The Highlander Series 7-Book Bundle

by Karen Marie Moning

  He smiled. By Dagda, the day was looking brighter already.

  * * *

  The last person Lisa would have imagined might slip into her chambers while she was bathing was Eirren. She’d indulged in a two-second fantasy that Circenn might come in uninvited, with seduction on his mind, but had quickly squashed that thought, obviously a leftover from the historical romances she’d devoured in lieu of a social life. Things like that didn’t really happen. What really happened was that small, mischievous children invaded. “What are you doing in here, Eirren?” She swished her hands in the water, trying to whisk up more bubbles to cover her breasts. When that failed, she placed her wash cloth atop them.

  The rascal grinned broadly, waggling his brows in a comically lecherous expression.

  “I didn’t even hear you open the door.” She sank lower in the tub.

  “Ye were too engrossed in yer bath, lassie. I even knocked,” he lied. He moved swiftly to the hearth near Lisa.

  “I hardly think this is appropriate,” she said. Then she regarded him thoughtfully “On second thought, it’s perfectly appropriate. You may use my bath when I’m done, and we’ll finally get you clean.”

  Eirren grinned puckishly. “In order to do that, ye’ll have to be gettin’ out. For my first look at a naked lass, I’d even consent to washin’ meself. For a look at ye, I’d wash twice. Behind me ears, even.”

  His grin faded as he took a seat on the stone base of the hearth. “Are ye feelin’ better, lassie? Ye’ve been in here a long time. I couldna help but hear grim gossip.”

  Lisa was touched. “You were worried about me, weren’t you? That’s why you came today.”

  “Aye, I was,” Eirren muttered. “And I dinna like it a bit. I overheard the men sayin’ ye really are from another time and ye discovered ye can never return.” He looked at her questioningly.

  “That is so,” Lisa said sadly.

  “Will ye be givin’ up on life, lassie?”

  Lisa glanced at him sharply. “Sometimes you seem far older than thirteen, Eirren.”

  He shrugged his bony shoulders. “Tis the way of this world. Children doona stay children long. We see too much.”

  Lisa felt a flash of longing to shield his eyes, to ensure he never again glimpsed anything a child shouldn’t see. Then she caught him trying to peek beneath the water line. “Stop that!” She splashed water at him.

  He laughed and wiped his face gamely. “‘Tis natural. I’m a lad. But I’ll be lookin’ out yon window if it makes ye feel better.”

  She smiled, watching him lift his chin and turn his face toward the window, making quite a production of it. He was such a melodramatic boy.

  “Will ye be wedding the laird?” he asked after a moment.

  Lisa’s brows lifted as she pondered that. A shiver skittered up her spine. She could not return home. This was her life. What would Catherine want her to make of it? Lisa knew the answer to that. Catherine would have fussed and cosseted and dressed Lisa in the finest wedding gown, pushed her into bed with the brawny Highlander, and hovered outside the door to ascertain that Lisa made appropriately satisfied honeymoon sounds.

  “I do believe I will,” she said slowly, trying to accustom herself to the thought.

  Eirren clapped his hands and beamed at her. “Ye willna regret it.”

  Lisa’s eyes narrowed astutely. “Do you have a special interest in this, Eirren?”

  “I merely wish to be seein’ a lassie happy.”

  “That’s not all of it,” Lisa said. “Confess. You like the laird, don’t you? You admire him and you think he needs to get married, don’t you?”

  Eirren nodded, his eyes bright. “I suppose I have a fondness for him.”

  Probably because his own father didn’t have much time for him, she thought. Circenn Brodie would be easy for a lad to worship. “Hand me my towel, Eirren,” Lisa ordered. She would get the filthy boy in the bath if she had to parade around nude to do it. Someone needed to take responsibility for him, treat him to tender arms and loving discipline.

  With an arch glance, he picked up her towel and, with an exaggerated swing of his arm, flung it far across the room to land on the bed. “Get it yerself.”

  She gave him her most forbidding you-will-obey-me-little-boy-or-die glance. They waged a battle with their glares—his challenging, hers promising divine retribution—until with a gamin grin he leaped to his feet, slipped behind her, and was gone. She didn’t even hear the door open and close.

  She sighed and leaned her head back against the tub, admitting that she hadn’t really wanted to leave the warm, soapy water anyway. “I’ll get you for this, Eirren,” she vowed. “You will have a bath before the week is out.”

  She wasn’t certain but she thought she heard a soft tinkle of laughter outside the door.

  * * *

  The sun was shining, Lisa observed with pleasure. After bathing, she had slipped on a clean gown but forgone slippers. While the maids had removed her bath water, she’d flung open the window and realized that spring had graced the countryside while she’d grieved. She’d felt a fierce need to venture outside, to feel the sun, to savor the birdsong, to connect with what was to be her world. God, she needed to get out of her room. It was suffocating after so long.

  She strolled the courtyard at a leisurely pace, curling her bare toes in the lush green grass. Following the perimeter wall of the castle, she was acutely aware of the curious gazes of the guards in the high towers. They watched her intently, and she suspected that Circenn had instructed them not to let her slip from their sight. Rather than feeling guarded or trapped, she found it comforting. While finishing her bath she’d realized that she’d been lucky; things could have been much worse. She might have been dumped through time into the keep of a true barbarian, who would have abused her, turned her out, or simply killed her.

  She skirted a small grove of trees and paused, captivated by a clear reflecting pool encircled by smooth white rocks and cornered by four massive standing stones with Pict inscriptions. Lured by history, she trailed her fingertips over the engravings. A lovely stone bench squatted in a small copse before an unusual mound of earth that was about twenty feet long and a dozen feet wide. It was nearly as tall as she was, and the grass on it was a brilliant green, thicker and lusher than the rest of the lawn. Her toes ached to touch it. She stood regarding it, wondering what it was. A medieval burial mound?

  “It is a fairy mound. A shian,” Circenn said, moving behind her. He placed his hand on her waist and inhaled the clean fragrance of her freshly washed hair.

  Lisa tipped back her head and smiled.

  “It is said that if you circle the mound seven times and spill your blood upon the peak, the Queen of the Fairies may appear and grant you a wish. I cannot guess how many young lads and lasses have pricked their fingers here. Old, tall tales—this land is full of them. Most likely some prior kin once emptied the chamber pots here. It would explain how thick and green the grass is.” He dropped a kiss on her hair, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “I glimpsed you from the window and thought I might seek a word with you. How are you, lass?” he asked gently.

  “Better,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan to stay in there for so long. I just needed time to think. Until you’d given me the flask I still believed I might return. I needed time to come to terms with the reality of my situation.”

  “You need offer me no apology. It is I who should offer you one.” He turned her to face him. “Lisa, I am sorry you were ensnared by my curse. I would like to say that I’m sorry you came here, but I must confess that I …”

  Lisa glanced up at him searchingly.

  He took a deep breath. “That I will devote my life to making it up to you. That I wish to wed you and will see you well cared for.”

  Lisa averted her gaze, mortified to feel tears threatening.

  He stepped back, sensing that she was fighting for control. “That was all I wished to say, lass. I will leave you
to your walk now. I merely wished to be certain you knew how I felt.”

  “Thank you,” she said. As she watched him retreat, a part of her longed to summon him back, to make small, idle talk and while away the sunny afternoon, but tears still came too easily.

  After he’d gone she continued strolling, drawn to explore her new home. She soaked up the warm rays, stopping periodically to examine small buds and unusual foliage. It occurred to her that since she was to stay there, she could finally do something she’d longed to do for years—she could have a puppy. She’d always wanted a dog but their apartment had been too small. When she returned to the castle, she would ask Circenn if he knew of any recent litters in the village.

  As she approached the bothy, she realized she was going to survive. Her normal feelings were returning, her customary optimism, her desire to be involved in the world and to explore it. She wondered what a bothy actually was. A storehouse? A workshop? Turning the handle, she opened the door open and quietly stepped inside.

  Duncan Douglas stood there, nude, his back to her. My God, she thought. Not Circenn, but certainly remarkable. Overwhelmingly curious about all things sensual, she was unable to look away. An equally unclothed maid was pressed between his body and the wall. The maid’s cheek was flush to the wooden wall and her palms were flattened against it above her head, with Duncan’s strong hands covering them. His hips bucked against her, pushing into her from behind.

  Lisa wet her lips and breathed softly. She knew she should slip out quietly before they realized they’d been observed.

  In just a minute, she told herself, cheeks flaming. Her gaze dropped from his wide shoulders to his waist, over a muscled, tight ass that flexed as he pounded into her. Lisa couldn’t move, assaulted by erotic images of Circenn doing the same to her.

  “Oh, my heavens.” She was so fascinated, the words escaped her before she could spare thought to prevent them.

  They both turned to look at her at the same moment. The maid shrieked. The outrageous Duncan merely grinned. “Oops,” he said nonchalantly.

  Lisa fled the bothy.

  At least now she knew what the ancients had used the outbuilding for.

  Privacy.

  * * *

  The days passed quickly, in a haze of warm sunny mornings and afternoons spent with Duncan, who took her on tours of the castle and estate, and quiet evenings spent with Circenn over scrumptious dinners.

  Circenn had been noticeably absent during the afternoons, neither training with his men nor present around the castle, and as they finished dessert that night she inquired about it.

  “Come.” He rose from the table and motioned for her to follow. “I have something for you, Lisa. I hope it pleases you.”

  She let him tuck her arm through his and guide her down a corridor she hadn’t yet explored. It led to the end of the east wing, down winding and narrow stone hallways, through high arched doors, and up a circular stone staircase. He paused outside the door to a tower and removed a key from his sporran.

  “I hope you doona think I have …” He blew out a sigh, looking uncomfortable. “Lass, this seemed an excellent idea when I struck upon it, but now I have some concerns. …”

  “What?” she asked, perplexed.

  “Have you ever come up with an idea that you think will make someone happy, then when it is time to give it to them you worry if perhaps you were wrong?”

  “Did you make something for me?” she asked, recalling the flecks of wood dust she’d glimpsed him brushing off his tartan the day before.

  “Aye,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But it suddenly occurred to me that if I doona know you as well as I think I do, it may make you sad.”

  “Well, I’ll just have to see it,” she said, slipping the key from his hand.

  Whatever he’d done, he’d pleased her simply by caring, and thinking about her, not to mention investing his time in labor with the intent to please her. Aside from her parents and Ruby, she’d received few impulsive gifts in her lifetime, and never one someone had fashioned by hand.

  Curious, she inserted the key in the door, opened it, and stepped inside. Dozens of candles flickered, filling the room with a warm glow. The ceiling rose and met in a high wooden arch, and there were small benches strewn about. At the front of the room, before four beautifully colored windows, was a flat slab mounted on a thick base of stone—an altar. She realized he’d brought her to his private place of worship.

  “Look down, lass,” he said quietly.

  Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Heavens, did you do this?” She glanced at Circenn, bewildered.

  “I had a lot of idle time a few years past,” he said with a shrug. About thirty years, he didn’t add. Years during which he had thought he might go insane from loneliness, and so he’d buried his anguish in creating.

  Her gaze flew back to the floor. It was an exquisite mosaic hand fashioned of wood, ranging out like a star from the center of the chapel. Light pine, dark walnut, and deep cherry interwove to create the patterns. Some of the pieces of wood were no more than an inch in diameter. It must have taken him years, she thought, amazed. One man, designing this floor, carefully carving and sanding the pieces and laying them in a fabulous geometric pattern that would have made M. C. Escher wild with envy.

  “Go up near the altar,” he encouraged. “That is where I changed it.”

  Lisa walked gently across the floor, reluctant to mar it with her footsteps. In front of the altar, he’d torn up the old pattern and laid a new one. The area in front of the slab had been divided into two sections: to the right, painstakingly inlaid into the pattern in deep ebony was MORGANNA, BELOVED MOTHER OF CIRCENN. To her left, in the same black wood, was CATHERINE, BELOVED MOTHER OF LISA. There were no dates, an omission she understood, because they certainly wouldn’t want anyone to see twenty-first-century dates in a medieval chapel. She could just imagine the heyday modern scholars would have had with that. The names were encircled by elaborate inlaid Celtic knot work.

  Dropping to her knees, she ran her fingers over the freshly laid wood, her heart swelling with emotion. He’d placed her mother right next to his, clearly showing her she was half of his life. Now she could go there when she was missing her mother and feel as if she had a place to be near her.

  It startled her, his keen insight. When Catherine had been diagnosed with cancer, Lisa had devoured “how to” books on dealing with the loss of a loved one, hoping to find some magic way of handling the impending loss of her mother. One of the things each book had addressed was that closure was a critical part of the healing process. In making this marker for her mother, Circenn had created a tangible and, by ancient social custom, innately comforting symbol of her absence, so that her absence became a soothing presence.

  Lisa swallowed a lump in her throat and looked up. He was regarding her as if she were the most infinitely precious thing to him in the world.

  “Was I a fool?” he worried.

  “No. Circenn, I don’t think you could ever be a fool,” she said quietly. “Thank you. We do this in my time, too. And I will come here often to … to …” She trailed off, shaken by the depth of her emotion.

  When he said, “Come,” she moved easily into his arms.

  CIRCENN STALKED TO THE MIRROR AND STUDIED HIMSELF for the fifth time in as many minutes. He turned his face to the side and eyed his profile. He ran his hand over his shadow beard thoughtfully. Lisa’s skin was very sensitive; perhaps he should shave more frequently.

  But that wasn’t the problem, he mused. Although she’d opened up considerably in the past few days, she retained a distance between them. She was healing, and it was time to complete the process. He needed to woo her into a closer intimacy, to help her fully accept her position as his soon-to-be wife.

  Whom was he trying to deceive? He needed to bed her before he turned into a ravening beast. Not for a moment had he forgotten the vision he’d spied in his shield. And he wanted it, was eager to embrace his fut
ure. He’d been going excruciatingly slowly with her, allowing her time to heal. But she was changing again, becoming stronger.

  He snorted, reflecting that she was not the only one who had undergone changes since her arrival. A few months ago he’d been a man of rigid discipline who despised many things about himself. Now he was a man of deep passion who welcomed what he might become—with her. A few months ago he’d eschewed physical intimacy, compiling dozens of reasons why it was logical to forswear it. Now he longed for physical intimacy, armed with dozens of reason why it was logical, arguably even necessary that he embrace it.

  After he’d given her the chapel, he’d escorted her to her room, hoping to sweep her past a good-night kiss, but she’d been reticent. Her kiss had been stormy, and he’d plainly scented the desire in her body, but she’d been the one to stop the kiss, bidding him good sleep before leaving him at the door. He suspected that while she would allow herself to be somewhat happy, she was still not quite ready to believe that she shouldn’t continue to suffer for sins she hadn’t committed.

  For her sake, he needed to be ruthless. He needed to penetrate her shell and ease her fully into his life. He wanted her, this fascinating woman with her deep emotions, her passionate heart, her witty and curious mind. He wanted her droll sense of humor, which had been noticeably absent of late. He needed her to accept the deepest physical bond with him because he knew that once she did, she would bar no quarter of her heart from him. And he wanted to explore every private nook and cranny of her soul.

  Ruthlessly seductive, that was what he would be.

  He gathered his hair back into a thong and considered shaving, but was too impatient for her. They had retired from dinner a half-hour past, and with any luck she would be curled up in bed.

  And he would join her. It was time.

  Tonight he would make her his.

  * * *

  Lisa sipped her cider wine and watched the fire, feeling remarkably dissatisfied after finishing a delicious meal with a delicious companion and being given the lovely gift of the chapel. Her body was thrumming with frustration and she’d been having a perfectly vicious argument with herself.