Falling for the Chieftain: A Time Travel Romance (Enchanted Falls Trilogy, Book 3)

by Keira Montclair

  The sound of another horse came crashing through the forest behind them, loudly enough to startle her captor. She heard him utter one word, “Shit.”

  He grabbed her by the arm and lifted her off the horse, lowering her quite a bit before dropping her to the side.

  She landed flat on her back, hard, and she couldn’t breathe.

  This was it. She was going to die.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brann was about to cross the line at the end of the course ahead of his brother, guaranteeing a win, when he heard a scream.

  It was a scream he knew well.

  A man had just lifted Allison up onto his horse. She lay facedown across the beast’s back as her abductor galloped toward the forest.

  Hellfire, he could lose her.

  He glanced at the line in front of him. If he rode for another minute or two, he’d win, but then she’d be another minute or two ahead of him.

  He turned his horse away from the course with a growl, knowing he’d just lost to Taran, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t lose Allison. Not yet.

  Not ever.

  He rode his horse hard, pushing Star into a frantic chase after the fool who’d kidnapped Allison. Following the man into the woods, he set a frenzied pace, but just before he caught the man, the bastard picked Allison up with one hand. He held her in the air for a brief moment, lowered her toward the ground, and then dropped her onto the ground and took off faster than a deer hearing the swish of an arrow.

  Brann would kill the bastard for certain. He started to go after him, but one look at Allison, crumpled on the ground, stopped him.

  She looked dead. Her eyes were closed, her chest wasn’t moving. With regret, he glanced back at the perpetrator, taking in every last detail, and dropped to the ground next to Allison.

  She still wasn’t breathing.

  “Allison!” He fell to his knees and shook her, now scared to death. What the hell had happened? Had she snapped her neck? Wounded her back?

  Wild over the possibility that she could die in front of him, he gripped her shoulders, lifting her enough to shake her a wee bit. “Allison!”

  Her eyes flew open and she grabbed at him, driving her nails into his skin. “Can’t breathe…”

  He finally let his breath out. “Ye must have had the wind knocked out of ye. Relax.”

  She shook her head, panic written all over her face, so he lifted her to a sitting position and settled her on his lap, cuddling her under his chin. “Ye’ll be fine. If ye’ve never had it happen, ‘tis most frightening, but ‘twill come back.”

  He looked at her face, paler than he’d ever seen it, her expression full of trust that humbled him. “Ye scared the devil out of me. I’ll kill that bastard when I catch him.”

  She finally gasped and leaned into him, her breathing beginning to return to normal. “He just grabbed me…He just…”

  “Hush, lass. Ye’ve no need to talk. Ye can tell me all about him later.” Wrapping his arms around her, he acknowledged to himself that he never wanted to let her go.

  Horses’ hooves interrupted them, crashing into the forest. Angus came upon them first, Taran and Lachie fast behind him.

  “What happened to her? Is she hale? Did ye kill the bastard?”

  Brann glanced up at his second. “He threw her off his horse to keep me from catching him. I thought from a glance that she wasnae breathing, so I had to make a choice.”

  Lachie squealed, “He got away?”

  “Aye, he’s gone. I have nae idea who he is.” He peered back at Allison. “Did ye recognize him?”

  “No. I didn’t get a good look at him. He wore a mask.”

  Brann stood up and helped her to his feet. “I’m taking ye home.”

  “May I stay, Brann?” Lachie asked. “I’ll go home with Taran, be back in a few more days?”

  Brann had never felt so defeated. “Do whatever ye must, Lachie. I’m keeping Allison at home until we find the villain who hurt her.”

  ***

  Later that night, Allie rolled over to face Brann. They’d slept in his favorite spooning position, and she’d fallen asleep for a short time, but now she was troubled.

  What should she do about this huge hulk of a man who had stolen her heart? If she went back through the portal, she knew what would happen. She’d go home to her slightly boring job and predictable life, and she’d lie awake every night, remembering how it had felt to be loved by Brann MacKay.

  Oh, he wouldn’t say it, but what man did? She knew with every ounce of her being that the look he’d given her earlier, after finding her out of breath on the ground, had been the expression of someone in love.

  Brann MacKay loved her, and if it was as much as she loved him, then she was one fortunate woman. She’d found the love of her life, only he didn’t live in her world.

  What could she do about that?

  Her mind flashed to the woman near the merchant tents. She’d warned Allie someone was looking for her. Could she have been trying to warn her about the evil man who’d stolen her in the middle of the festival?

  If so, perhaps she was a true seer. There might be something to her talk of Edinburgh. Even though the woman hadn’t said a word about her sisters, Edinburgh was closer to Leannan Falls, so perhaps that’s where she’d find more information about the legend—or maybe even a way to get back. Truth was she was in no hurry to return anymore.

  She peered at the man who truly loved her for herself, trying to embed the memory of him in her mind, just in case something were to happen. Somehow, she knew this was it; this was her one chance for true love.

  They hadn’t fooled around because he’d been afraid he would hurt her because of the strain on her back from falling, and she’d fallen fast asleep. But now, as she watched him in his sleep, she wished to beg him to make love to her.

  She ran her finger across his bottom lip as lightly as she could, but the change in his breathing told her he’d awakened. Without opening his eyes, he whispered, “Did ye find another dick cover somewhere? Did ye have more hidden?”

  “No,” she said with a grin. That smile disappeared when she said, “But I don’t care anymore. Make love to me, Brann.”

  His eyes opened wide, one brow quirked at her. “Truly? Ye arenae teasing me?”

  “Not teasing,” she said as she placed the palms of her hands together and rested them between her cheek and the pillow. “I love you, Brann MacKay.”

  His hand brushed up her arm, sending a cascade of shivers through her. “Ye make me question everything I’ve ever believed, lass. Is that what love is?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s probably different for me than for you.”

  “I’ll make love to ye on one condition.”

  “What?”

  “That this time, ‘tis at my pace, and ‘twill be mighty slow.”

  She rolled onto her back so she could stretch all the muscles in her body, her arms reaching overhead until they hit the wall. “I accept and look forward to your odd sense of torture.”

  ***

  Brann pulled himself up until he hovered over her, gazing into her eyes. “But ye will still beg me. I can promise ye that. Mayhap ‘tis not torturous, but ye’ll no’ soon forget it.”

  “That sounds quite enticing, my lord.” She ran the back of her fingers across the light stubble on his chin.

  “Does it?” He settled his lips on her mouth, a slow, evocative kiss meant to let her know how much he enjoyed kissing her. His tongue darted out to find hers, and their tongues dueled until he could stand it no longer. He changed his pace to a deep, ravenous attack on her lips, wishing he could devour her and never let her go, anything to keep her here.

  “Mayhap I’ll tie ye to my bed and never let ye go,” he whispered against her ear, and she shivered with a gasp. So pleased was he with her response that instead of kissing his way down her skin to her breasts, he used his breath to torment her, occasionally darting his tongue out for a quick taste of her.

  He
r hands found his shoulders and her nails dug into him with a bite, compelling him to take her breast fully in his mouth in response. He suckled her until she cried out with a throaty moan that went straight to his cock. If it were possible for the lass’s passionate response to make him any harder, she’d just accomplished it with one sound.

  His hand strayed down to the folds between her legs, finding her slick with need already. “Allison, ye are a horny beast yerself, are ye no’?”

  “Yes,” she whimpered, sliding her hands down to his biceps. “For you, Brann. You make me crazy with need. Take me now. I want you.”

  “Och, ‘tis way too soon for that. Ye cannae beg yet.” His hand moved up to tease her nipples, his thumb teasing the taut peaks while his mouth trailed down to the vee between her legs. He teased her first with a flick of his tongue in the right place, then moved his hand down to part her folds and plunged his tongue inside her wetness, making her writhe with need.

  “Brann, please. I want to come with you inside me. Please?”

  “Ye will, I promise ye that.”

  “Please, Brann?”

  “Ye’re begging again. No’ allowed.” He returned to his task and suckled on her nub until she writhed so much, he couldn’t keep her still.

  He stopped and forced himself up onto his knees, trailing his hands back up her body with just the lightest of caresses, using more pressure in the right places. “Ye are so beautiful. Long legs, breasts that beg to be suckled. So responsive. Ye make me hard with yer throaty gasps.”

  “Now, Brann.”

  It wasn’t a question, so he chuckled and settled himself over her, putting his weight on his elbows as he kissed her neck. Her hands gripped his backside, trying to tug him close enough, and she rubbed herself against him, her legs spreading wide until he entered her with one thrust.

  “Oh,” she said with a moan and a sigh of pleasure. “Again.”

  He did just that, pulling out, teasing her entrance, and then thrusting back in quickly and stopping. “Ye like this?” he asked, nuzzling her neck just beneath her ear.

  “Oh yes,” she murmured.

  Brann had planned to torment her in such a way for quite a while, but his own need took over, forcing him to proceed a bit faster. He picked up his pace and rode her hard and deep, and she moved her legs to take him deeper until he thought he was in heaven.

  “Lass, I swear I’ll never get enough of ye.”

  Her response was a moan followed by her climax, her contractions bringing him to his own orgasm with a roar.

  Barely able to balance his weight on his elbows, he fell against her, panting. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and said, “I swear if I die making love to ye, I’ll die a verra happy man.”

  With her warm, curvy body wrapped tight in his embrace, her gasps from their lovemaking heating his skin, and the feel of his own heart pounding in his chest, he had only one thought.

  He’d never be able to let her go.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Allie leaned back in the tub in front of the hearth in her chamber, a long sigh rolled out of her mouth. Last night, Brann had made her squeal and moan like she’d died and gone to heaven—and then come back for more.

  How she hated the turmoil raging through her body.

  She missed her sisters, wanted a bath in a real tub instead of this cold metal monstrosity she sat in, but she also wished for love. Brann had shown her exactly what her life had been missing back in Maine. If she went back, she’d probably never find the same love again.

  Maybe she could convince him to go with her. He’d love the showers, the cars, and he’d probably spend all his time at the horse races.

  Who was she trying to kid? He would not fit in Mayport Bay at all. He’d be too big for her car, too loud for any shop, too gruff for…well…everyone but her. But he was her gruff, stubborn, braw, gentle Highlander, and she had no desire to leave him.

  What was she to do?

  A knock sounded at the door, and it flew open before she could respond. “Allison, we need ye.”

  She slunk down into the tub with a shriek until she realized it was only Brann. Still, she could see the outline of someone standing behind him.

  “Brann? The door?”

  He glanced over his shoulder—the outline revealing itself as Taran, his brother—then slammed it. “Ye need to get out.” He tossed her a linen towel and grabbed another one to help dry her.

  “What is it?” She stood there while Brann did a lousy job trying to dry her off, haphazardly wiping her down as he looked for her clothing at the same time.

  “Lachie. He’s sick, verra sick. Ye must fix him.” Then his voice lowered to the barest of whispers. “I could not bear it if anything happened to the lad. He’s all I’ve got. Ye must save him. Please.”

  This wasn’t the time to argue with him about Lachie being the only one he had, but his choice of words did tell her that the boy’s illness was mighty serious. She’d been right to worry about him at the festival. “Hand me the gown over the chair in the corner.” She’d done her best to dry herself off before donning her shift and her panties. How she wished she had more pairs.

  “Hurry. He’s got these spots all over him.” With that, he rushed over to the door and held it open for her, tapping his foot when she didn’t immediately follow him. Taran must have gone off somewhere because the hallway was empty.

  “Forget yer hair,” Brann said, clearly irritated that she was trying to run her fingers through her wild waves. She grabbed a leather thong and tied it back out of her way.

  “Let’s go. Show me where he is.” She followed him to a small chamber at the end of the passageway.

  Taran and Jinty stood in the dark chamber, fretting over Lachie’s bed. The shutters hadn’t been opened, so Allie moved to the window and opened one, letting in the cool fresh air and sunlight.

  Jinty, truly upset, hurried over to the window to close it again, dropping the fur over it. “Och, ‘tis not good for the laddie. The air is bad, ye’ll make him worsen.”

  Allie placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, Jinty. The air will not hurt him. I need the sunlight so I can assess him, and the fresh air could be helpful. It’s a little dusty in here. Maybe you could clean a bit? Or how about some fresh water in the urn and some linen squares? That would be most helpful because he looks feverish.”

  The maid clucked her tongue and took off after the water. “Poor laddie.”

  Allie nodded to Taran. “He’s been with you?”

  “He sickened again this morn. I brought him to ye right away. Lachie says ye have special skills. I couldnae awaken him. He slept the night through and still wouldnae move.”

  Brann tipped his head toward Lachie, indicating he wanted her to see to her patient. She knew better than to explain the importance of finding out the history of the illness, so she made her way to the bed and sat down next to Lachie—something she’d never be allowed to do at her job.

  “Lachie?” His eyes were closed, so she did a quick assessment. Skin flushed but dry. A pinpoint rash at his neck. She suspected she’d find it on his trunk as well.

  She took his pulse only to have Brann whisper over her shoulder. “There’s naught wrong with his wrist.”

  She ignored him and continued her assessment. Breaths were shallow, only a little fast, and his heartbeat was also fast but regular. She stood and motioned to Brann. “Would you help me sit him up, please? I’d like to look at his torso. Tell me what he’s had to eat since we last saw you, Taran. Has he been drinking any fluids?”

  “He hasn’t been hungry or thirsty. He wouldnae eat anything last night, and I couldnae awaken him for breakfast. ‘Tis why he’s here.”

  Jinty rushed back in with the urn. In a flurry of activity, she poured fresh water into a bowl on the chest and set a stack of linen squares down beside it.

  “Jinty, would you bring Lachie some water to drink? But please be sure it’s been freshly boiled this morning.” The older woman nod
ded and left, pleased to have something to do.

  Brann sat his youngest brother up and helped Allie remove his tunic. She found just what she’d expected. The rash covered the boy’s torso, front and back, and both arms.

  “Lachie?” she called.

  He neither answered nor stirred. She laid him back down but didn’t cover him because his body raged with fever. “Brann, could you dampen some linen squares and hand them to me, please?” While Brann grabbed the squares, she palpated the lymph nodes around his neck, not surprised to find some hard and swollen.

  He did as she asked and she set the cool cloth on the boy’s forehead before sweeping it over his cheeks and his neck and his chest. His eyes finally fluttered open. “Lachie, I want you to wake up for me. Just for a moment.”

  He opened his eyes at the same time Jinty returned with another pitcher and a goblet of water.

  She held her hand out for the goblet. “It’s not hot, is it?”

  “Nay, I checked it. ‘Tis cool.”

  Allie put her hand behind the boy’s neck and sat him up enough to put the cool water on his dry lips. “Lachie, you need to drink this.”

  He sealed his lips shut and shook his head.

  “Why not? You need liquid inside you.”

  He finally opened his mouth to speak. “Nay, ‘tis too painful.” His voice sounded strained.

  “Does your throat hurt?”

  “Aye.”

  “Is it as bad as the last time?”

  He nodded.

  “If you wish to get better, you’ll have to drink the water. Drink for me.”

  “Must I?” The boy’s eyes teared up and she was glad to see he had enough fluid to make tears. He was definitely dehydrated.

  Brann came up behind her. “Aye, Lachie. Ye must drink. Ye’ll be getting sicker if ye dinnae. Do as she says. All of it.”

  Taran, who stood on the other side of the bed, said, “Ye told me ye trusted her to make ye better. Ye must listen to her.”

  Lachie drank a bit down, but his eyes misted all the while.

  “Stick your tongue out for me, please?” she asked, peering inside, not surprised to see a white coating there.