by Willa Blair
“Come on, let’s go.” He took her hand and led her through the trees.
“Where are we going?”
“Just a bit further and then you’ll see.”
Five minutes later, they emerged into a clearing. In the center of it was a ring of stones, arranged in a perfect circle around a huge oak tree. The stones were rather small—the tallest was about a foot high, but they were still a sight to behold. The rain was falling harder now, and without the protection from the trees, they were starting to get wet.
“Oh, Ian, this is wonderful! You knew it was here?”
“Aye. I didn’t think of it at first, but as we got closer to the trees I remembered hiking around in here one day with Robbie. The stones look a lot smaller four hundred years from now, and not many people even know it’s here. But that tree in the center? It’s still there—and even bigger—in our time.”
He grinned as she dropped his hand and ran over to investigate. She skirted the stones to stand inside the circle, turning to look back at him with a big smile on her lovely face. Just then, the skies opened up, and the rain began pouring down. Abby spread her arms out to her sides and closed her eyes, tilting her face up to the sky. She turned in a slow circle, looking as though she was summoning some ancient pagan deity.
The rain sluiced down, plastering her clothes to her body, revealing nearly every curve and hollow to his hungry eyes. He had to touch her.
He stepped into the circle of stones. He came up behind her and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her wet hair and then pressing his mouth to the side of her neck. Her pulse throbbed against his lips, and his body responded immediately with a throbbing of its own. She leaned back into his embrace, reaching up to turn his face to hers so she could kiss him.
As she ran her tongue over his lower lip, his body pulsed with desire. He ran his hands over her breasts, and then wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her even more tightly to him. He ground his aching lower body against her hips as his free hand continued to stroke her breasts through the clinging linen.
Abby moaned, reaching up to clasp Ian’s hand where it caressed her breasts. She abruptly turned in his arms, pressing herself fully against him, plunging her fingers into his wet hair as her tongue delved into his mouth.
He backed her up against the tree and continued to kiss her senseless. She whimpered against his mouth and rubbed herself against him. He shuddered as their lower bodies came together. He could feel the heat of her through their soaked clothes, and it was driving him wild.
He had to have her, now! He swept his tongue into her welcoming mouth, cupping his left hand behind her wet head to protect her from the hard tree bark. His other hand stroked down her shoulder and over her breast. He could feel her heart pounding against his hand as he caressed her through the soaking fabric. He moved still closer to her, grinding his heated body against hers, eliciting a gasp from her as she felt the evidence of his need.
Abby pulled back, her eyes smoky with desire, her lips swollen from his kiss. “How long do we have before we have to head back?”
“Long enough, lass.” He took her hand to lead her to a patch of grass.
“No. Right here, Ian.” Abby kept her back pressed against the tree and opened her arms.
Oh God. The expression in her heavy-lidded, stormy eyes nearly had him staggering with the force of his need. “I don’t want to hurt you, lass.”
“Hurry!”
The urgency in her voice was almost more than he could take. He reached for the neck of his wet shirt and dragged it over his head. He undid the laces of her chemise and slid the clinging linen off her shoulders.
He stepped back and simply looked at her. There was a sultry smile on her kiss-swollen lips. Her loosened chemise had slipped down to her elbows, exposing the tops of her breasts to his hungry gaze. Her hair had come loose from its braid, wet strands clinging to her neck, and her soaked skirts were twisted around her legs. She looked sexy as hell.
Before his brain realized that he had moved, he swooped down upon her breasts, his mouth and fingers caressing her through the sodden linen as she squirmed and clutched his hair. He returned his lips to hers, running his hands down her thighs and slowly inching her skirts up.
Suddenly, her hands grasped him under his plaid. He flung his head back at the touch of her wet hands upon his aroused flesh.
“God, Abby,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I can’t take much more of that!”
“I know,” she replied, staring into his eyes, her hands still on him.
He could take a hint when it was given. Crazed with need for her, he yanked up her sodden skirts with his left hand and touched her intimately with his right, his fingers sliding along slick flesh. He renewed his assault on her mouth as he stroked her until she was writhing against the tree.
He withdrew his hand, reaching around her to skim over her bottom and down, bending her left leg and stepping into the cradle of her thighs.
She guided him into her, and he moaned against her mouth as he sank into her wet heat. She wrapped both legs around his lean hips as he began moving within her, one hand supporting her back and one hand clutching her thigh where it rested against his hip.
They surrendered to their desire, their bodies thrusting blindly against each other as her head fell forward on his shoulder, her hands tangling in his hair. He knew he was nearing the end.
“Look at me, Abby!” He wanted to watch her watching him as they fell into oblivion together. She obeyed and he stared into her stormy blue eyes.
“Tha gaol agam ort. I love you, Abby.”
Her eyes widened as her flesh began to pulse around him. Without taking his eyes off hers, he quickened his pace and they clutched each other as the world exploded around them.
****
Abby’s head fell limply back against the tree, her heart thundering in her breast. She dimly noted that the rain had tapered off. Ian rested his trembling body against hers as their breathing began to return to normal. He held her legs as he slowly withdrew from her body, the sensation inflaming her desire yet again. She clutched his strong arms as he lowered her legs until her feet were on the ground, holding her until she could stand on her own. He kissed her mouth once more and then stepped away, his damp plaid falling into place.
She stared at his half-naked body, her hungry gaze roving over sculpted muscles that glistened with rain. Never before had she been so wanton in her desire for him, and all she could think about as she watched him watching her was that she wanted him again—against the tree, on the ground, wherever. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.
He took two big steps toward her, pulling her to him and taking her mouth in a fierce kiss. As they feasted on each other with mouths and hands, she could feel the evidence of his need as he throbbed against her once more.
When he finally pulled back, he gazed at her with burning eyes. “God, Abby! I want you again, even after you nearly killed me just now.”
An arrow of desire shot through her at his words. “What are you waiting for, then?”
He started toward her, and then stopped in his tracks. “We can’t risk Ewan’s wrath by getting back too late.” He gazed pointedly at her. “And I think you need to clean up a wee bit before you meet your ‘grandda.’ If he got a look at you now, he’d have us both killed.”
She knew he was right, and she took his hand and let him lead her out of the stone circle. Her body still burned for him as they returned to the horses, and the touch of the saddle between her legs when he helped her onto Bonny was almost too much for her to bear.
When they emerged from the copse of trees, the sun was shining brightly once more. It bathed them in its warmth, drying their hair and clothes as they rode back to the village. Her lustful feelings cooled abruptly as she recalled what awaited her.
“Ian, what will I say to Andrew Fraser? I wish I was the actor now, instead of you. You know I’m a terrible liar.” She always broke eye contact and stammered ove
r her words. No one with half a brain would believe her.
Ian reached over and took her hand as they rode side by side. “You have to tell him that your parents are dead. It’s your truth, and you won’t appear to be lying.” He gazed at her with sympathy in his jade eyes. “And your emotional response to your words will be genuine,” he added softly.
On that part, at least, he was right. She was on the verge of tears just thinking about it; there was no way she’d be able to say the words without weeping. At least Ian would be there with her.
They rode in silence back to the village.
Chapter 17
They returned to the village with several hours to spare before dinner. Ian escorted Abby to Alannah’s cottage, where he picked up his laundered plaid and shirt and left to bathe and dress for the evening.
“My God, Abby, what happened to you?”
Abby could only imagine what she must look like. She knew that her hair was a rat’s nest of tangles, despite her valiant attempt to re-plait it. Her clothes were in their proper places, but they were damp and wrinkled and had random bits of leaves and bark on them.
She cleared her throat, knowing her face was bright red. “I um…well, we got caught out in the rain,” she muttered lamely.
“You were caught in the rain, so you decided to roll on the ground?”
Alannah burst out laughing—something she did not do often. Seeing such a rare sight took Abby’s mind off her own worries for a moment.
“Yes, well, rolling on the ground”—or against a tree—“can be quite enjoyable with the right person,” she said with a grin.
“Abby!” Alannah sputtered, her face turning pink. With that, Abby grabbed a piece of soap and headed out to the creek to clean up. She couldn’t face Andrew Fraser looking like she’d just been thoroughly tumbled by Ian.
A short while later, Abby and Alannah rode to the village. Abby had bathed and washed her hair in the creek, combing out the tangles and braiding it neatly back. She’d borrowed a clean underdress and skirt from Alannah. She hoped she looked okay—there were no mirrors in Alannah’s cottage, and she couldn’t really tell from her reflection in the water trough. She had to trust Alannah’s assessment that she looked “bonny.” She usually wasn’t much for cosmetics, but she would have loved some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss just then.
As they neared the village, her palms began to sweat and she started feeling nauseous. She was about to meet a man whose pride and anger drove away two daughters and contributed to a feud, a man who’d lived in self-imposed exile for years because of his shame and regret. A man whom she was claiming was her grandfather, when she knew damn well it wasn’t true.
She wished she’d never showed her pendant to Alannah. On one hand, it had earned her Alannah’s devotion, and perhaps some of Ewan’s trust, but on the other, it was forcing her into an untenable position.
How could she face Andrew Fraser and lie to him? Though she planned to say what Ian had suggested, Andrew would no doubt ask for details. He had been the leader of his people once upon a time—surely he would be able to see through her flimsy tale. And then what? Would he have her put in irons? Or worse? What did they do to prisoners in the 1600s? Would she be flogged? Starved? And what about Ian? He was already on shaky ground. What would they do to him if she was found out to be a liar?
Stop it before you give yourself a full-on panic attack! You have the pendant. Ewan and Alannah both say you look like the Fraser women. It will be all right.
Too late. Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest and she couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs.
“Abby? What’s the matter?” Alannah took one look at her and reached for Bonny’s reins, pulling the horse to a stop. “Abby, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I…just need a moment.”
Abby closed her eyes and forced herself to try to calm down. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling the air expand inside her lungs, and held it for a moment before slowly exhaling. It took a few more deep breaths before she felt her clammy skin begin to warm up.
“Abby?”
She managed a weak smile. “I’m all right. I just felt—” did they know about panic attacks in 1610?— “a bit overwhelmed for a moment. But I’m better now.”
Alannah didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t we just rest here a moment, then? We still have some time before we need to be there. Come, let’s sit under that tree.”
If Abby got off her horse now, she didn’t think she’d be able to get back on. Plus, with the way her legs were shaking, she’d probably fall on her face in front of Alannah.
“Actually, the sun feels good. Let’s just stay here for a few minutes, and then we can go.”
“All right, if you’re sure.”
Abby leaned forward in the saddle and rested her upper body against Bonny’s neck, the thick mane providing a cushion against hard bone. She let her arms dangle down her sides and closed her eyes, letting the late afternoon sun warm her chilled flesh. This was more comfortable than she would have imagined, and if it hadn’t been for the residual panic fluttering in her chest, she could almost fall asleep.
She could do this. She’d come through a damn portal to another time, for God’s sake! Surely she could manage to keep herself together now. You have to. You have no choice.
“Abby? If you’re feelin’ better, we should go.”
Alannah’s soft voice held a tone of urgency, and Abby reluctantly sat up in the saddle, giving Bonny an affectionate pat on the neck.
“I’m fine now. Let’s go.” And let’s get this over with before I grab Ian and run like hell.
****
Ewan met them at the barn. Alannah slid down from Epona’s back before Ewan could help her, but Abby gratefully accepted his aid. She was still feeling a bit shaky, and Bonny was a big horse. She had no desire to end up crumpled on the ground.
“Where’s Ian?” She thought he would be there to greet her.
“He’s out back with that horse of his. I thought it would be best if Andrew didn’t lay eyes on him just yet. He’s an old man and has been traveling all day, and there’ll be time enough for that tomorrow. You can see your man after you see Andrew.”
Abby tried not to let her disappointment show. She knew Ewan was right. Springing a long-lost “granddaughter” on the old man was bad enough; best not to throw a man from the enemy clan in his face at the same time. But she really needed Ian’s support right now. As they approached the door to the hall, Abby touched Ewan’s arm.
“What did you tell him about me?”
“Nothin’. Come with me.” He took her arm and led her through the door.
“Nothing?” she hissed. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?”
“Just that. We didn’t tell him anything about you.”
“Are you insane?” They hadn’t told the old man anything about her? Oh God. She wanted to turn tail and run like hell, but Ewan tightened his hold on her arm. He was so nonchalant about it, she could kill him.
“If you’re implyin’ that I’m daft, lass, then think about this: I found you wanderin’ alone on our lands, not speakin’ our language, and within hours we captured a man whose family we’ve been feudin’ with for 30 years. Aye, you have one of the Fraser pendants, and aye, you bear strong resemblance to Andrew’s daughters, but that doesn’t mean you can be trusted. I want to see Andrew’s reaction to you. So if that makes me daft, then aye, I am. Now, let’s go. No more stallin’.”
He led her toward the head of the table, where a man sat slumped tiredly in a chair. He had not yet looked up, and she took a moment to study him.
Though she imagined he was in his seventies, he looked much older. He had scraggly, unkempt white hair that hung past his shoulders. His face was pale with nearly colorless lips, and the skin under his eyes was thin and bruised-looking, as though he had not slept well in decades. Given what she knew of him, she supposed he hadn’t.
His body seemed dwarfed by his chair, a
nd a fur was wrapped around his hunched shoulders, even though a fire crackled in the hearth behind him.
He looked like an old, broken man, and more than anything else, Abby feared that her unexpected presence would precipitate a heart attack or a stroke. She would not be responsible for that. She yanked her arm free from Ewan’s and whipped around, heading for the door.
“Abby, where the hell are you goin’?” He reached out for her, but she dodged his hand. “Abby!”
A raspy voice spoke in rapid-fire Gaelic, and Abby froze in place at the sound of it. Her heart sank. She’d been spotted, and now she couldn’t make her escape without causing trouble. She had to turn back.
Wishing for Ian’s reassuring presence at her side, she slowly turned around, her stomach churning, her heart pounding so hard she thought everyone in the room could hear it.
Squaring her shoulders and clenching her trembling hands at her sides, she stepped around Ewan and slowly approached the head of the table.
The old man spoke again in Gaelic, and Ewan said something back. Abby jumped, not realizing that Ewan was right behind her. She dimly wondered whether he was there for support or to prevent her from fleeing.
Andrew Fraser muttered something under his breath. Abby had a feeling it wasn’t complimentary. “Come closer, lass.” He spoke English? Why do I continue to be so surprised by this? Alannah speaks it, Ewan speaks it…I shouldn’t be surprised that someone who was once a strong leader speaks it too.
She reluctantly moved closer, and the old man’s pale blue eyes narrowed, then widened. His face grew even paler, something Abby had not thought possible.
“Sorcha?” he whispered, leaning forward in his chair and extending one gnarled, trembling hand. “Have you really come back to me?”
“I…” Abby couldn’t find her voice.
“Andrew, this is Abby,” said Ewan.
“Abby?” he breathed, his brow furrowed in confusion. “But she looks just like Sorcha.”
“She’s Sorcha’s daughter.” Abby glanced behind her at Ewan’s expressionless face.
