Highland Destiny (7 page)

"Fine," Mackenzie just stared up the stairs, feeling a dizzying sense of deja vu from her castle tour the other day.

She'd really thought she was over the feelings of hysteria from crossing time, but seeing the castle that she'd slept in a day ago as it looked now, well....

"You look ill. I'll have a bath sent up once you are settled in your bedchamber."

He sounded worried about her. She looked ill? She felt ill.

That couldn't possibly be from the fact that she was now in the same castle she'd just visited, only it was just much newer, or that she had, gulp, time-traveled? The nausea came back. Mackenzie just nodded weakly and let Connor lead her up the stairs, and followed him to a hallway where there was yet another set of stairs leading up into the tower.

Perfect
, she thought,
of course it would be the tower
. Connor took her up three flights of stairs until the narrow spiral staircase opened up into a much larger and more open hallway. Connor took her to a wooden door in the middle of the hall, and its twin was about two feet away. He opened her door for her and released her hand.

"These will be your chambers, Miss Stewart."

"Thank you." It sounded stiff and strangled to her own ears—-who knew what Connor heard.

"Are you all right?" This time she looked at him; he was peering at her as if she were insane. He was probably 61

"Fine."

Mackenzie could see that he didn't believe her, but he probably didn't care enough to press the issue. So she walked into what was now her room. She looked around and walked into the middle of the room, not seeing anything, just wanting Connor to leave so she could go to pieces alone, and wallow a bit in her misery. When she heard the door shut, she assumed Connor had left, and needing something familiar, she tore off the cloak and threw it across the bed. Her own clothes helped lift her spirits a bit. She stepped out of her Nikes, and turned to explore the room, only to almost turn right into Connor. She gasped and stepped back. He caught her elbow to steady her, smiling wryly at her surprise.

She'd expected Connor to leave her, but there he stood holding the grey gown that she had been given in the carriage. He laid it on the bed, and told her that he would have a bath sent up, and to be dressed
appropriately
afterwards. She didn't miss the emphasis on how she should dress. He would be back in an hour and then they would go down to dinner. Connor paused at the door, and repeated,

"One hour, Miss Stewart, doona make me wait."

This time, Mackenzie waited for him to leave before sagging to the bed in relief at finally being alone. But it was not to be. A knock sounded and before Mackenzie could stand up, a young woman with red hair and her arms full of what looked like a corset walked in.

"My Lady."

62

"I am Bronwyn, and the laird said ye'd be wantin' a bath?"

At Mackenzie's hesitant nod, the girl called Bronwyn rushed out, and then back in followed by several servants, two of whom had a tub between them. The rest of them hauled buckets of water in until the tub was full. Mackenzie felt a little sympathy for them thinking that it must be quite a lousy job to haul buckets of water up three flights of stairs, quickly followed by a twinge of guilt, realizing that she was the reason they had carried the heavy buckets of water. But the tub was full and it smelled really inviting; like a spa she'd been to once, with essential oils and scented candles.

Bronwyn tsked here and there as she first took in Mackenzie's outfit, and then helped undress her. Mackenzie wryly remembered that she was practically naked to the girl. Then Bronwyn helped her into the tub and immediately began scrubbing her and pouring water over her hair. When she was immersed in the water and smelled of lavender, Bronwyn started a fire in the large fireplace, then turned to Mackenzie,

"I'll just fetch ye some wine."

"Thank you," Mackenzie said quietly, wondering if she should really drink while she was here. Her already swimming head probably didn't need any outside help.

"My Lady." At that, Bronwyn nodded and bustled out the door.

Mackenzie hopped out of the bath, feeling slightly embarrassed that she had just been washed by someone 63

She sat on the bed, finger-combing her wet hair and looked around. There was a large trunk by the far wall, and a door next to that. A large oval mirror stood in the corner; it reminded Mackenzie of an antique her grandmother had kept in the guest bedroom. This one was probably new, she half-smiled at the thought. There were two chairs set in front of the fireplace, and the huge bed she sat on with a bedside table to the right of it. In between the fireplace and the wall the bed was on was a tall arched window with a window seat.

Mackenzie walked to the fireplace and shook her hair out towards the welcoming warmth. Her hair would be unruly curls without her trusty blow dryer and flat iron. Ugh. She'd always hated her curls; in the desert, it was so dry that they never curled right, and her hair was so heavy it weighed down the ringlets so they just looked funny. To her anyways.

Jenna had always loved to play with her hair. But Jenna was a hair stylist, so she always made Mackenzie's hair look fabulous. Besides, Jenna had straight hair, she'd never understand.

She glanced toward the dress and the corset-looking undergarments with dread. Hopefully Bronwyn would help her get dressed when she returned. There were a lot of ruffles, she'd seen wedding dresses with less ruffles. But ever brave, Mackenzie wandered toward the bed and picked up the dress, then froze.
Yes
! Her purse had been salvaged along with the dress!
Lip gloss here I come
! Mackenzie grabbed her purse and dug through it til she found her compact. She opened it 64

Besides, who would I call
? she thought, her lips twisting into a grimace,
Merlin
?

The knock at the door barely captured her attention as she tossed her purse on a chair, not sure she wanted anyone to discover it yet, and resumed trying to scrunch her curls by the fire. They'd be a tangled mess if left to dry on their own.

She'd thought it would be Bronwyn, back with the wine, to help her into the pile of clothes on the bed. She was wrong.

"Why are you not dressed?" Connor's demand had Mackenzie jumping and turning wide, startled eyes to him.

The anger emanating off him was palpable, but rather than being afraid, his high-handed manner infuriated her. Fury was good, it distracted her mind from the uncomfortable emotions that were surfacing at his freshly-shaved-looking-hot-in-a-kilt-self. And he must have bathed as well, because he smelled amazing. He smelled clean; of soap and man, and something else. Something spicy and exotic. She tore her mind from his scent and focused on the black glare he was directing at her. She knew he didn't like to be disobeyed, but this wasn't something she could help. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know how to put all those clothes on. She bit her lip, thinking that while he may not like to be disobeyed,
she
didn't like to be bossed around, especially not by some 18th century highland laird.

65

"I'm not going." Chin tipping defiantly, she crossed her arms across her chest. She knew she was being stubborn, but she didn't really care.

"You're damn well going down to dinner."

"No." It sounded petulant even to her own ears. His eyes narrowed.

"You'll come to dinner, and you'll do it dressed properly, or you'll dine alone with me and ye won't be dressed at all."

"You wouldn't," Mackenzie dared.

His voice was flat as he said, "Try me lass," but he injected a leer into it when he followed with, "I'd enjoy stripping you of your garments."

The memory of his hands sliding her strap off of her shoulder earlier was still fresh in her head, and she did not doubt he would do as he threatened. So Mackenzie glared at him and snapped, "Fine." She stalked to the bed and lifted the gown off the bed and looked at the long white nightgown-looking thing with ruffles on the sleeves and at the neck, thinking that it might not be too hard for her to dress herself.

But Connor still stood in front of her door, arms crossed and feet planted. Mackenzie stared at him expecting him to leave, or at least turn around, or
something
, but he looked immovable as a statue. She raised her eyebrows and looked at him expectantly, waiting; she refrained from tapping her foot. But his eyes dared her right back. Her eyebrows 66

Fine
she thought, and pursed her lips.
Enjoy the show
.

Mackenzie slowly unzipped her shorts and stepped out of them. Her shirt slipped over her head, and she stood in her sheer white lace bra and matching bikinis. By modern standards, it wasn't that sexy, if anything it was boring in comparison to Jenna's collection. But he stiffened and she felt slightly braver. She heard his swift intake of breath and never letting her eyes drop, even as she felt the heat creep up her cheeks, she unclasped her bra, and tossed it on the floor with her shorts and shirt. Mackenzie figured she might as well go for broke, took a deep breath and slipped out of her panties.

So she stood there naked, daring Connor to look away from her eyes, to look down. And he did. Boy did he ever.

Every inch of her naked body felt touched by the heat of his gaze, as if it were his hands on her skin instead of his eyes.

Those blue eyes lingered on her belly ring, and when they dropped lower, his eyebrows shot up. She thought it might be because she had recently waxed, but couldn't be sure. Yet he never said anything, his eyes just continued down. Then once his eyes had finished their appraisal of her figure and were locked back on hers, he looked smug the jerk, she lifted the nightgown-looking garment up over her head, and tied the ribbons at her breasts in a bow. It fit snugly, emphasizing the curves it didn't hide. Covered in a modest, but sheer shift, Mackenzie felt only slightly better as she looked at the rest of what she would wear. Did the gown go on first, or the stays?

And how on earth would she ever lace herself up? Mackenzie 67

"Umm...what goes next?" her hand encompassed the clothes on the bed.

His smirk became more pronounced, "Are you asking for my help?" He was making fun of her.

"I, uh, no. Of course not! I only meant that perhaps you could send Bronwyn back in. She was supposed to help me get dressed..." Mackenzie stammered out her excuse, but lost steam at the look in his eyes. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. He'd reached her in two strides.

"But I'm already here." His voice was like velvet.

Connor had spoken softly, practically purred, but Mackenzie still heard the implicit threat...or was it a promise?

Damn that man's sultry voice!
She shuddered as he lifted the stays to her body, his fingers brushing her collarbones. He gripped her shoulders, turning her to face away from him, and began to tighten them. The first tug of the strings brought her back hard against him. Her eyes were wide as she turned her head to look up at him.

"Hold the bedpost." Connor was definitely amused.

Mackenzie turned and put both hands on the bedpost, bracing herself for the next pull. He was finished quickly, although his hands lingered at the small of her back.

Mackenzie pressed her hands to her ribs, just under her breasts. Every breath was much shallower than usual, since she was strapped into this corset thing. However, it wasn't as tight or uncomfortable as she'd thought it would be. It was 68

Mackenzie stood perfectly still like that, with his hands at her breasts, but not actually touching her. They were both frozen for a few seconds before Connor's head descended slowly to hers, his lips briefly brushing hers. The kiss was so soft, that if it weren't for the unmistakable heat, Mackenzie wouldn't have been completely certain that his lips had touched hers. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes opened and focused on Connor's face. Her breath caught in her lungs as all the amusement faded from his eyes. He looked at her hungrily as if she were a sweet to be devoured. As if he could mold her will to his own with that look. As if she would let the heavy drowsy feeling coming over her take charge. The naked desire caused her legs to turn to jelly. She swayed toward him and he caught her lips in a fierce kiss that crushed her body to his, and his lips to hers.

The spark that had been smoldering for the past day was igniting in slow burns wherever Connor touched her. His lips were unmercifully possessive, as they staked his undeniable claim without her permission to do so. This feeling was unlike anything she had ever experienced; Mackenzie had never 69