He savored her unique taste. Her scent. A very enjoyable death at that.
“My legs are wobbly,” she murmured.
Her lustrous gaze, full of desire, sent his heart into a rapid thumping. He swallowed hard and stepped away. Hand in hand they strolled into the cave.
Duff glanced up. “Lady Jillian’s shiny plaide is gone.”
“You must be wrong.” Jillian dropped Stephen’s hand and squatted beside the lad. “It was rolled inside these.” She lifted each of three blankets. The silver cloth was not there.
“Shite.” Stephen rummaged through the remaining plaides and furs. He knew he should have destroyed the damn thing.
“It was with these others when we arrived at the castle,” Jillian said, tone tentative.
“Ach, well, ’tis nae longer.” He ran a hand through his snarled hair, yanking at the ends. “Someone must have taken it. The question is who? And what do they intend to do with it?” He trailed his gaze across the others to Munn. “Do you ken who might have taken the cloth?”
“Several people come to mind.”
He could just imagine. “Go back. See what you can learn.”
The wee man spun in a circle and vanished.
Jillian held a palm over her heart. “He freaks me out every time he does that.”
Stephen didn’t bother reminding her not to use such words. The fear of the future plaide falling into the wrong hands gnawed at the inside of his chest. He gazed at her beloved face.
Jillian frowned, noticing the deep furrows in Stephen’s forehead. Why did he seem so concerned about losing the space blanket? They had enough wool blankets and furs to stay warm now that the weather had warmed. If she wasn’t upset, he shouldn’t be.
“How many more days until we reach the time gate?” she asked.
“Two. Mayhap three.”
That seemed like an eternity, but they’d come this far, she could wait a few more days, especially if she spent those days with Stephen.
They ate a light meal and bedded down, rising early to continue the trek.
On the third day out, they rode from within the shade of forest trees onto a sundrenched ridge. Jillian let out a gasp. A large loch reflected the clear blue of the early afternoon sky and the deep green of the fir-covered hills from the opposite shore. The pungent smell of tidal water teased her nostrils. Just off the near shore, nestled upon an islet within a small bay, sat a faerie tale castle.
“Castle Lachlan?” Jillian asked.
“Aye, lass, we have arrived.” Stephen’s voice held a smile.
Jillian didn’t savor the thought of dealing with more snotty castle lords and ladies. She really wanted to go home. Now. “Can’t we go directly to the time gate?”
Over the last few days, Stephen had once again kept her at a distance. He obviously didn’t feel for her as she did for him. It was inevitable she would miss him. But like ripping off a sticky bandage, she wanted the pain over. Staying longer, enjoying his company, wishing if only, would make her miss him all the worse in the long run.
“From what we ken, the faerie knoll only works on full moons,” Duncan said, joining them. “Three nights hence.”
Stephen tugged on his reins, and Jillian followed him down the hill to a large stable. Duncan, the children, and guards trailed behind. After the horses were taken away by young boys who threw her curious glances, they descended the remainder of the hill to a pebbly beach, where water lapped against several small boats made of wicker and skins.
“What are these boats called?” she asked.
“Currachs. We use them to come and go from the castle. You can only ride a horse across during an unusually low tide.”
They loaded their gear into three of the boats. Keita scraped a foot from side to side in the grit, staring at the ground. Duncan tilted his head toward the child, and Stephen squatted next to her. “Do you want to come to the castle with us?”
She bit her crooked lip and glanced at Duff, worry in her mossy green eyes. He gave an abrupt nod, then she smiled and nodded with vigor.
“Let us be on our way then.” Duncan picked her up and placed her into one of the boats, then Duff climbed in. Duncan pushed the boat into the water, jumped aboard, and rowed toward the castle. The guards took the second.
“Shall we?” Stephen grasped Jillian’s hand.
She inhaled a deep breath and stepped into the third boat. After dragging the craft into the water, he joined her, taking oars to hand. What new misadventure did they row toward?
“Nae worries, lass. Nae one at Castle Lachlan means you harm.”
She hoped that was true as they approached the massive structure and a chill skittered over her spine.
“Welcome!” A woman with dark amethyst eyes, shrouded in a matching cape with thick white fur peeking from the hood, hurried toward them. “Welcome to Castle Lachlan. So good to see you, Stephen. I had hoped to find Archibald with you.”
Stephen bowed over her hand. “He chases Maclay.”
“Should have expected as much. He is determined to bring Maclay to justice.” She shook her head, a deep frown darkening her features, then she glanced at Jillian and her demeanor lightened. “And who is this you brought with you?”
Jillian dropped into a curtsy, feeling awkward and out of place. Stephen took hold of her hand and tucked it under an arm. “Lady Isobell, ’tis my pleasure to present Jillian O'Donnell, a friend of Patrick and Laurie.”
“Oh dear.” The woman’s gaze narrowed. “You came through the faerie knoll?”
Jillian gasped. Threw an annoyed glance at Stephen. He barely suppressed a grin, the corner of his lips quivering.
“Not exactly.” She glared at him.
He sobered. “’Tis a long story. Mayhap the telling could wait until we are inside.”
The woman grasped Jillian’s free arm, drawing her away from Stephen and toward the castle gate as they walked together like schooldays friends. “We have much in common.”
Jillian doubted that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Castle Lachlan wasn’t as large, nor perhaps as lavishly adorned as Dunoon Castle, but as Jillian stepped over the threshold into the great hall, something within her warmed to the place. Made her feel comfortable. Tension in her shoulders eased. This was a home. Men and women and children dressed in colorful tartans of red and green with yellow crossed the stone floor covered here and there by woven rush mats, greeting one and other cheerfully as they went about their business. Several acknowledged her with a tentative smile, showing only mild curiosity, then continued on their way. Much different from the audible whispers exchanged behind raised hands at Dunoon.
“Come and sit by the fire. You must be exhausted from your travels. I am eager to hear of them.” Lady Isobell directed her to a grouping of chairs before a hearth taller than Stephen by more than a foot, and wide enough that several men could stand within. A welcoming fire burned with a crackle and pop.
The raven-haired beauty dropped to a green velvet-cushioned chair and propped her legs on a small embroidered footstool with a heavy sigh of relief. The skirting of her purple gown hiked up, providing Jillian a glimpse of a pair of very modern-looking Fair Isle knit leg warmers made with synthetic fibers. Certainly not of the time period.
“I have recently given birth to a fine son.” Lady Isobell’s smile glowed with happiness. “My ankles and hands still swell on occasion.”
Jillian shut an open mouth with a snap.
When the other woman noticed where Jillian stared, she smirked. “Do you like my leg warmers? They were a gift from my mother-in-law, Mairi, when we visited my husband’s family in a place called Anderson Creek a couple of Christmases ago. Have you heard of it?”
“Uh…yeah. I live there, Lady Isobell.”
“No need for formality. Please. Just Isobell. I am sure we will become bosom friends.” Isobell beamed. “Do you ken the MacLachlans? Mairi and Iain? Patrick and Laurie? Elspeth and Finn?”
“I know them al
l. Laurie is my business partner. We own Foxgloves Garden Center along with our friend Caitrina.”
“Ah. That explains much.” The woman’s violet eyes brightened. “I have fond memories of the orchid room.”
“Yes. It’s lovely. Full of color, especially in winter.” This was all too bizarre. Had she fallen into a 1960’s episode of Twilight Zone?
“And so verra warm.” Isobell fanned herself as if the memories made her hot.
“The orchid room has state of the art environmental controls encouraging peak performance from the plants.”
“The plants? Oh, aye, they are nice. And the cushions are verra comfortable, if you understand my meaning.”
“Oh.” Jillian raised both eyebrows. Had the woman and her husband used the orchid room for a…sexual encounter? Obviously, based on the suggestive expression Isobell wore.
She patted Jillian’s arm. “Now, you must tell me all about my niece and nephews. I miss the wee bairns terribly. It has been some time since we visited.”
“You make it sound so normal. Time traveling, that is.” Jillian swallowed uneasily.
“Far from normal, but I have come to terms with fae activity since marrying Archibald, having our wee adventure, and living at Castle Lachlan.”
“It boggles my mind.” Jillian looked beyond her hostess to scan the hall, wondering what happened to Stephen and the children. Not seeing them, she returned her attention to Isobell. “You mentioned the faerie knoll. Is that how you traveled back and forth from…” Jillian glanced around again to see if anyone listened to their conversation. No one seemed to pay them any mind. “Anderson Creek?”
“Oh, aye. But only once. According to my father-in-law, a person can only travel through the portal once in each direction. Our faerie knoll sent us to Laurie’s garden then the garden gate returned us to the knoll.”
“That isn’t how I came to be here.”
“Nae? Do tell.”
“It all started in a cave of sorts with a deep well, which I fell into.” Or into which I was shoved.
“Interesting.”
“Indeed,” Stephen said as he joined them by the hearth.
“Jillian was just telling me how she came to be here, traveling with you.” Isobell studied Stephen. He seemed to squirm. “I was delighted to hear you survived that foolish battle.” Isobell sobered. “So many others died.”
There was a heavy silence then Isobell pinned Stephen with narrowed eyes, the hint of an unspoken question in the intent gaze. “You do look hale. Are you leaving Jillian in my care and traveling on to Dunadd to see—”
“I will see Jillian to the faerie knoll on the full moon,” Stephen cut the woman off.
She didn’t seem to mind. “Well, then, I guess I should have Aine prepare a chamber for our Jillian.”
“Nae need. She will stay with me in my chamber.” Stephen’s blunt statement provoked a raised brow from Isobell and surprise from Jillian. Over the last few days, she’d thought…he’d lost interest. Perhaps she’d been wrong. The thought of being alone with him sent a thrill through her system.
“I see...” Isobell’s lips quirked and she fought a smile.
A flush crept up Jillian’s chest, flaming her cheeks. What must the other woman think? Oh, what did it matter? Jillian would soon leave and she wanted to spend the last few nights of her stay in the past in Stephen’s bed. Without the children.
He presented a hand and helped her from the chair. “I will show you the way. I am sure you would like to bathe before the evening meal.”
“I would. You will excuse us Lady—”
“No lady. Please.”
“Isobell then.”
“Stephen will take good care of you, Jillian.” Their hostess smiled. “He is braw. Is he not?” She winked.
Jillian nodded. Embarrassment heated her chest yet again. Oh yeah, he was a handsome blond devil. As they walked through the great hall and climbed the narrow circular stair, Jillian pondered over what Isobell might have been about to say when Stephen cut her off. She would ask him when they arrived at his bedchamber.
But when they entered the room, he spun her around, pushed her back against the hard oak door, and kissed her senseless, the kissing all-consuming. The feel of his satiny lips and velvet tongue working her mouth made her sex clench and weep. She clutched the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. Breaking off the kiss, she yanked the soft fabric up and over his head. His throaty chuckle made her bold. She skimmed impatient fingers over his abdomen. Splayed her hands on the heated flesh of his chest, relishing the flex and ripple of honed muscle as he moved and wrapped her within a tender embrace.
Without a word, he lifted her into strong arms, carried her to the large canopied bed, and seated her at the edge.
“What about the bath?” she asked.
“I instructed the lads to take their time heating the water.”
“Well, then.” She ran an appraising gaze over his fine form. “I want you naked.”
His eyes flared. “Ach, lass. You ken just what to say to a man.”
His wool pants dropped to the floor, the belt buckle clunking the stone. His plaid landed on top. His erection jutted forward. The sight pebbled her nipples tighter, and she reached for the ties on her gown.
“Allow me.” He made quick work of divesting her of the heavy gown and undergarments then tenderly laid her back on the mattress. He rose over her and, leaning in, took possession of her mouth. A kiss that left her breathless, wanting more, wanting everything, wanting forever.
His lips whispered over her flesh like fine silk, skimming along her neck and chest and latching onto a sensitized nipple. Overwhelming pleasure shot to her core.
She ran her fingers through his tangled hair, holding his head to her breast. She arched. Moaned. A needy sound that took her by surprise. Oh, man. She wanted him deep inside. Her muscles tightened and her sex throbbed.
“I want you now!”
His deep chuckle was so damn sexy.
“I dinnae want to rush. I want to savor every last taste of you.” He switched the sinful torment to the other breast.
She burrowed her heels into the mattress. Clutched the coverlet, fingernails digging deep. Stifled a scream as an orgasm took hold, built to a crescendo, and bliss wrapped her in its loving embrace.
“Ach, you are beautiful when you come for me.” Stephen released her breast and kissed her mouth, hard, going deep with his tongue.
She’d never come like that, not from a man just sucking on her nipples. She felt raw and tender and needy. Still primed. She pulled Stephen’s hair. “Now!”
“Aye, lass, as you wish.”
He entered her with a quick thrust that threw her into a second orgasm. “Oh. Dear. God. Stephen, what are you doing to me?”
He grinned and continued with a leisurely lovemaking. As the burn hit her, his speed increased and they both exploded at the same time. His arms tightened around her and she didn’t understand the torrent of Gaelic words he murmured in her ear, but loved his touch and the sound of his voice.
How would she ever leave this man?
“Mo chridhe. Cha d'fhuaireadh facal Gaidhlig mar.” My heart. My only true love. Stephen couldn’t hold Jillian close enough to his heart. In the very short time since they’d met, she’d become a part of him. He needed her with every breath. She’d become his sole reason for living.
He’d find a way for them to be together. For always and ever. No one would stand in his way.
“Stephen! Someone is banging on the door.” Jillian slipped out of his embrace.
“I am coming.” He raised his voice to be heard through the thick oak.
Jillian arched a graceful eyebrow and gave him a smug grin. Ach, his words held a double entendre. He shook his head with a laugh.
“Must be the lads with our bath water.” He rose from the snarled bedding and threw a cover over Jillian’s nude form. “I will return shortly.”
He tugged the bed curtain closed, hidin
g the most delectable woman in the world from view. Donning his leine, he padded barefoot across the cold floor whilst still chuckling over his faux pas and opened the door. Several young ghillies entered, burdened with buckets of hot water. The big metal tub was dragged from the curtained alcove and set before the fire. One of Isobell’s many improvements to Castle Lachlan. After spending time in that future place of Jillian’s, Isobell insisted each bedchamber have its own tub. A major expense, but although they sometimes debated over the changes, Archibald mostly always gave in to Isobell’s requests. Theirs was a true love match. As he prayed he would have with Jillian.
A bucket of hot water was hung within the heat of the hearth for later use before the lads departed. With the door bolted for privacy, Stephen strode toward the bed eager to bathe with his lady-love.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Munn blinked into substance near the hidey-hole of the woodland bairns. He sniffed the air, and sniffed again. Fae and human essence lingered in the area. The strongest was the musky scent of a male faerie. He scratched his chin. Had the Prince of Darkness been there?
His nose twitched. Caitrina’s sickening oriental perfume fouled his breath. As did the filthy body odor of Maclay. The slight whiff lingering of the bairns proved they hadn’t visited the spot this day.
With another deep inhale, he caught another scent, one Munn had only recently become acquainted with—Ciaran.
How had Calyn’s brother found the place? At least, he was days away from Dunadd and his sister. She wouldn’t hear of Stephen’s activities anytime soon. Munn would follow the lad’s scent to ensure no tales were spoken, but first…
He scurried into the thicket. Sharp thorns scratched exposed skin, and he grumbled aloud even though no one could hear the complaint. Magic vibrated and hummed. An unceasing ringing assaulted Munn’s sensitive ears. Translucent colors shimmered and swirled. He extended a hand. Slowly. Ever so slowly. Hair on his arm bristled. He touched the covering of the stash. Ouch! He yanked his hand away, the tips of his fingers singed.
He stuck them into his mouth. An acrid taste made him gag. He rubbed his hands on his trews. Shite! The stinging pain remained. Dark magic protected the bairn’s treasure trove. Dugaid?
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 13
