by Gill, Tamara
Thomas, the young man who escorted her on her ride last month, smiled and laughed, showed her how to do the steps when her feet refused to cooperate.
She could not hold back the boisterous laugh that escaped her when Thomas was swooped out of the way, and another clansman came before her, taking her hand and claiming her as his dance partner.
This swapping went on throughout the reel. By the time the musicians stopped, and she too halted to catch her breath, everyone laughed at the actions of the young men.
All but one.
Maya took a glass of wine from Thomas, her original partner, thanking him before taking a long sip. She looked over the top of her glass and spotted Boyd, standing behind his people, his dark, hungry gaze on her.
A prickling of awareness thrummed through her body at his inspection. He looked displeased. Thunderous even, and she wondered at it.
She was nothing to him, they had agreed to tolerate each other and nothing more, but perhaps she couldn't dance with the clansmen. Had she broken some rule about guests and servants?
Little did Boyd know that in the twenty-first century, she too was a servant, no better or less of a person for being so. No better than any of the people who served him daily.
The rules in these distant times could go to the devil if anyone thought she would stop being who she was just for the sake of propriety.
Maya started for him, determined to find out why he was glowering when everyone else was so happy. His eyes followed her around the fire, before she came to stand beside him.
"Are you not going to dance tonight, Macleod?" she asked, taking in the revelry of his clan that continued and grew more boisterous every hour.
"Nay, I doona feel like dancing." He didn't say anything more for a moment, but then out the corner of her eye, she watched him finish his ale, gesturing to a servant for more. "Did you enjoy you dance with Thomas? If you like the lad so very much, mayhap I can persuade you parents to let you marry a Macleod clansman. He's a fine lad. Will bed you well."
Maya choked on her drink, not quite believing he would say such a thing. She rounded on him, hands on hips. "Bed me well, will he? You asked me once whether I learned manners as a child. I wonder now the same about you."
He shrugged, his broad shoulders distracting her for a moment. "The lad likes you. Why even now he's watching to see if he can steal you from under my nose yet again."
Maya turned and smiled at Thomas. He was a dear lad, but she was twenty-seven, at least ten years older than the boy. As handsome as he was, that was a little too much difference in age, in experience, even for this medieval time. She wasn’t a cougar, not yet anyway.
She bit back a chuckle at her own thoughts. "I'm not interested in Thomas, but I will not deny myself the pleasure of a dance when asked."
"He dinna ask you. He forced you into it."
She met Boyd's hard gaze and read interest and confusion both in his eyes. He was such an odd man, this immortal highlander. She couldn't help but wonder if he was bored with it all. Weary of life, after living more than his share. And after what he just said, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was a little medieval feminist too.
"Will you walk with me, Macleod? I would like to see the stars from the ocean side if you will escort me." The opposite side of the castle, away from the revelry and bonfire light, would let her see the stars more clearly.
"’Tis a moonlit night, the stars will not be as visible."
Maya hadn't thought about that. But with a determination that would not be denied, she linked her arm with his and pulled him on. "Take me, anyway."
His eyes burned down at her before he covered her arm with his hand and started for the back of the castle. He did not speak, his long strides eating up the distance, and before she knew it, they were there. Standing at the shorter stone wall that lined up with the castle wall that circled the bailey. The wall allowed them to look out over the cliff where Druiminn castle sat, keeping those safe from falling into the ocean below.
"I cannot help but wonder how many bonfires you've seen. How many clansmen you've watched grow old and pass away, while you, all the while, remain the same."
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared out over the ocean. "I've seen too many of my clansmen die. My childhood friends turn into old men, frail and weak. I would not wish this curse on anyone."
Maya looked down at her hands, anything but to look upon him and see the pain etched onto his features. The emptiness, the loneliness that shone from his emerald eyes. His curse would not be an easy thing to live with, even if the idea of immortality would appeal to so many.
"To break the curse, you have to find love. Why not try? To keep living this life that you lead, do you not think it's allowing the Fae Queen to win?" To Maya her words sounded ridiculous, but she was also in sixteenth-century Scotland, so who was she to say what was true or not.
"I canna love again, nor marry for I am already married." He turned, staring down at her. "No matter how much desire, satisfaction, or my personal needs tell me to enjoy my manhood, I canna do so."
He was looking at her so intensely, his breathing ragged and as uneven as her heartbeat. Maya licked her parched lips, biting her bottom one as she stared up into his eyes, unable to look away.
"You still desire, but you deny yourself?" she whispered.
"Aye." He nodded once. "I still want." He paused. "Women."
The pit of her stomach thrummed. They were alone here, their voices hushed and just for themselves to hear. Never had she ever felt so flushed, her body yearning for the touch of a man she had no right to be meddling with. A man she hardly knew for crying out loud.
But, oh, Boyd drew her in. Like a moth to a roaring flame, she wanted to throw her body into the fire and let herself burn. Let him use her to sate his long-denied need.
A little part of her knew that to be bedded by the highlander would be a night of wild, possibly rough sex. She'd never had sex in such a way, but she wouldn't say no to this man. Not if he asked nicely.
But as he stood beside her, determination to remain distant all but palpable from him, she knew he wouldn't make a move on her. His honor forbade it, and it would be a tremendous woman or emotion indeed to change his mind. What a shame that was. That he would continue in this vein, be a leader of his clan, a laird, a chief, and yet not live at all.
"I do hope that one day that changes, Macleod,” she said, giving him a small smile.
A muscle in his jaw worked and he looked over her head, out to the sea beyond. “It will not.”
Maya nodded, knowing that with his steadfast tone, the conversation was over. “Shall we return to the party?" she asked him.
He nodded and strode away, not waiting for her to join him. Maya shook her head. In her time, there was still a clan Macleod, chiefs that came after Boyd, so he must break the curse, or his wife returned and saved him from this endless existence. Or perhaps, the line came from another clan member, Jeane maybe, but she was unmarried, so…
Maya didn't know much of the clan's history, other than the tidbits she'd picked up since working at the castle. But something must happen to change his life. The fate of these people.
But what, she was still to find out. Maybe she never would. That's if she managed to safely return to the twenty-first century and survive her time in the sixteenth.
Chapter 9
Maya was determined to change the laird's fate. After she returned to the bonfire, she could not find him again, and for two days, he wasn't anywhere about the castle or grounds.
His cousin Jeane grew concerned when he did not return for supper the next evening. On the second day, they were told the laird had ridden out with a group of men the morning after the bonfire, but as to why they did not know. He returned that evening, strode into the Great Hall with a group of clansmen, dropping deer, rabbits, and other game on the hall's floor.
His housekeeper Mrs. Fletcher was all aflutter at the meaty gifts, seemingly thrilled by the arrival of fres
h food. She set the servants to pick up the animals and take them to the kitchens.
Jeane strode up to Boyd, stopped him from moving to the dais, hands-on-hips and a fierce scowl on her forehead. Anyone looking at the Scottish lass would know she was pissed off.
Maya sat at the table, watching the play between the distant cousins and enjoying herself immensely when the laird appeared troubled by the fear he'd unwittingly caused.
"You could have told us you were going hunting. We've been fraught with fear that something had befallen you. That you had been attacked in some way."
He reached out to pat her shoulder, and she slapped him away. "Doona try and make peace. I'm angry with you, Boyd Macleod. You ought to know better than to disappear for days on end and not tell a soul."
Boyd, having had enough of being scolded like a child, stood tall, crossing his arms and accentuating his broad chest, which still sported the blood from his kills.
"I doona have to answer to you, lass. My men knew where I was. You should have asked them if you were so worried."
Jeane, a little lost for words at his reply, narrowed her eyes. "You tell your family, your guests when you are going to hie off into the Highlands. And we did ask your men, and they were vague in their answers."
Maya's gaze slipped below the base of Boyd's tunic. The laird had very lovely legs in his trews, his muscular thighs tensing as he stood staring down his cousin. As for his arms, they too were toned and sun touched. His hands especially big. Heat kissed her cheeks at the saying over what big hands and feet meant for men. Over the past two days, her dirty dreams had returned of her and Boyd. Of him making love to her with delicious slowness that left her burning and aching for more. In her dream Boyd seemed to be quite the lover and very well versed in how to make a woman satisfied.
She had never dreamed in such a realistic way before. Worse was that the more she dreamed of Boyd Macleod, the more she thought about him during daylight hours. Maya caught herself thinking of his hands and what they were capable of. Like right now, seeing his arms flex as he helped pick up the deer and hand it to clansmen, Jeane still beside him, berating him for his disappearing act, she couldn’t help but sigh at how lovely he was.
She chuckled, and right at that moment, he looked across the room and met her eyes. Like a physical caress, she could feel his interest. Did he think about her at all? Did he ever wonder what it may be like to kiss her? Even if that went against his rules of chastity?
Mrs. Fletcher came up to Maya, filling up her wine glass. "Ah, see, my English lass, the laird is curious about you. Did you see him looking for you, wanting to check that you were still here?"
Maya grinned at the meddling housekeeper, even as her stomach flipped at the thought. "Your plan will not work. I'm not here for a husband, and he doesn't want a wife. He's married, which I'm sure I don't have to remind you of."
Mrs. Fletcher waved her concerns away, leaning on the dais and looking back toward where Boyd stood discussing and celebrating their kills. "I canna help but think his leaving the castle these past two days was to get away from you. You tempt him, lass. Now, I doona want you to fear that he'll force himself on you, for he would never do that to a woman, but should you be open to a tryst, well, I think you may find a willing participant, no matter what he says to oppose."
"I'm not the type of woman who readily sleeps with men. I usually like to date them for a while first, Mrs. Fletcher."
The older woman looked at her curiously. "I doona know what date means, lass. What has a date to do with being courted by a man?"
"Everything." Maya laughed. "To date someone in my time is courting. So what I'm saying is I'd like to be courted a little first before I let him have me." Not that that was entirely true. Not when it came to Boyd Macleod, but no one else, not Mrs. Fletcher or Jeane, needed to know that. There was something about this particular highlander that Maya knew she would give herself to. And probably from the moment he kissed her.
If he ever managed to get past his own rules.
"Well, you just wait and see. I've known the lad since I was a little girl, and over the years other clans, English and Scottish noble houses, have thrown their daughters before him. Never before have I seen him look at the lasses with such a hunger as he looks at you. ’Tis a fact, and one I'll stand by."
Maya shut her mouth and watched as the housekeeper wandered off, pouring wine for others. She wasn't sure what she thought about the possibility of turning her dreams into reality, but would it be so very bad if she was the one to change his fate—the one to save him from himself and his never-ending life of not living?
She may never break the curse. He may never fall in love with her, but at least for the few months she would be here, a little fun could be had. She was a twenty-first-century woman, after all.
She'd be a damn idiot if she didn't try to get in the sack with such a hot guy. A nice one too. Her romance-reading friends would never forgive her if she didn’t give it a good go.
And neither would she.
But how to drive him mad, without letting him know he got to her as well? If Mrs. Fletcher’s words were true… Now that was the question.
No matter how many days Boyd avoided Druiminn, there was no getting away from his thoughts. They plagued him, night and day. Even in his sleep, he dreamed of her.
The dark-haired Sassenach haunted him with her disinterest. He'd almost convinced himself that was why he was so captivated with her, but on his ride back to the estate, after a good two days of hunting, he'd realized why she fascinated him so.
A part of him that he had buried the day he lost Sorcha rumbled inside him. Told him not to let this lass leave like all the other women who had tried to catch his heart. Told him to learn to know her. Maya gave him the one thing he'd never thought to have again.
Hope.
Would she be willing? That he could not say, but it did not mean that trying to persuade her to be interested in him could not end in a mutual satisfaction until she did decide to leave.
Suppose she was not the one that was his destiny. The one, the Queen of the Fae foretold would break the curse.
He had lived long enough. It was time to at least try to find his soul mate and let his old, weary self pass on like his ancestors before him.
Which in itself brought forth a thought that had been troubling him. Not since Maya had arrived, but for years before. If he did not find love, how would his clan go on? Without a son, there would be no more Macleods, and something told him that the future would not be so kind to an immortal highlander as the people of this time.
He was often talked about, was forced to lie, and state he was Boyd Macleod's grandson. The falsehood would only keep him alive for so many more years before they would come for him.
Come for his life that even his clansmen would be unable to defend, and when he did not die due to being immortal, he would have to leave. There would be no peace in the Macleod lands once those in power knew of his otherworldly curse.
Boyd strode to the dais, determined to spend some time this night with Maya. Since the night of the bonfire, he'd whispered her name on his lips. Knowing that it sounded as sweet as he thought the first time he'd heard it.
She watched him walk toward her, her gaze taking in his form and leaving him with little doubt she liked what she observed. Such looks were not new to him. Many of the lasses of his clansmen, the female servants, watched his every step. With a flick of his chin, he could have them over a table or up against a wall, skirts lifted and pleasure nothing but his aim.
But he did not want those women. He wanted the English lass. The image of her spread out before him, wet and willing, made his blood boil.
He bit back a growl, seating himself before she noticed his cock standing at attention.
"Maya lass," he said, watching her from his chair.
She threw him an amused glance. No fear. No trepidation or meekness. Did she suspect his troubles? Did she suffer the same as he? The lass was so unl
ike anyone he'd ever met before.
"Macleod," she returned, putting down her glass of wine. "I hope you're sorry for the worry you put your cousin through."
He glanced across the hall, spotted Jeane on the lap of Gordon Lennox, a trusted clansman who still sported blood on his tunic like himself after their hunt. He wondered if his cousin had found another to replace the husband she lost in battle.
"Are you not as upset as Jeane, lass? ’Twould be most upsettin' if you are not."
Her dark-blue eyes widened a little in surprise before she chuckled. The sound reeked of disbelief. "No. I didn't think a man like you would be gone for long, and I certainly didn't think you would get yourself killed. I think your cousin has forgotten that you're immortal."
He smirked. "Aye, I think Jeane forgets that fact too, but I do like her. Through the years, she's been a favorite of mine, the closest relative I have now, and I doona like to scare her. I will apologize in earnest on the morn."
He stilled when Maya reached out and touched his arm. "You're a good man, Boyd Macleod. No matter how scary you try to make yourself appear to women who travel here to woo you."
"Woo me? Is that what you are doing?"
She shrugged. "While I do not want to marry you, I would be a liar if I said that I did not find you somewhat attractive. Any woman alive would be blind not to."
Her words sent fire to course through his veins.
"You are a pretty lass too, while we're giving each other compliments." He let his gaze travel over her kirtle, lingering where her breasts rose above the bodice with every breath. Her waist was small, the kirtle accentuating her slim figure.
Their eyes met, held, and he let her think what she would from the look he gave her. A rose-colored blush kissed her cheeks, and it took all Boyd's restraint not to close the small gap between them and take her lips. Lay claim to her.
He swallowed. He'd not kissed a lass in a hundred years, but by God, he wanted to kiss Maya Harris. Kiss her until she saved his soul.
