10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  “For shame,” she chastised. “I hope you have learned not to judge since then.”

  His voice grew soft. “Tis a hard thing to judge when the gods saw fit to give me you, perfection.”

  Caitriona took his hand and squeezed. “Despite what you say, I think you stopped judging long ago.”

  No truer words were said. Many had come and gone in Caitriona’s life. None had made such an impact. Alan Stewart was every inch an admirable man. And she suspected as time went on she’d discover more and more favorable attributes. Before she overthought it too much further she said, “I love you, Laird Stewart.”

  His eyes shot to hers.

  She offered a warm smile, the most genuine smile she’d ever given. “Alan.”

  His eyes said ‘thank you’ but his lips said something else altogether. “Why, lass? I have done nothing but push and prod to get you to this verra spot with one verra specific intention.”

  “Have you?” She said. “Because God knows I dinnae go where I dinnae want.” Caitriona brought his hand to her lips. “And I dinnae say I love you without meaning it.”

  Caitriona knew even as she said it that it would mean inevitable possession on his part but she was beyond caring. Nothing would ever remove her need to protect him. But as even he had said Fate herself could take his life from her in an instant. If she was not on that battlefield with him when he took the wound, what could she do once he had passed on?

  Alan pulled her onto his lap before she had enough time to form the next thought. One arm cradled her head, the other just behind her knees. His grasp locked her into a position where it would be hard to get away and there was no other option than to hear what he had to say. The Stewart chieftain didn’t need to force her eyes in his direction, they were already there.

  “You are my great love, my twin soul, aye?”

  She nodded.

  He nodded as well. “I knew it soon when I met you but it meant…not as much as it should.” A small frown marred his handsome face. “For that I apologize. ‘Tis a thing with magic that we are expected to follow its rules. You…” His dark eyes studied hers. “Made it easy. When you were near me, I felt your goodness. When you were not, I felt it too. I could list so many reasons to love you but only one makes it true. The verra way I feel when I am around you, when I look at you, hear you, taste you. There is a great thing that resides in your soul and I am privileged enough to have recognized it. I am no different than the next man only more extraordinary because you have decided to love me back.”

  Coherent thought became more difficult as she heard his words and looked into his eyes. Not because of magic. No. He used no magic now, just genuine, heartfelt words. For the first time she cupped his cheeks. “‘Tis no greater gift you can give me than your love.”

  Caitriona knew there would be no stopping him this time. Being here with him now could have gone in many directions, his way of wooing her, her way of turning him away, their way of dancing around what they really wanted. But none of it mattered in the end. Alan Stewart was the love of her life, a twin soul, and as such being without him was not an option.

  The prophecy would follow them.

  Of that she did not doubt.

  As one hand stroked her neck and the other her thighs, Caitriona felt her determination slip away. When his lips met hers it became a long lost thought. The moment he pulled back and his smoky green magical eyes met hers everything started to fade away.

  He’d never needed the warrior and chieftain after all; the wizard was doing it all. Nay, the man behind the wizard was. Alan’s eyes fell to her cleavage as he ever so slowly untied the strings of her dress. A precious fraction after that he kissed then salved the skin with his breath. The back of his finger would dust over the damp skin then his teeth would nibble. String by string he repeated the process until the tops of her nipples peaked free from the fabric.

  Before she had much time to overthink their freedom, his fingers manipulated one, while his tongue the other. She arched and grasped his head, a groan escaping. Lightening quick, she was beneath him. Caitriona grabbed aimlessly. She tried to hold the air first then the ground but ended up locking onto his shoulders.

  If she dug her nails in to hold on he didn’t seem to care. His deep voice vibrated against her cleavage. “Find another way to protect me.”

  Caitriona had no chance to respond as he pulled up her dress. One might think he only aimed to shove the fabric up but Alan had other intentions. The entire dress and chemise were gone before she had a chance to argue. Yet he slowed when she was nude, his gaze drinking her in fully. This was the first time she’d bared her breasts to a man and while she knew it was supposed to be uncomfortable she felt more sumptuous than mortified.

  His fingers crawled up her thighs, touching her core as his lips started to explore her mouth. As his tongue sought entrance, so too did his fingers below. She arched up in response to the jolt of his finger. Yet he swirled his tongue in her mouth in such a way that when he pushed his finger further there was nothing but pure feeling.

  “I willnae hurt you,” he murmured.

  Hurt? Nay. Devastate? Mayhap. She ran her hands down his tunic and tugged. In response he yanked it off. As she watched he removed his plaid then sank down. His tongue wound its way over her stomach as his hands held her hips in place. For a flicker of a moment she saw the sun twist in the leaves overhead then all vanished.

  Focused, passionate, he fully covered her in an instant. While his hand manipulated her tender flesh, he spoke against her collarbone, then the fine skin on her neck, then the edge of her ear. “Considering how long I have known you, I have given much thought how best to do this.” He nibbled her jawbone, creating a delicious sensation that shot down to her feet. “But realized in the end that ‘tis always best that we dinnae overthink.”

  Before she understood the implication of what he said, Alan spread her legs and pushed forward. Pain sliced through her core. “Shss,” he whispered. Then he touched her again and pushed further. When pain flooded once more he covered her response with his mouth, his touch everywhere. A push, a touch. Another, two more touches. Caitriona held onto his arms and squeezed shut her eyes.

  “Caitriona,” he whispered.

  When she opened her eyes his lips were on hers. If she squirmed, he calmed her with a well-placed hand to the thigh. His tongue sought, curious to explore her mouth and his hands roamed, touching and prodding areas on her body she had no idea could feel so much.

  When his lips traveled away from hers it was impossible to believe that he’d not yet fully penetrated her. As if he’d found something far more delicious than her mouth, his tongue paused over the inner side of her wrist. Meanwhile his hips rolled slowly, gently, as his other hand gradually caressed the tender flesh behind her left knee straight up to where he connected with her. Her body jerked once to the left, then the right before she held on tighter.

  What was he doing?

  “Relax, my love,” he breathed against her and ran the backside of his fingers softly over the underside of her elbow. Caitriona bit her lip moments before he pushed deeper. She bit harder and groaned. Her hips jerked. As if that’s all he needed, Alan grabbed her legs, pulled up gently and pushed forward fully.

  Caitriona cried out more from expectation than anything. While it hurt it was not a harsh pain. Alan did not move as she adjusted to his intrusion. Nonetheless, she dug her nails into his shoulders as though he had just ruined her. It took several long moments to realize he was fully within her and her body was still whole. Not ripped in half. Truly, based on his girth she thought that might be the result of this coupling.

  Thrumming madly against her chest, his heart nearly came through his words when he murmured against her ear. She felt how tight his muscles, how hard he worked at self-constraint. “It willnae hurt now, lass…” His hands ran up her thighs. “I willnae hurt you.”

  “Nay,” she whispered, holding him tighter. “You willnae.”

  That
was all he needed. To know she was alright.

  When next Alan Stewart moved it was with new purpose and determination. Caitriona bit her now tender bottom lip when he pulled back and cried out when he pushed forward.

  “My lass,” he groaned, running his hands over her arms and legs all at once. “Perfect.”

  A whimper broke from her as he continued to move. His mouth hovered over hers as he shifted his hips, first forward, then left. Then backward, then right. All the while his lips were inches from hers and their eyes locked. He studied her every reaction. What move worked and which did not. She licked her lips, lost in sensation.

  Just when the storm calmed enough she felt able to speak, he’d nip at her lower lip and thrust harder, deeper. She cried out then dipped her head into his neck, her tongue against his skin, savoring the salty sweet taste even as he moved. Everything about him made her want to climb further, longer and so she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  As if he’d been waiting for it, Alan scooped his arms beneath her knees and thrust not with violence but with pure determination. She dug one hand into the moss at her side and the other into his shoulder as a whole new sensation blew through her. Rolling and thrusting harder, Alan’s eyes never lost hers.

  It hurt…almost, like an intense, sweet pain that built and built. Caitriona suddenly felt as though holding onto him with one hand wasn’t enough so she gripped his other shoulder. Eyes half-mast, muscles straining, he seemed to understand and lowered more. Whether or not intended, when he brought his body firmly against hers, everything intensified. His thigh muscles squeezed against hers, his arms became a wall of protection over hers, and the smell of his spicy skin filled her nostrils.

  Her heart slammed against her chest. Her lungs couldn’t get enough air.

  Then their eyes locked once more. His magic was as enflamed as his body. Had she really thought they’d be able to control their gifts from merging alongside their flesh? Even as their thrusts met and the pleasure intensified, so too did the light in their eyes and power between them. It felt as though she pulled him deeper and deeper into her until they came together not in a tree on a bed of supple moss but somewhere far more ethereal.

  Their desperate and drenched bodies writhed as her energy fluctuated and her inner flesh began to pulse and grasp at his. The extreme pleasure of their bodies and magic blending was almost frightening in its intensity.

  “Alan,” she gasped.

  But it seemed he too was lost in what they’d created, his sinewy muscles locked as he drove forward, his expression one of near ecstasy. Then their pleas of release were answered when an almost indefinable joy burst within and their bodies let go. With a long, deep throated groan, he thrust forward one final time, his implosion long and pulsing. Everything inside her grasped at him as rushes of pleasure tore through her body. Her muscles throbbed as violently as her heart and then her magic released a near euphoria that seemed to make their surroundings burst with white light.

  “Caitriona,” he mumbled into her neck, his deep voice far, far away.

  While she still felt pleasure radiating from her flesh, she now somehow hovered above them. His body covered hers, their glistening limbs intertwined, aglow against the deep emerald moss. Steam rose from their skin, mixing with what appeared a layer of thin, shiny fog. The tree was afire with the last dwindling rays of the sun.

  “Ye’ll want to come down from there, lass. ‘Tis no yer time to depart just yet.”

  It was then that she realized a little old lady stared up, her stooped form several feet away from her and Alan. Caitriona tried to speak but realized she had no vocal chords to do so.

  “Nay, worry naught,” the woman said kindly. “I come not to harm.” A small crackling chuckle broke from her. “But as I thought might be the case, coupling with this laddie knocked the spirit right free from ye!”

  Alarmed, Caitriona tried not to panic.

  “Shhh.”

  Had that been the woman or the wind?

  Then the woman grew serious, her form changing from that of a little old lady to that of tall, well-muscled golden warrior. His eyes and voice alike were tender. “Yours is a journey foretold and a prophecy that you must see through.”

  Nay, it couldn’t be. But it had to be. For his language was of the ancient Celts and his beauty beyond compare. Could this be the ancient warrior, Fionn Mac Cumhail? He who spoke the prophecy through Adlin MacLomain?

  He held up the pouch with Alan’s twigs. “This must travel with you, child. It’s time here is finished.”

  The urge to stay with this man and travel with him for all time overwhelmed. Until, that is, she looked at Alan. Any need to be with Fionn dropped away in an instant. Anxiety flooded her. She had to get back to him.

  “Caitriona, look at me lass.”

  Startled, her eyes shot open. She was back in his arms. Concerned, he cupped her cheeks and said, “Are you well. I thought for a moment I’d lost you.”

  Afraid, she wrapped her arms around him and shook her head. “Nay, I am right here.”

  It took a few moments to gain her bearings. When she did, Caitriona glanced to her left where the Celtic warrior had once stood. He was gone.

  “Fionn,” she whispered.

  Startled, Alan sat up. “What name did you speak?”

  Oh no, had she said that aloud?

  Shivers started to rake her chilled body. Alan wrapped the cloak around her and pulled her back into his arms. “I heard you say Fionn. How do you know that name?”

  It remained hard to focus, not only because of her out of body experience but because the aftershocks of their lovemaking still rippled through her every limb. But she could not tell him of Fionn. If she did she would have to tell him of the prophecy. “You must of heard wrong. I know not of that name.”

  Yet even as she lied, Caitriona reached over and grabbed the satchel. It seemed to almost glow a faint green before it faded back to buckskin.

  “Why do you lie to me?” Alan said softly. His eyes had turned to a deep, brooding black full of not only pain but a residual lust. Their coupling had not weakened but tremendously increased his desire for her. She felt the same. Whatever they’d awakened was already so addicting.

  “Nay.” She shook her head, fumbling to open the pouch. “‘Twas just garbled mutterings.”

  Alan shook his head and steadied her shaking hands. “You need to see these again.” Gently, he held her palm open and emptied the contents.

  The twigs had changed, twisted and become something else. Now they were three small wooden circles.

  A muscle twitched in Alan’s jaw, his expression transforming to one of both rage and sadness. “The prophecy. The rings,” he murmured. “Fionn Mac Cumhail.”

  As calm as the turbulence in his seething eyes would allow, Alan looked at her and said, “Tell me exactly what he said, each and every word. Because now, it seems; only I stand between you and certain death.”

  Chapter Seven

  It was heart-rending to feel such anger at the gods…at Fionn Mac Cumhail. All were Alan’s foe as he peered down at her palm and then into Caitriona’s confused eyes. Until now he had hoped perhaps it would all unfold differently.

  But here they were.

  The rings.

  Or at least the beginnings of them.

  He could have envisioned a thousand ways how the prophecy might first spark but never that it would be as simple as laying with her. Then again, there was nothing simple about this place, the lass and most especially, their coupling.

  Caitriona’s thick lashes lowered, veiling her eyes. “Fionn was there beside us after we…” She shook her head. “At first he was an old woman, and then he was a man bigger than even you. He seemed a fighter but somehow not. ‘Tis hard to explain. He said these rings must travel with us and that their time here was finished.”

  Before he could respond, her eyes shot to his. “How do you know of him? And what prophecy do you speak of?”

  It appeared sh
e was less inclined to focus on what he’d said of her death. He, however, was not. In no mood to look upon them, he returned the rings to the satchel. It was time to be honest with her. After all, she needed to understand what he fought against and why. “Many years ago, when a wee bairn and more inclined to the rampant imaginings of a child, I met a man in the woods named Fionn Mac Cumhail. He appeared to me not as an old woman but as a fierce warrior. But of course he would,” Alan said dryly. “I had such admiration for warriors. If ‘tis true that you just saw the same god, then you know how impressive his presentation.”

  “God,” she whispered.

  “Aye,” he replied. “Seen sometimes as a woman, other times as a man and known for many things. Of those, a great leader to the Fianna warriors and almost more importantly, being of the forest and creatures—” He glanced at the oak. “Especially the trees.”

  Caitrona glanced at the tree then him, eyes wide. “So he has been here all along?”

  “I suspect ‘tis likely.” He pulled on his plaid. “And while I have wanted you since the moment I realized you were no bairn, I also see now that our first time could only ever have been right here.”

  Alan helped her into her dress, taking his time to visually cherish the skin he now covered. “When at first he told me of the prophecy I thought it implausible. Actually, I laughed. Why would a lad like me be charged with such an important task? And why…” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Would I ever love just one lass as he promised? If ever I was to be like the strongest warriors in my clan, I would have several lasses.”

  Caitriona’s lips twisted slightly but she kept her amusement at bay.

  “Nay, just one lass, he said. When I met her I would know it. And when I did the prophecy would be at hand.” Alan caressed the side of her slender neck, the need to touch her incessant. “There would come three rings, all of great importance. Without them the MacLomains would be doomed. What we are to do with them I cannae be sure but I am drawn north. I know you are as well.”