The Ravenscraig Legacy Collection: A World of Magical Highland Romance

by Allie Mackay

  “Nae!” Aidan almost roared. “Because you are you. And dinnae tell me it’s no’ possible to know you that well. Sweet lass, I have lived with you day and night for years now, though I cannae explain what brought us together.”

  He paused, looking at her deeply. “All that matters is that we are. No’ how we came to be.”

  She blinked again and bit down on her lip, her eyes sparkling suspiciously. “You sound like you mean that, MacDonald.”

  “I do. More than anything,” he owned, remembering the handful of heather tucked into his scrip.

  Wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before, he wheeled about and strode across the room, making for his discarded plaid and sword belt.

  “Here!” He grabbed the ratty-looking leather pouch and waved it at her. “Now I shall prove to you how I meant us to spend this e’en.”

  Kira swallowed, not sure she wanted to know.

  She’d already resigned herself to leaving him. If she even could. She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to think about how much she would miss him. She’d even miss his world, wine barrel baths, stewed eels, and all. Shivering with a cold she suspected had little to do with the room’s chill air, she scooted her stool closer to the fire and focused on keeping a neutral look on her face.

  What she needed to do was concentrate not on how crazy she was about him, but on how much better off he’d be once she was gone.

  A feat she was mastering beautifully until he plunged his hand into his ancient scrip and withdrew a fistful of crumpled, purplish-brown heather, thrusting his prize beneath her nose with as much glowing pride as if he were offering her a dozen long-stemmed roses.

  “O-o-oh, no,” she cried, her heart squeezing.

  She pushed slowly to her feet, her every refusal melting away as he pressed the crushed heather into her hands, closing her fingers around the dried, brittle stems.

  Closing her fate, too, for the instant her fingers tightened on the heather, she knew herself lost. She opened her mouth to thank him, but shut it as quickly, the thickness in her throat making it impossible to speak.

  She looked down at the heather, touching a finger to the tiny, bell-like blooms until they began to swim before her eyes. Blinking furiously, she clutched the gift to her breast, more delighted than if he’d showered her with diamonds and gold. Love, happiness, and wonder, swept her, filling her with sweet, golden warmth that chased all else from her mind.

  Certainly the Castle Apartments in distant Aldan, Pennsylvania, and even her love’s grumbling, grim-faced men and their giant, porridge-eating rats. The three mice that surely lived with a gazillion twitchy-nosed pals beneath the dungeon’s matted floor rushes. Even those great annoyances of her own time, every hapless landscape worker who ever wielded a leaf blower.

  They were all banished. Gone, as if they’d never been.

  Nothing mattered but the tall, fierce-looking Highlander standing so proudly before her. He took a step closer, his dark eyes watching her, waiting.

  “You brought me heather.” She looked at him, her voice cracking. “Th-thank you.”

  Aidan humphed, her pleasure affecting him more than was seemly. Tavish, that great gowk of a self-professed wooing expert, would no doubt place his hand over his heart and declare himself ready to lay all the heather in Scotland at his fair maid’s feet.

  He was so besotted, he’d throw in every Highland sunset and all the stars in the heavens if such were possible. As it was, he reached for her, gently brushing his lips back and forth over hers, letting his kisses and the fine heat crackling between them, say the fancy words he couldn’t.

  As if she heard them, she slid her arms around his neck and twined her fingers in his hair. “I know the significance of heather,” she said, her eyes shining. “You wouldn’t have given me such a gift if you didn’t care.”

  “Care?” He jerked, his entire body tight with longing, so ready and needful he could scarce breathe. “Have you no’ been listening? Lass, I burn for you,” he said, bracketing her face and kissing her. “I’ve waited for you so long.”

  “We’ve both waited, but we’re together now.” She touched his cheek. “Maybe we really were meant to be.”

  He lifted a brow. “No more talk about returning to that future place beyond our dreams?”

  Kira shook her head.

  He stood quiet for a moment, the night breeze coming in the windows rifling his dark, unbound hair, the look in his eyes letting her know there’d be no going back.

  Her throat was burning now, her emotions almost overwhelming her, but she kept her back straight, her chin lifted. She wanted to lean into him, let him catch and hold her forever. She’d almost swear he made her soul tremble. She knew she could still feel his kisses, the shivery tingles each one sent spilling through her.

  She just needed surety.

  As if he knew, he shook his head slowly. Then he reached to touch her lips, her hair.

  “I will ne’er let you go, Kee-rah.” He glanced at the crumpled heather, then back at her. “You say you know the significance of heather,” he said, watching her carefully. “Do you also know that if a woman accepts it from a man, she has as much as bound herself to him?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Kira admitted, her heart pounding. “But it wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  His eyes lit with triumph. “Ach, lass, you will ne’er regret it. I promise you.”

  She moistened her lips, sure she’d be sorry indeed, but the heather felt so right in her hand. Almost like magic, something changed the instant she’d curled her fingers around the little clutch of blooms, the tiny purplish flowers not just making her heart soar, but giving her courage and hope.

  The faith to believe in miracles.

  No, the impossible, a voice inside her chided. Ignoring it, she inhaled deeply, the warning spiraling away when he pulled her to him and slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her until the room spun.

  When he released her, she gasped and touched a hand to her lips. No man had ever kissed her so hotly, dragging her hard against him as he’d plundered her, slaking his hunger for her as if he’d wanted to devour not just her lips, but the very essence of her.

  She drew a shaky breath. “Oh, my.”

  He gave her a slow smile as he took the heather from her and placed it on the table. “That, sweetness, was only the beginning.” The roughness in his voice excited her, the simmering heat in his eyes making her tingle with anticipation. “I’ve told you how much I want you. Now I will show you.”

  His burr turned her knees to jelly. Surely a sexier, more provocative man had never walked or breathed. And the trappings of his medieval bedchamber only heightened his appeal. Fire glow bathed him in a sensual, gold-flickering light, while the impressive length of his broadsword and his massive, curtained bed reminded her of certain huge things he had. Everything about him thrilled her and she burned to rub herself against him, forgetting her cares and just running her hands over every hard, muscle-ripped inch of him.

  Especially his most magnificent inches, the most impressive such inches she’d ever seen.

  She flicked a glance in that direction, a very different kind of heat scalding her cheeks. The old adage, tilt in a kilt, flashed through her mind and her face flamed hotter. Tilt didn’t begin to describe it. If the real Aidan was anything like the dream one, she might climax just looking at him. He was that much of a man and she was wet already. Heaven help her when he touched her.

  Really touched her.

  “Have you studied me enough, Kee-rah?” His eyes darkened as he grasped his tunic and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside. “I hope so, for I would now look upon you.”

  Locking his gaze on hers, he rid himself of the rest of his clothes faster than she could blink. At ease in his nakedness, he flashed her a smile and stretched his arms above his head, cracking his knuckles.

  “That’s better,” he said, tossing his hair over his shoulders. “Look your fill, lass, for I’m no’ shy. Bu
t have done quickly for I cannae wait much longer.”

  “Look?” She stared at him, doing just that. “I can hardly breathe.”

  His smile turned wicked. “That’s good, lass. Then I shall give you a few moments more.” He clasped his hands behind his back, his steely self-control clearly not extending to a certain very masculine part of him.

  Kira’s eyes widened as her gaze settled there, a fierce need pulsing between her thighs. She watched in amazement as he ran even harder beneath her stare. Her mouth went dry and she gulped, nothing she remembered from their dream lovings preparing her for this.

  She’d been right, tilt didn’t begin to cover it.

  He could be some mythic Celtic sex god and, heaven help her, the longer she gaped at his blatant male perfection, all she could think about was her overlarge breasts and the not-bad-but-definitely-there roll at the top of her belly.

  “Oh, dear,” she blurted, tightening the knot in the drying cloth as discreetly as she could. Her breasts still swelled over the top of the wrapping, but at least her tummy and her hips were covered.

  Turning away, she dipped her hand in the bathwater, twirling her fingers in it as cheerily as she could. “The water’s still warm,” she said, risking a glance at him. “If you don’t mind sharing, it just occurred to me that maybe you’d like a bath, too?”

  His smile faded. “I had a quick wash at a spring when I collected your heather. It was enough.”

  “You might enjoy a real bath more.”

  He seized her water-swirling hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “You know well what I’d enjoy. What I need.”

  She jerked back her hand and scooted around the tub. “Still, I think-”

  “Odin’s bones!” He was on her in a heartbeat, swooping her off her feet and carrying across the room. “Have done with such nonsense.” His dark eyes were fierce as he lowered her onto his bed. “You ought to know how much I desire you.”

  Kira pulled a pillow on top of her belly. “I do know….” She trailed off, remembering how he’d almost worshipped her curves in their dreams. He’d called her lush, claiming her soft, warm body would fire his blood on even the coldest Highland nights. He’d smooth his hands all over her as he said the words, kissing her everywhere. Even so, this was now and no dream, and her belly was definitely a tad too soft.

  Angry that she hadn’t taken better care of herself, she dug her fingers into the pillow, holding it firmly in place.

  “What is bothering you, Kee-rah?” He glanced at the table, then back at her. “Shall I bring you an armful of heather next time? I will if a few sprigs weren’t enough to properly woo you.”

  Her heart dipped. “I loved your heather. One sprig would’ve melted me. It isn’t that.” She paused, struggling to find the right words. “You see, I’ve gained a bit of weight since the last time we dreamt together.”

  His brows shot upward. “By all the ancients! Think you I’d want a stick-woman in my bed?”

  “No, but-”

  “Ne’er have I desired another woman more than you.” His gaze slid across her breasts and her pillow-padded belly, then swept down her thankfully good legs. “Alas,” he added, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand, “it would seem I must prove it to you.”

  He stepped closer, pure male heat pouring off him.

  Her pulse jumping, Kira watched as he pried her fingers from the pillow. He set it carefully aside, then stood back and folded his arms.

  “Now the drying cloth.” He waited, every fierce, muscled inch of him daring her to defy him.

  No, every fierce, muscled, and scarred inch, for standing this close and beneath the blaze of a well-burning wall torch, a scoring of faint, silvery scars winked from his hips and thighs. A rather fresh one slashed the side of his left arm. Sword marks, Kira knew. Battle tokens that she’d not noticed in their dreams. Not surprising, he wore them well, each one only making him more irresistible.

  Dark, dangerous, and bearing marks of medieval warfare.

  Kira swallowed, the notion making her pulse quicken. She looked up at him, her tummy roll forgotten. “You’re scars-”

  “My battle scars are no’ near as interesting as the sweetness beneath that drying cloth.” His gaze slid over her, his burr thicker than ever before. “Have done with your coverings, lass. I would see you naked.”

  With trembling fingers, Kira obliged. She untied the knot and yanked the linen from beneath her, letting the drying cloth fall to the floor. Cold air swept her, bringing gooseflesh and tightening her nipples, but she resisted the urge to reach for the covers. She couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it. Not with him looking at her as if he wanted to devour her whole.

  He was not looking at her as if tummy rolls mattered to him.

  His expression said he wanted to eat her alive.

  “You take my breath,” he said, proving it. “Every luscious curve of you. Your breasts” – he paused, his gaze latching onto them – “are magnificent.” He reached for them, lightly caressing her nipples, then splaying his fingers across her fullness, palming and squeezing. “I will ne’er get enough of you,” he vowed, the words sending delicious shivers spilling all through her.

  Especially there where he hadn’t yet looked.

  Tingling flames of pleasure danced and pulsed between her legs, the fiery ache making her burn for more. She writhed on the bed, rocking her hips and biting back her cries. She didn’t want to rush the moment, the sweet savoring of this first real joining. Then a single breath escaped her and something flared in his eyes. Something primal and untamed, and so arousing she nearly choked on her need.

  “That’s my Kee-rah,” he praised, gliding one hand over her belly, then tracing a finger right down the center of her. The intimacy of his touch electrified her, shattering her control.

  “I am yours.” She bent her legs and opened her knees, all reservations fleeing.

  “My heart!” He looked down at her, his gaze burning as he swept his hands beneath her buttocks, his grip firm and demanding. “You, lass, ought e’er be clothed in naught but your skin and moon glow,” he vowed, his fingers digging into her smooth, plump flesh.

  “And I’ve ached for you since the first moment I saw you,” she confessed, her throat getting thick again. “I dreamt of you even before our dreams began.”

  “Och, sweetness, if you only knew how I longed for you. How I searched for you.” He leaned down to kiss her. A ravenous openmouthed kiss so incredible it was all she could do not to drag him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around his hips and then plunging her hand between them, closing her fingers around him and guiding him home.

  There, where she needed him so badly.

  Instead, he pulled back to rain kisses down the side of her neck. He nuzzled his face against her breasts, rubbing back and forth, losing himself in her scent and warmth, the smooth, satiny feel of her. “Lass,” he breathed, teasing at her nipples with light, barely there touches before he shoved his hair out of the way and drew one peak deep into his mouth, tasting and savoring her. Losing his soul. Each sweet suckling pull enflamed him more, the blaze of his need rivaling anything he’d ever felt in their dream-passions.

  Dream-lust.

  Nae, love, a bold voice shouted in his head.

  He groaned and sucked harder on her nipple, grazing it with his teeth, the immensity of his need for her almost stopping his heart. Whate’er it was, love, lust, or both, it filled him now. A great roaring hunger inside him, all-consuming and out of control, its fury blinding him to all else. Only the naked woman on his bed mattered. His need to make her his, scorching him to the bone.

  “This is how I need you.” He looked up, locking gazes with her. “Just so,” he vowed, smoothing a hand down her hip, then tracing light circles across her abdomen, his fingers just brushing the flame-red curls of her sex. “Naught but skin and pleasure between us.”

  She gasped, her body quivering beneath him. “Yes, just us skin to skin,” she agreed, lifti
ng her hips until his fingers were on her sleek, damp heat, the silky-soft feel of her breaking his restraint.

  “Och, lass, you shouldnae done that,” he warned, his mouth curving in just the kind of smile he knew would make her burn. “See you, now that I’m touching you with my fingers” – he slid his middle one right inside her – “I’ve a powerful need to feel you with all of me.”

  “And I want the whole of you.” She writhed on the bed, her breath hitching. “Love me for real this time. I told you, I’ve ached for that since the first time I saw you.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, not missing the flush of arousal staining her breasts or the brilliance of her eyes. Her kiss-swollen lips and the way she kept rocking her hips, pressing against his hand.

  “You truly want this?” He had to ask. “There will be no regrets?”

  “Yes, and no!” She slid a hand around his nape, pulling his mouth to hers for a kiss. “No regrets ever.”

  Something inside him wound tight on her words, the fever of her kiss. It was a hot-spinning fire that set him hard as granite. “Then so be it.” Kissing her hungrily, he stretched his fingers across her slick heat, cupping her intimately. He rubbed with just enough pressure, circling his thumb over her most sensitive spot.

  “O-o-oh!” She arched her back, nearly shooting off the bed.

  Exultation flashed through him, making him even hotter and harder than before. “Now, sweetness, you will see just how real I am,” he promised, straddling her. “A more real man ne’er walked and breathed. Nor one who desires you more.”

  He smoothed back her hair, wanting to see her face as he touched her. “You are mine.” He made the words an oath, his voice roughened by passion. “Now, and for all days to come. I will ne’er let you leave.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere.” She peered up at him, her gaze slipping right inside him. “Not ever.”

  “The only place we’re going is where we’ve already been in our dreams.” Refusing to accept otherwise, he wound his fingers in her hair and claimed her lips in another deep, slaking kiss.

  She pulled away, her face troubled. “But our dreams are over. What if-”