Forged in Dreams and Magick hl-1

by Kat Bastion

  “What are you working on?” I peered around his shoulder. Several large maps were layered over the tall surface. Iain glanced back, shrugging.

  He kissed the top of my head. “Doona be concerned with my dabblin’. ’Tis late. I want my bed warmed with you, woman.”

  Beyond him, the wall came alive. The surface rippled in gentle vibration, beckoning my touch. Its compelling magnetism pulled at me, even with Iain between us. The sparkling gray stone shimmered, its celestial spider web of lights pulsing brighter and brighter the longer I watched. Iain glanced back to see what held me transfixed.

  I opened my mouth, the question hanging on my lips. He turned back to me, placed his hands on my shoulders, and spun me right out the door.

  “Bed. Now.”

  His dominant command left no room for negotiation. My thumping heart and hungry body overrode brain function with the most basic Pavlovian response, and I obeyed the order without hesitation.

  We raced up the stairs, bursting into a darkened room where all my erotic fantasies had become a phenomenal reality. From the beginning of our marriage, we’d shared his well-appointed bedchamber and sumptuous bed. Every little thing he’d done from the instant we united proved how much he wanted me to be a part of his life and belong in his world.

  The door slammed shut. I loosened the bindings of my bodice, and Iain stripped the clothes from his body. His gaze torched pure lust my way as my dress and chemise fell to the floor. The few feet between us vanished as our bodies crushed together, arms wrapping around each other, his lips consuming every inch of my heated flesh. Iain’s touch became my body’s every command as slick moisture pooled between my thighs, readying for his invasion.

  Iain broke contact, pulling away. Wild-eyed with a devilish smirk, he backed onto the bed, slowly lying back, the proud display of his manhood saluting the ceiling in tribute to me.

  “Come to me, my beauty. Wrap those devastatin’ lips around me.”

  I grinned. Iain loved the way I took him in my mouth. The intimate act had become my favorite foreplay. Lack of experience had been quickly overcome by my eagerness to learn, his enthusiasm to teach, and my innate desire to excel at everything—especially pleasing him.

  In slow seduction, I crawled onto the bed, my breasts gently swaying between my arms, hips rolling from side to side. Iain propped his head up on folded arms, watching me intently. Dropping my body low, I kissed from the inside of his ankle up to his knee, brushing my hands along the outside of his legs in long strokes as I slinked forward. A drag of my lips high on his inner thigh pulled a low moan from him. I licked my lips, pressed them to his tip, and sucked past the tight pressure I’d created, pulling him partially into my mouth. A growl shredded from his throat, resounding off the walls.

  I smiled, proud of the sound I’d caused. The tip of my tongue swirled around his ridge while I gripped my hand hard around the shaft. I teased lovingly, licking him in calculated torture.

  A battle ensued between how long I could pleasure him and how long I could resist having more. My motions mimicked what I wanted my body to be doing—taking him deep inside me.

  I marveled over how soft and supple skin could be stretched so tight over rigid muscle. His thick length twitched in my hand. My body clenched in response, the instrument obeying her maestro. Iain moaned low, grasping the sheets in his fists. On a slow descent, I sucked him completely inside and swallowed hard around him.

  His hands gripped my forearms, signaling an end to the appetizer and motioning for the main course to come at once. He jerked me roughly up his body, spreading my legs with his knees. I tumbled astride him, crushed down by his arms to accept his hungry kiss. Iain arched his hips up, and I pressed mine down. A perfect connection was made as he impaled me. My heart stuttered in sublime pleasure, Iain filling me in every possible way.

  Awash in amber glow from our hearth’s fire, Iain’s features grew fierce as they pulled tight in passion. His brows were drawn down, his pupils blown wide, and his hair fanned over the pillow as if a strong headwind had thrown it back. He bucked his hips as I pushed myself up, bracing my hands on his chest.

  A hot ache tightened within me as I raised and dropped in time with his erotic rhythm. I groaned, tossing my head back, the pressure building to near unbearable. Suddenly, a live wire snapped through my body, and I gasped as it sparked and twisted, setting me ablaze. I distantly heard myself scream Iain’s name. His incredible stamina continued, carrying us farther, drawing out every delicious spasm.

  Iain’s strong hands clutched my hips harder as his face creased with exertion. Desire spiraled higher with every stroke. Nerves sizzled with every touch. The force of our impacts echoed into the room, our sweet, musky scent permeating the air. Every sense sharpened as I floated—a sparkle of dust aloft in a moonbeam. Weightless. Suspended.

  The power of the rush swept me away, and I screamed. On a final thrust, Iain roared as he joined me in release. I collapsed onto his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. Our hearts beat in rapid staccato against one another as his hot breath feathered across my cheek. In silence, we labored to catch our breath. Finally, I sighed.

  “Isa?”

  His voice gentled so soon after his feral growls made me smile. Our peaceful companionship before drifting to sleep had become a cherished ritual as we shared random thoughts and favorite things. The nightcap to our wild sex had become a slumber party of sorts, filled with stories from childhoods or dreams of our future.

  The fragile threads of intimacy had woven into strong bonds as we learned that despite our vast differences, we shared the same principles and beliefs about life and family. We both believed in God, but only tended to talk to the Big Guy on a need-to-pray basis. When we dreamed of children, we wanted at least a boy and a girl, but weren’t opposed to more.

  Talking with Iain felt as easy and comfortable as a worn pair of jeans. The modern-day Californian in him enabled his effortless shift into the vernacular I’d come to miss amid all the heavy brogue and Gaelic.

  “Feel okay?” He tipped my chin up with his finger, kissing my lips tenderly.

  My smile broke our lip-lock. “I feel amazing.”

  Iain gently rolled us over, separating us. A rush of cool air hit my damp skin as he draped a bent leg over mine. He propped an arm under his head, smoothing a free hand down between my breasts, laying it to rest across my belly. Firelight cast his ruggedly handsome face in ever-changing glows and shadows as he gazed deep into my eyes.

  “Do you feel like you could be with child?” The slight raise of his eyebrows melted my heart. I wondered if he’d overheard Agnes’s bawdy comments, or if he’d thought about the subject on his own.

  I placed my hand over his, lacing our fingers together, and kissed his lips. “I don’t feel any different. But . . . I suppose I could be.”

  Even though we’d talked of children, the thought of actually becoming pregnant had never entered my mind. Of course, I understood how the whole concept worked, but in the whirlwind that my life had become, I hadn’t yet given it serious thought.

  The idea of carrying Iain’s child . . . of having his children . . . filled me with a great sense of fresh purpose. But it surprised me. I’d only ever had one goal. A singular objective had governed the entire course of my life: unlocking history’s secrets that I inherently knew lay in wait for me. An imaginary magnet had drawn me along a clear journey toward archaeological discovery, but some unexplainable force had plucked me off that path and dropped me onto a new one. And the detoured road seemed paved with infinite possibilities.

  The expression he held—a fragile smile, barely raised eyebrows—gave me something more, something he radiated and I absorbed . . . hope. A family born of his seed would strengthen my developing roots. No longer would I be a wanderer in a foreign land. Our essences from the past and future blended together would irrevocably become our present.

  “Isa, you’ve had a rough adjustment with the magick snatchin’ you from your home, impr
isonin’ you here. I dinna know that would happen. But what I need you to know is that you’re everythin’ to me. I had no idea I’d been lookin’ for you all my life . . . ’til I found you.”

  He gently kissed my forehead, captivating me with his heartfelt words.

  “My life is enriched now that you’re in it. I doona know how I survived before you and have no idea what I’d do if I lost you. Hopefully, the joy of your new life will replace the loss of your old one.”

  A tight knot choked the base my throat at his candid profession of love. No Hallmark card had anything on my man. I struggled to reply, overwhelmed by the most profoundly beautiful thing I’d ever heard. “Iain, it already has. You mean more to me than everything in my past. Your people, this place, and all that you are have laid claim to my heart. I don’t want to leave. I’ll never need to go back home . . .” I leaned forward, brushing my lips across his, whispering, “Because I’m already there.”

  Iain threw his body over mine, nearly knocking the wind out of me with a strong embrace. I wrapped my arms around him, gripping him tight, emotions welling up inside of me at the rugged warrior who’d ripped his chest wide open, exposing his beating heart. Air barely entered my crushed lungs, but I didn’t care. Elation sustained me. He needed me like I needed him—like the very oxygen I’d soon need to breathe.

  My budding love for the man in my arms blossomed, the sensation of being lost in time and space fading away, no longer affecting me. Any last threads of hope to return had been severed by my need to stay. Every part of me belonged here. With Iain. He owned my body, heart, and soul.

  With my gentle push, we rolled to the side. My lips grazed up his neck to the shell of his ear. “Nothing could tear me away now, Iain.”

  I resolved in my heart that nothing ever would.

  CHAPTER Twelve

  Life threw me curveballs when I least expected them. Ten days ago, I had been thrown the pitch of the century, and yet, I’d cracked that ball into the stratosphere.

  I opened my arms and tilted my face to the sky, basking in rays of warm sunshine as morning’s splendor greeted me. On the wings of indescribable joy, I soared high into the clouds. For the first time in my academically cloistered life, I’d fallen in love.

  The irrevocable change that had seeded deep inside burst forth, radiating into the entire world. Logic told me nothing outside my personal self had changed, and yet . . . everything had. Colors shone more vividly, each a brilliant, distinct hue; scents held greater depth, teasing my nose in sensual invitation; an ordinary breeze that misted across sun-warmed skin turned extraordinary, skittering invigorating chills over my body.

  I inhaled deeply, detecting Iain’s natural woodsy cologne, which hit me a microsecond before he did as he wrapped his warmth around me from behind. I squealed, turning in his arms.

  “Iain!” I kissed him soundly. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have clan officiating to perform?”

  He laughed. “I handle disputes when needed. I’m teachin’ them to deal with each other first.”

  A leather satchel hung from his shoulder. I glanced toward the stables and saw Dubhar had been saddled, meaning a long journey. A dozen horses had been outfitted, the energized animals pawing at the ground. Armed soldiers gathered around them, strapping on supplies.

  “You’re leaving.”

  Iain captured my lips in a brief kiss, smacking my ass through the layers of my skirt. “First, I’ve a surprise for you. But, aye. We’ve assembled a huntin’ party. The time’s come to find our missin’ guardsmen. I plan to unleash hell on whatever force delayed their return.”

  Fingall, Gawain, and Seamus had been missing for a week now, with no word of their situation. “Please be safe.” I dropped my gaze, my fingers tracing a raised white line along his forearm. “I’m quite happy with the number of scars you currently have on your body.”

  He hooked a finger under my dropped chin and gently brought my lips up to meet his. With a tender kiss, he soothed my worry. “A scratch from a fight is naught but a souvenir. I’ll be givin’ plenty before they ever have a chance to mark me. Come, I’ve somethin’ to give you.”

  Iain led me to a stone addition built onto the back side of the kitchen. We stepped into a cool, dark room, and Iain opened the connecting door, watching me intently as a familiar rich scent floated in.

  I gasped in surprise. “Coffee!”

  He grinned, lifting a steaming ceramic bowl from a kitchen table. “Aye. You like? Mairi fussed over you drinkin’ out of a bowl, but I insisted.”

  Like a parched wanderer at the end of a desert odyssey, I seized the offered bowl and took a coveted sip. Although it was no Jamaican Blue Mountain, the aromatic drink had a deep buttery flavor. I loved it from the very first taste.

  I explored the cold store, enjoying my first coffee in almost two weeks. Huge burlap sacks and wooden barrels lined the walls. As I leisurely perused the inventory in the ten-by-ten space, distinct aromas of spices tickled my nose. A large bag, lying open on a stack of others, held dark brown coffee beans.

  “Where did you get access to all this?”

  He smirked. “Weel, a few late crusaders stole a bit of Arab treasure for dear King Henry. While on a ‘diplomatic’ trip to the English royal court, we liberated the crusaders of their burden—in totality.”

  “Awww . . . my very own java pirate.”

  I peered at my man above the rim of my chic medieval coffee mug. There stood a warrior whose face had transformed from its usual “hard and menacing” to ruggedly handsome with a single grin at having pleased me. With his arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe, his entire bearing reminded me of the afternoon I arrived here. Only instead of seeing an adversary in a kill-the-messenger way, I saw the Highlander who stood before me for what he was—the man of my dreams.

  As I sipped the aromatic brew, my gaze drifted to an open bag that contained a rusty powder. I bent down, inhaling the sweet scent of cinnamon. With a pinch of my finger, I stole from the stash, dropping the spice into my cup. I swirled it in, and the next slow sip rolled decadent flavors over my tongue. Something so simple gave such immense pleasure. My gaze trailed below the open bean sack to count five more burlap-type bags. “So I guess we have coffee until the supply runs out.”

  “Woman, I would travel to the ends of the Earth to bring that smile to your face.”

  I stepped into his side, wrapping my free arm around his slender hips, and beamed up at him. “Iain, all this face ever needs to smile is you.”

  The outer door opened, and Robert popped his head in. He tipped his head toward me. “M’Lady.” Then he glanced up at his laird. “Iain, the men are waitin’.”

  Robert disappeared, and Iain pulled me into a tight embrace, kissing me so thoroughly, I had to grip my coffee mug tightly to keep from dropping it. He finally broke away, gazing down at me. “Stay close to Brigid. She’ll watch over you. I’m leavin’ Fergus and Ailig behind to lead the men and protect the clan. I’ll return before you’ve had time to miss me.”

  I sighed, kissing him once more. “I miss you already, Iain Brodie.”

  * * *

  The horses carrying Iain and his guard galloped over the drawbridge and disappeared into the green haze of the dense forest beyond. I squeezed Brigid’s shoulder, witnessing the departure of the rescue party in solemn silence. My mood grew somber with worry for his safety, regardless of his being one of the most fearsome warriors in the land, and perhaps at the realization that I’d lost my man for a few days. Brigid’s man had been missing for a week. I had much to learn from the courageous front she held.

  “Brigid, let’s go hunting. It’ll take our mind off the men, and I need practice with my bow.”

  “Nay, I canna,” she said, gently shaking free of my hold. “I’ve promised to collect herbs with Agnes. Would you like to come?”

  Agnes would talk our ears off. Hours of ceaseless girl talk appealed to me as much as a dip in scalding tar. I needed immersion in
an activity that required focused concentration, leaving room for nothing else in my head. “No. Go ahead. I’ll catch the hare, and you can season the stew.” I frowned when she didn’t respond to me. “You okay?”

  She gave me a weak smile. “We’ll find the herbs for you. And, aye, I’m well. Doona mistake my quiet. My head is filled with plans to tan Fingall’s hide for bein’ gone so long.” Brigid gave me a quick hug and headed down toward the cottages.

  As I hiked up the hill to change from my dress, I passed the small, exterior room that had hosted my dramatic, ungainly entrance into Iain’s world. Something from beyond the cracked door beckoned me. I attributed the sensation to a need for a nostalgic reunion, if not a momentary distraction.

  A good amount of shoulder was required to shove the heavy door open. I briefly stared into the dark room, and after a deep breath, I stepped into the past—ten days’ worth, anyway. No candles were lit, but the musty room held faint traces of the pungent aroma I’d found so offending when I arrived. Light from the doorway behind me guided my way as I approached the box, its metal surfaces reflecting the scant illumination into the room.

  A gentle pull of recognition lifted my hand, my fingers extended in cautious reverence. The magick-infused object had transported me to a wondrous place and time. Everything I’d become—all that I held dear—I owed to the artifact sitting inertly on the wooden table.

  Originally a mere key to advancement within an academic realm, the box had transformed into a gateway, giving me a life I’d never dreamed possible. My very happiness had come about due to the one thing I’d cursed upon arrival. I smiled as my trembling fingertips hovered around the sides and over the top.

  With a deep breath, I lowered my hand. “Hello, beloved friend.”