My Highlander Cover Model (5 page)

“Jeez, get a room!”

Cailin broke from the kiss and glanced up. A young man smiled and gave them a playful wink as he passed by. Cailin laid his hands on Skye’s waist, and then stepped back. She looked flushed and thoroughly kissed.

“I canna resist, lass. Forgive me.”

Skye smiled. “I’ve never been kissed in the soup aisle before. Come to think of it, I’ve never been kissed in a grocery store. I like your kisses, Cailin. Very much.”

A rush of male satisfaction covered him from head to toe. A woman had never told him she liked his kisses. Truth be told, he hadn’t kissed many lasses. War, conflict, and training kept his focus elsewhere. He knew the young maidens in his village looked at him with a longing, a yearning, but none had caught his interest. Not like Skye. If he had switched with this Roderick, he knew deep in his soul the change would not be permanent. While he was here, he vowed to give his attention to Skye, a woman who was honest, beautiful, and kind.
Passion
. He’d tasted it in her kiss. He wanted to taste more.

Chapter Six

Skye watched as Cailin stood in the living room, in the middle of all the bags and packages. Three trips were needed to bring in all the groceries and other purchases from the car. They must have strained the limit on Roderick’s credit card, but she’d no doubt the man could afford it. Thankfully, Roderick’s signature was a chicken-scratch scrawl that could be easily copied. Cailin did become a little indignant when she’d whispered in his ear, asking if he could read and write. Again, her complete confusion affected her thoughts. At times, she acted or spoke without thinking, convinced Cailin and Roderick were separate beings or entities. Other times, she believed Roderick suffered from a severe personality displacement due to the smack on the head. Right now, after watching Cailin’s reactions to the stores they visited, she was firmly in the “separate entities” camp.

“Explain this again. We bought all this with a piece of—what did you call it—plastic?”

She smiled and nodded, picked up one of the bags, and removed two pairs of jeans. Tossing him a pair, she laid the other on the sofa. They’d had to buy one inch longer in his inseam. Another physical and unexplainable impossibility. They also had to purchase extra-large in his shirts, since his closets were full of size large shirts and most of them no longer fit. Replacing his entire wardrobe was impossible in the short term, so Skye made sure they only bought a few items of clothing to tide them over. Until when?

“Just how tall were you, and what did you look like?”

Cailin reached for the waistband of the black trousers he wore and pulled them off. The man had no shame, and he didn’t wear the underwear like she’d instructed him to do, either. How could she
not
look? His cock was bigger than any she’d ever seen. He stepped into the jeans and pulled them up over his muscular hips.

“What the bluidy hell? How do I fasten these trews, lass? The leather ones I wore had buttons.”

Skye had read this scene in a romance novel, and more than once. As if she could lift the zipper up over that monstrous bulge. The man was stunning, beautiful, and totally without ego and guile. Did she want her fingers caressing his cock behind the denim as she slowly pulled up the zipper? Damn straight she did.

She walked toward him. Her insides dipped and rolled in anticipation. The shock of awaking at dawn wrapped in this man’s arms was soon replaced with complete comfort and bliss. For at least an hour, she lay in his embrace and relished the closeness, the strength, and latent power. The heat he generated, figuratively and literally. Skye stopped when barely an inch separated them. Her finger slowly traced the zipper, and she heard a sharp intake of breath from Cailin.

“You never answered my question,” she whispered.

“Aye, I was considered the giant of my village. What did I look like?” He hissed through his teeth as her fingers continued their exploration. “No’ as pretty as Roderick. My hair was about this color and to my shoulders. I also had a beard. I kept it when the weather turned cold, shaved it off during the summer months. I suppose I was attractive enough. The lasses seemed to think so.”

Skye grabbed the tab of the zipper. His cock had hardened from her teasing travels. Cailin’s large, warm hand covered hers, and he rotated his hips so her fingers grabbed more of him.

“Feel what you do to me, Skye. The slightest feather touch and my prick hardens to sword steel. I want your hands on my cock. I want you to touch me, fist me, and make me come.”

She didn’t expect those words, nor the power they held. Hot liquid gathered between her legs from his raw, lustful demand. A slight buzzing filled her hearing as blood rushed to her brain. Skye wanted this. To hell with pulling up his zipper. She moved aside his hand and pulled out his cock instead. Moving up and down the velvet length, her thumb brushed across the swollen, purple head.

“And I would guess your cock was as impressive as this.”

She froze.
Foot in mouth, Skye
! No man liked to be compared to another in size; she knew that.

Cailin didn’t respond right away. Then she heard the rumble of laughter deep in his chest.

“Impressive, aye. Seems the Thorburn did no’ only pass on the name.” The laughter stopped. “Skye, I do feel strange at times, removed from my skin. This is no’ my body. I am only possessing or borrowing it. Mayhap we should no’ do this.”

Skye gave his stiff cock a squeeze. A moan left his lips. His hand moved back on top of hers.

“It doesn’t feel like you want me to stop. You need release. Let me do this. I like the feel of it in my hand. The reason for this is yours alone, Cailin. No one else’s. I do this to you?” She reached for his free hand and used it to cup her pussy. “I’m so wet. You can feel it through my jeans. You do that to me, Cailin.”

He kissed her. At first, the kiss was forceful, full of lust, then it gentled into a passionate possession. Skye moved her hand again, twisting his cock as she stroked. His climax took no time at all. He broke away from her lips and with a husky moan, and then came. Cailin shook, staggered a few steps and then pulled his hand away.

“Bluidy hell. I never….”

A loud ringing cut off his words. He looked at her in puzzlement.

“The telephone? Remember I explained it to you last night?”

“Oh aye, the communication tool.”

As Skye pulled out three or four facial tissues and handed them to him to clean up, the answering machine kicked in.

“Hello, you’ve reached the residence of Roderick Thorburn. Leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Hi, Rod, it’s Mom. You didn’t call this morning like you do every Saturday. Hope everything’s okay. Dad and I are going out to run for few errands. I don’t want to rub it in, but we’re going to Tim Horton’s. I’ll think of you when I have the Boston Cream. I’ll call when we get back. Love you!”

The machine beeped and shut off. Cailin started to tuck his prick back in his jeans.

“Just grab the metal tab and pull up, but be careful. Skin and hair can hurt like hell caught in that.” She smiled.

“’Tis no hair to get caught,” Cailin grumbled as he pulled up the zipper in a swift motion. “Was that the lad’s voice? We dinna sound the same.”

No, they really didn’t. Take the Scottish burr out of the equation, and Cailin’s voice sounded a notch or two deeper. Uncanny. More proof he was a highland warrior from 1814? Skye thought of another piece of evidence. The men didn’t smell the same. Their essence or scents were entirely different. Granted, Roderick usually wore expensive cologne, but she’d stood close enough to him during the photo shoots to inhale a spicy aroma. Cailin’s scent consisted more of fresh air, musk, and a masculine odor she couldn’t place.

Taking the tissues from him and tossing them in the nearby wastebasket, she frowned. Roderick’s life was closing in. How could they work this? His mother would be calling back. They had to answer the phone or questions would be asked.

Cailin removed the T-shirt he wore and pulled out of the shopping bag a black one they’d bought. If she’d been wet before, now she was soaked. Skye took a moment to admire his muscular chest once again. She’d seen Roderick shirtless, but there was a little more muscle than her memory recalled. His pecs seemed larger. Even the nipples had changed shape. The
Freaky Friday
theory took on an extra dimension. Cailin occupied Roderick’s body, but there were parts of Cailin as well, she surmised. Like an artist with a paintbrush adding refinements and subtle changes to colors and depth.

Skye shook her head. This whole situation became more confusing by the moment. Cailin strode toward her. In the perfectly fitting jeans and T-shirt, he looked good enough to eat. Every muscled plane, dip, and valley of his torso was defined through the cotton. Her gaze moved downward. Denim hugged his muscular thighs and his long limbs, and yes, his package. She quickly looked away.

“Who is Tim Horton?” he asked.

She smiled. “It’s a Canadian coffee and doughnut chain. Doughnuts are deep-fried yeast dough, usually with sugar and custard fillings. There are stores in Maine. Maine is the state I’m from and it’s north of here, next to the Canadian border. That’s how I knew of Nova Scotia. One summer when I was a kid, my family went there on vacation. Beautiful place.”

Cailin cupped her face and tilted it upward to meet his glimmering, green gaze.

“’Tis you lass, who is beautiful.”

Okay, she melted once again. His thumbs stroked her cheek as his forehead touched hers.

“I want you, Skye.”

This was becoming way too intense, far too fast. Barely twenty-four hours had passed since he’d morphed into “highlander hunk.” She could hardly keep it all straight in her brain. She never should’ve given him a hand job. Now, he expected more. Sex was something she indulged in often enough. At twenty-six, she had already blown through eight steady boyfriends and a fair number of one-night stands.

The sizzle and snap of attraction between them was potent and real, but beyond that, something much more…complicated had formed. A pull she’d never felt with Roderick alone, or any other man she’d been with. Oh hell, this man from 1814 attracted her in ways she couldn’t comprehend. He might be in Roderick’s attractive-as-sin body, but the man inside fascinated her more. A magnetic draw, a compelling feeling of more than lust, and it was damned scary to contemplate. She slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. His heart banged with a staccato beat.

“Cailin, I want you, too. I need a little time, a day or two to wrap my brain around all this. Can you give me that?”

“Lass, I will give you whatever you want. Know that.”

Skye blinked back a few gathering tears. Such emotion in his voice. Oh damn, this
was
too much. They stood in each other’s arms for several moments. Finally, she stepped back.

“Roderick’s mother will be calling. We’ll have to answer the phone. Can you hide the Scottish accent? Just answer in short one or two word answers. Yes and no, not aye or nay. Tell her you have a cold, a sore throat, and can’t talk too long.”

Cailin nodded. “Aye—I mean, yes.”

***

After putting away the purchases they’d made, and having a light supper of what Skye called “deli stuff,” they both sat in the living room and waited for the device to ring.

Cailin stole a glance at Skye lounging on the sofa. He surprised himself that he’d asked her to touch him and make him come, but what surprised him more was she bluidy did what he asked. In his time, a man did not ask a lass to do that, unless she was a whore. Aye, he’d been with a few doxies. The sum total of his sexual experience involved loose women. By the saints, when her hand had grasped him—he wanted her hands on his cock again. But it really wasn’t his cock. He’d spoken the truth when he’d said it felt strange. ’
Tis no’ my body. No’ my cock. Close, but no’ the same
. He could not let that stop him from feeling and experiencing every sensation and emotion that flooded his soul. God’s stones, it took all his inner strength not to throw her over his shoulder and take her to bed right now. He would give her a day or two as she asked. Until then, he’d be in torment.

The shrill ring from the phone device pulled him from his thoughts.

Skye reached for it and whispered, “Remember what we discussed. Put it to your ear like I showed you. Make the conversation short and sweet.”

She pressed a button and the ringing stopped. She handed him the phone. Placing it awkwardly to his ear, he said in a slow, deliberate tone, “Hello?”

“Rod? Were you out earlier when I called?”

“Ay…yes. I was out.”

“Are you feeling all right? You sound funny.”

“I have a sore throat, canna…cannot talk long.”

“You poor dear! A good shot of Glen Breton should help. Do you still have the bottle you brought back with you from your Christmas visit?”

Cailin’s brain rushed to form a response. That must be the whisky they’d drunk the night before. It certainly tasted better than anything his clan distilled.

“I will. While I am talking to you, can you tell me when our family came to Nova Scotia?” His words were purposefully spoken and sounded wooden to his own hearing.

He glanced at Skye and her eyes widened. She mouthed, What are you doing? but he turned away. This would be the best way to get the information he so desperately wanted.

“You don’t remember? Didn’t I send you the information a while ago? Anyway, your great-great-great-great grandfather Iain Thorburn came over from Scotland in 1817 with what remained of his family. Only his mother was still living, I think. Most of them were killed in The Clearances. They settled here in Cape Breton, originally near the Bras d’Or Lakes, and then later moved here to Baddeck. Why are you asking, Rod?”

Cailin dropped the phone. His heart seized in his chest. His throat closed over. Skye scrambled for the phone and tried to shove it back into his hand, but he couldn’t take it. His brother Iain was the only survivor, outside of his mother. Did that mean he, himself—had died? Could that be why he was here? Did it mean he was trapped here? His insides rolled and pitched, and he promptly heaved his supper on his boots.