by Gill, Tamara
"Do you often walk about your bedchamber naked, lass?"
Heat bloomed on her cheeks, and she shook her head. "No, of course not. Not often," she ventured.
He placed the tray down on a small cabinet, walking toward her and reminding her of a wild lion she'd once seen seeking to mate during breeding time at the zoo.
Even after her less-than-pleasant interaction with the Fae Queen, her body reacted as it always did when she saw Boyd. It sizzled to life, her wants and needs demanding attention. The queen warned her not to fall in love with Boyd, but somehow Maya thought it was already too late. She was falling for the rugged Scot, and there was nothing that could change that fact, not even a threat that she didn't know would materialize or not.
He reached out, lifting each of her fingers that pegged the animal fur closed at her chest. The fur slipped from her hold and pooled at her feet, leaving her exposed, naked to his gaze.
His eyes ran the length of her, a slow, torturous inspection that left her breathless. Moisture wantonly pooled between her legs.
"I have affairs to attend to in the keep, but you, lass, well, you make me want to pull you into my arms and make sweet love all morning."
Was he going to leave her? Oh no, no, no, she couldn't allow that. Not with the heat that licked at her skin from his mere inspection. "You cannot look at me like that, Boyd, and not attend to affairs here first," she stated, determined to get her way.
Boyd could not believe what his lass had uttered, but her determination to get her way was as true as her nakedness. She wanted him. Wanted him as much as he burned for her. He'd awoken at dawn, determined not to let the lass from the future complicate his life, change the structure of his days.
But she had, and with very little effort on her part.
His mind alone could not stop thinking of her abed upstairs, asleep and utterly tupped to within an inch of her life. He had forced himself to remain in the solar, read reports from allied clans, talk to Douglas about today's training. Of what his clansmen were saying after their travels to the boundaries of his land.
All the while, his mind had stolen to their hours of lovemaking. To Maya's willingness to let him have his way, to kiss and pet her wherever he wanted, to lathe kisses on her in her most private of places, to touch and savor her body like the goddess she was. Even now, he burned for her, longed for when they could be alone.
His men were assembled in the courtyard, ready for a day's training. They had to prepare for the O’Cains, for another melee would soon follow. Being distracted as he was for the past weeks with Maya here at Druiminn, he felt his ability required study within himself.
"I doona look at you in any other way than I normally do," he answered, knowing full well he looked at her like a man starved of a woman a hundred years.
She shook her head, closing the space between them, her delicate hands sliding up his arms to lock at his nape. "You are looking at me as if you want an encore to last night's events. Do not say that you do not."
Oh hell yes, he wanted an encore. He wanted more than that. "I doona have the time, lass. I must go."
She pouted up at him, and he groaned. Damn the woman and his growing inability to say no to her. "Well then, if you must go and leave me hanging, I suppose I'll have no choice but to do it myself."
The very thought of Maya touching herself made him rock hard. She sauntered over to the bed, crawling onto it before lying on her back. Boyd felt every muscle in his body grow taut. For a moment, it was hard to breathe. He clasped the bed in support. This woman would bring him to his knees if she followed through on her threat.
"You wouldn't," he hedged, a small part of him hoping she would.
She raised her brow in defiance. "Wouldn't I?"
Her hand slipped over her stomach, one finger outlining her belly button before moving farther to the manicured curls that had held him in fascination last evening. His attention shifted to her face, and he found her eyes focused on him. Her breathing increased, her breasts rose and fell in a motion of enticement. With wickedness he never thought to see in a woman, her hand slipped between her legs, clasping her sex. She arched her back, a soft sigh of satisfaction passing her lips.
It was all it took. Boyd was on her in a heartbeat. His men, his training, missives, and safeguarding his home forgotten, at least until he'd sated their needs. Possibly more than once.
Chapter 20
Maya knew she was playing with fire the moment she touched herself. The fire that burned in Boyd's eyes was enough to singe her, even with him at the end of the bed, watching her with an intensity that left her reeling.
When she followed through on her teasing, touching herself, she hadn't thought Boyd would break so quickly. How wrong she was.
He came over her within a breath, taking her hands and pinning them above her head. With his free hand, he ripped at his trews, opening them only enough to release his delightfully large cock.
He thrust into her without waiting for her to catch her breath. Took her in hard, maddening, deep strokes that sent her mind reeling.
His green orbs, so like the color of the Highlands, sizzled with fire, need and something else, she thought. Dominance perhaps, but definitely possessiveness.
Maya wasn't certain how that made her feel, but what she did know was right now wasn't the time to delve into those new and mysterious emotions crackling between them.
With only her legs to hold him, she wrapped them about his hips, lifted herself up to meet his claiming.
It didn't take Maya long to feel the tightening of her body, her breathlessness as release was upon her. She came, hard and quick, convulsing about him as he spilled into her. His muffled panting of her name warm against her ear.
Boyd slumped beside her, and Maya stared up at the ceiling for the second time this morning, remembering what she needed to tell Boyd about the Fae Queen.
He lay an arm over his eyes, his chisled chest, tight stomach rising quickly with each breath. She grinned, noting he was practically fully dressed except for where his cock, still half-hard, lay against his trews.
"You are a distraction, my lass. One that keeps me from my responsibilities."
Maya didn't want to be a distraction, not if it meant his home and clansmen were put at risk, but she also knew that she wanted to see him. Often and alone preferably.
"I won't seduce you again," she teased. "At least not when I know you're needed elsewhere. Would that suit better?"
He turned his head, watching her. "Aye, that would suit better, but it is yet to be seen if it can be done. I doona think I can keep my need of you at bay. Not even for a day."
Pleasure thrummed through her, and she curled into his side, throwing her leg over his waist. She clasped his jaw, making him meet her eye. "Is it so bad that we enjoy each other's company?"
"Nay, ’tis not bad, but we shall try better. The clan are already suspect of you, we doona need them thinking that you have possessed my soul."
Maya laughed. If only she could be so lucky as to possess such a man, make him hers. But she could not. This time here in old Scotland was just a passing dream. A mistake in the make-up of time itself. It would right its wrong, throw her back home and then she would be left heartbroken that the man she'd come to like more than any before him, had long left the world.
The Fae Queen was right. She needed to guard her heart. Before she lost it in sixteenth-century Scotland, never to be returned to her again.
Dougall O’Cain sat in a crofters cottage, only several miles from Druiminn Castle, the stronghold of his enemy and the laird he would rid the world of himself if there was any justice in the world.
He sat across from the newly married couple, both of them roped to chairs, the woman's mouth at least shut with a tied bit of cloth.
"Tell me about your laird’s guest? She's English, and quite beautiful I'm told. Does he hold her in high regard?" Dougall asked, narrowing his eyes as the young Scot clenched his jaw shut. The English wench may be a w
ay in which Macleod would fight. If he could get his hands on the outlander.
Dougall flicked his head at the lad's continual silence, and a knife appeared at the throat of the young woman's neck. Her tears marked her cheeks as they steadily fell, her whimpering growing on Dougall's last nerve.
"She's English. Some say she has our laird besotted for the first time since his wife disappeared. He is defensive of her, stood up to his clansmen and women when they questioned her staying at Druiminn. Some of the clan thought her bad luck, that she was causing the strife on some of the outlying farms."
Dougall laughed to himself, knowing it was no wench from England who was causing the issues the Macleod clan were having. That, in fact, it was his men raiding, stealing, enjoying the spoils of the fertile land.
"What do you think of the lass? Do you think she's a witch?" Dougall was no fool, and he didn't want to set out to seize Macleod land if he were up against more than a mortal man and his rabble of people.
"Nay, I do not. Macleod would never jeopardize his people by allowing anyone with dark magic to remain at Druiminn. Not even if that person were a woman."
Dougall rubbed his jaw, not so certain that was true. The Macleod laird was immortal from all reports, cursed by the Fae for going against the rules. Not that he believed such a tale. No man lived forever. The young laird was simply a doppelganger of his forefathers, not a continuation of the same man. And yet, to dismiss the rumors as he had of late, left him uneasy.
Had the Fae played a part in cursing the laird, he did not wish to anger them whether he believed it to be true or not. The Fae could curse his people, his land never to bear a good harvest again. Make his cattle and sheep barren, never to breed.
"I want you to travel to Druiminn after we leave. I want you to let Macleod know that I was on his land and that under my sword, he will fall. Immortality means nothing to the O’Cains. Tell your laird that we're coming for him, and he will lose, both his lands and for the second time, his wench."
Dougall wrenched from the chair, striding to the door. "Rape the woman, and make the husband watch. I need Macleod to know I'll not spare his people."
He walked from the cottage to the muffled screams of the woman, the shouts of the man. He smirked, gaining his seat on his horse. "We'll return to O’Cain stronghold. I have achieved all I want for now." But soon he'd return with an army of men, outnumbering the Macleod, and the rivers on his land would run red with blood. The land would soon be his, and he'd allow nothing to get in the way of that.
No English wench. Not witchcraft or the Fae. Nothing.
Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty One
The following afternoon Maya found Jeane out near the stables, speaking to Douglas. They stood, close, heads bent, watching several clansmen rub down horses, the mounts sweating and breathing heavily after their run. The bailey was busier than normal. Men walked about, fully armed, looking as if they were on their way to battle or just returned from it.
"Och, Maya lass, ’tis good to see you. I feel like I have been neglecting you the last few days. I hope you doona think that I am," Jeane said, stepping away from Douglas as if her interest in him was forbidden.
"Never," Maya said, nodding hello to Douglas. "Have you seen Boyd today? He left early this morning, and I've not seen him about the castle. He's not in his solar."
A shadow crossed Jeane's eyes before she blinked, and it was gone. Did Boyd have something to do with the horses that had come back labored and tired? The men who walked about armed? The pit of her stomach twisted, and she couldn't help but wonder if something was afoot.
"You've just missed him, lass. He's headed down to the heated pools to bathe. There was a small skirmish a few miles from here."
Fear spiked through her. A cold sweat chilling her skin. She pulled Jeane aside, needing to know more. "Is everyone okay? What happened?"
Jeane walked her through the bailey toward the back of the castle that overlooked the sea. "More O’Cain men are causing strife. Late last night or I should say this morning, a farmer sought solace and help after the O’Cains attacked his farm. Dougall O’Cain himself sent a warning message to Boyd."
A warning message? What did that mean? Was the clan going to go to war? Maya hated the idea of such a thing, so much death and destruction, and for what? Nothing really, not when all was said and done. "What was the message?" she asked, not quite certain she truly wished to know.
"That Boyd would die by his sword and before the year was out. Boyd and several men rode out this morning to seek retribution. To see if they could intercept Dougall O’Cain before he crossed back into his lands, but could not. They did, however, come across others thieving livestock and dealt with them appropriately."
Maya wasn't foolish enough not to know what dealt with appropriately meant. She sighed, unable to pull forth an ounce of pity for the enemy clan, not if they were hell bent on causing so much strife. It was amazing that anyone survived these hard times in history to continue their families far into the future. She supposed Boyd's family was one of the few who did not get lost in history. They still had the title and a laird in the twenty-first century, but this O’Cain laird sounded like trouble to Maya. Oh, how she would love to tell O’Cain that his fight against Boyd was in vain. That he would not win. History had already proven that point.
"I shall go to him."
"No," Jeane said, clasping her arm in a punishing grip. "You cannot go without a chaperone, and most of the men have just returned from battle. They will not want to escort you."
"Jeane, I'll be fine. It's five minutes from here, and Boyd is there."
Jeane bit her lip, a frown between her brow as she thought over Maya's words. "He'll skin me alive if you should meet him there alone."
"I will tell him I went without telling anyone." Thankfully Jeane let her go, and Maya strode quickly out of the bailey and down into the trees, being sure to follow the well-worn track to the heated pools.
The closer she came, the more she could hear the water falling into the pool, the intermittent splashing as Boyd bathed in the water.
She stood in the trees before the clearing, enjoying the sight of Boyd as he washed his arms, his stomach flexing and showing off his impressive midriff. All the troubles of just before floated away at the sight of him. So strong and able. Tall and muscular, a god of the Isle of Skye and hers, for the time being in any case.
With no one else present, Maya made herself comfortable leaning against a tree, smiling to herself as he dipped his head, attempting to wash his tangled hair.
"Do you need help with that?" she asked, chuckling when he started at her voice, his eyes finding her quickly enough in the undergrowth.
He frowned, searching the trees for others. "Are you alone, Maya?"
His voice was calm, but she could hear the censure in his tone. She sighed, walking toward the pool, kicking off her leather boots, and dipping her toes in the heated water. "I am, but before you go all highlander on everyone back at the castle, no one knows that I came here. I heard someone say that you were bathing, and I wanted to join you."
One of his eyebrows rose in disbelief, if eyebrows could rise in such a way. "You are not allowed to leave the castle grounds without me. ’Tis not safe for you, lass." He stood, several yards into the water. Her attention dipped to his chest, his stomach that she only now realized was bleeding. She gasped, going to him and forgetting she was still fully clothed. "You've been cut," she stated, touching the wound. She pushed it together, a sizeable slice just above his bellybutton. Thankfully it wasn't too deep, but still, his gasp pulled her away from inspecting it.
"Aye, I wasn't quick enough to get out of the way of that strike. Doona flash yourself, lass. It'll heal in a day or two."
Her touching of the wound aggravated it, and it started to drip blood. She cringed. "I've made it bleed, sorry."
His amused chuckle brought her attention back to his face, and she looked up to find him smiling at her.
"What are you laughing at? It's not funny. Look," she said, pointing at the wound. "It's bleeding worse now." She frowned in thought. "You need to return to the castle and have it bandaged."
He reached down and splashed some water on it. "It'll be well. ’Tis only a small cut."
Maya regarded him a moment, hoping he wasn't injured anywhere else. "You fought today. Was it bad?"
He shook his head, pulling her against him and holding her tight. He didn't seem to want to do anything else, content just as they were. Maya wrapped her arms around him, holding him hard in return.
"The O’Cains attacked an outlying farm. Raped the wife and beat her. Her husband traveled all night to tell us after she passed away. I could not allow the O’Cains to get away with such treatment." He placed a small kiss on her shoulder. "If it is a war that they want, then they shall have it."
Maya's stomach churned at the idea of the farmer's wife’s pain at being beaten and raped. This time was so hard, cruel, and dangerous.
"I don't want anything to happen to you," she admitted. The idea of Boyd being injured or killed spiked fear into her more than the fact she may never be able to return home. She didn't know much about clan battles, the history regarding the Isle of Skye. The clan wars, and who won them throughout the ages. All she knew was that the Macleod clan was still around in her time, but that did not mean they were a direct line to Boyd. The laird today could be a distant relative, Jeane's bloodline even. He may have died, been killed, even with the immortality curse shadowing his every step.
"I don't want to even think about you going to war. I'm sorry for the farmer and his wife though. He must be devastated."
"He is. To lose a wife is never easy, but to lose one at the hands of someone else while you're made to watch is a punishment meant for no one."
