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So instead of telling Connor that she'd just been waiting on Bronwyn to help her get ready, Mackenzie got annoyed...and bold.
"I'm not going." Chin tipping defiantly, she crossed her arms across her chest. She knew she was being stubborn, but she didn't really care.
"You're damn well going down to dinner."
"No." It sounded petulant even to her own ears. His eyes narrowed.
"You'll come to dinner, and you'll do it dressed properly, or you'll dine alone with me and ye won't be dressed at all."
"You wouldn't," Mackenzie dared.
His voice was flat as he said, "Try me lass," but he injected a leer into it when he followed with, "I'd enjoy stripping you of your garments."
The memory of his hands sliding her strap off of her shoulder earlier was still fresh in her head, and she did not doubt he would do as he threatened. So Mackenzie glared at him and snapped, "Fine." She stalked to the bed and lifted the gown off the bed and looked at the long white nightgown-looking thing with ruffles on the sleeves and at the neck, thinking that it might not be too hard for her to dress herself.
But Connor still stood in front of her door, arms crossed and feet planted. Mackenzie stared at him expecting him to leave, or at least turn around, or something, but he looked immovable as a statue. She raised her eyebrows and looked at him expectantly, waiting; she refrained from tapping her foot. But his eyes dared her right back. Her eyebrows 66
snapped down in confusion, and then back up as her eyes widened and she grasped his dare.
Fine she thought, and pursed her lips. Enjoy the show.
Mackenzie slowly unzipped her shorts and stepped out of them. Her shirt slipped over her head, and she stood in her sheer white lace bra and matching bikinis. By modern standards, it wasn't that sexy, if anything it was boring in comparison to Jenna's collection. But he stiffened and she felt slightly braver. She heard his swift intake of breath and never letting her eyes drop, even as she felt the heat creep up her cheeks, she unclasped her bra, and tossed it on the floor with her shorts and shirt. Mackenzie figured she might as well go for broke, took a deep breath and slipped out of her panties.
So she stood there naked, daring Connor to look away from her eyes, to look down. And he did. Boy did he ever.
Every inch of her naked body felt touched by the heat of his gaze, as if it were his hands on her skin instead of his eyes.
Those blue eyes lingered on her belly ring, and when they dropped lower, his eyebrows shot up. She thought it might be because she had recently waxed, but couldn't be sure. Yet he never said anything, his eyes just continued down. Then once his eyes had finished their appraisal of her figure and were locked back on hers, he looked smug the jerk, she lifted the nightgown-looking garment up over her head, and tied the ribbons at her breasts in a bow. It fit snugly, emphasizing the curves it didn't hide. Covered in a modest, but sheer shift, Mackenzie felt only slightly better as she looked at the rest of what she would wear. Did the gown go on first, or the stays?
And how on earth would she ever lace herself up? Mackenzie 67
bit her lip and ventured a peek at Connor from the corner of her eyes. He was smirking at her, and much as it rankled, she didn't have a choice; she'd have to ask him for help.
"Umm...what goes next?" her hand encompassed the clothes on the bed.
His smirk became more pronounced, "Are you asking for my help?" He was making fun of her.
"I, uh, no. Of course not! I only meant that perhaps you could send Bronwyn back in. She was supposed to help me get dressed..." Mackenzie stammered out her excuse, but lost steam at the look in his eyes. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. He'd reached her in two strides.
"But I'm already here." His voice was like velvet.
Connor had spoken softly, practically purred, but Mackenzie still heard the implicit threat...or was it a promise?
Damn that man's sultry voice! She shuddered as he lifted the stays to her body, his fingers brushing her collarbones. He gripped her shoulders, turning her to face away from him, and began to tighten them. The first tug of the strings brought her back hard against him. Her eyes were wide as she turned her head to look up at him.
"Hold the bedpost." Connor was definitely amused.
Mackenzie turned and put both hands on the bedpost, bracing herself for the next pull. He was finished quickly, although his hands lingered at the small of her back.
Mackenzie pressed her hands to her ribs, just under her breasts. Every breath was much shallower than usual, since she was strapped into this corset thing. However, it wasn't as tight or uncomfortable as she'd thought it would be. It was 68
just really stiff. Connor lifted the grey gown above her head while Mackenzie brought her arms through the sleeves, and he let the gown settle around her until it fell to the floor, brushing the tops of her feet. The laces on this gown were in the front, but Connor's hands were on them before Mackenzie could lift hers. He tied them at her breasts, and when he tucked the ties into the gown, his large hands brushed the tops of her breasts. The shiver of excitement that ran up her spine was echoed in Connor's eyes.
Mackenzie stood perfectly still like that, with his hands at her breasts, but not actually touching her. They were both frozen for a few seconds before Connor's head descended slowly to hers, his lips briefly brushing hers. The kiss was so soft, that if it weren't for the unmistakable heat, Mackenzie wouldn't have been completely certain that his lips had touched hers. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes opened and focused on Connor's face. Her breath caught in her lungs as all the amusement faded from his eyes. He looked at her hungrily as if she were a sweet to be devoured. As if he could mold her will to his own with that look. As if she would let the heavy drowsy feeling coming over her take charge. The naked desire caused her legs to turn to jelly. She swayed toward him and he caught her lips in a fierce kiss that crushed her body to his, and his lips to hers.
The spark that had been smoldering for the past day was igniting in slow burns wherever Connor touched her. His lips were unmercifully possessive, as they staked his undeniable claim without her permission to do so. This feeling was unlike anything she had ever experienced; Mackenzie had never 69
wanted a man this much in her life. And the heat...the burn was not uncomfortable, it had the opposite effect. Mackenzie wanted more; she wanted to burn. She was amazed by how one kiss from this man had her knees giving out. As if he sensed it, or maybe he just knew his affect on women, his arm was around her waist, both supporting her and dragging her up to her toes. Her lush curves were pressed up against his hard unyielding body, and yet it wasn't close enough for her. Mackenzie pressed herself closer still, and it wasn't until Connor's fingers were on the laces he'd just tied, that reality came rushing back to her.
"Wait!" she exclaimed wide-eyed and tore her lips from his.
Connor stared into her eyes for a moment, before deciding what he saw there was encouragement enough. His lips brushed hers, his tongue traced her lips.
She stepped out of his embrace and pressed her hand to her lips, her breathing ragged. Connor stepped with her though, and gently pulled her hand from her mouth. Before he tugged her back into his arms, Mackenzie vaguely realized that his flawless control had slipped. This time his kiss was more demanding, more insistent. His lips were harder, bold and possessive, claiming her. She was right; he was losing control. While a part of her was thrilled that she was the cause of his loss of self-control, another part of her still couldn't shake the fact that he was her captor for all intents and purposes.
"Please don't," she said softly against his mouth, brushing his lips with each word .
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As Connor pulled back, slowly, she could hear his uneven breathing, and once more reveled at being the cause. He felt this sizzling desire as much as she did. Although the distance he put between them was minimal, it was enough for Mackenzie's swimming head to regain reason.
"Why not? You want me." He stated, rather than asked.
"No," her response was tremulous, and not at all convincing.
"I doona believe you." His head descended once more.
"Please?" Mackenzie whispered desperately, and closed her eyes. When he paused, she opened them slowly, warily, and asked him, "What do you want from me?"
Connor stared into her eyes for a long moment, as if he were looking for the answer to some unknown question. His hands were still around her waist, and she felt his fingers tighten, gripping until they dug into her flesh. Finally, he spoke.
"You are engaged to the Campbell."
"Y-es," Mackenzie drew it out slowly, trying to see where his line of questioning was heading. Connor wasn't asking, he had stated, once again. "But you know that." Mackenzie was confused by this. What was he getting at?
"Do you know much about your betrothed?" Bitterness had twisted his features and his hands dropped from Mackenzie's waist.
"Like what?" Mackenzie narrowed her eyes, trying to understand his sudden change, wondering what he expected from her.
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"Perhaps how he has burned my lands and raped our women when he canna best my men? Only a coward uses women to get to a man." His disgust was evident, as he continued on about the flaws of her intended. "Or how he only wants to marry you to unite with the neighboring Mackenzie clan? If he were backed by the Mackenzie, he would be nigh unstoppable. He uses what and who he can for his own designs. He is a cruel man, Miss Stewart, you'd do well to nae forget that. And for the good of my clan, I canna allow either union."
"So you kidnapped me to keep me from marrying Campbell." Connor's silence encouraged her, "But I don't understand why that would matter to him? Why I would matter to him? We've never even met. Plus, I'm not a Mackenzie, per se, I'm a Stewart. So why does marriage to me get him the support of the Mackenzie tribe? And even if all that you say is true, then won't he come after me, you know, try to steal me back?" Mackenzie realized that she had asked several questions, and paused, to see how he would reply.
"The Campbell is a proud man, and he will retaliate. When I abducted you, it was an insult to his honor," Connor sneered the word, curling his upper lip slightly. She guessed he didn't think the man too honorable. "You matter because you are his, and I've taken you from him."
"I am not his...What am I, a chair? I am not a piece of property!" Mackenzie fumed. She stalked to the fireplace and stared at the fire.
"Aye, you are, or at least you will be his upon marriage."
Connor's tone was unapologetic. "In accord with your father, 72
you will marry the Campbell. And you being a woman, will do as your father commands. Women are supposed to do as they are told. Do you ever to as you are told? I wonder if in rearing you abroad, your father made a mistake?"
Mackenzie glared at the fireplace, realizing that he was right, at least in his views on women's position in life. After a moment, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, running her fingers through it to further dry the damp curls. "This sucks!
Stupid 18th century values, and lack of women's rights!" she muttered to the fireplace.
She whirled on Connor with a fierce light in her eyes, "You know, one day, women will have just as much a right to decide whom they marry as men do. And we'll be able to own property and vote and work and have a say in our own lives!"
Was she allowed to tell Connor her secret? She figured probably not, and kept the rest of her feminist thoughts to herself.
Connor seemed amused by her little tirade, if not confused. "Well, until that day comes, you'll have to do as your father says. Who, if I am not mistaken, says you shall marry the Campbell. A marriage I canna allow to take place.
As I have said, he is a cruel man, so perhaps you should thank me, for saving you from a fate worse than death, rather than stomping about the room." He was definitely amused.
"I was not stomping around the room." She pouted, then she smiled, "Well, maybe a little," and she chuckled. "I am sort of behaving like a child." And she giggled again. Then she sighed. "So, how much do you know about me?"
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"Enough," he dismissed.
"So nothing, then?" she challenged.
"You are engaged to my enemy. 'Tis all I need ken." He said this so dismissively that Mackenzie bristled instantly.
"And that's all I am to you? A..a..a pawn to be used against him? That's so chauvinistic!!!" Her bitterness seeped through and she wasn't guarding her speech. "You know, there's a lot more to me than what you think you see. In my time..."
"What mean you, 'Your time?'" he interrupted.
"Nothing, never mind." Mackenzie suddenly felt the need to bite her tongue. "What of my travelling companions? What happened to them?"
Connor registered the subject change with a slight narrowing of his eyes, but let it go. "They were set free, of course. By now they should be back at the Campbell's keep. I assume they have reported of their failure to deliver you, and I assume the Campbell will no' be happy." He sounded smug.
"You assume a lot." Mackenzie muttered.
"You doubt me?" Connor sounded incredulous, as if anyone would dare doubt his word, let alone Mackenzie, a mere woman.
Mackenzie paused to gather her thoughts. "No, I just meant that you don't know for sure what has happened to them, so how can you be so certain that your little plan has worked?"
"And what do you think happened?" the sarcasm was heavy, with an implied as if I care about your opinion tacked on to the end.
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"Well, what if they never made it back? Or what if this Campbell guy doesn't really care that his fiancee went missing? If you're hoping to pick a fight with him, am I really the way to do that? I mean, he's never even met me, for crying out loud. And I've heard the rumors; I'm supposed to be one of the most beautiful ladies at court. I'm pretty enough, but I'm no Helen of Troy."
"Doona underestimate your worth to him." Connor said this softly.
"What does that mean? How is he supposed to value someone he has never seen or met? You said before that you insulted his honor, but I still don't understand any of this. Is it because of the rumors? Because from what I've heard, I'm not exactly your average blushing bride; I've stood a man up at the altar, I'm too old, and I've romped around Europe for the last couple of years. Doesn't that 'de-value' me, so to speak?" She used her fingers to make air quotes, and the frustration was making her tone sharper than necessary, but Mackenzie didn't really care. None of this made any sense to her. And it was time someone explained this all to her. Now.
"It means, that for reasons known only to your father, he has made a devil's bargain with the Campbell to wed you by the end of the month. This will appease the Mackenzie clan, and your father is probably just happy you are still wed-able."
Mackenzie folded her arms across her chest and glared, but otherwise ignored the jibe. "Now through that bargain, you are his, and I have stolen something of his. Were I in his place, I would retrieve what was rightfully mine, and seek justice against him."
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"You mean vengeance."
He shrugged, "Whichever."
"So I could be ugly, but he wouldn't care, because you are both testosterone-fueled men who would rather fight it out, than resolve this peacefully, or let me choose what I would like to do?"
"And what is it that you would like to do, Mackenzie?"
It was the first time he'd called her by her given name, and the sound of her name rolling off his tongue sent chills through her. That smoldering fire in her belly flared at the seductive burr caressing her name. She noticed that he'd ignored her first question.
"I would like to know if I would matter to either one of you if I were an ugly old hag," she stubbornly refused to let it drop. She wanted to stamp her foot, but figured that it would be way too childish.
His smile was patronizing, as if he were speaking to a child. "Of course no'. Your appearance does not matter, your position does. Now answer my question; what would you like to do?"
Her eyes
widened at the implication, but thought she wanted to look away, she held his gaze. "I would like to go eat." Mackenzie said it slowly, and he smothered a smile as she glared up at him.
"Then by all means, my Lady, let us go down to supper."
And he chivalrously, if not a bit sarcastically, held his arm out for her.
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Chapter Six
Dinner was a much larger event than Mackenzie expected.
The whole clan was here, Connor had told her. It was an occasion; Connor had returned the victor. He had the Campbell's betrothed, and everyone was celebrating that.
Mackenzie sat next to Connor, and on his other side was an empty seat. She idly wondered who it was saved for. He wasn't married, she was sure of that; he wouldn't have kissed her if he was married. Of course what did she know? Connor could have a wife and ten kids and she would never know, it's not like he confided in her. It didn't matter, though, because she was going to pretend to marry someone else, and then go back to her time (and reality). Hopefully. Right now, she wasn't really sure of anything. If Connor was right, and this Campbell guy came for her, would Connor give her up? Or would he fight to keep her? And then what? Mackenzie's imagination was getting away from her, she was imagining staying here with Connor. She knew he wanted her, but she also knew that was all he wanted, and for her it wasn't enough. He didn't really even like her, she thought. She knew that desire and lust were very different emotions from caring and affection. But that was a dangerous train of thought. So she let her eyes wander around the room.
The meal was in the Hall and it was set up with long tables and chairs. There were humongous oil paintings of men with swords, women in gowns, battles, which were spaced every few feet around the hall. She and Connor sat at a table raised 77
up on a platform which reminded her of the seating arrangements at a wedding. They would be at the head table, with the other more important guests. And the whole clan was part of the audience. Mackenzie felt that audience was a good word, seeing as she felt like an actor in a very strange fantastical play.
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