Choosing the Highlander (20 page)

Her captivating eyes grew wide with fear. She mistook his intent. “What are you going to do with me?” Her voice was steady.

He admired that about her. No matter how frightened she was, it never showed in her voice. But this questioning his honor after all they’d been through would not do. It would not do at all.

“I was considering kissing you,” he said. ’Twas the truth.

She blinked.

“Mayhap even ravishing you here against this tree. Taking you again and again until you ken beyond all doubt I’ll never keep secrets to use against you.”

Overcome with need for her now that he had her in his arms, he lowered his mouth to her neck. He held himself back from kissing her there, but only just. He would be certain she was not afraid of him before he acted on the lust he couldn’t help but feel whenever he was this near to her.

“Wilhelm.” His name might have been a warning. Or it might have been a plea.

“That linen you used to blind the wolf.” He nuzzled the silky skin below her ear. “That wouldn’t happen to have been your undergarment, would it?” With his lips alone he nipped her lobe. She tasted like a sweet orchard breeze in summer time. He dropped his hands to her waist.

“Wilhelm.” There was no mistaking that one word for what it was: an invitation.

“Tell me you trust me, lass.”

She said nothing.

He drew back to meet her gaze. “Tell me.”

“How can I?” She twitched the sack. “Why did you keep this from me?”

Anger he could have dealt with, but the hurt in her eyes made him feel helpless. All he had with which to combat the suspicion in her gaze was the truth.

“Caution, at first” he said. “To bring it to you in the abbey would have been an unnecessary risk. Anselm might have seen it. Besides, I didna ken you well so then. Then the bairn came, and there was much to do. Then enough time had passed and you’d captured my heart so thoroughly I didna ken how to broach the subject.” While he made his confession, he cupped her jaw and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. So soft, her skin. So creamy and warm.

Forgetting what he’d been talking about, he made another sort of confession. “To think I might have lost you today. I doona ken whether to praise you for your bravery or chide you for your foolhardiness. Never make me fash like that again.”

She blew out a breath. Her lips flattened then softened as the fight went out of her. “Then you’d better stay away from wolves,” she said, and he understood he was forgiven.

He could hold back no longer. With a growl, he descended on her, hungry as any starved beast, but not for food.

#

How could a single kiss erase every last hint of Connie’s anxiety? Well, maybe “single kiss” was selling it short. This desperate clinging of mouths and groping of hands was more like a hot and heavy make-out session, only that term made it sound paltry, like that time she’d made out with Kenny Garretson in the music room after Mrs. Bemis’s cello class. Except, this was not an exploration undertaken out of boredom and opportunity. This make-out session was honest and full of adult passion. It was driven by mutual need and welcomed with mutual longing.

It was an apology from Wilhelm, she imagined, for the betrayal she’d experienced over the discovery of her backpack. It was a promise from her not to doubt him again—how could she have doubted him even for a second when he’d saved her life not once but twice? It was a return to normalcy after the horror of a wolf attack.

Wolves! They’d been attacked by wolves!

She could hardly fathom it. A week ago, she’d been driving her Mercedes through the concrete jungle of Chicago. The most trying aspect of her commute was stopping for jaywalkers and weaving around cabs and busses. Now, to make a trip that would take less than three hours by car, she was riding a horse over the course of several days, battling winter elements and wild animals.

She sobbed into Wilhelm’s mouth as the reality of her situation reasserted itself.

“I have you, love. I have you.”

“Wilhelm.”

Saying his name did something to her. She had the absurd feeling that every time she spoke it aloud it strengthened her connection to him. This should make her never want to say it again. Why would she build connections of any sort in the past when she intended to return to the present? But she
would
say it again. And again and again. She loved saying it.

“Lass,” he murmured, rolling his hips forward and taking her mouth again, this time with an urgency similar to when he’d kissed her near the loch.

His armor covered him to mid-thigh. She was glad for it because it had saved him from what might have been a terrible injury today, but she wished it gone at the moment so she could feel his arousal.

“Wilhelm,” she gasped when he trailed his kisses across her jaw and down her neck.

“Aye. Say my name, lass.” His strong hands clawed at her skirts, dragging them up.

Yes. Yes! He was going to give her what she’d been wanting from him for days, and he was going to do it right up against a tree, like a man possessed with lust. For her!

An encounter outdoors had always been one of her fantasies, but of course, she’d never seriously considered it, not back home, anyway. But the rules here were different. They were surrounded by forest. The only witnesses would be the trees and rocks and their horses.

A thrill of anticipation shot through her like lightning. Come what may, she needed this, needed him. But a niggling of concern lodged itself in her consciousness. There were reasons they shouldn’t. Many. But she couldn’t seem to remember them. Maybe if he stopped nibbling her neck.

“Wait.” Gasping for breath, she put a palm on his chest. Ah, yes. She remembered. “Your arm.” She’d seen pain register on his face when the wolf had attacked. He might be hurt. “And what if the wolves come back? What if there are more?” Also, he’d told her he didn’t want to become intimate with her until they weren’t married—which wasn’t going to happen, so…no sex with the tempting Highlander.

She screamed with frustration inside her own head.

Wilhelm had rucked her skirts up to her knees. He stilled his movements with fists full of fabric at her hips. Cold air found its way beneath her dress to chill her heated private parts. She was going to miss the warmth of that underwear. Maybe she could find it and see about mending it when they stopped for the night. She was going to need it around Wilhelm, because the feeling of being bare
down there
shot her level of friskiness through the roof.

Oh, heck. Who was she kidding. It was Wilhelm who made her frisky.

Wilhelm pressed his forehead to hers. “Forgive me. I forgot myself.” He smoothed her dress back into place. When he met her gaze, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were silvery bright. While she watched, the fierce light seemed to bank itself and his irises returned to the blue of a winter sky, their normal color, though the word
normal
fell far short of describing something so beautiful. It had to be her imagination making her romanticize the emotions she read in his gaze. Surely his eyes didn’t actually glow.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she assured him.

When he tried to back away from her she grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms around her waist again, like he’d done with her the night before. Stickiness on his right hand made her look down. Blood. It had come from inside his sleeve.

Goodness. The wolf had broken his skin. Worry tightened her throat.

“How badly are you hurt?”

“Dinnae fash. ’Tis but a scratch.”

She snorted. Scratches didn’t bleed enough to create a slick of blood several inches from the wound.

“Come on. Let’s take a look.” She flicked his armor with a finger. “Get all this off. I might have some supplies to fix you up if it really is ‘just a scratch.’” She thought of the first-aid kit in her backpack, hoping it was still there and that his injury wouldn’t require stitches.

While Wilhelm removed his armor and went to work on the buttons of his pourpoint, she crouched with her back to him to look through her backpack. Wilhelm and Terran had most likely seen the contents, but it seemed foolish to flaunt them, especially when she had no intention of explaining them to anyone in this time.

On initial inspection, everything she’d packed for her morning hike with Leslie seemed to be there, though the upside-down tourist book and the rumpled silk scarf proved the contents had been rifled through. But never mind that. With a rush of gratitude, she lifted out the first-aid kit and opened it on her lap.

A glance over her shoulder showed Wilhelm still working his way down the buttons. While he disrobed, she discreetly removed the
Johnson & Johnson
packaging from several sterile pads and added a giant glob of antibiotic ointment to a self-adhesive bandage. After tucking an Ace bandage with its metal fasteners and a small glass bottle of hydrogen peroxide into a pocket in her dress, she carefully packed everything else away and returned to her wounded warrior.

He was sitting with his back to their tree, torso bare. His muscular chest gleamed with traces of sweat. The way he sat was incredibly masculine, knees spread and pointed to the sky, forearms resting on said knees.

She’d always heard Scotsmen wore nothing under their kilts, but Wilhelm had a baggy kind of undergarment covering his loins and hose that attached to them with ties. She knew this because she could see it all plainly.

His posture was so very
male
. So very alluring. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

Wilhelm must have noticed, because he grinned knowingly and said, “I doubt I shall ever look upon a birch again without my staff stirring. Were it summertime, you’d ken for yourself how you affect me. I only wear all the layers because I despise the cold.”

Heavens. He bantered with her as if they were lovers. The familiarity of it flooded her with tender feelings. Even Milt had always held himself somewhat in reserve with her. There had been comfort in the formality of their relationship. Comfort, but not much happiness.

As she often did when faced with her own feelings, she turned her laser focus to the task at hand. Clearing her throat, she knelt beside Wilhelm. “I’m more interested in your arm than your tree at the moment. Give it here.”

He barked a laugh, and she realized what she’d just said.

“I mean
the
tree. Our tree. Oh, you know what I meant.” She reached for his wounded arm.

He chuckled silently while she inspected it. Her cheeks flamed hotter than ever.

Her embarrassment was nothing compared to the pain he had to be in. A deep puncture wound in his bulging forearm muscle welled with blood. Smaller puncture wounds showed where other teeth had bruised him near the bony portion of his elbow. The main wound had to have been from a canine tooth.

She hissed as she inspected it. “Does it hurt?” Dumb question. Of course it hurt.

“Aye.” He said it softly, not making her feel dumb in the least. “My thanks, lass.”

She glanced up to find his eyes crinkled with fondness. Her heart fluttered pleasantly even as the depth of affection she felt for this man terrified her. “Thank me when I’m done,” she said, keeping her voice all business. “This will hurt. I need to clean it.”

“Go on with it, then.” He tilted his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.

She pulled the hydrogen peroxide from her pocket and unscrewed the lid. To distract him from the pain when she poured the liquid over the wound, she asked “Is there a plan for if the wolves come back?”

He groaned deep in his throat as the liquid foamed and did its work, but he didn’t move his arm an inch. “Saint’s teeth. What is that?”

“A cleaning agent. It should keep you from getting an infection. The wolves. What will we do if they come back?”

“Ride away,” he said through gritted teeth. A waggle of his brows told her he was making a joke.

“Brilliant plan.” She dried the wound and wiped off the excess blood. “Wish I had thought of that down by the water.” They both knew she’d had no chance at gaining the saddle atop a spooked horse. Connie suspected if the wolves came back, Wilhelm would fight them again. He’d fight to protect her as many times as it took.

That shouldn’t make her feel as good as it did, her being an independent woman and all. She fought her own battles, and usually won. But this was another world compared to where she was from. It might come in handy to have a “native” looking out for her while she searched for a way home.

Wilhelm smirked as she placed the self-adhesive bandage over the wound and smoothed its edges to seal the antibiotic ointment inside. Well, his mouth was smirking. His eyes dropped to her chest and darkened with hunger.

The dress the monks had given her had a modest neckline that hit near her collar bones, but when she leaned forward, it sagged just enough that he was probably getting an eyeful. She decided to let him look if it would help keep his mind off his injury.

He’d seen it all before anyway when he’d bathed her. She couldn’t hold back the memory of that tender washing. It made her bite her lip as she wrapped the ace bandage around the wound to offer it some extra protection.

“You are lovely when the color rises in your cheeks.”

Damn the man for noticing every time she had illicit thoughts about him. “Only then?”

“Especially then.”

She didn’t want to explain the metal fastener for the bandage, so she slipped it into her pocket and simply tucked in the tail to fasten it. To keep Wilhelm’s mind off the stretchy synthetic material, she decided to encourage his flirting. “Have I told you how incredible I find your eyes? I know it has to be a trick of the light and their unique coloring, but sometimes I could swear they glow.”

“My mother tells says the same, only she claims my eyes are because I have the soul of a berserker.”

Finished wrapping his injury, she stood and offered him a hand up. “A berserker?”

He accepted her help. Once standing, he leaned against the tree and drew her to stand chest to chest with him. His scent of clean musk and leather filled her with the desire to wrap herself around him more securely than any bandage.