“I can see what you’re thinking.” The wind lifted his silky black hair and tousled it, his gaze filled with concern. “You don’t want to go.”
“I would dearly love to remain, but my future was set the day my father aided the MacDonald in a battle on the very night of my birth, then cemented further when I came of age and remained alone, without a soul bound mate. Three years Father has waited to see if I shall be bound to another.” She tucked a lock of his tousled hair behind his ear. “Glad I am though that I am without such a soul bond. I would hate to go through the heartache and pain my father did when he lost my mother, should I ever lose the one I was bound to.”
“There is also heartache and pain in never finding one’s soul bound mate. That I know well.” A ripe cherry dangled just above his head and he plucked it free, removed the stalk. “All I long for is to find my chosen one, complete the bond and never let her go.”
“You dinnae even know her yet. What happens if she is a witch of a woman?”
“She holds the other half of my soul, so witch or not, I can’t wait to track her down. She has certainly already bespelled me. Here, take a bite.” He nudged the cherry he’d picked against her lips, one of his fingers and his thumb on her chin as he did so. “Open up, Layla. Let me feed you.”
“You are one very pushy bear.” She gave into him, bit into the cherry then moaned with delight as the sweet juices danced over her tongue.
“Oh goodness, so good. You have to try a cherry too.” She searched the closest branches and smiled as she found the largest cherry of the crop. With her mind alone, she tugged the succulent fruit free then brought it bobbing through the air toward her. She settled it on her palm. “There is a tradition surrounding this tree. The stone from the first fruit you eat here must be planted nearby, and since this is your first fruit, you too must do so.”
“Does everyone follow this tradition?” He motioned toward her tree. “I only see one other tree.”
“Aye, mine is the only stone to sink its roots into the soil and take. Mayhap yours will be the second. You never know.” She raised a brow. “Do you wish to take a bite and accept this fruit and the tradition it demands you partake in?”
“Once, when I was a lad, I tossed a plum stone over the curtain wall of Ivanson Castle and it took root. Each summer, that plum tree holds the largest crop of plums I’ve ever seen, so aye, I’ll accept your offering and the tradition.” With his golden gaze capturing hers, he opened his mouth, caught her hand and drew the cherry closer. He bit into the fruit, licked a drop of trickling juice from her palm and moaned. “Can you swim, Layla?”
“Pardon?”
“I’ve a few hours to kill before the sun sets and the moon rises. Join me for a dip after we’ve picked these cherries.” He bit the other half of the cherry still in her hand then greedily eyed the juice seeping between her fingers.
She wanted to snatch her hand back, ensure he didn’t touch her in such an intimate way again only she didn’t move an inch, had always secretly loved his little touches. Instead, she gave him a warning. “No licking is permitted.”
“I love how you taste, just as I love how you smell.” He plucked the stone from her hand, slipped it into his pocket. “Higher in the hills, only a short walk from here, I discovered a hidden underground pool behind a waterfall, one filled with steamy, hot water.”
“I know the waterfall you speak of but there’s no underground pool behind it.” She tried desperately hard not to sweep her gaze over him, to take in his magnificently muscled legs encased in black leather, only ’twas a losing battle to do so. The soft fabric molded itself to every single exquisite inch of him. Oh dear. Betrothed to another man and here she was ogling the one man who was already taken by another. Or at least would be soon.
She sighed. Time to pick the cherries and get on with the job she’d come out here to do.
She flicked her fingers, lifted the woven cane basket from the ground below and sent it gliding underneath the branch holding the heaviest number of fruit. Working her way along the limb, she tugged the cherries free with her skill, one after the other until her basket overflowed.
“That was fast.” He rubbed his shoulder against hers, his heady, wild scent surrounding her.
“My skill comes in very handy at times.” Gently, she swept the basket back down onto the grass, scrambled over him then with her ability, lifted herself away from the tree and drifted down to the ground.
“Wait up.” He swung his legs over the side and in one single bound, jumped and landed with a soft thump beside her. “You haven’t said if you’ll come with me to the pool I found.”
“I’m sorry, but I cannae.” She motioned toward the pocket he’d tucked his stone within. “You should plant your stone now afore you leave.”
“You choose the spot and I will.”
“Plant it close to my tree. The soil there is rich and dark.” She walked toward her tree and crouched near it, separated the lush grass and touched one finger to the earth underneath. “This will be the perfect spot.”
He dug the stone from his pocket and handed it to her. “While I dig a small hole, you kiss my stone. It’s said a fair lass’s kiss always brings good luck.”
“It does?” She’d never heard that saying afore.
“Aye, my father says so to my mother all the time and he gets kisses aplenty from her.” He slid his dirk free of his wrist sheath, knelt next to her and with his arm touching hers, dug a small hole then with a challenging look in his eye, murmured, “Kiss the stone, Layla.”
“I hope my kiss brings you all the good luck you wish for.” She kissed the stone and held it out to him.
“Perfect.” He snuck the stone from her hand, carefully set it in the hole then smoothed the dirt back over the top. “It’s also said that a fair lass’s ribbon also brings good luck. I’ll have the one in your hair, if you don’t mind.” He extended a hand. “I need all the good luck I can get at the moment, and particularly for the night ahead.”
“Of course, but I have a feeling you are making up these sayings just as you please.” She unbound the length of red silk loosely woven through her hair and passed it to him. The wind lifted and whipped her golden tresses about her face, the mass of spiral curls bouncing about.
“Maybe, or maybe not, either way you have my thanks.” He rose to his feet, tugged her to hers then brought the ribbon to his nose and breathed deep before tucking the ribbon into his pocket. “It smells of you, like fresh air, sunshine, and wild cherries. It’s also time for that swim.”
“I dinnae have time for a swim. I already told you I cannae come.”
“I won’t take no for an answer. You’re coming whether you like it or not.” He scooped her into his arms and strode with her into the trees.
“Tor, wait.” She struggled in his arms, but he held her tight and she couldn’t get down. “Set me back on my feet. I have much to do this day and swimming with you isnae one of those things.”
“I’m not setting you back down. You also might want to grab your basket of cherries before you lose sight of them.” With a determined step, he marched along the pine-needle covered trail, the canopy a thick leafy green high above.
“Are you always this unreasonable?” She hooked her arms around his neck and struck a look over his shoulder so she could catch the basket up with her skill. With one thought from her mind, she lifted it and sent it swishing through the air and bobbing along beside them. She huffed then nipped his ear. Actually nipped him. She’d never done such a thing to a man before.
He growled, deep in his chest, and fur rippled across his arms, there one moment and gone the next. His golden shifter eyes blazed and his lips lifted in a challenging smile. “I see you wish to tangle with a bear.”
“And I see you wish to tangle with one who holds the ‘power of thought.’ I can tell you now who’ll win the battle.”
* * * *
“Me.” Tor had no intention of losing any battle with her. From the
day he’d arrived through one of Cherub’s portals into this time, Layla had intrigued him. He’d been awed by both her and her ability, his bear always rolling around under his skin whenever she was close and for the past three days while he’d been at the fae village farther along the loch, searching amongst the lasses for his chosen one, something within him had niggled at the distance he’d instilled between himself and the very woman in his arms. That niggle had grown in strength the moment he’d returned and heard from her father that a missive from Nessa had arrived for her. A prophecy, Gregor had told him, and one he’d find of the utmost interest. Holding the woman in his arms closer against his chest, his bear once again surging to the surface, he sensed only a deep need to never let her go. “Are you hiding something from me, Layla? Because if you are, I’m going to find out exactly what it is before this night is done.”
“And what would I possibly have to hide from you?” She crossed her arms with a slap, all while directing the basket of cherries that bobbed along beside them through the air. “Donnan will also be furious to learn I’ve allowed another man to cart me about like this. I am nearly a married woman, which means your behavior right now is totally unacceptable and inappropriate.”
“When I first learnt you were betrothed to Donnan MacDonald, a huge level of frustration flushed through me.”
“Well, I’ve no idea why that would be.” One serious glare came at him.
“Perhaps I should have paid more attention to that frustration than I did, because right now you seem to be the only woman here who I’m continually drawn to. You and only you.” He plowed on along the scrub-lined trail leading deeper into the woods, the pathway meandering upward into the hills high behind the castle. Overhead, birds twittered in their nests and the canopy thickened, blocking almost any and all trace of the late afternoon sun above. “What I feel for you, it’s growing stronger each and every day, Layla. I can’t seem to stay away from you even though I’m supposed to be at the village where my mate most likely resides.”
“You said you cannae sense her there, and I realize your mate is hiding from you, somehow and some way, but that does no’ mean that she is me.”
“You sound so certain, yet right now I’m wondering if you might just be the very one I’ve been seeking. Perhaps your betrothal to another is how you’ve been hiding from me. Certainly whatever this is between us, I’m going to delve deeper into it and find out exactly what’s going on.”
“This is naught, and one cannae hide behind a betrothal. I have also given Donnan my oath to wed him afore the week’s end, of which I shall.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Would you at least allow me to walk while we have this argument? Reason is all you need to see, and I’ll make sure you do.”
“If I put you down, I want your promise that you’ll continue on with me to the waterfall.”
“I promise.” She snorted under her breath. “You are a very vexing man.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasnae a compliment.”
Grinning, he set her feet on the ground, her long blond spiral curls sliding sensuously over his forearms as he did. He adored her fiery nature, her temper which rose quickly to the surface then just as quickly died away. She was like a fierce sunrise and a thundering storm, all beauty and explosion rolled into one, then the ultimate grace as she simmered back down. She was the kind of woman he longed for, with attributes he hoped his chosen one held. The kind of woman he would love to roll around in a meadow with, to claim as his and make her his wife. The kind of woman he could make love to each and every day and still never get enough of. Those thoughts barreled through his mind, gaining with strength and making him want her all the more. Hell, if she wasn’t his mate, it would likely kill him.
With one hand at the small of her back, he guided her along the winding trail leading upward toward the craggy hilltop. As she walked beside him, the skirts of her red velvet gown swished against his legs and her cinched bodice lifted her breasts, the white satin trim along the low-cut neckline brushing the upper swells of her creamy skin.
His mouth watered at the heavenly sight. He might have let her down, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to let her go, not until they’d talked and he’d discovered exactly what it was about her that had both him and his bear clamoring for more of her. She had to be the one, his mate, and the holder of the other half of his soul.
“Cease looking at me like that, Tor.” She frowned, and so beautifully.
“How exactly am I looking at you?”
“Like you want to eat me.”
“I believe I do.”
“And cease speaking in such a way as well.” She gripped her skirts and stomped ahead. “I’ve witnessed Cherub and Kirk’s mated bond taking form, Tavish and Julia’s too, not to mention the others whom Cherub has brought through from your time. Their love for each other is so precious to behold. We do no’ have such a bond.”
“The mated bond is what my shifter clan live for.” He lifted his nose to the air and drew in the dampness of the forest floor, the clear aroma of pine and the fresh scent of the air, although Layla’s intoxicating cherry scent swirled around and stamped its wild beauty over it all. “I should have remained here these past three days rather than left you all alone. I’ll never leave you again.”
“No more.” She huffed, continued on. “I am no’ your mate.”
“What if you are? You need to at least consider the possibility.”
“I need to consider naught.” Another huff and a vexing stare.
Damn, she had the most beautiful eyes, the dark brown so rich in color and swirling with a multitude of emotions. Well, it seemed he had a very feisty woman on his hands, and possibly a mate, of which he’d know with absolute certainty the moment the full moon rose. Tonight was the one night of the month when his chosen one would never be able to hide from him. He’d sense the exact direction he needed to take in order to track her down, although all his senses roared that he was already in full pursuit, the woman before him the very one who held the other half of his soul. Hell, whenever he was around her, all he wanted to do was touch her in some way, keep her close, learn all he could about her. She intrigued him as no other could.
“Layla, wait a moment. Let me clear the way so you don’t catch your skirts on the scrub.” Thick brush partially clogged the last portion of the pathway and he swung his sword free and slashed the scrub away then gestured for her to go first.
“Oh my.” She stepped through and gasped. “’Tis so stunning.”
She was the stunning one. He joined her where the forest fell away and the roaring waterfall pummeled down. Water rushed over the topmost edge of the waterfall a good ten to fifteen feet above their heads. It sleeted past a stone ledge hidden underneath the fall of it and crashed into a pool thirty feet below, before streaming around thick boulders and flowing downhill toward the inner channel of Loch Alsh.
“’Tis been such an age since I last tramped up here. I’d clear forgotten how incredibly beautiful this place is.”
“I’m glad you agreed to come with me.”
“Agreed?” Hands on her hips, she arched a brow at him. “So, now we are here Mr. Come-swimming-with-me, tell me exactly where this hidden pool is.”
“It’s best I show you rather than tell you. Nice new title you’ve given me there, Miss I-want-to-eat-you.” He tapped her nose, nabbed the basket of cherries from the air which she still had bobbing beside them and set it safely on the ground next to the partially hidden ledge. “Are you willing to follow where I lead?”
“I have thus far, and you arena eating me, no’ even a bite. Make sure your bear understands that as well.”
“All he understands is that you nipped my ear first. That I consider a bite.” He caught her up in his arms, his hold around her firm and leapt onto the ledge. Swiftly, he set her down on her feet, pressed her back against the slick rock wall behind her and ensured they both remained steady on their feet. “I thought it best to just jum
p rather than warn you. Are you all right?”
“Of course, and this place is truly a haven of beauty.” She grinned at him then swayed forward and glanced at the sheer drop downward. The crashing spray drifted upward and coated her skin, wetting the luscious swell of her breasts and the long column of her neck.
His mouth watered for a taste of her, to lick her flesh and nibble away. Instead, he motioned toward the cherries. “Bring your delicious haul here.”
“One moment.” She lifted one hand and with her skill sent the basket up and sailing across to them.
“I’ll take them.” He swung the basket out of midair, caught her hand with his free one and shuffled sideways under the cascading fall of water toward the slim and almost unnoticeable entrance to a tunnel he’d found at the end. “Take care with your step, my sweet.”
“I shall, and I am no’ your sweet.”
“We’re almost there.” Between two cracks in the rock wall slick with the water’s spray, he squeezed through and tugged his sweet yet feisty woman in after him.
“Never would I have known this was here.” She scampered around to his other side and stared down the darkened passageway carved of black stone. “I wonder if any of my clansmen have found this tunnel afore. Certainly none have ever spoken of it if they have.”
“There’s no sign of any disturbance deeper within. Come. You need to see the pool I found.” He led the way down the tunnel and at the end, jumped onto the grainy white sand a good six feet below.
Overhead, the craggy ceiling of the cavern rose to a high peak with a three-foot wide hole at the top where a wispy trail of steam from the hot water vented out. It had been that trace of steam he’d first noticed from outside that had sent him on a mission to find its source. As the steam disappeared on the breeze, what remained of the late afternoon sunshine streamed in and glimmered across the glassy surface of the pool and the slick rock walls surrounding them.
Highlander's Heart (Clan Matheson Book 2) Page 3
