Highlander Unraveled (Highland Bound Book 6) (4 page)

As we sipped our tea in silence, an opened bag of shortbread cookies on the table, two missing from Mrs. MacDonald, none from me, the sun started to set, shrouding the kitchen in shadows.

My limbs buzzed with nerves and I realized I didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.

Mrs. MacDonald stood up to turn on a dim light over the table.

“Mrs. MacDonald…” I set my teacup down. “Do you want to stay the night? I’d hate for you to drive all the way back to Drumnadrochit in the dark.”

Her smile was filled with relief. “Oh, thank ye. That would be nice.”

I glanced up at the ceiling, not sure what the bedroom situation was. There had to be at least two with both sisters having lived here.

“I’ll fix ye some supper. Ye look as though ye could use a hot meal.”

I nodded. “Do you mind if I go and lay down? I’m so tired.”

“Go on. I’ll wake ye when it’s time to eat.”

I stood up from the table, and walked heavily toward the stairs, exhaustion leaping from my limbs. I grabbed the railing, and it felt like I used more of my upper body to hoist myself up the stairs than my legs.

Upstairs, I found three bedrooms. Each one with beds made. Two were clearly the bedrooms of Moira and Shona, and the third was a guest room. I figured Mrs. MacDonald could take the guest room and I’d take Shona’s room. According to their story, Shona hadn’t been home for years, but her bedroom looked like she’d just left that morning. Not a spec of dust.

On the nightstand was a book,
The Highlander’s Reward
, with a bookmark near the end. She’d never gotten the chance to finish it. That was sad. I’d heard a few ladies at the grocery store once talking about it. How they loved it. Steven didn’t allow romance novels in the house, so I’d never had the chance. I’d have to take it with me. I slipped it into the pocketbook, knowing Shona would be excited to get it back.

I flipped the light out and lay down on the bed, flopping my arm over my eyes, not bothering with the covers. Within seconds I was drifting, floating, my body sinking into an exhausted sleep.

“Emma…” The sound of Logan’s voice was far off. A soft sound that drew me into the darkness. “Emma…”

I let myself fall into sleep, dreaming of my husband. My love.

I was in a grove. The one up on the mountain, with the sacred stone. Logan stood in the center, his arm outstretched, beckoning me forward. His dark hair, loose around his shoulders, blew gently in the breeze, eyes as intense as I remembered. He was shirtless, a pair of breeches, untied, hung from his hips. His body was everything I remembered, strength and power and sexuality melted into one stunning figure.

“Ye came,” he said, his voice gravelly and deep.

“I miss you,” I said, rushing forward, feeling as though I were floating. All the heaviness, the exhaustion I’d felt, was gone, replaced with a feeling of elation. I was thankful that sleep could bring me to him. Was it a dream? Or was it like before… Where our spirits had met in the middle? If I was wondering, didn’t that mean that it was the latter? For if it were truly a dream, would I be asking myself those questions?

“Where did ye go?” he asked, wrapping me up in his tall, strong embrace. His skin was warm, corded muscle taut beneath. “Are ye safe?”

“I am here with you,” I said. “And safe as I can be at the moment.” I couldn’t tell him about Steven just yet, and have him worry.

“Nay, ye are not really. Where are ye?”

I swallowed and reached up to touch his face, to stare into his dark eyes. So, I was right. This was our spirits meeting. “I am at Shona and Moira’s house in Edinburgh.”

“In modern day?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

His eyes turned stormy and I could see he wrestled with the same despair coursing through my veins. “How? How can this be?”

I shook my head, pressing my hands flat and firm onto his back, tears wetting his hot skin.

“I don’t know. I remember falling asleep in your arms, and then when I woke—” My voice lurched, and I choked on a sob. I couldn’t speak anymore.

Logan swiped at the tears tracking down my cheeks. “My love,” he murmured in Gaelic. “Do not cry. Ye must be strong. I am here.”

I shook my head again. “No, you’re not. You’re just a dream.”

“I am here. ’Tis me. Kiss me and ye’ll see.”

I looked up into his dark eyes, filled with mysteries I’d solved and some I’d yet to uncover. I wanted to melt with him. To forget where I was and what had happened. I leaned up on tiptoe and touched my lips to his. They were warm, firm yet soft, and familiar. But no matter how familiar, whenever I kissed him, my body sparked. Tingles shot through my limbs.

We’d not made love since before Saor was born, and even though this was a dream, I tucked my body close to his, wanting to feel him touch me, to sink inside me.

Logan’s tongue traced the outline of my lips before delving inside to tangle with mine. He tasted sweet and spicy and utterly intoxicating. He cupped my cheek with one hand and wrapped his other arm around my waist.

“
Mo chreach
, it’s been so long,” he murmured against my lips.

Beneath my bare feet, the soft grass of the grove cushioned me. The stone behind him glowed and the air was charged with a heat and energy that sank deep into my bones.

“This feels so real,” I murmured.

“’Tis.”

I shook my head, not wanting to ruin the mood by telling my dream husband that he wasn’t real.

“Remember when MacDonald took me? Remember when ye came to me in a dream and made love to me?”

My eyes widened, for I’d thought the same thing before, and nearly dismissed it as wishful thinking. “Yes.”

“I am here to give ye strength, my love, to find me again. Fate has made a mistake.”

Chapter Four

Logan

“We shouldn’t have been separated. Whatever the mistake was, we’ll correct it.” I flashed a confident grin, watched her search my eyes, and then she returned my smile.

“Ever the strong warrior, husband. With you, I feel like we could take on the world and win.” Her arms tightened around me, warm, her gaze filled with trust.

“The world, the Fates.” I shrugged and chuckled, nuzzling her hair behind her ear and breathing in her scent. “I’m going to make love to ye, Emma. Here. Now.”

I skimmed my lips over her cheek, pressing my forehead to hers, locking eyes. Color brushed her cheeks, an impish smile on her lips.

I gazed down at my wife, perfectly ethereal and yet flesh, blood and silky locks, standing before me. All voluptuous curves and sensuality.

“Take off your clothes,” I murmured.

Emma took a step away from me, her red wavy hair glossy in the light of sunset. Her blue eyes fastened on mine, full of confidence, love, lust, as she tugged the tie at the waist of the odd black gown she wore.

“Ye’re beautiful,” I said, feeling my throat tighten. I’d always thought her stunning, but now that she was gone from me…

It was hard to think. Hard to breathe.

The gown unraveled around her body, much like my mind, unwinding to a pool of mush. Normally, I was the one in control. But today…

Now…

I knew what was at stake.

Her.

The beautiful life we’d built together.

Beneath the gown she wore undergarments much like what she’d had on the day we’d first met. White with lace trim. Her belly was slightly round from her pregnancy, soft, and I reached out to circle my finger around her belly button.

She pressed a hand over my fingers, stilling me.

“Don’t,” she said, embarrassment flashing on her face, before she ducked her chin toward her chest.

“Why?” I touched a finger to her chin, urging her to look at me.

She glanced down, a flicker of emotion that I recognized crossing her features. I’d not seen her look like that in a long time. Self-conscious. Emma started to tug the gown closed again, but I stopped her, pushing the fabric off her shoulders.

“I am… not the same,” she answered.

“Och, but ye’re right.” I slid the fabric over her arms, all the way to her wrists exposing her back, her chest. “Ye’re exquisite.” I dropped to my knees in front of her and pressed my lips to her belly, placed a hand on either side of her navel. “And this is where ye carried our child. I’m proud of ye. More than ye could ever imagine, and I’d never shun ye for birthing our bairn, for how your body changed from carrying him. Please, dinna shame yourself.”

Tears sparked her eyes and she touched my cheek. “How did I get so lucky?”

“’Tis I who am lucky, lass. Being with ye has forever changed me for the better. ’Tis like having the sun and moon and stars all nestled beside me.”

“I love you so much,” she said, her words hurried and filled with emotion. Her hands threaded through my hair, tugging, as she liked to do.

“I love ye so verra much, too.” I wrapped my arms around her hips, pressed my face to her belly, breathing in her herbal and floral scent. Familiar, comforting. Tears stung my eyes. I squeezed them shut, not wanting Emma to see me cry. I was a man. Men didn’t cry, and yet I was so overcome with emotion, distress. Need. Love.

We might have both been asleep right now, dreaming of each other five hundred years apart, but we were still together, and when she woke, I didn’t want her to think that I was a blubbering fool.

I needed to lose myself in her flesh. To enjoy what little time Fate had given us as a reprieve. I massaged the backs of her legs, up to her round arse, cupping the cheeks as I rubbed my lips back and forth over the skin just below her belly button, breathing hotly until she whimpered and gooseflesh rose beneath my fingertips.

I didn’t want her to leave, but I didn’t know how long we had either. We could both be awakened at any moment, the spell broken. Would Fate give us another chance to dream of one another? Would making love one time be enough to bring me to her or transport her back to me?

Emma got down on her knees in front of me, cupping my face with her long, delicate hands. She kissed me deeply, wiping away wetness that appeared on my cheeks, and I realized my tears had fallen, and she’d caught me crying.

But she didn’t say anything, just kissed me in that way she had that sucked the breath from me, and yet, made me feel as though I were wrapped up in warmth.

I was the warrior. I was the Guardian of Scotland. I was Laird Grant, and yet, the touch of my wife, her love, could cut me at the knees like nothing else.

Emma gently pushed at my shoulders until I lay on my back with her climbing over me. She stroked her long fingers over my shoulders, my chest, tracing a path over every muscle until she skated over my abdomen toward my rock-hard cock. She untied my breeches the rest of the way and set my solid length free.

Och, how I ached for her. Blood surged toward my middle, filling my shaft until it was thicker, longer than it had been in years.

I supposed my dreams would give me a bit more than my already well-endowed cock possessed.

“Oh,” Emma gasped as she reached my length, wrapping her fingers around my hot skin and then sliding upward.

“All for ye, lass.” I flashed a wicked grin, and winked.

She smiled down at me. “Every inch.”

I leaned up and worked to remove the odd bits of lace from her breasts, trying to free them. Wanting to touch. To lick. They were larger than before. She gently pushed my hands away and covered herself.

“Not this time…,” her voice trailed off, that self-consciousness rearing its head again.

I nodded, wanting to comply with her wishes, not wanting to ruin anything by pushing her in a way she wasn’t comfortable with. She started to tuck the garment back on, when a thought occurred to me. I realized why she might not want me to touch her breasts, as she used them to feed our son; perhaps she was self-conscious of that fact.

“Ye know this is a dream,” I said. “There will be no milk… spillage.”

Her face lit up, her mouth forming a surprised O. “Oh, I didn’t think of that. In that case…” She tugged off the lace, and I moved in quick to cup the fleshy globes, rubbing my lips over one pert nipple and my thumb over the other.

Emma groaned, her head falling back, a pink flush covering her silky skin. “That feels so good.”

“Better than good,” I replied, flicking my tongue over her softness.

She tasted of peaches, honey and everything I ever wanted.

Emma straddled my hips, her sex pressed hotly to my cock. Through the silky undergarment I could feel how wet she was, and it made my blood burn with the need to feel her hot flesh naked on mine.

“I’m going to rip these off,” I said, taking hold of the garment and shredding them with one tug. “I need to be inside ye.”

Emma giggled. “I hope I don’t wake up naked.”

“I hope ye do,” I growled, sliding my fingers between her silken folds and shuddering at the contact. I gently pinched the throbbing nub, she called it her clit, and she cried out. “Damn, lass, ye’re so wet.”

Emma dropped her lips to my shoulder, nipping my skin and then licking and sucking every place she put her teeth.

“Get inside me, Logan,” she demanded.

The roles were quickly reversed, with my wife taking charge and ordering me about. But I didn’t mind. It had been months since I’d felt the silken heat of her flesh wrapped around my cock.

I gripped the base of my erection and slid it along her wet folds, finding her entrance and surging upward. My head fell back, a groan of pure animal pleasure erupting from me at the tight, hot feel. A moan of ecstasy melted from her luscious mouth.

Behind my closed eyes, brightness surged. I opened them to see that a light emitted from the rune stone behind us. Was the magic working? I didn’t remember a light from before. Or it could have been my imagination, my need for it to happen. This was partially a dream after all.

I gripped her round hips, locked my eyes on hers and said, “I love ye so damn much.”

Emma grinned down at me with an impish tilt to her lips. “Prove it. Worship me.”

“Och, love, but I already do.” I leaned up on my elbow, dragging her head toward me and claimed her mouth in a searing, tongue twisting kiss as I pumped my cock in and out of her. One hand threaded through her hair, tugging gently enough to cause a sting, the other held tight to her hips.

Emma rode me hard, her thighs clutched tight to my hips, her arse bouncing up and down on my thighs. She pressed her hands to my chest.

Good God, but she was amazing. The dream was so real, so filled with pleasure and bliss. Every bit as beautiful and memorable as real life.

As our bodies joined, and we made love the way we did best, I couldn’t help but keep thinking,
this better work.
I wanted her back. Hell, the dream was fucking amazing, but Emma in the flesh… Having her with me day and night, that was the true miracle.

Her nails scraped over my shoulders, and suddenly she was pushing me backward, gripping my hands and thrusting them over my head. The temptress was back, her hips swiveling faster, harder. Her breasts bounced near my face. Close enough that if I leaned up, I might be able to grip one luscious nipple between my teeth. I tried, but missed her by half an inch.

I groaned, licked my lips and wished I were licking her flesh. Emma’s blue eyes were still locked on mine, her pupils dilated, skin flushed, and a sexy smile curling her mouth. She liked to torment me.

Emma leaned forward enough to tease my mouth with her breasts, and I did my best to delight her with my roving tongue.

“Ye’re amazing,” I murmured.

“You’re everything I ever wanted. Everything, Logan. I don’t want to lose you.”

I shook my head, tightening my hold on her hands over my head.

“Never. Ye’ll never lose me, love.”

“I’m so close,” she murmured. “But I don’t want to come. I’m afraid.”

“Dinna be afraid of pleasure,” I said, then had to grind my teeth because I was dangerously close to exploding and the way she was riding me, I’d be doing so any moment.

“I’m afraid it will wake us up.”

The rune stone flickered, catching both of our attention. Emma’s eyes met mine, worry filling her face. Her grip on my hands loosened. But I wouldn’t let her, let go. I held on tight, and pumped my hips harder.

“Come, lass. Let yourself climax with me.”

Her throat bobbed, and she nodded, relaxing a little, matching her rhythm to mine. I concentrated on her, working to give her pleasure until we were both shuddering, crying out, fiery release ripping through our beings so clearly and defined I thought it might have touched my soul.

Emma collapsed on top of me, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming hard and fast.

She hugged me tight and I wrapped her up in my embrace, pressing my face to her hair and breathing her in.

“Do you think it worked?” she asked.

“Aye.” But I wasn’t certain. I didn’t feel that magical tingling that I’d felt when I’d been in the torturer’s chamber, that surge of power filling my limbs that had set me free.

I felt languid, blissfully happy with her lying in my arms, and yet sorrowful because I didn’t know when she’d be taken from me again. I was terrified. A feeling completely foreign to me.

“Logan,” she croaked, sitting up straight, eyes locked on mine and filled with fear. “I can feel myself drifting…”

Her body shimmered, flickered, and then was still again. I looked behind us, the rune stone’s light fading.

I sat up with her, clutching her to me and kissing her. I would kiss her until she was no longer there.

“Stay, stay, stay,” I chanted against her mouth.

“I want to.” She held me tight, kissed me back just as hard.

But I could feel her fading, feel the press of her lips dissipate.

And then she was gone, and I was left clutching at air.

“Emma!” I leapt to my feet, turning in a circle, my skin, which had been so hot, suddenly cold. I tucked myself back into my breeches, and ran around the perimeter of the grove, praying she’d just decided to tease me. To hide for the fun of it.