Highlander’s Curse

by Melissa Mayhue

  Seeing no alternative, she wrapped herself up, toga-style, pulling the end of the cloth up and over her shoulder and tucking it into the tight wrap around her breasts.

  Once she felt herself securely covered, she gathered up her dirty things and dropped to her knees, shoving her pile of dirty clothes into the tub. It might not be the best washing they’d ever get, but it had to be an improvement over what they’d been through in the last five or six hours.

  She’d just started to wring out the long pants when the door opened and Colin entered carrying a tray laden with food and a large jug.

  “Good,” he said as he set the tray on a small, round table in the corner closest to the fire. “Yer out of yer bath. Come up from there and join me for a bit of supper.”

  Abby grabbed on to the side of the big tub to push herself up to stand, every single one of her muscles screaming in protest at the move.

  As if he read her mind, Colin was at her side in an instant, his hands under her elbows taking the full force of her weight to lift her to her feet.

  “Thanks.” She smiled up at him and might have said more if not for the chill of his hands on her arms. “Your hands are like ice. What have you been doing?”

  “You had the tub, so I used the loch. Was no so warm as yer own fine bath, my lady.”

  No wonder his shirt and plaid clung wetly to his body.

  “Here.” She walked to the bed and scooped up the second drying sheet that had been left for them. “You should probably get out of those wet things. You can drop them in the tub with mine and I’ll wash them out after we eat.”

  A look of surprise danced over his face. “Is that what you were doing there on yer hands and knees? Washing yer things? Roderick has maids to do that for you, wife. You’ve no need to do it yerself.”

  “Those girls that were in here before?” She handed him the drying sheet and turned her back to wait while he changed. “I don’t think so. They were just kids, and besides, I’m guessing they’re all in bed by now.”

  Behind her she heard the slap of heavy wet cloth hitting the stone floor.

  That would be his plaid.

  Followed by another wet plop.

  His shirt.

  Abby bit the inside of her bottom lip, struggling to wipe from her mind the image of him standing behind her completely naked. In the buff. Gloriously buffed in fact, she knew from experience. She’d seen him that way one too many times not to have the image engraved on the back side of her retina.

  “Do you think you might lend me a hand with this?” he called. “I canna seem to manage the fastening as you have with yers.”

  Her mind blanked for a second when she turned, the vision of him wrapped in the drying cloth, his damp hair curling at his shoulders, filling every available brain cell.

  She crossed to where he waited and reached out to take the cloth’s end from him, only vaguely embarrassed by the way her hand shook as she looped it over his shoulder.

  “There you go.” She tucked the end behind the material wrapped at his chest, patting it for good measure.

  Or perhaps simply as an excuse to touch the hard expanse of his chest.

  Had she been thinking of Rome such a short time ago? It should have been Greece, because here she was, standing in front of her own personal Greek god. Maybe Aries. He looked pretty warlike. Did the Greeks even have a male God of Gorgeous? Because Colin could definitely be him right this minute, whatever his name might be. If she’d only paid more attention in those classes, but she’d been so much more interested in Celtic than Roman and Greek mythology.

  “Are we to stand here, then, staring at each other, or shall we have our food?”

  Abby blinked and then blinked again, slowly dragging her thoughts back from the expanse of linen-covered chest spread out in front of her as all the fantasies it had sent her off pursuing faded away.

  “Sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

  Tired. Right. It wasn’t tired that was knotting itself around her organs. It was desire. Hot, desperate need.

  She took a seat across from him, face flaming, and waited as he poured from the jug into the two cups on the table.

  “It’s a fair honey ale Roderick’s people make,” he said as he passed the cup to her. “No so good as the one we put by at Dun Ard, but this’ll do in a pinch.”

  She sniffed the brew before taking a sip. Not bad. Not at all bitter, but it did leave a heavy aftertaste, similar to that of a dark beer.

  “How do they keep it from being warmer than this?” There certainly wasn’t a refrigerator in the back room.

  “I’d imagine they store it underground. That’s what we do at Dun Ard.”

  She emptied her cup and pushed it forward for a refill. Not quite a true cold brew, but cool enough to hit the spot after such a long day. The wooden tray held meat shavings, bread, cheese, and dried fruit, the same as every other meal she’d had in this century with the exception of the large midday meal when she’d first arrived. They’d served a thick soup along with everything else at that meal.

  If she was this tired of the food after only three days, mealtimes for the next week or so were looking pretty grim.

  “You know what sounds good to me? A big old salad. With ranch dressing and bacon bits and every kind of green leafy thing you can imagine. Doesn’t that sound good to you?”

  She could almost feel the ale humming through her bloodstream as she emptied her second cup and pushed it toward Colin for another refill.

  His eyebrow arched, but to his credit, he didn’t question her. He simply refilled her cup and returned it to her before he rose and headed over to the tub.

  “There are any number of things that sound good to me, but yer weeds are no one them. Though I will say this: yer time did present a pleasurable abundance of variety at the dinner table.” He spoke as he kneeled down to pull the first garment from the tub.

  She should tell him not to bother, that she’d take care of those things when she finished her meal. But with each twist of cloth, the muscles in his forearms corded and rippled and she couldn’t seem to bring herself to encourage him to stop what he was doing.

  Besides, it was such a sweet gesture on his part. No wonder she had fallen in love with him.

  “Like!” she blurted out as the candle sitting nearest her sizzled, its wick burned down into the wax. The little flame flickered out, leaving the room a fraction darker than it had been a moment before.

  “You like what?” Colin asked, still bent over the tub.

  “Nothing,” she muttered, pushing the ale away. So maybe she did like him. No big deal. For a fact she lusted after him. But love? No. Absolutely not. She wouldn’t allow that to happen.

  “We should get some sleep. Morning will come early and we’ve a long day’s ride ahead of us.” Colin made his way around the room as he spoke, snuffing out each of the candles in turn until, at last, he stood in front of her with only the light from the fireplace flickering behind him.

  He held out a hand and she accepted it, rising to her feet and allowing him to lead her to the bed.

  It was a massive, high affair that would require her to hoist herself up into it, the sort of furniture she’d expect to see a step stool sitting next to. Colin lifted her to sit, saving her the problem of clambering inside. She remained where he’d set her, her feet dangling over the edge as he loosed the bed’s draperies and let them fall into place before he joined her, climbing through the draperies into his side of the bed. Once he’d made his way inside and the draperies fell shut, no trace of the wavering firelight was visible.

  It took only a moment for the apprehension to begin to build.

  “It’s like a box.” A dark little coffin kind of box.

  “This is an old keep and the shutters dinna fit so very well. They let in as much of the wind as they keep out, so we can consider ourselves fortunate it’s no likely to rain. The bed draperies will add to our comfort.”

  “If you happen to be comforta
ble sleeping in a dark little box, maybe.” Wrapped up like a mummy in a linen sheet, laid out to be preserved for a thousand years. The whole effect was one she didn’t find the least bit comforting.

  “Lay back and get yerself some sleep.”

  The mattress next to her rustled as Colin worked his way under the covers.

  With the impenetrable black closing in on her, there was no way she could even begin to think of adding the weight of a layer of blankets on top of her body. It would be like throwing dirt on top of herself.

  As if the draperies had sealed them in an airtight container, she struggled for her next breath. It felt like the dark little box was closing in on her, getting smaller and smaller with each breath she took.

  Thinking to distract herself, she rolled to her stomach and flattened her face against the mattress.

  That worked no better. If anything, it was worse. The linen cloth tangled in her legs and felt much more like a binding now than the toga she’d imagined earlier.

  This was likely all she had to look forward to if she couldn’t return to her own time. Night after night in cold, drafty castles, using a stone bench toilet and shutting herself into a dark little tomb to sleep. And that was a best-case scenario.

  Moment by moment, the panic built, like fingers tightening around her throat. Her mind filled with images of long-dead bodies wrapped in linen, hidden away in airtight boxes to preserve them.

  But she wasn’t ready to be preserved.

  “I don’t think I can do this.” She sat up, twisting onto her knees. “I absolutely know I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  Any of it. “I can’t breathe in here. I need out.”

  Desperation peaked. Completely disoriented by the dark and the panic, she flailed her arms in search of the drapery opening, stopping only when she smacked into Colin’s shoulder.

  He was on his knees next to her, holding her, when the trembling began. She collapsed against him, shutting her eyes against the encroaching black void.

  “It’s this dark little box. It’s closing in on me!”

  “Calm down,” he ordered, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll help you.”

  She heard a swish of fabric and swiveled her head in the direction of the noise.

  Thank God!

  The wavering light of the fireplace shone through the break in the draperies, and she scrambled toward it like a drowning man toward the water’s surface. Just like that drowning victim, she gasped for air as her feet hit the floor. Her arms locked around her middle and she bent at the waist, hanging her head forward to take in great gulps of air as if she’d just reached the end of a marathon run.

  “You’ve a problem with enclosed spaces?”

  Colin was at her side, his large, warm hand rubbing up and down her back. She could only nod her answer.

  “You should have told me. Here.” The hand at her back urged her toward the fire and down onto the rug. “Sit. Relax. Yer going to be fine now.”

  Of course she was. Out here in the open, in this big room, with all this space and all this air, she could feel her heartbeat slowing to normal.

  He rejoined her, sitting down at her side and pulling her close to him before he draped a blanket he’d taken from the bed around their shoulders.

  “There,” he comforted. His arm tightened around her as he pulled her head to rest on his chest and, with only a small shift of his body, he lay back, drawing her down with him. “Try to close yer eyes and get some rest.”

  Rest? With the adrenaline she’d just pumped through her system in that panic attack? Not hardly. Not for a while. And certainly not with his heart pounding under her cheek and the heat from his chest searing her palm. Searing her leg, too, now that she laced it over the top of his.

  “I don’t think I’m sleepy anymore.” With her body ensconced in his embrace, she was about as far from sleepy as she could imagine.

  Not that her imagination wasn’t busy picturing other activities.

  “If no sleep, what would help you to relax?”

  She bit back the groan that question brought to her lips and shifted against him, trying for something approaching comfort.

  “We could talk,” he offered. “Would you like that? When my brother Drew and I were but lads, we’d lie in our beds and tell each other stories to see who could put the other to sleep first. We could—”

  “Nope,” she interrupted.

  Talk wasn’t at all what she had in mind. Stranded seven hundred years from home in the draftiest, most uncomfortable castle that had likely ever existed, lying in the arms of the sexiest man she’d ever met, she was in no mood for talk.

  “I only thought that since it had worked so well for Drew and me, we might—”

  “I’m not your brother,” she interrupted again, rubbing her toe against his ankle.

  “I ken the truth of that well enough,” he muttered.

  “Good.” She lifted her head to watch his eyes as she ran her finger along the top of his linen toga, playing with the flap that ran over his shoulder and tucked into the wrap. “In that case, if you’re up for it, I have an idea of what we can do and I’m pretty sure it’s not something you and Drew would ever have considered.”

  With a flip of her finger, she untucked the flap and tossed it over his shoulder, watching his eyes narrow as she waggled her eyebrows up and down.

  “If yer suggesting what I think you are, I’m up for it, as you say.”

  Before she could even begin to try to come up with another double entendre, he had her on her back, his big body looming over hers.

  “More than up for it.”

  The hard bulge pressing against her lower stomach was absolute proof of his claim.

  He shifted to his knees and pulled her up into his arms. Their bodies pressed against each other, face-to-face. His mouth captured hers, sending her off on another flight of fancy as his tongue swept her mouth before his lips left hers to travel down her neck.

  She lifted her arms to his neck, twining her fingers in his hair. A cold shiver took her body, and she realized her wrap was gone, pooled at her knees. An instant later, it was joined by his, and he pressed his heated body against hers as he lowered her once again to her back.

  His mouth traced a path from her neck to her breast and when he suckled, his tongue flickered over her nipple in lightning-quick touches that drove her wild with need. She lifted her legs, locking them at his back, pressing herself against the heated skin of his erection.

  He groaned and lifted his head to search her face. Bracing his arms on either side of her, he lifted his weight from her body while his hands slid under her head to cradle her like a living pillow.

  This was it. He was in position, his hot flesh pressed against her opening. Any second now, he’d enter her. The anticipation built by his slow back-and-forth agitation over that opening was driving her mad with need.

  “I’d no idea before this moment how badly I wanted this,” he whispered, and dropped his head next to hers, nibbling at her earlobe. “Or how much yer commitment would mean to me, wife.”

  Her brain was fuzzy with excitement. “I totally know. I feel exactly . . .” Wait. Commitment? “What commitment?”

  “To us,” he breathed into her ear. “To the entwining our souls demand. To our lives together.”

  His hands slid to her waist, clasping her tightly as he drove inside her.

  Behind her eyelids, there were sparkles and fireworks. It felt that good. Her entire body trembled, held on edge waiting for that magnificent moment of release. He pulled out and prepared for a second assault.

  If only she could let that last comment go and just lose herself in the moment.

  “Our lives together?” she panted. “You mean you’ll come back to my time with me?”

  He hung motionless above her as if frozen in the time she meant to travel through. “I’ve told you why I canna do that. There’s too much for me to accomplish here. Surely you ken the changes I can make th
at can be made by no other. No, my love, it’s you who’ll stay at my side, aye?”

  No, no, this whole thing was going sideways, right at the worst possible moment.

  “I never said I’d stay here. I don’t even want to stay here. I can’t. You should know that. Just like you can’t go around changing history, Colin. You should know that, too. It’s wrong.”

  A tension that was in no way sexual slipped into the stillness between them, and Colin rolled away from her to lie on his back.

  “What might be history to you, wife, is but the future to me. A future that has yet to be written.”

  “Oh, really?” She turned to her side to stare at him. “Well, while you’re busy contemplating all those big changes you’d like to write into that future of yours, just keep in mind that with every change you make to my history, you run the risk of making someone I care about blink out of existence. Maybe even me. Pretty damn hard for our souls to entwine if I don’t exist, don’t you think?”

  He pushed up to stand, ignoring her question. “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”

  Abby lay on the floor, her body thrumming with frustration, the spot beside her resonating with its emptiness. He’d walked away. He’d simply gotten up, turned his back, and left her lying here in a pool of her own disappointment.

  “You’re doing this to get even with me because I was the one who stopped everything last time, aren’t you?”

  “This has nothing to do with last time. I stopped because yer no willing to give the commitment I seek. You want only a physical coupling with me. Sex, and nothing more.”

  That wasn’t it at all. She wanted commitment as much as the next person, but not if it meant spending the rest of her life in the fourteenth freaking century. And not if it meant risking the world as she knew it.

  “So?” she demanded. “What’s wrong with just sex? I can’t agree to the kind of commitment you’re asking. Why’s that so difficult for you to understand? You’re not willing to commit to the things I see as important.”

  “It’s no at all difficult for me to see what you intend. My intent is something else entirely. Good night, Wife.”

  He climbed up into the bed, pulling the draperies firmly shut behind him, and in what seemed like a matter of moments, soft snores emanated from the bed where he lay.