Highlander Unraveled (Highland Bound Book 6) (13 page)

“This world is…” I couldn’t put a word to it. In fact, it was overwhelming enough that I, too, was starting to get a headache.

“Can I have one of those, my head is starting to ache.”

“A pill?” She glanced at me in the mirror, something that was so foreign to me, but she seemed completely at ease with it.

“The medicine?” I pointed toward the bottle.

She nodded and handed me a couple. “You’ll need more than one.”

I put them in my mouth, biting down, and the bitterness of it washing over my tongue making me shudder.

She handed me a cup. “I don’t usually chew them. Just swallow them whole.”

How had Rory become accustomed to all this? I swished the water around the bitter powder in my mouth and swallowed, hoping to never taste that again.

“I think we should find out where Mr. McAlister either lives or works and go there. We need to see if he has a black box.”

“Whose croft is this?” I asked.

“Moira and Shona’s.”

“That is what I suspected, but, how did Steven get here?”

Emma let out a long sigh. “Apparently he befriended a time jumper and she lured me into her home and care. I asked her to bring me here. When I laid down, she must have told Steven where I was.”

“Are ye a time jumper?”

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her head over my heart. It felt so good to hold her. I cupped the back of her head, stroking her soft, wild locks.

“I missed you so much,” she said. “And I tried to be strong but…”

“Ye were strong.”

“No. I wasn’t. He overpowered me.” Her voice broke.

I tried to soothe her, reminding her that, “Being strong isn’t always about physical strength.”

“I know… But I thought I could get away from him.” She held her head back, fixing her eyes on mine. “I actually thought I could.”

“Sometimes being strong is about surviving. Remember when MacDonald took me? I was unable to overpower the men. But I survived.”

She nodded, her entire body shuddering.

“I’m so glad you’re here. How is Saor?”

“The bairn is stubborn, just like ye.” I chuckled. “He’s doing just fine. I can tell he misses ye though. He’s been more quiet of late, as though he’s listening, waiting to hear your voice.”

“I want to go home.”

“Me, too.”

“How did you come here? Maybe we can try that to get back to your time.”

I shook my head, chuckled. “That is impossible.”

“Why?” She looked at me, puzzled.

I explained the “orgy” in the glen, and she gasped, laughter in her eyes.

“Is it too much to hope they’ll simply stay there until we return?” she asked with a skeptical laugh. “So absorbed with lust, maybe?”

“They might. Mayhap we should… try it.”

“Make love?”

“Aye. If the power of it brought me here, maybe it can take us back, and then we won’t need to find the black box.”

She walked her fingers over my chest to my neck, stroking the stubble on my chin. “I think it’s worth a try.”

“What about your head? And your face…” Studying the bruise on her cheek I was once more filled with a burning rage. “When I get my hands on that bastard…”

She cupped my hand to her face, and then kissed my palm. “I feel fine. More than fine. Better than fine. And I want to be close to you, in the flesh.”

I lifted her up in my arms and carried her back toward the chamber we’d just vacated.

“Not that one,” she said. “I don’t want to be in the one where
he
was.”

“As ye wish, my love.”

Chapter Thirteen

Emma

In Logan’s arms, the headache that had blurred my vision eased, and memories of Steven’s assault were washed away. My husband had my full attention. The fire in his dark eyes, the chisel of his features, every line and ridge of his solid body.

He closed the door, shutting us away from the craziness of this world and the next. Laying me down gently on the bed, he stretched out beside me, and though we weren’t at Gealach, I felt so much closer to home. He leaned on one elbow, his free hand tracing a circle on my belly. I watched his tender movements, leaning in as he stroked my cheek, then the line of my jaw.

Our eyes were locked on one another, so much unsaid, but powerfully evident in our gazes. We’d almost lost each other.

“I love you,” I said, cupping his hand to my face. “So much.”

“I love ye, too,
mo chridhe
.”

His heart
. I was his heart and he was mine.

I leaned up at the same time he leaned down, our lips finally touching. His mouth was firm, but velvet soft, and even after kissing him hundreds, thousands of times, his lips still had the ability to spark a storm of butterflies in my belly and tingles throughout my limbs.

I rolled onto my side, curling a leg over top of his, my arm around his back tugging him closer to me. His heat sank into my skin in a wave of decadent, blissful pleasure.

We normally played so many games in bed. Who was dominant, who was submissive, who was going to win, and who was going to be the infinitely pleasured loser? But tonight, I didn’t want to play games. Tonight, I just wanted to be loved, and love in return. To leisurely explore. To kiss forever and ever. To make love slowly. Deliciously intoxicated by his touch.

Logan seemed to sense this, or maybe it was what he wanted, too, because he stroked my cheek, rocked his body against mine and kissed me with such passion I could barely breathe. But, he didn’t taunt me. He didn’t tease me like he normally did. No, he gave, and gave and gave, and he seized what I offered in return.

I trembled with nerves, with excitement, with emotion, and I realized, as Logan’s hand stroked over my shoulder, down my arm and around the small of my back, that he, too, was trembling.

We’d not made love—except in the dream—since before I’d birthed Saor, and the nine months prior to that had been an adventure in seeing what position worked best with my growing belly. In reality it had been nearly a year since my body had been my own, and that we’d made love with nothing between us but sweat.

I was changed, fuller, softer. And for the briefest of moments when his hand curled over my hip, I worried that he wouldn’t like the way I’d changed. However, I worried needlessly. Logan gripped me tighter and groaned against my lips, his cock full and pressed urgently to my lower belly.

I shifted, pulling myself a little higher so that I could press that hard strength more fully between my legs.

The fabric of the black dress I sported was thinner than the gowns I wore in 1544, allowing me to feel his potent erection more fully. I gasped.

The sudden spark of need that filled me had me nearly wrenching up his kilt, my dress, and getting to business, but I didn’t want it to be so fast. I wanted to cherish these precious moments together, because I didn’t know how long they would last—we could be transported back in time at any moment. And most of all, because I didn’t know when I’d get them again.

Logan’s hand caressed down my thigh to the ticklish spot behind my knee, over my calf and to my shoe, which he flipped off, letting it fall to the floor with a small thud.

He massaged his way back up to my hip and then over to my behind, cupping its roundness and massaging it, all the while moaning against me, making me shiver with delight.

“Ye’ve always had the most beautiful arse,” he whispered, tugging at my lower lip with his teeth.

And then he was rolling me onto my belly and trailing kisses over the back of my neck, his fingers forging a path down my spine to the hem of my dress.

He slowly pulled the hem up over my thighs, until my buttocks were exposed—along with the high-cut practical panties I was wearing. He skimmed a finger beneath the elastic, and I held my breath at his touch.

Logan leaned down, pulling the dress higher and pressed a kiss at my lower spine.

“There are no buttons. How do I take this off?” he asked, his voice gravely, husky. “Tis more like a shift, is it not?”

I laughed. “There is a tie in the front.”

“A tie? That is all?” He sounded shocked.

I nodded, and rolled onto my side, tugging at the knot, while I laughed.

“Ah.” Logan wiggled his brows. “Verra easy to access.”

“Very.” I smiled and his fingers tangled with mine as we both rushed to get the dress untied.

His mouth claimed mine as we finally saw the task handled, the air in the room hitting the skin of my stomach.

I teased his lower lip with my tongue, gulping air when his tongue slid over mine. Amazing that feeling, velvet soft and slick, how it sparked awareness over every inch of my skin.

Logan’s hand pressed flat to my belly then caressed upward to my breasts, full in a matching practical bra.

“And this… How do I get rid of this?” he teased, skimming is fingers behind the fabric to stroke my hardened nipples.

“Wait,” I said, clasping his hand to my breast with his hand over it. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”

I was still self-conscious of them, having only been used to feeding our child, it felt… awkward.

“Dinna be shy,” he said, kissing near my ear and then sliding his lips along the column of my neck. “I love your breasts.”

“But—”

“Shh…” He kissed my collarbone and I shivered at the sensual scratch of his stubble on my sensitive skin.

Logan roved lower, his breath hot on my skin. And I quivered with pleasure. He teased the fabric of the bra with his tongue, tugging at it with his teeth until one nipple was exposed.

I groaned, arching my back, as his lips brushed the taut peak. Amazing how versatile the body was. Made for creating and giving life. Made for giving and receiving pleasure.

I could barely breathe, air passing back forth through my lips in gasps and sighs. I tugged at the pin on his shoulder, letting it fall to wherever my shoe was. I pulled his shirt from his kilt, sliding my hand over the hot, rigid muscles of his back, tracing scars I’d kissed a hundred times.

“I want to feel you,” I said, gripping his belt. “Skin to skin.”

I itched to be naked with him. To rub our bodies together, to feel the hair of his chest tickle my breasts, the hair of his legs teasing my inner thighs.

I tugged on the belt, feeling it release. I slid it from around his body and tossed it.

“Unwrap me,” he teased.

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

He leaned back on his heels and I tugged at the fabric, around and around his hips, until finally his turgid flesh was exposed. Long, thick, a vein throbbing down the center.

“God it’s been so long,” I said.

“Worth the wait,” he murmured, scooting closer on his knees.

He took hold of my dress at the shoulders and pulled it the rest of the way off. Tugged at my panties, slipping them over my hips, down my thighs, my calves, ankles and flinging them. Then, he fingered the bra.

“This, too,” he said.

I nodded, no longer caring, but needing to feel him on me.

I reached behind and unhooked the bra. I kicked off my other shoe, our clothes in a heap on the floor.

With Logan kneeling between my thighs, I pressed my hand to the place over his heart.

“We belong together,” I said. “That’s why you’re here. I should never have left.”

“’Twasn’t your choice.”

“I know, and you were right when you said Fate made a mistake.”

“Dinna leave me, ever.”

“Never of my own volition.”

I skimmed my hand lower, loving the ridges of his muscles, the hardness of his belly, until I reached his throbbing cock. I wrapped my fingers around him, just as I’d done a thousand times before, but still, the silky hardness of him sent shivers racing all over me.

Logan’s head fell back as I stroked my hand upward, over the thick head and then back down.

“This will not last long if ye keep that up, love. Ye’ve got the magic touch.”

I giggled. “So I shouldn’t do this?” Before he could stop me, I spread my legs wider and leaned down low, slicking my tongue around his cockhead, lapping up the drop of fluid at the center.

“Ballocks, lass, nay…”

But he didn’t stop me. In fact, his hips jerked forward, a silent invitation to continue. I wrapped my lips around him and sucked just the tip, teasing him, my hand still at the base.

Logan moaned, deep and guttural, his hand threading through my hair. I teased and teased, and then finally drew him in deep. His entire body shuddered and I was reminded of why I liked to play power games with him. Because I liked that feeling of knowing he was at my mercy, that I was giving him so much pleasure he, the mighty warrior, was trembling on his knees.

“No more,” he growled, tugging at my hair until I let go.

He lifted me at my waist and I wrapped my legs around him, my arms around his shoulders. He knelt back on his heels. His cock stood tall and slick and pulsing between our bodies.

“I need to be inside ye,” he said. “Right now.”

I gripped his erection, and titled my hips forward, lifting enough to press his cockhead at my entrance.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Good heavens, lassie, nothing.”

He pumped his hips forward, invading my body and I enthusiastically surrendered. Despite the slickness of my desire, there was a slight pinch, as though I were a virgin all over again after having birthed our son. I gasped, but the pain was quickly gone, replaced with an urgent need.

Oh, but it was sweet. That feeling of being filled, stretched.

“Holy fu…” I cut off Logan’s curse by claiming his mouth with mine, tangling our tongues, and moaning at the exquisite sensation of our bodies finally being connected in the flesh.

His hands guided my hips in a slow, rocking motion. I gripped his shoulders, nails digging in. Intense pleasure filled me, every muscle in my body on alert. Every nerve firing.

Hips rocking, pelvis thrusting, we were completely oblivious to anything other than giving each other pleasure. Finding release.

“I missed ye,” he murmured against my mouth.

“I missed you more,” I moaned.

Pleasure built, gripping me from the inside, I was so close…

“Don’t stop,” I demanded.

“Saints,” Logan moaned.

I rocked back and forth, harder, faster, and he kept pace, thrusting deep. The tremors of my orgasm started, faint and then came pounding, jolting. I clung to him as my body broke apart, pleasure radiating. I cried out, squeezing him tight as I rode the waves, rode his cock.

Logan growled, fingers digging into my hips as he thrust home a few more times, pulsing his own release inside me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and held onto him, even as my breathing returned to normal, my heartbeat slowed. I couldn’t let go. And he held me tight, too. Unmoving. We could have stayed like that all night.

“Well, finally. I thought ye’d be at it all night.”

The light in the bedroom flicked on. I leapt backward, falling from Logan’s lap to see the door wide open and Mrs. MacDonald standing in the doorway, her black box in one hand and a gun in the other.