by Eno, Laura
"I know." Her voice caught as she whispered the words but it wasn't from fear. She'd never wanted anything more in her life than to feel him push inside of her.
Ian scooped her up into his arms before she could form a coherent thought and spread her across the bed. He knelt on the floor and pushed her skirts up around her hips, kissing the insides of her thighs in a slow, torturous pattern.
Deanna writhed, trying to pull him onto the bed with her. It was like attempting to move a large boulder. He chuckled as she moaned and moved his lips closer to the heat between her legs.
"I'm going to taste every inch of you first." His warm breath swept over her skin as his tongue flicked in a circular motion, causing her body to buck.
Deanna grabbed his hair in both fists and held on. Tremors built inside before exploding in cascades as she climaxed. Ian massaged her behind with his large hands, rocking her in place as his tongue lapped at her wetness.
"I want you inside me," Deanna managed to stutter between pants.
"All in good time," Ian replied, peeling her dress away from her body as he continued to spread kisses across her skin.
He palmed each breast and ran his teeth over her hard nipples, leaving Deanna moaning as he traveled down her belly, taking small nips. She tried to wrap her legs around him but Ian gave a low laugh and trapped her legs underneath him.
"Let me pleasure you, lass. I dinna want this to go quickly." He reached up and captured both of her wrists with one hand, holding her arms above her head as he slid his plaid off with the other.
Deanna squirmed under him, feeling his thick shaft rub against her hip in response. He groaned and brought his mouth down on hers in a crushing response. She took advantage of his distraction to slide one leg out from under him and wrap it around his hip. He trapped her other leg tighter, rubbing his cock over her belly in a slow tease.
Deanna sucked on his lower lip in a battle for supremacy. The muscles inside her ached to be stroked. He released her wrists and she grazed her fingernails down his back, watching him arch with feline grace.
"You are a temptress." He rubbed his erection back and forth but never quite entering until Deanna couldn't take it any longer and dug her nails into his butt like spurs.
With a groan, he buried himself deep inside in one stroke. She willed her muscles to relax and take him in. His eyes locked on hers as he began moving in and out, obviously trying to be gentle. Deanna didn't want gentle. She fevered for his touch, wanted him to turn her inside out.
"Fast and hard," she managed to say.
His body trembled, as if her words had unshackled the beast within. He grinned and moved her legs up over his shoulders, holding her tightly as they rocked in unison. Deanna cried out as he pushed her over the edge again, her inner muscles throbbing against his shaft.
"I canna hold back when you do that," Ian gasped and increased his thrusts, shuddering as he released inside of her.
He held still for a moment, eyes closed. She began to worry about what might be running through his head when he opened them again. His gaze bathed her in tenderness, a look of wonder in his eyes. Deanna thought she probably had the same expression on her face.
He brought her hand to his lips and spoke in Gaelic, the words filling her with warmth even though she didn't understand the meaning.
Something irrevocable had happened tonight, Deanna mused after they'd made love a second time in front of the fire. Her feelings went far beyond having great sex. She'd never believed the tales before, people who swore they loved their soul mates at first glance…but what if they were true?
She fell asleep in Ian's arms still pondering that question.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Boulder, May 2012
Ian tipped his face up to the morning sun, stopping along the mountain trail to savor the latest memory he'd received. Deanna had given herself to him. The thought filled Ian with a quiet joy. He wished again that he could see through to the end of his mortal life and how having Deanna by his side would affect the outcome, but the Gods must have their reasons for not allowing it.
Each curve of her body, each touch and word spoken—all burned in his mind as if stamped with a brand of hot iron, guaranteeing that time wouldn't dull the experience for him. Her kiss still feathered across his lips, leaving a ghostly imprint behind. Even in memory, the experience was more vivid than the way they'd touched in dreams before she left. Ian raised his fingers to his mouth and smiled, even as his loins ached to spill his seed inside her. He loved Deanna, though his mortal self didn't comprehend that yet. In time, he would understand what a treasure he held.
Ian froze on the path—not by choice but as an unseen force gripped him in its power. A man appeared before him just as his limbs were released back to his own command again. The stranger wore modern clothes such as he did—jeans, t-shirt and hiking boots—but had the air of a highlander about him. He also looked familiar.
One item caught Ian's attention that changed everything he might have thought about the man. A sword hung from his waist…and the markings on it were Conrí.
Ian shifted into a fighting stance, even as he read the other's magic. The man held up his hands in a placating gesture.
"I'm no here to fight. I only wished to introduce myself. The name is Donell." He stared at Ian with a certain respect, not in challenge.
"Why should you wish to know me? I have aligned myself with the Aeneas. You are Conrí." Confusion washed over Ian as he read Donell's magic. The man was a Druid, like himself. He also looked like Ian's uncle, his father's younger brother. "Are we clan?"
Donell smiled and shrugged, his mouth held in a lopsided grin. Now he looked like Alec, Ian's only brother. A pang of sorrow lanced through his heart to see that boyish expression again.
"Mayhap. I'm here to ask why you align yourself against Lugh. Come join us, clansman. You're on the wrong side." Donell's voice held a note of entreaty, as if he really cared about Ian.
Uncertainty swelled in Ian's thoughts and he struggled to banish the feeling. Was it possible he was acting against the God he'd always followed?
He shook his head and bared his teeth at the stranger before him, determined not to let the other see the conflict roiling about in his head. "I believe you have that backwards. Why dinna you join me and learn the truth?"
Donell flexed his hand on the hilt of his sword but didn't draw it. "Then I believe we are at an impasse, ancestor of mine. Dinna say I no warned you."
He disappeared from the path, leaving Ian to puzzle over his meaning of ancestor. A distant cousin perhaps? Donell reeked of Druid magic but twisted and dark—a serpent coiling about his spine, ready to strike. Nothing remained of the power to heal the land, like the gift from Brìghde that Ian possessed.
Perhaps he wasn't clan after all. Whoever he was, Ian felt sure they'd meet again. The Conrí had groomed Donell to be a counterweight to Ian's unique magic. The only question that remained was when they might use Donell to strike.
Ian continued his hike, no longer seeing the beautiful memories from five hundred years in the past. His thoughts filled with battles still to come. Which side would prove victorious? In the end, did it really matter? The Gods could destroy them all.
***
Highlands, May 1505
Deanna floated down the stairs the next morning in a fog of happiness. She'd dressed quickly, anxious to see Ian again. He'd already disappeared from her bed when she awoke this morning from the short nap they'd finally succumbed to.
Mairi ran over as Deanna entered the dining hall, her eyes moist with tears. "I'm sorry you canna be at my wedding. I'll miss you, sister."
"What are you talking about? Of course, I'll be there." Deanna took the girl's hands and held them. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"But Ian says you canna go. It's too dangerous with someone trying to kill you." Mairi held her chin up high even though her bottom lip trembled. "I agree. I'd no forgive myself if something happened to you just becaus
e I wanted your company."
Ian makes love to me all night, then decides he can tell me what to do? That wasn't how things worked. "Don't worry. I'm going to your wedding whether Ian likes it or not."
Mairi's mouth dropped into an O as she stared at Deanna's face, then a sly smile crossed her lips. She leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I can see why Ian is taken with you. You're verra unusual, to be crossing the Laird's orders."
Deanna watched Mairi skip off again, glad that she amused someone around here. Now to go fight with that thick-headed Scot…
She found him in the stables. He gave her a wide smile which faltered as she bore down on him.
"You look angry. Did you no like waking up alone?" He stroked her cheek and Deanna bit her lip against the sensuous tremor running straight between her legs.
"I'm going to the wedding." She crossed her arms over her chest and watched his eyes dip to her breasts before coming back up to focus on her face.
"Nay. I willna allow it. Someone means to harm you and I must keep you safe." His eyes narrowed at her, fully expecting her to comply.
"I'm going. Besides, wouldn't I be safer with you?" Deanna saw him hesitate for a fraction of a second but it was enough to press her point. "If I stayed here, you wouldn't know if something happened to me."
"No. Guards will be watching the keep. You'll be safe here."
Deanna poked him in the chest with her finger, all pretense at being reasonable gone in a flash of temper. "I'm going because Mairi wants me there. Deal with it." She marched back out of the stables, furious with his possessive attitude. What right did he have to tell her what to do?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Munro's voice carried through the hall as Ian entered the keep. "Our Lady Deanna may be a Cameron but she's no related to those at Achnashellach. She's much too good for the likes of them."
Ian stifled the growl rising in his throat as he hurried to find out who Munro was talking to. The man sat at the table with an ale in his hand, leaning forward like one who enjoys collecting gossip. His demeanor changed when he saw Ian, trying to swallow his drink and rise from the table all in a single motion.
"I'd best be on my way." He grabbed his pack and hurried out the door as Ian stared after him.
"Who was that?"
"Him? Just a courier," Munro said and held his drink up in a salute. "He was delivering a notice to me from my son."
"Why were you telling him about Deanna—especially that she's a Cameron? Someone's trying to kill her. We dinna need strangers causing more trouble for her." Ian glared at his friend and dropped down on the bench so heavily it rocked beneath his weight.
"Relax, Ian. He was a courier, no a spy for the Cameron. What has you crabbit?" Munro poured him a drink and Ian swallowed it in one gulp.
"Deanna is determined to go to the wedding."
Munro shrugged. "Lock her in her room."
"I canna do that." Ian ran his hand through his hair, wanting to pull it out by the roots for a distraction. The woman's logic infuriated him but he admired her convictions, too. He'd make the same choice in her place—which worried him.
***
Highlands, June 1505
Deanna smiled as she watched Mairi take her vows to the younger son of the Mackenzie Laird. More than a week had passed since the night she and Ian had slept together—most of it spent in traveling to this neighboring clan. During that time she'd come to realize that Ian had only been trying to protect her, not take away her freedom. Perhaps it was time to forgive him, after refusing to speak to him on the trip here. They'd both been miserable because of her insistence on making a point. She owed him an apology as well.
A young child slipped his hand into hers and tugged on it. Deanna looked down into a cherubic face wearing a broad smile. He couldn't have been more than five or six. Was he lost?
She glanced over at Ian but he was deep in conversation with several of the Mackenzies. Deanna didn't want to disturb them so she let the little boy pull her along until they were outside of the tiny chapel and into the crowd of villagers who waited for the festivities to start.
"Where are we going?" she asked. He said something to her in Gaelic and kept walking toward the edge of the crowd. Deanna moved with him, enjoying the night air and the way the torches seemed to make the trees dance with their flickering light. The chapel had been hot and stuffy with so many bodies crammed into it.
A man yanked the kid away from her and hustled off with him, his low voice muttering in angry tones. Deanna glared at the man's retreating back. Honestly, if parents would keep a better watch over their children, they wouldn't wander off in the first place.
She realized she was in a darker section and started back toward the crowd again. A strong hand clamped over her mouth and a masculine voice hissed something in her ear. He pressed his body against her back and held her in place. Her gorge rose at the smell of dung on his fingers.
Deanna struggled against the arm wrapped around her waist and kicked back into her attacker's shin. The man jerked her harder and released her mouth. Before she could scream, he hit her on the back of the head and her vision went black.
***
"Where did Deanna go?" Ian spun around trying to catch sight of her in the crowd. He'd told her to stay next to him at all times and she'd promised she would. Did that woman not take anything he said seriously?
"I wouldna worry overmuch," Mackenzie said. "She was talking to one of the laddies awhile ago. Mayhap she stepped outside for some air."
A search through the crowd outside took time and Ian's stomach balled into a hard knot as he shoved between the people milling about. Mackenzie had ordered the portcullis closed but what if it was too late and somebody had already taken her? The ancient magic that surrounded Deanna still had him unable to sense her whereabouts.
The crowd seethed and compressed around him, oblivious to his mounting desperation. They squeezed the air from his lungs until he fought through the masses, reaching an empty spot in order to think straight. It'd been too long since anyone had seen her. If anything happened to Deanna, he'd never forgive himself.
The eastern sky had taken on a golden hue when Ian concluded that Deanna wasn't among the revelers. If someone left with her before the gate closed, they had several hours head start by now. The portcullis rose and several Mackenzie guards charged in on horseback. Ian ran to them to hear their report.
"We found Angus and his wagon tipped over in the glen," the captain of the Mackenzie guard said. "Before he died, Angus told me several men had taken his wife and children hostage to gain his cooperation. They used a child to lure your Lady to them, then put her in the wagon. He thought they might be Cameron."
A red haze filled Ian's vision at the captain's words. "Then they've taken her to Achnashellach. Prepare to ride."
The voices of his men rang out as one, yelling the Mackay war cry. Ian turned to Mackenzie with a request. "I'd ask that my mother be allowed to remain here with you until I return for her."
"Of course. Godspeed to you. Take whatever supplies you need for the journey."
Munro slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm going with you. This is my fault. If I hadna opened my big mouth to the courier, our Deanna would be here safe in our midst. I'll help you retrieve her."
Ian nodded, biting back the harsh remark on the tip of his tongue. Pointing out Munro's error wouldn't help bring Deanna back. "We leave in fifteen minutes."
His mother's vision came to mind, the one where she'd seen Deanna riding with the Cameron. He wished he'd remembered it earlier. It would have saved time—time that worked against them now. Ian ran to the stables, determined not to waste any more precious minutes.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Deanna groaned as she slowly came awake, the stench of animal hair and sweat filling her sinuses. Blood pounded in her head and a rhythmic bounce pummeled her body with each downward motion. She cracked her eyes open and saw hooves kicking up dirt as they swung back and forth in he
r field of vision. She was laying upside-down on a horse. Why?
She screamed as she tried to shift her hands and pain shot up her arms, jarring shoulders that felt like they'd been ripped from their sockets. The skin on her ankles burned as well. That's when she realized she was trussed up like an animal ready for slaughter. Nerve endings all over her body checked in now and the pain overwhelmed her, preventing any rational thought from seeping through.
One thought managed to beat against her psyche—she'd been kidnapped. By whom? Did Ian know? An eerie keen erupted from her throat.
A fist punched her already tormented shoulder as a voice spoke harshly from the front of the horse. Deanna didn't understand the words but she gulped back the sounds she'd been making.
The dawn light illuminated the path below the horse. The trail fell away into a canyon with a boulder-strewn river below. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on not slithering off the horse.
When they stopped later to let the horses rest, Deanna was hauled off of hers and dumped on the ground like a sack of grain. She must have passed out because two men stood over her arguing when she opened her eyes again. One walked away while the other rolled her onto her back, forcing Deanna into a splayed position with knees bent outwards and her wrists still tied underneath her.
The man's eyes raked her body before reaching down to rip the front of her dress. With a screech borne of rage, she attempted to slide her feet sideways and knock him off-balance. It didn't work. She got a slap across the mouth for her efforts, splitting her lip open.
Her yell brought the other man back, at least. He shouted at the first one, who spit on her before walking away. The one who remained untied the rope binding her ankles and wrists.
A second scream tore from her throat as her muscles reacted to the sudden freedom. She lay on the ground panting, sweat dripping from her face, as the blood-starved tissue jerked and convulsed.
The man standing over her spoke as he hunkered down close to her face. He was older, his hair mostly gray, and showed compassion in his brown eyes.
