Soul of a Highlander

by Melissa Mayhue

If not? Well, she’d just have to see what she could do to change that.

  Fourteen

  Ramos pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor before sitting to pull off his boots. The first boot dangled loosely in his hands as he stared into the fire, lost in thought.

  He’d always been a man of strong emotion, but he’d learned early the importance of controlling those emotions, of never allowing anyone access to his soft underbelly. Unfortunately burying his feelings deeply didn’t mean he didn’t have them.

  And he wasn’t at all pleased with the particular emotion he wrestled now. He tossed the boot to the floor and began to unlace the second one.

  Earlier this evening, as he’d tried to determine what Reynard was up to, he’d suddenly realized Wyn Servans was no longer in the room. He’d hurried upstairs to check on Mairi only to find her chamber empty.

  For the briefest second, an emotion very like fear had gripped him, gnawing at his gut.

  “I am a Guardian. I fear nothing,” he said aloud, tugging off the second boot and throwing it to the floor.

  The feeling had grown, an emptiness clawing at his stomach interfering with his ability to breathe, as he peered into Rosalyn’s solar, still finding no sign of Mairi. Not until he stepped out onto the balcony and saw her safe did the feeling change, morphing into something familiar and comfortable.

  Anger.

  But even the anger had gradually faded until now he was left to grapple with the foreign, uneasy emotion he chose not to name. He had to get her out of his thoughts. She was under his protection, nothing more.

  He jerked the leather tie from his hair as he stood. The remainder of his clothing joined his boots in a pile before he crossed to the bed and climbed in.

  Without thought, his hand slid up and under his pillow. A grim smile played briefly across his lips as he realized what he did and consciously brought his hand to rest on his chest. The habit he’d developed as a child clung to him still, though he no longer needed the little dagger he’d slept with then. His body was weapon enough now.

  When he’d first gone to live in his father’s chateau, he’d believed his life would be a true Faerie tale. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize the life of a real Fae, particularly a Nuadian Fae, had a dark, twisted side.

  He’d had the best tutors and schools, the most expensive clothing. But his free time had been spent in what Reynard had called The Training. His father had personally seen to shaping his son’s mind and body to create the perfect weapon to fight their enemy, the Fae. The same Fae who had driven them from their rightful homes, who’d supposedly hunted them with no thought other than the complete annihilation of the Nuadians and the destruction of the Mortal World.

  Indoctrination, he now realized. Brainwashing.

  His father had never demonstrated affection of any kind, though Ramos had sought it, finally settling for approval when it was all there was to be had.

  To show emotion was to show weakness. Ramos had learned that lesson early. He shared his feelings with no one.

  The days had been hard, but the nights…the nights were terrifying. As Reynard’s “favorite,” Ramos was envied by many. Many who wanted him dead. Or so his father had told him.

  Reynard had driven him to strengthen his body to defend himself against those who would come after him. Cowards who would come under cover of dark. Each night his father would caution him to sleep lightly. To be prepared.

  Night after night, he had lain awake waiting, waiting for someone to come into his room, until at last exhaustion would overtake his body.

  Until the day his father taught him to fight with weapons, that is. When he’d first wrapped his hand around the hilt of the little dagger, he had known his life would be different. He’d hidden it in his clothing, claimed it as his own and slept with it every night as most children might a stuffed animal.

  He hadn’t been afraid any longer.

  Why think of these things now?

  The memories he’d all but driven from his mind assaulted him. He clamped his eyes shut and forced the memories from his thoughts, but they left in their wake a disturbing sense of unease.

  This nagging disquiet prickling at the back of his mind was no more than lack of sleep and frustration. Once he determined what needed to be done to satisfy the Faerie magic that kept Mairi here, he could send her home and be free of this turmoil.

  Tomorrow he would speak to her, quiz her on what exactly she had said as she’d invoked the magic to travel back through time. He should have thought of it earlier. Her words at the moment the magic built, when the power was greatest, would hold the key. It was one of the things the Fae did best, using your own words to ensnare you, catching you up like a helpless gnat in their spiderweb of plans.

  Closing his eyes, he counted on the discipline of his training to replace his agitation with the welcome void of sleep. Instead the doors of his subconscious mind opened, to visions of Mairi.

  He fought them, pushing them back, vainly trying to reshape his thoughts until, at last, he gave in to them, allowing them to wash over him. Flow through him.

  It was then he heard the quiet tap on his door.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  Mairi leaned her forehead against the cool, smooth wood of the heavy door. She’d done this once before, this midnight trek to Ramos’s room. The last time had showed her how little self-control she actually possessed.

  What was it about this man?

  She couldn’t imagine how she could be so drawn to someone who epitomized everything she found most irritating. His typical he-man mentality prevented him from having any emotions more complex than anger or arrogance. More important, it made no sense that she could have feelings for any man when she knew there was no hope of finding her one true love.

  Everything about Ramos confused her. She wanted—needed—to understand exactly what her feelings for him were.

  Perhaps it was that reason, even more than her desire to tell him about the strange incident with Wyn Servans, that drew her to his door tonight.

  She had good cause to be here.

  Her resolve strengthened, she turned the handle and pushed, opening the door only wide enough to allow her access, closing it quietly behind her.

  Mairi remained where she’d entered, her back to the door, while she identified the sounds in the room. Flames crackled in the fireplace, their dancing light doing little to pierce the dark or the cold. Outside, the rains had returned, beating fiercely against the walls of the keep. The winds forced their cold mist between the cracks in the shutters, permeating the air with a damp chill.

  A shiver made its way down her spine as she moved tentatively across the floor. She could see the dark outline of covers mounded on the bed and felt a pang of regret. The way he huddled under his blankets, she wouldn’t be treated to the sight of that magnificent chest tonight.

  At least she wouldn’t make the mistake of touching him without thought again, of startling him so that she ended up pinned beneath his body.

  Although that hadn’t exactly been unpleasant.

  She shook her head in irritation. Get on with it.

  Reaching out, she lay her hand lightly on what she assumed was his shoulder. Hard to tell, buried as he was beneath all those covers.

  “Ramos?” she whispered.

  Leaning forward, she pushed against the mound, only to have her hand sink into the empty pile of woolens.

  Her surprised gasp was cut short by a pair of large arms encircling her, pulling her back against a very hard body.

  “You have got to stop sneaking into this room, my sweet.”

  He spoke the quiet words next to her ear, his warm breath tickling down her cheek and neck.

  “I need to talk to you, to tell you what happened this evening.”

  His hands stroked slowly up from her wrists to her shoulders. Silken strands of his hair flowed over her bare arms as he bent his head and grazed his teeth lightly over her earlobe. S
he could feel herself melting back against him and knew the shiver that went through her now had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Apology accepted. Just don’t let it happen again.”

  “What?” The haze of her sensory fog slowly evaporated. “What apology? Don’t let what happen again?” She couldn’t be around him for two minutes without his attitude starting up.

  She tried to turn, to face him, but his hands gripping her shoulders held her firmly against him while he trailed his lips from her earlobe down the side of her neck.

  “Your apology for not doing what I told you to do. Don’t make me worry about you again. I don’t like it.” His lips began the reverse trip up her neck.

  He cared enough to worry about her? How could she be angry with him when he worried about her? Sure he was arrogant, but he couldn’t help that. He was a caveman. A caveman with the lips of a Greek god.

  She met no resistance when she moved this time, turning in the circle of his arms to face him. The firelight sparkled in his eyes and once again she felt herself drifting in a sea of turquoise.

  “You were worried about me?”

  “Only because you weren’t where you were supposed to be and I couldn’t find you,” he growled, his hands sliding up her shoulders and onto her neck, his thumbs following the path his lips had traversed earlier.

  He was going all he-man on her now, frowning and grumbling. She recognized the signs. To admit he worried was like admitting a weakness and these cavemen types never liked to appear weak.

  In that moment, gazing up into his eyes as she stood in his embrace, she had the answer to her question. She might not understand why or how, but she no longer had any confusion about what she felt for Ramos Navarro.

  He was in trouble.

  Ramos realized it the minute Mairi turned in his arms and looked up at him like that.

  As her Guardian, the scope of his actions was clear. He was here to rescue Mairi, to keep her safe until he could find a way to get her home. Nothing more. Anything else was confined to that area between waking and sleep, the place where his subconscious ruled and he had no control.

  But she had floated into his room as if straight out of his dreams, wearing that next-to-nothing silk nightgown. It was all he could do to limit himself to a few stolen kisses on the pretext of trying to scare her away.

  And now…

  Her soft hands skimmed his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Onto his shoulders and up, her fingers sliding into his hair, twining in its length.

  She smiled and slowly rose up on her toes, pulling his head down until their lips met. With the surge of adrenaline flooding his body, all his good intentions were swept aside, falling away like the strap on her shoulder sliding down.

  He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss when her lips parted willingly for him. He delighted in the taste of her, her tongue darting to meet his, move for move.

  Her hands wandered down his chest, leaving a new trail of fire, burning their way to his waist and around to his back, her fingers sliding lower. She broke the kiss, pulling away to look up at him with soft, dreamy eyes.

  “Yer no wearing anything, are you?” She didn’t look the least bit shocked this time. In fact, she was smiling.

  He lowered his head to claim her mouth again, but she moved back from him, climbing up onto the bed. When she turned to face him, she knelt, her gown pooling around her, its shiny material reflecting the light of the flickering fire. Not even the women he’d seen in the land of Fae looked half as good.

  She lifted her arms to him in an invitation he couldn’t refuse, no matter that he knew he should.

  Joining her, he reached for her heavy braid, freeing its fastening and running his fingers through the golden waves, fanning the hair out around her shoulders. It felt exactly as he had known it would.

  He pulled her to him, kissing her mouth, her neck and lower. Her quick intake of breath as his hands covered her breasts only excited him more. He ran the pad of his thumb gently back and forth over her nipple, delighting in her body’s immediate response to him.

  Lowering his head, he covered the hardened bud with his mouth, the silk of her gown seeming to melt under the warm moisture of his tongue.

  Her tiny moan of pleasure incited him. He wanted more.

  Reaching for the hem of the gown, he slid his hands underneath, up the sides of her thighs to her waist. She lifted her arms and he continued on, his fingers gliding up the soft, smooth flesh, pulling the silky material over her head and tossing it away.

  He straightened, his breath catching at the sight of her.

  “Lord, but you’re beautiful, Mairi.”

  She touched his arm, her hand tentatively skimming up over his shoulder and onto his chest.

  “Me? You’re the beautiful one.”

  He smiled down at her. No one had ever called him that before. Handsome, yes, but beautiful? Innocence and boldness warred in this woman in a way that completely enchanted him.

  Once more he trailed his hands to her breasts. They fit his palms as if they had been created to be there. Her hands explored up his back and into his hair as he lowered his head, once again taking her into his mouth, this time without the impediment of the silky gown. The taste of her was more exquisite than he could have imagined. He couldn’t get enough.

  Her hands fisted in his hair as he pulled her close, his tongue flicking back and forth before swirling round and round the pebbled nipple.

  Beneath his fingers, her back was like satin. A tremor ran through her as he slid his hands lower, under her perfect bottom, to lift her, knees spread, bringing her closer to him.

  Her long legs locked behind him, fitting her against him perfectly. He lifted his head and took a deep breath, only to find her head thrown back, her long lovely neck tantalizingly bared to him.

  In that moment, he wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his entire existence. At this rate, he’d need to start listing players on all his favorite rugby team rosters just to maintain.

  Cradling her head in his palms, he leaned her back, gently lowering them both to the bed. He buried his face against the welcoming curve of her neck, kissing, tasting, moving lower. Between her amazing breasts and down, onto her smooth stomach, he nibbled his way, his pleasure growing as her skin trembled under his lips, his tongue.

  Her thighs, soft and inviting, tensed as he trailed kisses across them. Her eyes flew open as he pressed his mouth against her, sampling the outer limits of the moist heat he wanted so badly to enter. Her gasp was all the encouragement he needed. Her body writhing beneath him was his reward.

  Back up he moved, across her stomach, stopping to appreciate her beautiful breasts. Delighting in the feel of her, the taste of her, he raised himself over her, pausing to drink in the beauty that was Mairi.

  She lay under him, her hair spread around her like a lake of gold. Her eyes opened slowly and he was shocked by the warmth of the invitation he saw in their blue depths.

  Once again she locked her legs behind his back and he shuddered. The little game he’d begun as a calculated effort to frighten her into racing back to her room and staying there had backfired, ensnaring him instead. He knew he should stop this now, send her back to her room before it was too late.

  As if she read his indecision, she reached out and, with a lazy smile, drew his head down to her. When she clasped his lower lip between her teeth, pulling gently as she ran her tongue back and forth, he knew the truth of the matter.

  It was already too late. Not only would he not send her away, he would do everything in his power to convince her to stay.

  He moved against her, his body swollen with need. Positioning himself at her opening, he slowly, gently pushed, allowing himself only the smallest of movements.

  “Yes,” she breathed into his ear. “Now.”

  Her legs tightened around him, urging him forward, and he obeyed, burying himself deeply in her warm, welcoming sheath. His muscles strained with the effort to ho
ld back, as the in-and-out rhythm of their bodies’ movement grew more frenzied.

  Not until she clenched around him, shuddering tremors of pleasure gripping her body, did he allow himself his final release.

  He lay there, holding her wrapped in his arms, long after their exhausted pants had returned to normal cadence. Long after her breathing had slowed and deepened with sleep.

  He shifted onto one arm to look down at the beauty in his bed. The blanket had shifted, baring her breasts of all cover except her long golden hair. Even in the half-light of his room he could see the dark mark over her heart, the shape of a rose, too perfect to be naturally occurring.

  It shouldn’t be there. Nowhere in the dossier of research he’d read on her was there any mention of scars, tattoos or birthmarks of any kind. He’d have to remember to ask her about it.

  For now, he pulled the covers up over her arms. Gently he brushed the tangled web of hair from her face and watched the play of light from the dying fire create the illusion of a smile there. Or perhaps it was real.

  Drawing her close, he laid his head next to hers. All he knew for sure was that being with Mairi was like nothing he’d experienced before.

  And that he could never allow it to happen again.

  Fifteen

  How can this be possible?

  Mairi studied the man beside her in the first gray haze of predawn light. Relaxed in sleep, his face was a chiseled study in masculine beauty. His mouth held a stubborn set, but those lips, she knew from experience, were soft and warm. Long dark lashes rested against strong high cheeks. Those lashes, when his eyes were open, would frame a sea of aquamarine in which she wanted to lose herself for days at a time.

  It made no sense, these emotions, this feeling that engulfed her.

  He is the one.

  It shouldn’t be. By all rights, there should be no one for her. She was a woman without a rightful place, supposedly dead in her own time, living in a future that didn’t belong to her.

  This can’t happen.

  But the truth of the matter was undeniable. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. The man lying next to her was her one true love. She felt the pull and the bond. There could never be another for her.