of cool overcast evenings, of home, and for a moment, she thought she saw longing in their depths. But she’d been wrong before.

She should move, but her muscles had gone as limp as an overcooked cabbage. And she could feel her breasts rise and fall as she fought to catch her breath. They had conveniently landed just under his eyes, which darkened for just a moment before amusement lit them again.

“I see there is a bit more to ye now, though. Those would throw anyone off balance.” Her face had surely turned pink from the heat in the room and the embarrassment, but now, it most likely reddened with outrage.

He had no right to look at her, because she’d given him the chance once and he’d turned her away. “Let me go, Alan.” She tried to impart anger into the words, but she could feel her voice shake in protest.

A warm hand took hers and pulled her up and away from Alan’s arms. Hamish positioned himself between them.

Good, she needed the space.

She was not going to acknowledge that it had felt right to be in his arms and that her body still tingled where he had touched her. She was not going to admit he still caused strange stirrings in her that left her speechless and wanting to beg for things she’d never experienced.

Damn, after all these years. Why was he still the only man who made her turn to mush and forget her defenses?