Highlander Unmasked Read Free Page B

that, but with unfettered purpose. An edge of danger hovered over this untamed warrior that she could not ignore.
    It didn’t take long for the remaining ruffians to recognize the futility of their endeavor. Scattering like bugs from beneath a rock, they fled.
    The warrior looked around as if to assure himself that she was safe. Their eyes met again. Meg felt as though she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning; every nerve ending prickled with awareness. Her mysterious warrior was more than simply handsome. His features were the fodder of legends, classically handsome yet ruggedly masculine at the same time. Wavy brown hair, its true color obscured by the dampness, hung in a blunt line just past his chin, setting off a strong, squared jaw. Rain streamed down a broad forehead, along the curve of his high angled cheekbones, and over a finely chiseled nose. Though his mouth was set in a tight line, his fierce expression could not hide the full, sensual shape of his lips.
    But it was his striking blue eyes that held her. Ice blue. Like a frozen loch in the darkest winter. Their color made more intense against the deep tan of his golden skin. Yet when he looked at her, it was not a chill she felt, but warmth that started at her neck and spread all the way down to her toes. He seemed to see right through her with a hawklike intensity that stole her breath and sent her pulse racing.
    He made her feel nervous…unsettled…vulnerable. Unfamiliar feelings that increased her wariness. With one last hesitant look at the warrior, Meg returned to attending to her mother.
    The rain had stopped. The battle was over.
     
    When the cowards turned to run, Alex motioned two of his men to follow to make sure they didn’t return. The others he instructed to tend to the wounds of the injured and dispose of the bodies as best they could. But it wasn’t until he’d gotten an initial report from Patrick that Alex knew he had a problem.
    Mackinnons. Damn. Powerful bad luck to have come to the aid of a neighboring clan from Skye. At least no one appeared to have recognized him. But he knew the longer he lingered, the more chance there was for questions to form. Despite the beard, it wouldn’t be long before someone noted his uncanny resemblance to the infamous Chief of MacLeod. His brother cut a wide path around these parts.
    They should leave.
    His gaze slid back to the lass. She was ministering to the woman he’d initially thought dead but appeared to be slowly regaining consciousness. In between soothing the woman with soft words, the lass set her men about making order out of chaos with the smooth efficiency of a general. Horses were fed and watered, the cart that was carrying their trunks was righted, and arrangements were made for returning the injured and killed to Dunakin.
    For one so young—she couldn’t be much past twenty years—she appeared to be handling the aftermath of the attack admirably.
    More than admirably, actually. Her composure under the circumstances was remarkable. From the first moment he’d seen her, she’d impressed him with her courage. Riding in, he’d caught the very end of her attempt to stab the man who was attacking her. For such a wee thing, she’d managed to inflict some damage. When the fiend had gone after her, Alex’s reaction had been instantaneous. He’d killed without hesitation. He had no mercy for men who harmed women. The coward deserved to die a far worse death than the swift one he’d been granted.
    Of course, her courage wasn’t all that he’d noticed.
    When she gazed up at him with wide green eyes that dominated her tiny heart-shaped face, he found himself unable to look away. Warmth spread through him, and he’d felt the stirrings of something that had been absent inside him for a long time. Desire.
    His interludes with women over the past few years had been about satisfying the needs of his body; he had neither the time nor the inclination for anything else. But standing there, with