wore a loose-fitting tunic and the MacDonell plaid of blue, green, black, and red. His light brown hair brushed the outlines of his broad shoulders, and wisps of dark hair curled against the V of his open shirt. She guessed he was around the same age as Colin.
Sybella pulled herself to her feet and brushed down her skirts. “We meant ye nay harm.”
The man entered the glade and placed his hands upon his lean hips. “I saw ye take the leap. Ye landed right in the center. Cannae ye swim?”
“I can swim. My tunic was caught under the water and I couldnae untangle it.” She shifted from foot to foot. If the MacDonell man raised an alarm that MacKenzies were on his lands, there would most definitely be a thrashing—even for Colin. Although she did not currently hold her brother in a favorable light, she would not intentionally get him in trouble. “Please accept my apologies and donna call a warning. We will nae do it again. Ye have my word.”
“Stealing our cattle wasnae enough for ye MacKenzies? Now ye have to encroach on our lands?” he asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm. When Sybella played with her skirts in front of her, he gave her a slight nod. “
“Ella.” She cleared her throat. “Lady Sybella MacKenzie.”
“The MacKenzie’s daughter?”
“Aye. And ye are…?” she asked, lifting a brow.
“Alexander, son of Laird Domhnall MacDonell of Glengarry.”
Sybella picked up her drying cloth and smiled. “Again, please accept my apologies.” She spun on her heel and was halted by the tone in his voice.
“And where do ye think ye are going?”
She turned around slowly. “My brother waits—”
“All I have to do is shout, and my father’s men will come.”
Taking another step closer to the MacDonell’s son, Sybella felt the color drain from her cheeks. “Please donna.” If she started a battle with her father’s enemy over a swim…She cringed at the mental image. Trouble would not escape her this time. “Tell me. What can I do?”
The man’s eyes sparkled and he rubbed his chin, a devilish grin playing on his lips. “A kiss.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Ye heard me. A kiss. One kiss from your lips and ye are free to take your leave.” He waited, challenging her to go through with it.
“Surely ye jest.” She flashed him a look of disdain.
“
When he raised his hand and encircled his mouth to shout a warning, Sybella blurted out, “
Her lips were pressed shut so no other sound would burst out. If she cursed the reprehensible brute, he might go back on his word. She jumped when he quickly closed the gap between them and impaled her with his steady gaze. Her breath caught in her lungs and she merely stared, tongue-tied. She felt like a complete dolt.
Her reaction seemed to amuse him, and his mouth curved wryly. Lowering his head, he whispered, “May ye always remember a MacDonell was the first to taste your lips, Lady Sybella MacKenzie of Kintail.”
His lips pressed against hers. Similar to her experience of jumping off the cliff, his kiss sent her stomach into a wild swirl.
“Sybella!” called Colin from a distance.
If her brother came back down to get her, there would be bloodshed. She pulled away slightly and took a sharp intake of breath. “
He wiped his lips with the back of his hand like she had the bloody plague. “Ne’er forget…your enemy was the first to taste ye.” When the beastly man had the audacity to smirk, he broke the last thread of self-control she had managed to hold on to. MacDonell or not, she would not let herself be put down by this brute. She met his accusing eyes without flinching.
“I donna like ye, Alexander MacDonell.”
“Aye, but ye will ne’er forget me,” he said, then turned his back and disappeared into the trees.
Alex sat in the chair behind his father’s desk, now his own desk, shaking his head. “Father mentions to keep the stone safe within the walls of the Rock of the Raven. What stone?”
Donald’s eyes narrowed. “I donna know.”
“Why would he write me and then nae explain his words? This doesnae make sense.”
“Your father sealed the letter and gave it to me over a year ago. Mayhap he meant to speak with ye and then became ill. But he ne’er mentioned anything to me about a stone. If ye donna know of what he writes, then this stone is probably already safe.”
“I will speak with Aunt Iseabail. Father may have spoken to her.” Alex pulled a pouch from a drawer and placed it on the desk in front of Donald. “I thank ye for the years of service and your continued loyalty to my father.”
“It was my honor to serve him. I wish I could do the same for ye, but I am afraid these aging bones are weary. John will serve ye well. If ye ever want or need for anything, ye need only ask. Your father was a dear friend to me and ye are as a son.” Donald rose and picked up the pouch. “Ye will make a fine laird, Alex.”
Alex watched Donald walk out the door, and then once again, he glanced at the opened letter. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything else his father had neglected to mention.
The remainder of the afternoon passed as a blur. All he was mindful of was the fact that last eve he had stood over his father’s lifeless body and now he returned to stand over his father’s grave. Time could not be turned back. He had to accept the fact that his sire was truly dead.
Alex glanced at his aunt as tears welled up in her eyes. Neither one of them spoke. The knowledge that he was now Laird Alexander MacDonell of Glengarry knotted and turned inside him, for he was a man who faced a harsh reality.
It was time to take his father’s place.
Alex’s hand seemed somewhat large as he rested it on his aunt’s frail shoulder. “Take all the time ye need, Aunt Iseabail. I will stay as long as ye wish.”
She patted his hand in response. “He was a good man, my brother.”
“Aye.”
There was a heavy silence.
She nodded toward his father’s grave and murmured, “
