“I don’t need protection, Sam,” she said firmly. “The man is bound in shackles and hardly a threat.”
“This kind of man is always a threat,” the giant said. “He’d not hesitate to try to challenge me, would you, sir?”
Alexander shrugged what was left of his shoulders. “Don’t know for sure. I’m feeling less than perfect today, and you, my friend, are a little large. Even a dragon has to pick and choose his battles, but, with the right incentive, perhaps an aye to my earlier question…?”
He glanced at the girl and saw that blush stain her face again. He liked seeing her discomfort, and he enjoyed this little game. Why he was torturing himself he didn’t know, but he’d take any pleasure he could in what was left of his life.
He inched closer to the girl. “Is that consent I see in your eyes, beauty? Ready for a taste of legend? I’m known in the Highlands for my prowess and skill, and I’m not talking about the battles. I can guarantee a mythic experience to rival your wildest fantasies.”
He liked the look that sparked in her eyes, but she wasn’t going to say anything now that the giant had interfered. Her teeth tugged at her lip again, and he groaned inwardly. Why was he torturing himself like this? He could feel the heat of her body, smell the intoxicating lure of the moisture between her legs, that purely feminine scent that always drove him to distraction. That sudden, soft haze that veiled her eyes uncoiled the tangle of lust inside him and drew it tight around him like invisible chains. She was intrigued by him, maybe even wondering about his offer and his promise.
The giant named Sam glared down at him, his bushy yellow eyebrows forming a deep V between his eyes. “I’m asking you to behave.”
Alex shrugged. “Not a problem. I’m perfectly capable of behaving, although…” Torture could go both ways, and he felt the need to inflict a little of his own. He leaned closer to the big man, gave him a conspiratorial wink, then locked his eyes on the girl. “Look at the way she bloody watches me. She wants me, man, I’m telling you. A girl like that could suck a man dry, reduce him to a shell. She’s making it next to impossible to hold a thought, let alone behave. She’s a tight little bundle, and all I can think of is what might lie—”
She finally screeched, a furious little scream that mirrored the frustration and anxiety on her face. She glared at him again, and as his eyes wandered down her body, her fists clenched convulsively, aching to punch him. She didn’t seem to think he was very funny. He gave the big man a grin.
“She’s a volatile little thing. How do you put up with her?”
The giant apparently didn’t think he was funny either. Her response seemed to stir the giant to defend. He took a slow step toward Alex.
“Are you in need of a lesson in how to treat a lady, sir?”
Alex felt Barton’s hand tighten on his arm. “Behave, Campbell. I don’t need two incapacitated men on the dock.”
“’Tis hard,” Alex said, “but if Sam here insists, I can be a good little convict.”
Barton released his arm. “I’d like to see that. You’re nothing but trouble, Campbell.”
“Cannae help it,” Alex said. “’Tis the way I’m made.”
The giant studied him, inspecting him, his stare worming across Alex’s face and burrowing into his head. Alex’s gut clenched with a foreign sensation, something he didn’t recognize. He thought it might be fear.
“I suspect you’re more than trouble,” Sam said, “but that doesn’t seem to matter, Master Campbell. This is your lucky day, and your miserable life is about to change. Take off his shackles, Master Barton.”
The girl suddenly turned toward Sam, whirling so fast she plowed into the giant, and with the force of the impact, the man’s powerful arms came up to keep her from stumbling. She was enveloped against his huge chest, and he held her close.
Alex was pleased to see by the man’s response that he hadn’t lied. The girl did not belong to him. If anything, she was like a child to him, maybe even a pet, a soft, tawny kitten to cuddle, protect, and love. The man was obviously used to her affection and whimsy because Alex saw no surprise in the man when she jumped so readily against him. He also failed to see lust or interest in the man’s eyes. These two had a strange relationship, but it was a close one, and it filled Alex with envy. He’d give anything to have this kitten purring in his arms.
The girl was so close to the man and so tiny against him that she had to crane her neck backwards to look at him. Sam lowered his scruffy head, like a man speaking to a child.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“What we came to do,” Sam said.
The girl had a death grip on Sam’s arms, and Alex saw her nails bite into the man’s skin. He never even noticed. Tough bastard.
“Not this one,” she whispered furiously.
“This is the one the MacGregor wants, Meggie,” Sam said. “He’s decided.”
Meggie. A childhood name. This man had known her for a long while. More envy sliced through him. Not her father. Sam was too young, and the father was obviously the older man in the wagon. Perhaps a brother? The slender, seemingly tall man in the wagon couldn’t possibly have spawned both a giant and a wee thing like her.
After Barton removed his wrist shackles, Alexander flexed his hands, trying to get the blood circulating through his dead limbs. He had been so fixated on the girl, something had slipped through his consciousness. His head shot up, and he took a step forward, stepping on Barton’s hand as he worked on the shackles around his ankles. He vaguely heard the broker shout in pain, but one thing pounded through his head—the odious name that had come from the giant’s lips. When the shackles fell to the ground, Barton scurried out of his way, and Alex took a step forward.
“MacGregor?” he growled. “Did I hear the name MacGregor?”
“Aye.” Sam tossed a nod in the direction of the wagon, and Alex followed his movement. The well-dressed man with the head of long blond hair watched them curiously. “Trevor MacGregor. It’s in his service you’ll be bound.”
Alexander straightened and raked his dirty hair away from his face. The girl watched him, choking on some words she couldn’t seem to get out of her mouth. All very interesting, but if she was a MacGregor, he’d just as soon kill her as fuck her.
“A pack of MacGregors,” Alex said with disgust. “I should have known. ’Tis the way my luck’s been running lately. I’ll be bound to no MacGregor.”
“You think you’ve a choice in that, Campbell?” Sam asked. “I’ve come with an assignment today, and I aim to see it done. He’s chosen you, and I’m honor bound to give the man what he wants.”
The woman finally found her voice. “I said, not this one!”
Alexander put his hands on his hips. “My sentiments exactly, girl. Linking our names in the same sentence tastes foul in my mouth. I’ll not live under a MacGregor roof if ’tis the only shelter on earth. And frankly—”
“I don’t want you in my house.” She took a step toward him. A haughty look sparked in her eyes. Her small hands curled into fists at her sides.
“Are you hard of hearing, girl? I’m not willing to be bound to your father any more than—”
The girl tossed her hair. “He’s not my father. Trevor is my husband, and he’s the most decent, kind…”
Alexander’s glance shot toward the wagon. Her husband? Surely that wasn’t possible. The man was over forty and obviously infirm. How did a man like that deal with a firebrand like this? The man’s gaze swept over him, and a curious lift of his brow caused Alex a moment of concern. Why would a man like that choose a man like him? Surely the older man knew putting Alex in the house with a wench like this, or any wench for that matter, would be serious trouble.
The girl was still talking, obviously in love with a bloody MacGregor, singing his praises as though the man was Christ Jesus himself. Hard as it was, he ignored her because he had an uneasy feeling. He looked up into the giant’s face.
“I almost hate to ask,” Alex sa
id with a sigh. “Are you a MacGregor?”
“No, sir, I’m a Tinsdale and bound to no clan.”
“You might want to reconsider this, friend. Barton is right. I’m nothing but trouble. Have been my whole life. To start with, my reputation with women would have preceded me if I hadn’t arrived in chains. Cannae stay away from them, and it doesnae matter what they look like. Your little pet here, beautiful by the way, doesnae stand a chance against a man like me. Females are drawn to me, and if they do get it in their heads to resist, ’tis not a problem because I always get what I want. I’m well endowed, Sam, and I’m not exaggerating.”
“I’m pleased for you,” Sam said, “but the size of your cock doesn’t make a difference here. You’ll have to get used to not getting what you want. Have you another objection?”
“Surely you know why I’m here. There’s an entire litany I’ve been well versed in over the last nine months. I’m a warrior, a rebel, a traitor, a prisoner of war, and a convict, and if that’s not enough, I’m a Campbell.” Alex lifted his chin in the direction of the wagon. “Go ask him what he thinks of that.”
“He knows your name. It doesn’t matter to him, boy. What Trevor MacGregor wants, he gets, and he’s chosen you.”
“What does the MacGregor want with someone like me?”
“An indenture of sorts,” Sam said.
“Of sorts? What the hell does that mean?” Alexander shot another glance toward the man in the wagon, then turned to Sam, studying him from the incredibly large feet to the wild golden hair on top of his head. “’Tis obvious you’re not an indenture of sorts. What are you then?”
“I am many things,” the man said. “Mostly I am his friend, and I aim to make his life as easy as possible. He seems to think you’ll contribute to that. I could argue. I could tell him he’s making the worst mistake of his life, but I fear I’d lose in the discussion. The man knows what he wants.”
The girl had given up trying to talk sense into them. She stormed toward the wagon, her yellow skirts swirling around her ankles like a sunlit field. Her auburn hair swung across her back in thick waves, past a waist Alex thought he could wrap in his hands. He watched the fury in her tiny body. Married to a MacGregor, but not born one. He might be able to fuck her after all. That would definitely cause some trouble, because Sam seemed against the whole idea, but this one was worth any amount of trouble.
Alex folded his arms across his chest and lifted his head to find the big man’s eyes. “I can work, but not for a fucking MacGregor.”
Sam the Giant’s yellow brows rose. “I think the decision is not yours to make, and it appears to be done.”
“Bloody hell,” Alexander snarled.
He watched as Barton held a sheath of parchment out to the man in the wagon. The gentleman took them and began to scribble his signature over each one. Sam took a step closer to Alex, and Alex backed away uncomfortably at the look on the big man’s face. The congenial expression and ready smile he’d shown to the girl now hardened into something that might have scared Alex if he gave a bloody damn.
“I’ll tell you this once,” Sam said, “and you will not be reminded. You’ll be watching your language from this moment on, Campbell, and you’ll mind every word that leaves your mouth in that man’s presence. Trevor MacGregor is an important man in this colony and not to be trifled with. However, as influential as he is, his power is nothing next to mine. I will take each insult against him as a personal insult against me.”
“I take it you’re friends, then?” Alex asked.
Alex saw the giant could not be swayed by his comedic brilliance because the hard resolve in Sam’s eyes had just gotten harder.
“And Meggie is not to be touched.”
“Meggie seems the kind of girl to make her own decisions,” Alex said.
“It’s Mistress MacGregor as far as you’re concerned, Campbell, and what she thinks or feels has no bearing on your sorry life. Is what I’ve said understood, or must I pound it into you?”
“No pounding necessary, Sam,” Alex said. “I’m a fast learner.”
“And Campbell,” Sam said, “just so we’re clear on another matter, I can guarantee my cock is bigger than yours.”
Alex tried not to smile, but he didn’t succeed. He liked the big man.
The girl had not given up her harangue against him. She spoke to the MacGregor furiously, her hands gesturing wildly, the curtain of auburn swaying across her back. MacGregor nodded at each thing she said, but he was clearly preoccupied with studying the parchments. In desperation, she clutched Barton’s arm, and he shook his head wearily. Finally she swung around and glared at him, her brows drawn down, her lovely eyes narrowing to slits. Alex offered her a sympathetic smile and shrugged.
Her luscious mouth pursed in frustration, and her breasts heaved above the bodice as she struggled to control her breathing. She was furious with him, and he’d done nothing…yet. He could hardly imagine what it would be like once they were confined under the same roof together. His cock twitched in his pants again. It would be a living hell, but hell was a place he called home.
Chapter 3
She paused on the threshold when the dry wood groaned under her weight. “You’ve lost your reason, Megan MacGregor. This is madness.”
Madness or not, something compelled her to keep moving, leaving the relative safety of her home to enter into the dark storage room nestled behind the binding shop. She’d never had any apprehension going into the shop at night. She felt as comfortable in the shop as she did in their adjoining cottage and often worked long hours in the evenings with her accounts, but tonight…
Well, there had never been a strange man lurking in the darkness of her shop before. The Lord only knew what he might be doing. He could be plotting ways to strangle them in their beds, to steal what valuables they possessed, to ruin twenty years of progress with the touch of a flame. A man like Alexander Campbell might be capable of anything, but she was willing to risk everything to see if he might be capable of reason. He’d looked far from it earlier today, shackled, bruised, and bloody, but he’d since had a bit of quiet, a chance to bathe, eat, and rest, and she hoped the small touch of civilization had been enough to calm the rage she’d seen.
If it wasn’t…
She gulped.
When she had found the courage to step over the threshold and close the door behind her, she pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders, clutching it for its meager protection, although she wasn’t sure chain mail would be enough protection against a man like Alexander Campbell. He looked like he could rip through a suit of armor with his bare hands. He wasn’t nearly as big as Sam, and yet Campbell seemed so much more dangerous. Of course Sam was simply Sam, and she couldn’t possibly be apprehensive around her best friend. She trusted Sam Tinsdale with her life, but Campbell was an unknown, and as far as trusting him, she’d just as soon be entering a pit of venomous vipers.
She hadn’t heard him move in over an hour, so there was the question of whether or not he was awake, but this was the only time she’d been able to sneak away. She’d waited until Trevor had fallen asleep, then had listened outside Sam’s door for sounds of his snoring. The possibility that she could still be caught worried her. Sneaking off to see a man in the middle of the night was not something a married woman should even consider, but she was desperate.
She hoped to talk sense into Campbell. He seemed far from rational, but she suspected he didn’t want to be in her home any more than she wanted him there. She hadn’t come up with a plan yet, but, hopefully, between the two of them they could find some way out of this impossible situation. She had some money. Maybe she could convince him to head north, flee to Massachusetts Bay, stow away on a ship bound for some other godless place. She wanted him anywhere but here.
She shifted the basket clutched in her hand, a necessary ruse, her only excuse to come to him in the middle of the night. She would see to his wounds and try to talk to some sense into him while she had him
pliant and reasonably calm under her hands.
It was too quiet in the shop considering earlier she had heard him prowling around like a caged beast. She heard the crackle of the hearth fire in the stillness. The soft slap of tree branches against the window echoed with a melancholy sound that caused a flicker of uncertainty. The door to the small bedchamber was slightly ajar. Was he tucked into bed for the night? She had taken several courageous steps toward the door when a shadow flickered on the opposite wall and a quiet voice drifted from the shop into the storage room where she stood.
“Is there something I can do for you, girl?”
The doorway suddenly filled with a terrifying, dark shape that blocked all the light. She thought she heard a tiny yelp pass her lips, but she hoped it was her imagination. A touch of fear snaked through her spine, and the hairs on her arms lifted.
I should have brought a lantern, a candle, something. I can’t see his face. I don’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s doing. I should never have come in here.
Standing in the darkness so close to her mysterious and barbaric new tenant made her feel as vulnerable as a small nocturnal creature caught in the shadow of an owl’s wings. Her heart raced, and the small amount of courage she’d managed to muster simply vanished. When the shape of him shifted enough to lounge against the doorframe, relief swept over her that she had no light.
In the darkness he could not possibly see the emotions that surely played across her face. Standing so close to him made her feel funny. The darkness provided enough shelter so he could not possibly know the sound of his voice made her tremble. That accent was reminiscent of Trevor’s own, but Trevor had been in the colonies over twenty years. The cadence of Campbell’s voice was rougher and more pronounced, disturbingly rugged and masculine, a deep rumble that made something flutter inside her.
In the darkness he would never see how the sound of his voice affected her, nor could her eyes betray her because he would not see how her glance caught and held to the shape of his body. He could not possibly know that seeing his huge form made her want to take a step closer and feel his heat.
Loving Two Highlanders Page 4