by Gill, Tamara
His attention snapped to her mouth, and she felt him stiffen, his every muscle growing taut. He lifted one hand, swiping a lock of hair off her cheek and placing it behind her ear.
"I shouldna kiss you, lass, but I canna help myself,” he groaned.
She shivered at his words, trepidation running hot through her veins. "Would it be so very wrong if you did kiss me?"
A shadow flickered in his green orbs before he stepped back, distancing them. "Aye, it would be wrong of me, against my vows. I'm sorry, lass. I canna kiss you."
He set her aside with little effort. Her feet curled into the animal fur beneath them, and she willed herself not to follow him as he strode to the door.
"Goodnight, Maya lass. I shall see you on the morn."
Maya did not reply, not sure she could hide the disappointment from her tone if she did. She knew he was battling a war within himself over his wants and needs and his past. He was married, yes, but he had not seen his wife in a hundred years. Surely, his holding out hope for her return was madness.
One positive thing was at least she no longer had to hide from Boyd who she was. No more pretending she was an English noble lady looking for a husband. He would ensure she had access to the tapestry when it was completed and delivered, and she could go home.
The thought ought to bring relief, and yet it didn't. If anything, a hollowness opened up inside her, and she doubted it would ever close again.
Chapter 12
Maya stood out in the bailey, patting one of the few horses stabled in the castle grounds and spoke to Thomas, the young clansman having just arrived after riding out on to the Macleod lands, checking on the harvests and ensuring no Fae or enemy clans were lurking nearby.
"You look very fetching today, Maya lass. Are you enjoying your stay at Druiminn?"
"I am—"
"’Tis inappropriate to talk to my guest in such a forward manner." The curt words grumbled behind her made her start, and she turned to find Boyd storming over to them, his eyes hard and narrowed on Thomas. Boyd's white locks were half up today, tied off his face, the remainder of his hair falling down his back.
Instinctively Maya stepped in front of Thomas to keep him from harm.
"Take the horse back to the stable and give it a thorough wipe-down."
Boyd's words brooked no argument, but thankfully he did not try to harm the poor lad.
"Good day, Thomas," Maya said, turning with a raised brow at Boyd's reaction.
"No matter what you told me last eve, Maya lass, to my clansmen, to everyone other than Mrs. Fletcher, you are still a proper, chaste English noble lady. Doona start flirting with me clansmen, or your guise will be naught but a memory. The Scottish lasses may not take too kindly to you, either, winning young Thomas's heart. Do you understand?"
She narrowed her eyes, studying him. "Are you jealous?"
He choked, or at least it certainly looked like he was choking. Perhaps on his words, if he was going to act like such a caveman.
"I am not envious of the wee lad." He closed the space between them, his chest grazing her bodice. Her heart pumped fast, but she did not dare move. Boyd seemed on edge, and she wasn't sure how far she could push him before he snapped. Surely his reaction to her speaking to Thomas should not be so volatile. Had something else happened to him today that had upset him? Perhaps the Fae Queen visited him this time.
She shrugged, feigning disinterest. "Then do not storm across the yard and tell him off for talking to me as if you were. It's not like he was going to kiss me or anything. We were just talking. He asked me if I liked it here."
He growled. An intelligent woman would walk away, leave him be, but Maya could not. Whether he kept away from her or not, she could not let him think she cared which way their relationship traveled. To do so would give him power, and she could not risk her heart like that. Not when she would leave this place. Leave Boyd to the sixteenth century, where he belonged.
Instead, she patted his chest, grinning up at him. "Cheer up, Macleod. I'll be gone soon, and you'll not have to worry about me chatting up your clansmen." Maya chuckled, stepping around him, but he rounded on her, scooping her up without an ounce of trouble, and threw her over his shoulder.
Maya gasped, clutching at his back to hold on. "Put me down, Macleod. This is totally uncalled for.”
The Great Hall passed her view, and then she was in Boyd's solar, deposited before his desk. He slammed the door shut, his breathing ragged, his chiseled chest under his tunic rising and falling with each breath.
And then everything changed.
Maya didn't have time to think about his actions, to remind him that he'd regret kissing her, a notion she hated. But as his lips took hers, ravishing her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers, his hands firmly against the sides of her face, she knew she wouldn't say a word. Not yet.
Right now, she could do nothing but return the kiss. Take all he would give her and revel in the enjoyment of having him this way.
He growled against her mouth, and she bit back a moan. The mere idea that she made him want her left her on edge and needy.
He picked her up, her bottom settling on his wooden desk. He didn't give her time to think about what he was doing before he was between her legs, his large hands clasping her thighs and raising them on his hips.
Her body did not feel like her own. If he kept kissing her as if his life depended on her touch, she might burn up in flame.
He, too, was hot to the touch, his chest heaved against her, his corded muscles on his arms and shoulders hard and flexed.
What was she going to do with this man? If he denied her after their first kiss, declared it a mistake, she wasn't sure she could survive. To be able to pass a pleasurable time with Boyd while she kicked up her heels in sixteenth-century Scotland would make her time here go all the faster.
A knock at the door sounded, and Boyd wrenched back, staring at her as if she'd grown two heads.
"Who is it?" he barked, his voice hard and annoyed.
"’Tis Douglas. There has been another sighting of O’Cain clansmen. Down near the Druiminn township itself."
A muscle worked in Boyd's jaw. Maya wiggled off the desk, putting her dress back to rights, which had ridden up her legs. Boyd watched her, his eyes a piercing green. He appeared torn as if he wasn't sure whether to go with his clansmen or continue what they had started.
He decided on the former, turning and striding from the room. Maya watched in silence as he left and didn't miss Douglas's amused glance before following his chief.
She sighed, missing Boyd's touch already.
The door to the solar slammed shut, and Maya was once more alone.
"Maya lass, what a wicked little minx you are turning out to be. I see you are progressing well with Macleod."
Maya gasped, rushing about the desk to put space between her and the intruder. It was the woman from the heated pools again, but this time she appeared more human, less ethereal. She certainly had less glow about her, that was for sure.
The Fae Queen, it would seem, could change her appearance.
"Kissing a man isn't anything miraculous. Macleod is not the first man I have kissed, and he will not be the last."
The queen smirked, tipping her head to one side, studying her as if she had never viewed a human woman before. As if she were a funny little object one had found and didn’t know what it was.
She chuckled, the sound echoing as if they were in a cavernous cave.
"Oh, my dear, I do like you. And perhaps if you believe that Macleod will not be your last embrace, I may have to ensure that is so."
No sooner had she appeared, she was gone again, vanished into thin air. Maya looked about the room, going over to where the woman had sat. She swiped her hand across the empty space, seeing if she was really gone.
She was, and her disappearance was as strange as her words. What did she mean by what she said?
Maya shivered, leaving the room. Whatever she meant, she did not li
ke it or the fact that it would ensure she would see the Fae Queen again.
When was the only question.
Chapter 13
Boyd rode hard down to the small village on the outskirts of the castle, just as the O’Cains who dared cross his lands for nefarious reasons were mounting their horses. They were brazen and idiotic, and several of their horses had dead sheep thrown over their backs, the blood of their slit throats running down the horse's girth. It would slow down their departure. Make them easier to catch and punish—stupid fools.
The O’Cain men spotted Boyd and the few clansmen he'd taken with him. They shouted to go, some darting into the forest, others mounting the horses and fleeing without their cache of sheep. They would not get far. Their arrival was just what Boyd needed this day. Bone and flesh to slice, to make pay for the frustrations still coursing through him after kissing Maya.
He'd not meant to kiss her, damn it. He was determined to let her go. Keep her safe until she could return to her home and proper time. Not make her his lover. Not take her for himself. To do so would only make her parting harder.
To have kissed her, to have reveled in her soft lips, her sweet-tasting mouth, the little sighs and purrs she made when he kissed her would drive him to insanity if he did not stop thinking of it. He was chief of his clan. She was a mere woman. He would not allow her to have such power over him, make his mind divert, and ponder the softer emotional sides of life. That was not who he was. Not anymore. Distance is what he needed from the lass. But something told him after their kiss; such duty would be hard kept.
They could not be allowed to kiss again. Each time he thought of the lass or dared kiss her, he broke his vow to his wife even if Sorcha had forgotten him these past hundred years.
The pain stabbed at his chest at Sorcha’s loss, of not being able to have Maya. Of the children he'd never seed, the normal life denied him because he'd made the mistake of loving a woman half-Fae.
Still, with all that stood between him and Maya, his past, his curse, the future he could not give her, he wanted her—burned for her as hot as the midday sun in a desert landscape.
He kicked his mount into a gallop, drawing his sword and shouting out a battle cry as they closed the space between them and the O’Cains. They would fight this day, and mayhap a little of his ire would dissipate at the spilling of enemy clansmen's blood.
Boyd wanted a bloody, deadly battle, as short as this one would be. The O’Cain men were no match for him and his men's strength and speed. They came up to the riders, and Boyd's first blow knocked a man from his horse. He tumbled onto the grassy riverbank, a sickening crack announcing he would not rise again. Boyd moved on to the rider ahead of him. His horse was fast, but still, it took too long to close the space between them. Impatience churned his guts. As he came abreast of him, Boyd sheathed his sword against his back and lunged for the O’Cain instead. They toppled to the ground. Pain tore through his back, his shoulder when it connected with a rock.
The man yelped, but Boyd didn't let him go. After they stopped moving, he came over him, punching the bastard several times before taking his head in his hands and breaking his neck.
He stood, staring at the man for several seconds before walking away and dismissing him as the worthless enemy he was. His men battled around him, their swords drawn, stronger, angrier than the O’Cain clan, who stood no chance.
Boyd had warned the enemy clan to keep off his lands, stop stealing, and there would be no more bloodshed.
But not anymore. "Burn the bodies," he yelled out to Douglas, who had done away with his opponent.
"Aye, Chief."
Boyd walked back to his horse, his arm smarting with pain. He rolled his shoulder, hoping he had not done too much damage. Not that he could be injured. Not really. He was immortal, forever breathing no matter what condition his body was left in after battle. It would heal, and all the quicker due to his curse.
"They are becoming bold," Douglas said, coming up to him and looking over the five O’Cain men, lifeless and bloodied on Macleod land.
"I canna understand why they continue to provoke. They're like a disease that doesn't want to wane. I'll no longer send them back, bloodied but alive as a warning. I'll merely kill each one of them. One by one if I have to until there is no O’Cain clan left."
They walked back toward the castle, leading their horses, watching as several of his clansmen dragged the bodies up into a wooded area out of sight of the well-used road they stood on.
"Has there been any reports of the Fae? Between the O’Cains and the queen, I'm losing patience."
"No sign of her yet. But the men are nervous. I've heard them speaking in the barracks. Thinking it best that Maya ought to be sent back to England."
Boyd stopped walking, turning to face Douglas. "They are fearful of Maya? It isn't she who is the problem. The Fae Queen has taken an interest and no more than that. She is not Fae herself if that is what they are thinking."
"I think you need to speak to them, Macleod. Put them at ease. We doona need them revolting on the clan as well as everything else that is troubling us of late."
Douglas's words made sense. It was understandable that his men were nervous. The Fae made even Boyd concerned more than he should allow them to. They had otherworldly power. Could take people at their will, never to be seen again. They had taken his Sorcha, and for a hundred years, he'd not gazed upon her pretty face.
The thought that the Fae now wanted to play with Maya, take another under his care, would not happen. He would die before he'd allow anyone else to fall into the Fae's fickle clutches.
"I will talk to the men. Maya is no threat, but the Fae and enemy clans such as the O’Cains are. I will remind them of this fact and their loyalty to me. Anyone who causes trouble after the fact can go. Leave. I'll not be tolerating scaremongering."
"Aye, ’tis a sound course," Douglas agreed.
They mounted their horses and rode back to Druiminn, only to find the castle yard full of his men, many of the servants outside, staring up at the castle as if it were something to fear.
"What is happening here?" Boyd yelled, dismounting, handing his horse to a stable lad who ran over to them.
"The Fae, Macleod. The queen has returned."
Dread circled his heart. Before the clansman's words were finished, Boyd was already running into the castle. His only thought was Maya. Was she still here? Was she in danger? What if the queen had done something to her? The Fae loved nothing more than tricks and fickleness, to tease and confuse those they taunted.
"Maya," he called, running through the Great Hall to start up the stone stairs leading to the second floor.
The castle was eerily quiet. No servants went about their chores. No sound other than the ocean beating against the stone fortifications of the castle outside.
Like a vision, Maya stepped out of her room, her face pale, but otherwise unharmed. "Are you hurt, lass? What happened?" He clasped her shoulders, shaking her a little as if that would help her tell him quicker.
"What happened?" She frowned up at him. "Nothing has happened to me. I'm fine."
Boyd moved past her and strode into her room, looking about. The room was empty, except for the distinct scent of lilies that always floated about Maya. "The Fae. They were here?" he asked, turning to face her.
Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded, moving over to her bed and sitting. "Oh, that. Yes, the queen was back. She didn't stay long, though. It was really strange."
"What did she say to you?" Boyd kneeled before her, taking her hands, urging her to tell him everything.
Maya frowned in thought. "She spoke as if asking herself a question about us. Said something about me not making you my last conquest."
Boyd stilled at the words. Conquest? "Have you had many?" he asked, hating the thought of Maya with anyone, faceless foes whom he'd like to strike a sword through.
Her cheeks flushed a little, but she did not look away. "I've been with other men, yes. I'm tw
enty-seven, do not forget."
Boyd couldn't form words. She wasn't a maid? He cleared his throat, forcing the words past his clenched teeth. "You've been with other men, do you mean that you have slept with them?"
She crossed her arms, a small frown between her eyes. Her lips thinned. "I have been. What about you? Have you been with many women? How many? What was it like? When did you lose your virginity?"
Boyd stood, striding across the room to lean on the mantel. "My life is not up for discussion."
"Well, why not?" Her words sounded behind him, and he turned to find her staring up at him, still glaring at him like a small banshee.
"Women are meant to be chaste. Maids until they are married. You are not married."
She rolled her eyes. "Times have changed. Women no longer have to do what their fathers or men in general tell them to."
"I doona think I would like your time."
She shrugged. "And yet again, you may. If our roles were reversed, and women in this time held more power, would you like to be told what to do? Who to marry? What alliance you should make for the good of your family?"
Boyd crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "Nay, but it isn't like that, so I have no concerns."
"Well, if it were, you would like it no more than I would. My time for all its difficulties, and there are many, at least affords me a life that I can do as I wish. Mine to make, to enjoy, to do what I want."
"You should have told me that you were not a virgin."
"Why?" she asked, her blue eyes pinning him to the spot. "Why should I tell you? It's a personal thing that I need not tell anyone if I do not want to."
"Oh, but I would know when I took you that you were not a virgin. To trick a man in such a way ’tis shameful."
She shook her head, shutting her mouth with a snap. "I’m not trying to trick you into anything, and how would you know? I could fake pain, and you would be none the wiser. You men are so infuriating sometimes. I'm starting to see why you've not found love in all this time you've been immortal. You're a chauvinist."
