Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends, Book 1) (14 page)

The power of the rush swept me away, and I screamed. On a final thrust, Iain roared as he joined me in release. I collapsed onto his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. Our hearts beat in rapid staccato against one another as his hot breath feathered across my cheek. In silence, we labored to catch our breath. Finally, I sighed.

“Isa?”

His voice gentled so soon after his feral growls made me smile. Our peaceful companionship before drifting to sleep had become a cherished ritual as we shared random thoughts and favorite things. The nightcap to our wild sex had become a slumber party of sorts, filled with stories from childhoods or dreams of our future.

The fragile threads of intimacy had woven into strong bonds as we learned that despite our vast differences, we shared the same principles and beliefs about life and family. We both believed in God, but only tended to talk to the Big Guy on a need-to-pray basis. When we dreamed of children, we wanted at least a boy and a girl, but weren’t opposed to more.

Talking with Iain felt as easy and comfortable as a worn pair of jeans. The modern-day Californian in him enabled his effortless shift into the vernacular I’d come to miss amid all the heavy brogue and Gaelic.

“Feel okay?” He tipped my chin up with his finger, kissing my lips tenderly.

My smile broke our lip-lock. “I feel amazing.”

Iain gently rolled us over, separating us. A rush of cool air hit my damp skin as he draped a bent leg over mine. He propped an arm under his head, smoothing a free hand down between my breasts, laying it to rest across my belly. Firelight cast his ruggedly handsome face in ever-changing glows and shadows as he gazed deep into my eyes.

“Do you feel like you could be with child?” The slight raise of his eyebrows melted my heart. I wondered if he’d overheard Agnes’s bawdy comments, or if he’d thought about the subject on his own.

I placed my hand over his, lacing our fingers together, and kissed his lips. “I don’t feel any different. But .
 . . I suppose I could be.”

Even though we’d talked of children, the thought of actually
becoming
pregnant had never entered my mind. Of course, I understood how the whole concept worked, but in the whirlwind that my life had become, I hadn’t yet given it serious thought.

The idea of carrying Iain’s child .
 . . of having his children . . . filled me with a great sense of fresh purpose. But it surprised me. I’d only ever had one goal. A singular objective had governed the entire course of my life: unlocking history’s secrets that I inherently knew lay in wait for me. An imaginary magnet had drawn me along a clear journey toward archaeological discovery, but some unexplainable force had plucked me off that path and dropped me onto a new one. And the detoured road seemed paved with infinite possibilities.

The expression he held—a fragile smile, barely raised eyebrows—gave me something more, something he radiated and I absorbed .
 . .
hope
. A family born of his seed would strengthen my developing roots. No longer would I be a wanderer in a foreign land. Our essences from the past and future blended together would irrevocably become our present.

“Isa, you’ve had a rough adjustment with the magick snatchin’ you from your home, imprisonin’ you here. I dinna know that would happen. But what I need you to know is that you’re everythin’ to me. I had no idea I’d been lookin’ for you all my life .
 . . ’til I found you.”

He gently kissed my forehead, captivating me with his heartfelt words.

“My life is enriched now that you’re in it. I doona know how I survived before you and have no idea what I’d do if I lost you. Hopefully, the joy of your new life will replace the loss of your old one.”

A tight knot choked the base my throat at his candid profession of love. No Hallmark card had anything on my man. I struggled to reply, overwhelmed by the most profoundly beautiful thing I’d ever heard. “Iain, it already has. You mean more to me than everything in my past. Your people, this place, and all that you are have laid claim to my heart. I don’t want to leave. I’ll never need to go back home .
 . .” I leaned forward, brushing my lips across his, whispering, “Because I’m already there.”

Iain threw his body over mine, nearly knocking the wind out of me with a strong embrace. I wrapped my arms around him, gripping him tight, emotions welling up inside of me at the rugged warrior who’d ripped his chest wide open, exposing his beating heart. Air barely entered my crushed lungs, but I didn’t care. Elation sustained me. He needed me like I needed him—like the very oxygen I’d soon need to breathe.

My budding love for the man in my arms blossomed, the sensation of being lost in time and space fading away, no longer affecting me. Any last threads of hope to return had been severed by my need to stay. Every part of me belonged here. With Iain. He owned my body, heart, and soul.

With my gentle push, we rolled to the side. My lips grazed up his neck to the shell of his ear. “Nothing could tear me away now, Iain.”

I resolved in my heart that nothing ever would.

CHAPTER
Twelve

Life threw me curveballs when I least expected them. Ten days ago, I had been thrown the pitch of the century, and yet, I’d cracked that ball into the stratosphere.

I opened my arms and tilted my face to the sky, basking in rays of warm sunshine as morning’s splendor greeted me. On the wings of indescribable joy, I soared high into the clouds. For the first time in my academically cloistered life,
I’d fallen in love
.

The irrevocable change that had seeded deep inside burst forth, radiating into the entire world. Logic told me nothing outside my personal self had changed, and yet .
 . .
everything
had. Colors shone more vividly, each a brilliant, distinct hue; scents held greater depth, teasing my nose in sensual invitation; an ordinary breeze that misted across sun-warmed skin turned extraordinary, skittering invigorating chills over my body.

I inhaled deeply, detecting Iain’s natural woodsy cologne, which hit me a microsecond before he did as he wrapped his warmth around me from behind. I squealed, turning in his arms.

“Iain!” I kissed him soundly. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have clan officiating to perform?”

He laughed. “I handle disputes when needed. I’m teachin’ them to deal with each other first.”

A leather satchel hung from his shoulder. I glanced toward the stables and saw
Dubhar
had been saddled, meaning a long journey. A dozen horses had been outfitted, the energized animals pawing at the ground. Armed soldiers gathered around them, strapping on supplies.

“You’re leaving.”

Iain captured my lips in a brief kiss, smacking my ass through the layers of my skirt. “First, I’ve a surprise for you. But, aye. We’ve assembled a huntin’ party. The time’s come to find our missin’ guardsmen. I plan to unleash hell on whatever force delayed their return.”

Fingall, Gawain, and Seamus had been missing for a week now, with no word of their situation. “Please be safe.” I dropped my gaze, my fingers tracing a raised white line along his forearm. “I’m quite happy with the number of scars you currently have on your body.”

He hooked a finger under my dropped chin and gently brought my lips up to meet his. With a tender kiss, he soothed my worry. “A scratch from a fight is naught but a souvenir. I’ll be givin’ plenty before they ever have a chance to mark me. Come, I’ve somethin’ to give you.”

Iain led me to a stone addition built onto the back side of the kitchen. We stepped into a cool, dark room, and Iain opened the connecting door, watching me intently as a familiar rich scent floated in.

I gasped in surprise. “Coffee!”

He grinned, lifting a steaming ceramic bowl from a kitchen table. “Aye. You like? Mairi fussed over you drinkin’ out of a bowl, but I insisted.”

Like a parched wanderer at the end of a desert odyssey, I seized the offered bowl and took a coveted sip. Although it was no Jamaican Blue Mountain, the aromatic drink had a deep buttery flavor. I loved it from the very first taste.

I explored the cold store, enjoying my first coffee in almost two weeks. Huge burlap sacks and wooden barrels lined the walls. As I leisurely perused the inventory in the ten-by-ten space, distinct aromas of spices tickled my nose. A large bag, lying open on a stack of others, held dark brown coffee beans.

“Where did you get access to all this?”

He smirked. “Weel, a few late crusaders stole a bit of Arab treasure for dear King Henry. While on a ‘diplomatic’ trip to the English royal court, we liberated the crusaders of their burden—in totality.”

“Awww . . . my very own java pirate.”

I peered at my man above the rim of my chic medieval coffee mug. There stood a warrior whose face had transformed from its usual “hard and menacing” to ruggedly handsome with a single grin at having pleased me. With his arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe, his entire bearing reminded me of the afternoon I arrived here. Only instead of seeing an adversary in a kill-the-messenger way, I saw the Highlander who stood before me for what he was—the man of my dreams.

As I sipped the aromatic brew, my gaze drifted to an open bag that contained a rusty powder. I bent down, inhaling the sweet scent of cinnamon. With a pinch of my finger, I stole from the stash, dropping the spice into my cup. I swirled it in, and the next slow sip rolled decadent flavors over my tongue. Something so simple gave such immense pleasure. My gaze trailed below the open bean sack to count five more burlap-type bags. “So I guess we have coffee until the supply runs out.”

“Woman, I would travel to the ends of the Earth to bring that smile to your face.”

I stepped into his side, wrapping my free arm around his slender hips, and beamed up at him. “Iain, all this face ever needs to smile is you.”

The outer door opened, and Robert popped his head in. He tipped his head toward me. “M’Lady.” Then he glanced up at his laird. “Iain, the men are waitin’.”

Robert disappeared, and Iain pulled me into a tight embrace, kissing me so thoroughly, I had to grip my coffee mug tightly to keep from dropping it. He finally broke away, gazing down at me. “Stay close to Brigid. She’ll watch over you. I’m leavin’ Fergus and Ailig behind to lead the men and protect the clan. I’ll return before you’ve had time to miss me.”

I sighed, kissing him once more. “I miss you already, Iain Brodie.”

* * *

The horses carrying Iain and his guard galloped over the drawbridge and disappeared into the green haze of the dense forest beyond. I squeezed Brigid’s shoulder, witnessing the departure of the rescue party in solemn silence. My mood grew somber with worry for his safety, regardless of his being one of the most fearsome warriors in the land, and perhaps at the realization that I’d lost my man for a few days. Brigid’s man had been missing for a week. I had much to learn from the courageous front she held.

“Brigid, let’s go hunting. It’ll take our mind off the men, and I need practice with my bow.”

“Nay, I canna,” she said, gently shaking free of my hold. “I’ve promised to collect herbs with Agnes. Would you like to come?”

Agnes would talk our ears off. Hours of ceaseless girl talk appealed to me as much as a dip in scalding tar. I needed immersion in an activity that required focused concentration, leaving room for nothing else in my head. “No. Go ahead. I’ll catch the hare, and you can season the stew.” I frowned when she didn’t respond to me. “You okay?”

She gave me a weak smile. “We’ll find the herbs for you. And, aye, I’m well. Doona mistake my quiet. My head is filled with plans to tan Fingall’s hide for bein’ gone so long.” Brigid gave me a quick hug and headed down toward the cottages.

As I hiked up the hill to change from my dress, I passed the small, exterior room that had hosted my dramatic, ungainly entrance into Iain’s world. Something from beyond the cracked door beckoned me. I attributed the sensation to a need for a nostalgic reunion, if not a momentary distraction.

A good amount of shoulder was required to shove the heavy door open. I briefly stared into the dark room, and after a deep breath, I stepped into the past—ten days’ worth, anyway. No candles were lit, but the musty room held faint traces of the pungent aroma I’d found so offending when I arrived. Light from the doorway behind me guided my way as I approached the box, its metal surfaces reflecting the scant illumination into the room.

A gentle pull of recognition lifted my hand, my fingers extended in cautious reverence. The magick-infused object had transported me to a wondrous place and time. Everything I’d become—all that I held dear—I owed to the artifact sitting inertly on the wooden table.

Originally a mere key to advancement within an academic realm, the box had transformed into a gateway, giving me a life I’d never dreamed possible. My very happiness had come about due to the one thing I’d cursed upon arrival. I smiled as my trembling fingertips hovered around the sides and over the top.

With a deep breath, I lowered my hand. “Hello, beloved friend.”

A charge arced from the metal to my fingertip before I made contact, but the realization came slower than my momentum. The cool metal electrified me, shooting an erotic pulse into me that cascaded into an uncontrollable orgasm. I gasped, unable to remove my hand. I heard my empty coffee mug clunk onto the hard earthen floor.

Then everything went dark.

* * *

My lungs sucked in oxygen from air suddenly colder by a good twenty degrees. Prone on the floor, the beats of my heart raced the thoughts flying through my mind over what I’d done. A sudden adrenaline rush heightened into an acute awareness of my surroundings.

Vast darkness spanned above where the thatched ceiling had just been. A frosty, damp surface beneath me permeated my clothes, chilling the back side of my body. I slowly pushed myself off the floor into a seated position as uneasiness burned in the pit of my stomach.

Jagged gray stone formed the walls of a cave, shadows moving along its rough surface as if cast from a flame. I turned, searching out the source. Shock stuttered my heart, seizing my lungs.

Three naked men—all wearing bronze torques around their neck, their bodies armored in elaborate blue-inked tattoos—stared at me with wide eyes and open mouths.
Picts?
I scrambled up off the floor. One looked to be a prisoner; the other two held his arms. He looked at the box.

The box.

That damn box hadn’t finished with me yet. I should’ve knocked on the wood of the table that had held it before daring its power with my mere mortal ego.

A growl through the captive’s peeled-back lips pierced the cave, bouncing off the walls. The men released their hold of him. When they retreated, I realized they hadn’t been holding him hostage; they had supported him, preventing his fall to the ground. He’d been touching the artifact on his end—holding taut the common thread between our times.

The angered man advanced, and I backed up step-for-step. Without warning, he lunged. I spun on my heel, dashing out of the opening in the rock wall. A woman’s intuition had nothing on primal instinct—we tended to run in the opposite direction of hostile, naked men.

The night embraced me in a dark, bitter hold, an engraved invitation to the forest’s frightful festivities. Cloud cover prevented any possible moonlight from lighting a path. The absolute madness of running from one threatening situation with unknown men into another that had carnivores of the four-legged variety made me pause to think.

I turned around, reassessing what awaited me if I stayed. The trio rushed out of the cave looking enraged. As my limited options flashed through my brain, a flicker of movement caught my eye. They’d left a torch outside, lying on a rock. I’d have to close our distance by half to reach it. A deep breath prepared me for a kamikaze attempt to grab my only chance of escape.

Their bodies remained tense, springs poised to release. I advanced in slow steps, never looking away from them, but keeping the shining prize in peripheral sight. Not trusting my speed and agility against their level of fitness, I sprang the weapon of surprise at the last possible second. My heart hammered like a rabbit’s as I snatched the torch, pivoted, and bolted off, my mind processing their nonexistent reactions as I fled. The one in command had lifted his chin and crossed his arms, but not one attempted to stop me. They let me run off into the wilderness.

A clearer head would have wondered why.

The reason they didn’t give immediate chase dawned on me sometime after the second exhausting hour of forcing my way through unwelcoming brush; the uncharted journey led me nowhere quicker than it got me anywhere useful. When the growth thinned enough to ease my travel, sure footing was made almost impossible by slick, rocky surfaces.

Another helpful factoid revealed itself around that same time: torches only burn for so long. An errant burst of wind snuffed out the dying torch, casting me into total blackness. I stopped, uncertain of where to go, clueless about what place in time or space I’d been thrown. A wolf howled in the distance, chilling my spine to an icicle from the top down, but the cold remained deep in my bones as the constant wind bit through my so-wrong-for-a-hiking-adventure dress.

One tentative step forward on solid ground led to another. Slow waving of my invisible arms guided a blind expedition toward safety from the slick, rocky outcropping I’d been traversing. After several shuffled steps, my foot slipped across a slanted surface and my boot caught in a crevice. The forward momentum twisted my ankle, and I fell straight down on the unforgiving rock.