The Highlander’s Rescued Maiden by Anna Campbell

Chapter 2

As Ellen stepped back, she swayed. Cursing himself for scaring her, Will ignored the gun waving in his direction and lunged forward. He caught her arm to save her from falling. “You’re hurt.”

“No,” she said breathlessly, wrenching away. But he’d touched her long enough to feel her warmth and catch her fragrance. Lavender. Something fresh and feminine that made his skin tingle with sudden desire.

She cast a disgusted glance at the pistol and moved across to place it on the desk under the window. He watched her move, noting her uneven gait. His heart ached to see her limp. Something told him that when she’d denied any injury, it was no lie. Or at least the injury wasn’t recent.

“Ye decided against shooting me?” he asked on an optimistic note.

She stared down at the gun with an unreadable expression on her exquisite face. “For the moment.”

“I’d better watch my behavior,” he said, desperate to see her smile.

No luck. She raised her head and subjected him to a hard look. He wondered how those eyes would shine if they lit with humor. “Aye, you’d better.”

“And you’re no’ going to throw me out into the storm?” Outside the rain was coming down in sheets. If she banished him, he’d have a soggy time of it.

The corners of her lips deepened, but still no smile. “No’ straightaway.”

“Does that mean you’ll let me sleep here?”

“It means I’m no’ going to throw you out straightaway.”

He closed the casement behind him to keep out the wet and gestured to two armchairs ranged in front of the blazing fire. “Would ye like to sit down?”

He should have noticed that the tower was inhabited before he started to climb. The wind must be blowing the smoke out to sea.

“Dinnae take over.” As if he needed reminding that he remained on shaky ground with her, her glare was stony. “You remain in this tower very much on sufferance.”

He smiled again. Again, she didn’t respond. “Thank you.”

Puzzlement made her frown. “For what?”

He swept one hand through the air. “For no’ shooting me, for a start.”

“Murdering my suitors always makes such a dreadful mess.”

Caught unawares, he laughed. Then he realized she wasn’t laughing. He sobered and regarded her closely. “Ye don’t mean that.”

“Do I no’?” she asked in a neutral voice.

“May I introduce myself?” he asked, almost sure she was joking, but not quite ready to stake his life on the suspicion.

This was the strangest meeting. He’d never had an encounter like it. The bizarre truth was that Will was enjoying himself more than he could remember doing in years. He wished he could say the same for his companion, but to his relief, she no longer seemed frightened. The tense line of her shoulders had relaxed, although wariness lingered in her eyes.

“If ye wish. I doubt that you’ll be here long enough for your name to matter much.”

Ouch.“Nonetheless it will save ye from having to shout ‘hey, you’ when you want my attention.”

That blue stare remained unrelenting. “I cannae imagine I’ll want that either.”

Will plowed on. In most cases, his nonsense had the lassies eating out of his hand. Something in him respected this girl for failing to fall for his tricks. He drew himself up to his full height and gave her another formal bow. “I’m William Mackinnon of Achnasheen.”

When her lips tightened, he realized that she took his homage as a taunt. “I’ve never heard of it.”

She set out to squash his pretensions. Unlucky for her, he had a good dose of his father’s arrogance, so her prickly responses left him intrigued rather than chastened. “It’s on the coast, looking over to Skye.”

Ellen shrugged as if she didn’t care. It was likely that she didn’t, although every minute in her company made him itch to awaken her interest the way she’d awoken his. His parents had a vibrant relationship, more fire than calm, cool water. He’d never found a lass ready to stand up to him, the way his mother stood up to his father. Odd to find her at last on a rugged rock in the wild Atlantic.

“That’s well south and east of here.”

“It is indeed.”

He forced his attention away from the woman to take note of her setting and see what it revealed about her. So far, while he might have given the room a cursory glance, his attention had been all for Ellen.

The luxury surprised him. The tales of Fair Ellen had her languishing in a bare prison cell. But someone had furnished the tower like a palace. Expensive mahogany furniture in the first stare of style, silver-framed mirrors, and carpets from the East in rich colors.

She had plenty to keep her amused in her isolation, too. A clavichord and a harp. An embroidery frame. A small telescope. And books everywhere. Lined up on shelves. Piled high on the tables. Open on the desk with papers scattered about them. It reminded him of the study of an untidy Oxford don, if the don had a view of the ocean from his favorite chair.

Will’s curiosity piqued. There was mystery here. Somebody had taken an enormous amount of time and trouble to ensure the laird’s daughter was comfortable. Yet she remained trapped and alone on a deserted island. From the moment, he’d climbed through the window, his instincts had told him she was alone.

“Will ye tell me your name?” he asked, keeping his tone amiable.

It wouldn’t take much to spook her back into aiming that gun at him. She was a long way from trusting him, and what concessions she made, she made with reluctance.

He couldn’t blame her. Any stranger who came to Bortha came as a predator.

“Ye know who I am. Fair Ellen of the Isles.” She spoke the name like an insult.

“So I may call ye Ellen?”

“You have already.” Her tone dripped disapproval.

“In that case, ye may call me Will. All my friends do.”

“I’m no’ your friend,” she said in a tone meant to discourage.

He smiled again. “No’ yet anyway, Ellen.”

Irritation weighted her sigh. “Ye may call me Miss Cameron.”

He bowed again, not quite so deeply. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Cameron.”

She kept staring at him, as if he’d walked mud all over her carpets. Given the recent weather, he might have. He gave his boots a surreptitious inspection.

“I suppose you’re hungry,” she said with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

He shrugged. “A wee bit.” In truth, he was famished. He’d eaten the last of the food he’d brought with him this morning, while he’d wondered if he was about to find a watery grave. “Are ye offering to feed me?”

No trace of softening in his direction. Although he supposed if she meant to feed him, he’d advanced further in her estimation than he had when he squeezed through her window. It also spoke to her fear receding, thank goodness. “I’m about to prepare a meal for myself, and it’s nae real trouble to cook for you, too.”

“That’s very kind of ye.” And deuced unexpected.

She glanced with no special interest at the deluge outside. “No’ really. I cannae send you out into that.”

Will blessed the terrible weather, which hadn’t been the case last night or when he’d washed up on the island. “It’s an ill wind that blows nae good.”

Yet again his attempt to raise a smile from her fell on stony ground. “Dinnae push your luck.”

He gave her a smart salute. “As ye command.”

She rolled her eyes, which made him laugh again. Which only gained him another flash from those disdainful eyes.

***

Ellen wondered what on earth she was doing, encouraging this handsome vagabond to stay. He was far too charming and far too aware that he was charming. Charming, but not, she thought, dangerous. Or in any case not violent.

She cast a quick glance at him under her lashes, noticing how proud and straight he stood in front of the window. Most lassies must go quite silly when he focused that sultry green-gold gaze on them. A sultry green-gold gaze that promised all sorts of forbidden pleasures.

Even she, who had learned in a hard school that men weren’t to be trusted, couldn’t dam the rush in her blood when that thin, expressive mouth curled in a lazy smile of appreciation.

He hadn’t made a fuss when he noticed her limp, and he’d released her as quickly as he caught her when she lost her balance. Neither of those things gave her reason to assume he meant her no harm. Yet she must be as silly as those other imaginary lassies. One touch of his strong, competent hands, and her asinine heart started performing cartwheels.

It was both disconcerting and unprecedented. A warning that she needed to send this cheerful young Adonis on his way.

Except that the weather made that impossible, and while she owed Mr. Mackinnon nothing, it seemed mean to force him out into the blustery downpour that filled her sanctuary with bleak gray light. She couldn’t even see Inchgallen anymore, and the waves whipped up to foam at the foot of the rock below her tower.

Ellen loathed displaying her physical infirmity before onlookers, but she couldn’t stand around all day like a statue. Ostentatiously, so he knew she wasn’t defenseless should he decide to pounce, she picked up the pistol and slid it into her pocket.

“Ye know you’re in nae danger.” For once, that deep voice held no trace of amusement.

She arched her eyebrows. “I know nae such thing.”

“You have my word.”

“Words are cheap.”

“Mine aren’t.”

Odd that she believed him. As a rule, she wasn’t inclined to rely on male promises.

But while she could picture Mr. Mackinnon seducing his way into what he wanted, he wouldn’t employ force to gain his objectives. Good heavens, he wouldn’t have to. Tall and strong in his kilt and with a face like a questing knight’s, he just had to smile to get his own way.

That face remained serious, as his eyes locked with hers in silent affirmation of what he’d said. It was a remarkable face, all pure lines and planes, with an arrogant blade of a nose and a square jaw to save it from being too pretty.

When he wasn’t smiling, he looked older. She realized with a start of surprise that he must be close to thirty.

Ellen made her way to the steps, wondering if he’d offer to help her. But Will Mackinnon got points there, too. He followed, but made no attempt to take her arm or question her ability to manage. From the first, she’d noticed how careful he was to keep his distance to avoid frightening her.

When they reached the kitchens on the floor below, she stoked up the fire and hung a pot of stew over it to heat up. She’d performed this task thousands of times, but she found herself fumbling and nearly dropping the spoon she used to stir their dinner. Her visitor’s interest made her conscious of every move. She hated that she blushed with chagrin, just as she hated that he might think her in any way incompetent because of her bad leg.

Ellen waited for him to say something. If he expressed any pity, she might just pick up a cleaver. And who knew what mayhem that could lead to?

To his credit, he didn’t mention her limp. She was so braced for a derogatory comment that it took her a moment to realize that he was moving around the kitchen, setting out plates and transferring the loaf of bread she’d baked that morning across to the table.

She turned to stir the stew again, amazed at his familiarity with household tasks. Amazed and unwillingly impressed. Her father wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help.

She’d never heard of the Mackinnons of Achnasheen, but anyone meeting this man would recognize straightaway that here was no humble crofter’s son. He carried himself with an easy assurance that spoke of wealth and breeding, even if she’d missed the significance of the heavy gold signet ring on the little finger of his left hand.

When she stepped away from the hearth, he glanced up with another smile. Devil take him, the rogue smiled a lot. “Is this all right?”

“Fine,” she stammered.

“I assumed we’d eat down here. It saves carrying everything upstairs.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, as she wondered if he referred to her ability to climb the steps, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he was scanning the packed shelves. “Would ye like something to drink?”

“There’s ale or wine. Or water.” The island had a couple of reliable springs. If it hadn’t, she couldn’t have survived here. Then heaven only knew where her father might have stashed her. Probably on some rock halfway to Greenland.

“Wine?”

“If ye wish.” Ellen wondered how she’d fallen into such easy domesticity with this interloper. Since her exile, a handful of men had come to her tower. She’d never invited one to share a meal. Good Lord above, none of them had made it through the door. Although she supposed in the strictest sense, neither had Mr. Mackinnon.

That had been quite a climb, further confirmation that he was agile and fit. His presence in her kitchen hinted that this particular trespasser posed a greater threat than any of his predecessors.

He shot her an ironic glance, as he turned to her with a bottle in one hand. “What did I say?”

Disoriented by the question, she blinked and tried to remind herself to stay on guard. The fact that he hadn’t leaped on her yet didn’t mean that he wouldn’t leap on her later. Despite common sense telling her that if he meant to assault her, he could have done it upstairs once she’d put the gun down.

“What?”

“Och, you’ve gone as stiff as a poker again.”

With a sigh, she let the tension seep from her body. “I’m no’ used to entertaining gentlemen in my kitchen.”

Or anywhere, in fact.

One of those intriguing smiles tugged at his lips. “I’m privileged in that case.” He set the wine on the table and turned back to the dresser to locate something to open it.

“You make yourself at home, plague take ye.”

He found a gun worm and opened the wine with more of that impressive competence. “Would ye rather run around and serve me?”

She bit back a bitter remark about running not being among her talents. He wasn’t being snide or patronizing. She’d been on the receiving end of enough of both in her time to note the difference. “No.”

“Good.” He looked around again and shifted to fetch two glasses. “Nae wonder you’re a wee bit nervy, stuck here all alone with nobody to protect you. I’m surprised you’ve managed to stay safe, in fact.” The gaze he leveled on her was penetrating. “I assume…I hope ye stayed safe.”

“Aye, I have,” she said, before she remembered that her welfare was none of his business.

Her answer seemed to gratify him, as if he cared for her well-being. Which was crazy, when they’d only just met and she could be nothing to him but a curiosity.

“I’m glad.” His voice hardened in a way she’d never expected. Who would have thought? It turned out that he was more than a lighthearted flirt. “Just why the deuce are ye on your own and unprotected? It smacks of abominable negligence.”

Ellen found herself answering before she recalled yet again that she wanted to keep him at a distance and send him on his way no wiser about Ellen Cameron and her life. “I dinnae live here alone. I have a maid, and my father supplies me with six men-at-arms who change every week.”

Mr. Mackinnon surveyed the kitchen. “So where in Hades are they? If they were doing their duty, they should have seen me off when my boat struck the beach.”

She spread her hands. “My maid had a toothache, so she went back to Inchgallen with the guards. Then the storm…”

His expression didn’t ease. “I assume the guards are here to see that ye stay on the island, as much as to keep off unwanted intruders?”

Bitterness twisted her lips. He was quick, she gave him that. “I cannae sail the boat on my own. And I cannae swim to another island, even if there was one within reach.”

Again she expected some remark about her limp, but his gaze remained on her face. “I have a boat.”

“To steal me away?”

He didn’t react to her sarcasm. “If ye wish.”

A portentous silence crashed down. Ellen checked his features for signs that he was joking, but he looked grave as so far he seldom had.

While they’d put the meal together, she’d almost forgotten her fear. Now alarm woke to spread icy ripples down her backbone. She stepped back until her hips bumped into the bench, and she fumbled for the pistol weighing down her pocket.

“That wasnae a threat,” he said in a quiet voice. Again, he kept his distance.

“Aye, it was,” she said through stiff lips, as she closed a shaking hand over the butt of the gun.

Mr. Mackinnon leaned back against the dresser and folded his arms across his powerful chest. His air was casual, although he must know that she reached for her weapon. “I told ye you’re safe, and I meant it.”

“Ye just want to bundle me into your boat and carry me off.”

Something in her hoped that he’d deny it, but that stare remained unwavering. “Aye, I want that.”

She dragged the pistol up and aimed it at him. Her grip was woefully unsteady, but even if she was a quivering jelly, at this distance she couldn’t miss. “Get out.”

Mr. Mackinnon’s relaxed posture didn’t shift. Dear God, he didn’t deign to glance at the gun. Plague take him, he was a cool devil. Ellen was caught between anger and admiration.

“You’re no’ going to shoot me.”

“I’m perfectly capable of it,” she said, wishing the response didn’t emerge as a frightened squeak. She’d like to think that she was as proud and composed as a queen commanding her domain. But it turned out that she was just a scared little girl.

Those expressive dark auburn brows rose. “In theory, I know ye are. But you willnae put a bullet into an unarmed man who offers you nae resistance.”

Curse him, she was sickly aware that he was right. She hated hurting things. She even hated wringing a hen’s neck so that she could put it in the pot for dinner.

“Try me,” she said, hoping he’d believe her, even if she didn’t believe it herself.

“Ellen…”

“Miss Cameron!”

“Miss Cameron, I may want to carry ye away with me, but that doesn’t mean you have nae say in the matter.”

“Indeed it doesn’t.”

“If ye like, I’ll take you back to Achnasheen and you can make plans from there.”

“I’m sure I can,” she said with more sarcasm. “It’s no’ as if I’m at your complete mercy, once you get me away.”

For the first time since he’d offered to rescue her, the laughter lines around his eyes deepened. “Even if I intended the worst, my mother and father might have something to say about my depraved plans.”

That sounded almost respectable. “Your mother and father?”

“Aye.”

For a dazzling moment, freedom beckoned. These last ten years, she’d been a prisoner on this island, her world bounded by a dangerous sea that she couldn’t cross. She’d managed to make a life for herself, even found a way to bring the outside world to Bortha. But the prospect of following her inclinations and going where she pleased was intoxicating.

And far too good to be true.

“But ye mean to woo me.”

He shrugged, as if he saw no alternative to his decision. “I do.”

“Because of my bonny face,” she said in a sour tone.

The clever eyes that surveyed her seemed to discern her fear and her resistance – and every one of her shameful, secret longings, too. “I could look at ye for the rest of my life and count the years well spent.”

She knew his words were idle flattery, although he sounded like he meant it. All the same, nothing stopped her heart from flipping over like a landed trout. “And if that’s no’ what I want?”

“Then we work out something else. I told ye, I don’t intend to force you into doing anything you dinnae choose.” He glanced around the kitchen with a speaking expression. “I can guess that you’ve already given up far too much dominion in your life.”

That was true. It surprised her how much he’d seen in his short time here. “But you’re saying ye want me?”

She braced for more coaxing, but he merely said, “Aye.”

Then Ellen realized something else, and she let the gun droop as she regarded him in bafflement. “But you’ve seen me walk. Ye ken I’m lame.”