In Bed with the Highlander (5 page)

He planted tender little kisses across the top of her breast,
felt the give of the soft sweet flesh beneath his lips, licked and nuzzled down
into the valley and up the rise. He swirled his tongue around her hard nipple,
while he gave the other breast a gentle squeeze to ensure it didn’t feel
neglected. She purred deep in her throat.

He suckled. The pitch of her instant moan went straight through
him. Marry, but she was a hot little witch. It took all his concentration to
remain where he was, pleasuring each breast, hearing her purrs and her cries and
feeling her body turn to liquid beneath his hands.

Her hands stroked his back, his shoulders, his arms. It was as
if she was learning every inch of his body. Every inch she could reach, anyway.
And he loved the way her palms felt, running over his sweat-slicked skin, quick
and demanding, yet admiring. It made him feel manly and proud. She speared her
fingers into his hair, then pulled. Hard. “Ouch.”

“Have you forgotten what it’s for, you big ox? I want you
inside me.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Are you ready for me then,
lassie?”

Her little fist beat on his shoulder, as if she could make a
dent. “Now.”

“Oh aye. Give me but a moment.” In truth, he didn’t want to
wait, but he’d learned a long time ago, that females needed more time than a
man. But since she wasn’t the slightest bit shy, thank the Lord, he had no doubt
she was ready.

Blood pounded in his veins.

He raised himself up on his hands. She lifted her thighs,
crossing her ankles high on his waist, generously opening herself. He almost
wept with pure joy as he glanced down at the apex of her legs, to the lovely
damp dark red curls. One of her hands found his chest, she scraped her thumbnail
across his nipple. Blissful agony. He reached between them. And found her small
hand there ahead of him, grasping his shaft, guiding him to her hot sweet
center.

What was a man to do? He let her have her way, while he
supported himself above her on both hands. Every muscle shook with the effort to
remain still. Her hand on his shaft was fine, bearable, just, and exquisite, but
the when his head touched wet soft flesh, a groan of pleasure ripped from his
throat.

“You’re a big lad,” she whispered.

Ah
God
,
don’t
let
her
change
her
mind
. “Do not worry lass. It’ll fit.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” she said, and laughter along with the
heat of desire filled her eyes. She lifted her hips a fraction, encouraging him
in.

Saints preserve him. He’d never met a woman this bold, or so
full of passion. He’d be lucky to survive the encounter. It’d be a fine way to
meet his end, he mused as he pressed forward a fraction, testing her reaction,
watching her face to see what she liked and how.

Her little hiss of breath gave him cause to smirk. As did her
heels at his bottom urging him on. “Like that, do you, dear heart?”

“Stop talking, and—”

He thrust home.

Her moan of delight was music to his ears. A symphony. An angel
chorus. His mind went blank to all but pleasure. He couldn’t separate her cries
from the sounds of their bodies coming together in unison, or the feel of her
sweet flesh from his and he couldn’t hold back. He’d found something he hadn’t
been aware of seeking all these years. A new beginning in a very satisfying
ending. He caught the cries of her release in his mouth and felt the white heat
of climax rocket through his blood.

Boneless, he rolled on his back and pulled her onto his chest.
Her head tucked into the crook of his neck, he listened to the pound of her
heart against his ribs. God, but she was lovely.

With enough passion to drive a man beyond reason.

Only, he hadn’t lost his mind yet.

“We need to talk,” he said.

She wriggled a protest and he felt her tongue lick his skin and
shivered. “About what?”

“About who you are. And how you ended up here in my bed.”

“Oh. That.”

“Aye.” He lifted the covers and climbed out, wrapping his plaid
around him as he went. “I’m sorry to do this right now, but up you get.”

“Where are we going?”

“The kitchen. If you’ll remember, our meal was interrupted by
yon English soldiers and I’m still starving.”

“Oh, right.” She fumbled under the pillow and pulled out the
scraps of silk she’d worn before.

“Haven’t you anything more...suitable?”

She glanced at him, her face rosy and just a little damp from
their exertions and he had the strongest urge to toss her back on the bed again.
“I don’t think so.”

“You must have worn something else when you arrived.”

“I did. FCUK.”

“There you go with the strange letters again.”

She laughed. “Trousers and a jacket, not unlike this.” She held
up the silk. “But sturdier.”

“Aye, well I can see how it might suite for travelling the
hills, but you must have a kirtle.”

“Must I?”

Why was she being so difficult? He went to the press and threw
up the lid. He pulled out a scarlet gown and a shawl. Beneath it, he found stays
and a pair of silk stockings and neat shoes with silver buckles. “Here it
is.”

She shook her head. “Where else would it be? I bet it fits,
too.”

For a moment he wanted to pull his hair out by the roots,
because every word out of her mouth didn’t make any sense and he had the feeling
if he questioned her, it would only get worse. He handed her the shift. “Just
put it on.”

She drew the translucent fabric over her head and he was
treated to the sight of delectable curves and swells and hollows in a filmy
veil. He repressed a groan. “I’ll help you with the stays.”

She held the boned item in her thumb and forefinger by the
laces. “I assume you mean these.”

“Aye. Turn around.” He laced the damned thing as quickly as he
could and tossed the scarlet silk over her head. Given that the neckline skimmed
her rosy pink nipples, it didn’t offer him much respite from his lust, but at
least it wasn’t as bad as seeing her prance around the room next to naked.

“Used to dressing females, are you?” she observed when he
turned her around and gave the neckline a sharp tug toward her chin.

He wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and tied it across
her chest. “Aye.”

“I’m getting a wee bit fed up with that word.”

He took a step back and frowned.

“You keep saying
aye
as if it
contains all the information I need. Well, it doesn’t. Which females are you
used to dressing and when and how many?”

Lord, but she was a creature of fire when roused. And he loved
it. He scratched at his stubbled chin, just to see her grit her teeth, and
grinned. “I’m near thirty-five, my lady, and I’m not a monk. And I’d never leave
a woman, lady or no, to walk home in her shift.” At her open mouth, he added.
“And that’s all I’m going to say. Now, downstairs with you.”

He bowed and gestured to the door. When she turned in a flounce
of skirts, he patted her bum, thankful they’d not found any hoops in the
chest.

He plucked a torch from its sconce and lit the way down the
stairs. In a few moments they were back in the kitchen. Tankards littered the
table. It seemed that the laird had offered the soldiers a stirrup cup before
they left. Once more he raided the pantry, digging out the bread and cheese and
a tankard of ale and yet another bottle of wine. He added that to his hoard and
carried his booty back to the kitchen.

Curses. She’d wandered off again.

He kicked the embers of the fire to bring them to life and went
in search of his lady.

His lady.

He surely liked the sound of that. But the question in his mind
was whether he could actually keep her. He’d said brave words up in the tower
room, but he had the oddest feeling that unless he managed to carry her off and
lock her in his holding, she’d slip through his fingers like a
will-o’-the-wisp.

A little chill ran across his back.

There it was again The Sense. The knowledge of shadowy fae. His
mother had the sight. And if he actually allowed himself to admit it, he had
something else. The Sense of the Auld Ones just beyond the corner of his eye,
there and not there.

Tonight they were watching and laughing.

Tormenting little devils.

He found her in the great hall, looking up at the banners.

“I can’t believe how colorful they are,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because they are so old.”

He stared at the one that seemed to have caught her attention,
a black boar on an azure ground. “That’s the laird’s standard. It is hardly old.
His wife made it.”

She closed her eyes briefly, as if in pain. “Of course. What am
I thinking?”

“I wish I knew, lass. Come sit with me while I eat.” He took
her by the hand and led her back into the kitchen. She would have taken a stool,
but he pulled her onto his lap. He didn’t want her slipping away when he wasn’t
looking. He poured a glass of wine and placed it in her hand. “Health to you, my
lady.”

“And to you,” she said.

He raised a brow.

“You are not my lord,” she said.

“But I would like to be, if you would but agree.” He held his
breath as her eyes seemed to fill with clouds. It was like watching mist flow up
from the sea and masking the heather-clad hills, hiding their features, the
rocks and the gullies, and softening the harsh truth.

“What is it, lass,” he asked softly.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I’ve got all night.” He took a long swallow of beer and began
buttering the bread.

For a long moment she stared into the ruby liquid in her glass.
“You have to keep an open mind,” she said. “Not get angry or impatient.”

The hollow feeling in his stomach expanded. The bread and the
beer were doing nothing to help it go away. He nodded. “I’ll say nothing.”

“I think I traveled through time.”

She said it as if it explained everything. As if he should
understand. And when she said nothing more, he gently turned her chin with one
finger to bring her face around. She looked a little pained. “I’m not getting
your meaning, lass. You traveled in a clock?”

“No. I went to bed in the year of our lord two thousand and
thirteen and woke up with you in the room in the year seventeen-fifteen. I
traveled back through time.”

The breath caught in his throat as he tried to take it in. His
mind went blank for a second. It seemed impossible, but at the same time, here
she was. Different from any other woman he’d ever met. Bold and lovely and
different. He opened his mind to the currents of air in the room, the wavering
ones from the fire, the strong draughty ones from beneath the door. Carrying
laughter. The fae.

“My mother always said there was something about this castle,”
he said. “She thought they’d built it on ground sacred to the Auld Ones.”

“You believe me, then?”

The hope in her voice cut him to the quick and made him wary.
If he denied his belief, the ones he never admitted out loud, she might
disappear like a candle flame in a gale. The fae had their own ways of punishing
humans. “Only a mad woman would make up such a tale. And you’re not that. Where
were you when you fell asleep?”

“Here in this castle. Only, it is a hotel. And it’s...well,
it’s changed a lot. And the man who is the laird, offered to carry my bags.”

“The laird?”

“Well, his great, great, etc., grandson, I suppose.”

“Why did you say you would not be here in the morning?” This
was the real reason for this conversation, whether she knew it or not. His heart
picked up speed as if the wee lass had him terrified. But it was a different
emotion altogether. Something deeper, more personal.

She lifted her face, her large eyes searching his. “My theory
is this could be a dream, in which case I am going to wake up where I went to
sleep.”

He pinched her. “I’m no dream.”

She punched his arm. He rubbed his biceps. “You pack a wallop
for such a little thing.”

“You haven’t seen me at Taekwondo.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a form of fighting. Old Asian art.”

He nodded. “That accounts for the trousers, then. You are
Chinese. I have read about them in books.”

“’Fraid not, but let’s not go there. So either this is a dream
or I traveled in that bed up there. And with a bit of luck it will take me right
back where I started. Or...”

“Or what?”

A strange look crossed her face. “No,” she said. “It couldn’t
be as bad as that.”

“As bad as?”

“As bad as wandering through space like some female Doctor Who,
never knowing where the bed will take me next. There’s no way....”

The fear in her face had him cringing inside. “I don’t know
this doctor, but we can soon settle the problem.” He stood up, gently lowering
her to her feet, then striding for the hearth. “We can solve this in a
twinkling.” He hefted a huge ax beside the pile of logs. The blade head picked
up the candlelight and glinted evilly.

She backed away. “What are you doing?”

Saints preserve him, terror had paled her cheeks. Did she think
he would harm her? “I’m going to chop the bed up and burn it. Then you can’t be
going anywhere.”

“No.” She put up both hands. “Stop. You can’t expect me to stay
here.”

The breath left his chest in a rush. A pain replaced it. A
gouging, tearing ache. “You don’t want to stay?”

Her eyes clouded. Doubt crossed her face. “This is not about
you. It’s just...” She waved an arm. “I’m not used to this. We have things where
I come from. Conveniences. Toilets. Hot and cold running water. Washing
machines. Planes.” At his blank look, she waved an arm. “Flying machines that
carry people. Cars instead of horses.”

“I’ve a carriage.”

“A horseless carriage. It moves by itself. I own one. I drove
it here. I have a job. Not to mention a family. What are they going to think if
I just disappear?”