Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (86 page)

One more step. He lifted his foot, turned an
increment and made to step.

Thrice
.

“
No!” Morgan
cried.

Alasdair’s eyes flew open just as Morgan
launched herself at him. He dropped the gemstone and managed to
catch her, but the force of her assault sent them flying back
against the great central stone.

To Alasdair’s astonishment, she was
crying.

“
I don’t want you to go!”
she wailed.

But had he gone? Alasdair scanned the hills
beyond the circle of stones, and his gut writhed at the gleam on
the roof of the Micra parked not far away.

He was yet in Morgan’s time.

He frowned down at her, trying to make sense
of her dismay. “What is this? Of course, you would be rid of me.
You are intent only on having me gone.”

“
No! I
never
wanted
you gone!

Her obvious horror that he had thought
otherwise warmed Alasdair to his toes. Heartfelt tears streamed
down her cheeks and ’Twas evident she could not stop their course.
Humbled by her distress, Alasdair brushed the tears away with a
gentle fingertip.

It seemed he had misjudged his lady’s
heart.

“
But you need to go. I
understand that. Your son needs you.” Morgan clutched Alasdair’s
shoulders as though she could not get close enough to
him.

Alasdair’s pulse began to thunder in his
ears at this marvelous change of events, and he could not think of
a word to say.

Morgan had plenty to say. “I thought it
would be easier if we got it over with,” she confessed unevenly,
her wondrous eyes welling with fresh tears. “But Alasdair, please
don’t believe that I want you to go.”

Alasdair felt a cur for ever having doubted
her. He leaned back against the stone and gathered her against his
side, letting his hand slide through the ebony hair at her nape. He
caressed her gently, his fingers losing themselves in the silky
softness of her hair, and dared to believe what she told him.

She did not want him to go.

Morgan did not want to be rid of him.

Alasdair felt himself begin to smile. The
stars winked overhead as though they had known all along. The moon
sailed high and her face turned to glowing silver. Alasdair could
hear the waves of the sea crashing in the distance. He gave the
woman nestled against him a minute hug and touched her chin.

“
Look there,” he said,
pointing to vivid display in the northern sky. “The Merry Dancers
would have you smile again.”

Morgan looked up and wiped the last of her
tears, her lips rounding in amazement at the sight. “The northern
lights,” she whispered in awe. “I’ve never seen them before.”

Alasdair snorted gently. “Dancers they are,
as any wee lad knows, not mere
lights
.”

She turned a smile on him so enchanting that
it fairly melted Alasdair’s bones. And he knew, as he had only
guessed before, that this woman had not only cast a net around his
heart but would hold it securely for all time.

“
Alasdair,” she whispered,
her eyes luminous. “I love you.”

Alasdair stared at her in wonder. The rose
scent that she favored wafted into his lungs; the soft warmth of
her pressed against his ribs; the delicacy of her hand rested on
his chest. It seemed that they two stopped breathing in the same
moment, and there was naught but the glow of love in his lady’s
eyes.

In the wake of such a confession and all
else that had happened on this day, there was only one thing a
red-blooded man might do. His heart swelling with his own love,
Alasdair leaned closer and kissed his lady fair.

*

Morgan thought her heart would burst when
Alasdair kissed her. As always, his embrace was tender, giving her
the choice of how they might proceed.

She knew exactly what she wanted to do.
Alasdair had taught her to trust again, taught her to let herself
love, and Morgan knew that now only one celebratory act would
do.

It was a perfect moonlit night, the stones
surreal in their silence. The words Alasdair had uttered earlier
had been so shamelessly romantic. The spell might not have worked
this time, but Morgan knew it would eventually.

When Alasdair left, she was going to make
sure that he had a compelling memory of her to take along.

So, Morgan kissed Alasdair back, a decade of
denied desire having found its release. She twined her hands into
the wonderful thickness of his hair. Alasdair moaned when she drove
her tongue between his teeth and Morgan found herself rolled to her
back.

The grass was lush beneath her, like a
densely knotted exotic rug, and richly green. Alasdair nuzzled her
ear and ran an intoxicating line of kisses down her throat. Morgan
moaned and reached for him, but the highlander evaded her
embrace.

“
I have waited long for
this moment,” he whispered with a wicked grin. Before Morgan could
respond, he tucked his head beneath her sweater.

She gasped as his hands closed over her
breasts, those skilled thumbs teasing her nipples to taut beads. He
was so unbearably gentle that Morgan wanted more of him, everything
within her melting at his sure touch. Alasdair’s breath fanned
Morgan’s belly; he kissed her belly and rolled his tongue in her
navel.

Then, he tugged her leggings away with his
teeth.

His hands followed in leisurely pursuit,
sliding beneath her buttocks to lift her hips high. With his teeth,
he hauled the leggings down to her ankles, teaching her with tongue
and breath and fingers.

Morgan had never been so aroused in her
life. She might have been shy about doing this outside, but
Alasdair’s confidence was more than reassuring. Alasdair was so
unrestrained, so unconcerned about anything other than the magic
that flared to life between them.

Morgan loved that about him, loved how he
made her feel impetuous and free, however how he was who he was
without apology or explanation. Each time they touched was
explosive, yet still a bold adventure in sensation.

Morgan wanted to do this for the rest of her
life.

Alasdair flashed her a mischievous glance as
he cavalierly flung her tights and boots aside, his eyes darkening
nearly to indigo. Then he eased between her thighs with a playful
growl.

Morgan gasped as Alasdair slid his nose
through her pubic hair and wanted to cry out when he pressed a slow
kiss against her clitoris. She trembled at the heat of his breath,
then moaned as his tongue slid across the nub of her desire.

She was already so wet with yearning. The
strength of Alasdair’s hands closed around her waist, his tongue
set to work, and Morgan was left with no options but to enjoy. She
closed her eyes and surrendered to pleasure.

Alasdair did not disappoint. He cajoled
Morgan’s response, taking her to the crest of release, then stopped
to plant kisses on her navel until her need ebbed slightly. Each
time, the crest was higher; each time Morgan’s moans grew louder
when he moved away. The heat was gathered beneath her flesh and she
was twisting in desperation when the heat of his mouth closed over
her once more.

This time, Morgan knew there would be no
respite. She peeled off her sweater so she could see the moonlight
play upon his hair. Alasdair glanced up, his own gaze smoldering as
he touched her with his fingertips, and Morgan rubbed herself
shamelessly against his fingers.

He caressed her expertly then tasted her
again. He tantalized her until she was sure she couldn’t bear any
more, then suddenly, Morgan clutched at him as the quickening
ripped through her. Alasdair held her tightly and drove his fingers
into her, demanding more. Morgan cried out as she reached the
summit again, then plunged trembling into the abyss beyond.

Her heart was still hammering when she
opened her eyes and found Alasdair kneeling before her. Morgan
rolled over and reached beneath his kilt. The erection that she
knew she would find was larger and harder than anticipated.
Alasdair shuddered when Morgan’s hands closed around him.

“
I want all of you,” she
whispered and his eyes flashed.

He was nude in a heartbeat, his skin
gleaming in the moonlight. He was more beautiful than she’d
imagined, a pagan god come to life. Alasdair gathered Morgan
against his chest, lifting her into his embrace for a
soul-shattering kiss. Morgan savored his tough, clung to his
strength, then wrapped her legs around his waist.

Alasdair caught his breath at her
proximity.

Nose to nose, they stared into each other’s
eyes as Morgan slowly lowered herself onto him.

No sooner was he buried to the hilt than
Morgan was on her back, Alasdair silhouetted against the starry sky
above her. The grass was cool and thick beneath her, while Alasdair
was warm and solid above.

He moved with deliberation within her, his
thumb slipping between them to caress her again. Morgan writhed
beneath him, feeling the heat gather again. Her desire was roused
more quickly this time and she bucked against Alasdair, wanting
every inch of him to be her own.

When she reached up and captured his face in
her hands, then kissed him languorously, Morgan felt him shake with
the effort of self-control. She ran her toes down his legs, rocked
her hips and rubbed her breasts against him, kissing him fervently
all the while.

Alasdair growled, but Morgan continued her
assault. Her own blood heated at her power over him, a new
confidence in her allure making her even more bold. They teased and
tormented each other, each trying to give the other even more
pleasure.

Until the heat reached a crescendo in Morgan
again, making her tremble on the cusp of release. Alasdair buried
himself within her, then tipped his head back and groaned in
pleasure. The heat of him pushed Morgan over the edge. The stars
cavorted dizzily overhead as she gripped Alasdair’s shoulders,
knowing they were the only fixture in her universe.

He fell bonelessly to the grass beside her
and pulled her into the warmth of his embrace. Morgan’s eyes
drifted closed as she felt his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and she
smiled when Alasdair pressed a kiss to her temple.

She’d gone to heaven and she didn’t want to
come back.

*

Alasdair did not sleep.

He lay within the enchanted circle and held
Morgan fast to his side, loving the way she slumbered against him.
Aye, she was the woman he had always longed to find and more. Never
had Alasdair believed that the love oft mentioned in his gran’s
tales was for him.

But the evidence slept within his very
arms.

Some twist of fate had sent him plunging
forward in time, and Alasdair was enough of his gran’s grandson to
know that it could be no coincidence that Morgan had been the one
to find him first.

He had done the impossible, catapulted over
seven hundred years, and as he lay there in the moonlight, Alasdair
knew it had been so that he might find his one true love.

Morgan.

She was his and Alasdair was never going to
let her go. Time would come when he recalled the right Gaelic
verse, for he had a good ear and a good memory. The tune had
reminded him of something, that much Alasdair recalled.

One day, he would find it.

Indeed, he had little choice. Indeed, if
there had been no price in coming to Morgan, Alasdair would gladly
have remained in her world with her alone.

But Alasdair was haunted by his certainty
that his disappearance had changed matters for Robert the Bruce.
The Scotland his son had inherited had been far from free, and the
fault for that lay squarely at Alasdair’s door.

Further, Alasdair knew that had he been
there, Angus would not have died to young. Alasdair could not
change the fact that he had left the boy for so long, but he wished
with all his heart and soul that he could at least have had the
chance to make matters come aright for his son.

*

Contrary to all that Alasdair believed, it
was not chanting the wrong Gaelic verse that had confounded his
return home. Though it was true that the stone and the heather and
the site contributed, there was one factor he had forgotten.

A heartfelt wish was the key to the witch’s
spell.

And in the very moment that Alasdair desired
beyond all else to see his son, he was gone from Morgan’s side as
though he had never been.

*

Morgan awakened with a luxurious feeling of
completion. In a hazy corner of her mind, she knew that she had
found a fulfillment that she had always sought but had never
believed she would know.

Without opening her eyes, Morgan stretched
out a hand to Alasdair. When her fingers found only empty space,
she tried the other side.

Nothing. Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt
upright.

Only to find that she was alone.

The sky was faintly tinged pink in the east,
a fiery line indicating that the sun would soon drift over the
horizon, but Morgan wasn’t interested in that. The stones brooded
on all sides, night shadows still clinging to their bases. The
stars had retreated, both northern lights and moon gone as
thoroughly as if they had never been.

Just like Alasdair.

Morgan tugged on her clothes and stood up to
look around. In every direction the countryside was perfectly
still. A patina of dew glistened on the roof of the blue Micra, but
there was nothing else of distinctive color.

Certainly not a kilt wrapped around a golden
highlander.

How could he have left her?

Morgan spun and examined the site of their
tryst with mounting indignation. How could Alasdair have done this
to her, after the night they had shared? After what he had said to
her? Tears blurred Morgan’s vision and she hated the sense that she
had played the fool in love one more time.