Free Highlander Unmasked by Monica Mccarty Page A

her after his awkward compliment on the dance floor. She’d misunderstood, but he realized that he’d hit on a vulnerability when he’d made an unwitting comparison with her mother. Rosalind Mackinnon was undeniably a beautiful woman, but so was her daughter. Everything about her was…endearing. Irresistible softness to a man who’d known only hardship for so long. Didn’t Meg realize how lovely she was? No. It suddenly occurred to him that she almost seemed to go out of her way not to emphasize her beauty, hiding herself beneath ill-fitting clothes and unflattering hairstyles. Even he had almost missed it.
    The flash of hurt in her eyes had unsettled him deeply. Hell, he thought with frustration. She unsettled him. Meg was the first woman in four years to make him think about anything other than revenge, justice, and atonement.
    He’d do his best to steer clear of her.
    As he neared the city, the pungent stench of excrement burned the back of his throat. The vile cesspool of intrigue and corruption that permeated court seemed to have spilled onto the streets. Literally. And they think we are barbarians, he thought with disgust. At least Highlanders don’t toss waste out their windows to run in open sewers with merely a warning shout of “Gardyloo!”
    The smell was revolting, and on a warm night like tonight, unbearable. Even to a man who was used to the primitive conditions afforded the life of an outlaw, the filth of Edinburgh was nearly inconceivable.
    He used the edge of his cloak to smother the stench. The faint scent of lavender still clung to the wool, courtesy of his brother’s wife, Isabel, he supposed. Upon his arrival at Dunvegan, she’d threatened to toss most of his clothing into the fire, relenting only after he’d agreed to allow her to see to its washing.
    The sweet reminder from home made him even more anxious to leave this woe-begotten place. Court was a necessary but unwelcome stop to gather information before he set course for the Isle of Lewis. If the rumor of a second attempt by the Fife Adventurers to colonize Lewis proved correct, Alex would ferret out whatever information he could to help his kin, the MacLeods of Lewis, thwart the incursion. But Lewis was where the real battle would be fought…and won.
    If he could leave for Lewis right now, he would.
    One step at a time, he reminded himself. But damn, he was eager to begin. Preventing the king from claiming Lewis would be a resounding victory for the Island chiefs, but in helping his kin, the MacLeods of Lewis, Alex would finally have the chance to right a wrong that had shadowed him for five long years.
    He knew he trod a treacherous path. If he were caught, here or later on Lewis, his actions could well be construed as treason.
    But it was worth the risk.
    Because of that risk, his brother had tried to stop him, but eventually Alex had persuaded Rory that no one else would suffice. Alex had both position and familiarity with court, as well as access to Jamie Campbell and other important political leaders. And as for his ability to lead the battle on Lewis, it had taken two hours on the lists with Rory—ending only with Isabel threatening to separate them by dousing them both with cold water—to convince his brother of Alex’s readiness.
    Initially, Rory had wanted to lead the rebellion himself, but there could be no question of that. Rory’s first duty, as chief, was to his clan. He had to placate the king, at least nominally.
    Alex didn’t.
    He’d never envied Rory his role as chief. Unlike his brother, Alex was free to follow his conscience and his own sense of justice. He’d done precisely that for the last three years. Not long after leaving Dunvegan, Alex had joined with a handful of dispossessed warriors who used to go by the name MacGregor. King James had turned the MacGregors into outlaws on their own lands—hunted like vermin, persecuted, and jailed without cause. Forbidden on pain of death even to call themselves