The Ravenscraig Legacy Collection: A World of Magical Highland Romance

by Allie Mackay

  Sure enough, the look in his eyes turned to a slow, dangerous smolder. “That I know, sweetness,” he purred, his rich burr watering her knees. “But you may as well be – as you’ve ne’er been loved by a true Barra man!”

  “Never been-” The scald on Mindy’s cheeks kept her finishing.

  He grinned.

  “So it is, Mindy-lass.” He curled has hand around her neck, let his fingers toy with her hair. “There’s no point in no’ stating what’s true.”

  “Ahhh….” Her objection trailed into nothingness when he tightened his fingers around her wrist and looked at her with such intensity that she could feel all the manliness and power inside him.

  His strength and his bold, earthy appeal rocked her to the core. Awareness and deep, female appreciation sluiced her and she knew she was blushing. She could almost see the same desire beating through him and it made her lightheaded, even dizzy.

  She moistened her lips, her heart galloping.

  “The truth is, lass, that neither one of us wants this.” He put a hand beneath her chin, lifting her face so that she was forced to look at him. “Yet here we are.”

  A delicious warmth curled low by Mindy’s thighs, making her desperate. “Here we are what? Aren’t you always here? This is your Barra, isn’t it?”

  “Mine, aye, though...” He let the words tail away, something indefinable flaring in his eyes. “No chief worthy of the title would deny that our holdings never belong to just one man. Why do you think thon fisherman and his friends willnae allow anyone but Barrachs to rebuild my tower?

  “They won’t because it’s theirs, too.” His words, the passion in his voice, pierced her soul, stirring emotions she hadn’t known she possessed. “That’s the way it was in my day.” He paused, his pride almost a presence in the room. “I’m right pleased to see that hasn’t changed. We chieftains ensure that all is well, looking after our own and seeing to the right of things. But the land, Mindy-lass, the land belongs to us all.

  “And you’re right. I am always here. But” – he smoothed his thumb over her jaw and she trembled beneath the caress – “I’m here, with my friends, in my own place and time. It isn’t my wont to visit Barra of the moderns.”

  “You’re here now.”

  “Aye, so I am.”

  “You seem to be here every time I turn around.”

  “That, too.” He sounded very serious. “I’ll no’ be denying it.”

  “Why are you, then?” Mindy knew she sounded breathless. The intensity of his gaze and the way his thumb kept circling over her cheek made normal speech impossible.

  The man really did need a license!

  And she was going to self-combust if he didn’t stop looking so deeply into her eyes.

  “Ach, lass.” He shook his head slowly. “Surely you know I’m here because of you.”

  “Me?” Mindy blinked, her heart stalling. “Not because of the tower?”

  “The tower does interest me.” He grinned. “I willnae lie. But I could watch the work better from my islet than inside this wee bit cottage.”

  Mindy glanced aside. “It really isn’t a good idea for you to be here.”

  “To be sure.”

  “Some would say it’s mad.”

  “No doubt.” He slid his arms around her.

  She found herself gripping his plaid. “Really crazy,” she argued, although the tingles racing through her said otherwise. She wanted him, hoped he’d at least kiss her. But the need building inside her was so against everything she believed in and had expected.

  She’d had it with men – especially Scotsmen – and she certainly didn’t need to be dallying with a kilt-wearing, sword-carrying Highlander who didn’t even bother to deny he was seven hundred years young.

  A ghost!

  Yet, there she was, trembling with anticipation, burning with a fever she’d never felt for any man.

  He was just looking at her, his arms holding her close, and already she understood the cheesy phrase found so often in Scottish romance novels: that the hero’s lovemaking set the heather ablaze.

  Or was it the hills?

  Either way, she was on fire.

  And Bran of Barra knew it.

  Triumph flared in his eyes and he even looked ready to whoop. When he tightened his arms around her and grinned, she could almost see the word conquest flashing in the air between them.

  He lifted a hand to stroke her face in a rough, claiming gesture. “So you’re finally ready?”

  Mindy swallowed.

  Her mouth felt like sawdust.

  “You needn’t tell me.” His voice deepened, his burr doing wicked things to her. “I can see it all o’er you. But I’ll keep my word that until you admit-”

  “Admit what?”

  “That you want this.” He took her chin in his hand and lowered his head to lightly flick her mouth with the tip of his tongue. “My kisses.”

  “I don’t!” Mindy denied.

  “I say you do,” he challenged her, looking pointedly at how she’d splayed her hands across his plaid, even plunging the fingers of one hand inside his shirt.

  She followed his gaze and flushed.

  But she didn’t remove her hand.

  She couldn’t. The warm strength of his powerfully muscled chest felt so good beneath her fingers, and the light scattering of crisp, ginger-colored hairs she’d discovered there, positively intoxicated her. She kept running her fingers over them, unable to stop.

  He had a warrior’s body.

  Everything about him thrilled and excited her.

  She could tell he burned with wanting her.

  Her heart hammered. She was keenly aware of the thick, hard ridge of heat pressing against her hip. And it wasn’t the hilt of his sword. She’d glanced discreetly down to make sure. She saw at once that she hadn’t been wrong.

  It was all him.

  Pure Highland man, eager and ready.

  She bit her lip, knew she was lost. “You’re-”

  “Aye, I am.” Bran of Barra’s eyes gleamed in a way that should have sent her dashing out the door. Not that he’d have let her go. His arm was like an iron band around her, crushing her to him so fiercely she could feel the thudding of his heart.

  She tried to focus. “This isn’t the place-”

  “Nae.” He pulled back a bit. “No’ for what you’re thinking. Only the grandeur of my own tower chamber would suit for that.” His gaze locked with hers and she was sure they’d soon catch fire. “But a mere kiss can be anywhere.”

  She almost choked. “I doubt there’s anything even remotely mere about your kisses.”

  “That may be!” He laughed, his eyes lighting as his smile deepened.

  Mindy trembled, sure she was melting.

  She knew her heart rate had soared.

  In her mind, she could see him settling over her, imagined his big, hard-muscled body covering hers, claiming her as she clung to him, her legs wrapped around his hips. Excitement thrummed inside her, the pleasure pooling deep, heating her blood. Swirls of tingles swept across delicate places, making her press her thighs together. Never had she craved with such abandon. The sensations were overwhelming, almost unbearable, but deliciously so. Could be, she’d been frigid until now, this moment and with this man, and hadn’t even known it. She did know that she was close to climaxing just from being in his strong, Scottish arms.

  As if he knew, he lowered his head again and began nibbling on her ear. Then, as quickly, he feathered kisses along her jaw and down her neck. His hands were doing wicked things to her back, his fingers spinning magic everywhere they caressed her.

  Who knew a touch to the back could be so sexy?

  “Just say aye.” The want in his voice made her feel hot and dizzy. His sexy Scottish accent poured over her, seducing, sending shivers along every inch of her body. The little kitchen faded away, leaving only the two of them. “One simple word, that’s all. Speak true, right now, if you really-”

  “Yes, please
!” Mindy clutched at him, so many deliciously rolled r’s making her reckless.

  “Lass!” His hands swept upward, gripping her shoulders. He pressed his lips to her hair, rubbing his cheek against her. For a moment, she was sure he was trying to drink in the scent of her, branding her on him in a savage, primordial way that excited her so much, her knees nearly buckled.

  She was shaking.

  “Gods, but you’re sweet.” His voice was husky, the words soft against her temple. “Tell me you need my kisses, Mindy. I’d hear the words. Now-”

  “Yes, now!” She thrust her hands into his hair, tangling her fingers in the thick, cool strands. “Kiss me, Bran, kiss me, please-”

  He gave a low rumble, cutting her off as he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her deeply. She twined her fingers more tightly in his hair, pulling him close and opening her mouth wide beneath his, welcoming his tongue when he plunged it between her lips to slide and twirl against her own.

  He kissed and kissed her, ravishing her mouth in a way that could only be called that: ravishing. Or, perhaps, it was more like plundering. She didn’t know, and didn’t care. By whatever name, nothing had ever felt more perfect and right.

  She couldn’t get enough of him, ached to have his entire hard, solid body naked against her, skin to skin, and without a sliver of air between them. Need surged within her and she returned his kisses with a passion wilder than she’d have ever believed possible.

  The feel, scent, and taste of him electrified her. His savage, all-slaking kisses were almost a torture to bear, so exquisite was every touch, each dizzying, breath-sharing tangle of tongues. Every rasp of his beard was an erotic ecstasy that sent her spiraling, tumbling into a whirl of hot, shivering delight.

  She was unraveling, coming undone. He slid his hands over her breasts, cupping and plumping them, then spreading his fingers over her, squeezing her fullness, before he began rubbing her nipples with his thumbs.

  “Bran…” She swayed against him, felt the world’s most thunderous orgasm cresting when he nudged her legs apart and slid his rock-hard thigh between. He thrust his hips against her, encouraging her to-

  She didn’t need coaxing.

  “I can’t stand it… Ooh!” She pressed into him, grinding herself on his leg, not caring about anything but the sizzling heat flaming between them.

  Beneath her feet, the kitchen’s stone floor tilted crazily. Yet he hadn’t even touched her! Not between her legs where she ached and needed him so badly. Still, he was giving her the most incredible bliss; sensations she knew of, but had never experienced. Not like this, anyway. She started to say so, but just the world exploded, everything splintering into black and silver.

  “Ahhh….” She gripped him tight, holding for life.

  His tongue plunged into her mouth, danced hotly over hers, then withdrew, only to thrust even deeper on its return. The intimacy of his kiss making her gasp and writhe, the feel of his thigh rubbing into her softest, most tingly place, drawing out the best climax-

  “Odin’s balls!” He leapt backward, bending almost double as he clutched his side. “Agggh...”

  Mindy sagged against the counter, panting. She nearly slid to the floor – she’d gone that limp and weak-kneed – but the fiery blue sparks shooting from the pommel stone of his sword stopped her.

  Passion sluiced, she stared, aghast.

  She’d seen his sword glow before, but always from a distance. She’d even talked herself into thinking she’d imagined it. Up close and personal, the blaze was daunting. Like Fourth of July sparklers, the glittery blue flashes fizzed and crackled. Mindy’s eyes rounded. They almost smelled like burnt sulfur.

  The smell hung in the air, as did a tinge of smoky blue haze.

  “Oh, God!” She pointed before she could stop herself. “What is that?”

  “‘Tis my blade.” Bran bent lower, bracing one hand on his thigh and grabbing his sword hilt with the other. Breathing hard, he closed his fingers over the spark-shooting pommel.

  “The devil-damned reason I shouldn’t be here!” He glanced up at her, his face a mask of agony.

  Gibbie appeared in the kitchen doorway then and slunk over to him, whining. Mindy started forward, her own fear forgotten on seeing the dog’s distress.

  If Gibbie was worried, then something was seriously wrong.

  Bran straightened and staggered backward, warding her off with an outstretched hand. “It’s no good, sweetness. You’ll only make it worse if you come to me.”

  “But-” Mindy kept going anyway.

  “I mean it, lass.” He shook his head, holding out both arms now.

  His sword hilt had stopped sparking.

  “It’ll ne’er work.” Sweat stood on his brow and he lowered his hands, clenching them. “I thought I had the strength to ignore it. To kiss you, satisfy the need blazing between us, and then…”

  He shoved a hand through his hair, shook his head. “I see now that-”

  “Is the sword evil?” Mindy glanced at it, remembering Jock’s words at the Hebridean House. “Did it warn you not to touch me? Is that why-”

  “Och, nae, the Heartbreaker isn’t evil.” To her surprise, he laughed. “It wants me to touch you. That’s why it sparked.” He clicked his fingers at his dog, nodding once when Gibbie leaned into him. .“And why the damned thing sent spears of fire slicing into my side.”

  Mindy blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple.” He looked at her. “The sword’s telling me we’re destined to be mated.”

  “Mated?” The old-fashioned word sent a thrill jolting through her.

  “Aye, mated.” He sounded anything but pleased. “Regrettably, as I’m a ghost, my honor won’t let me agree.”

  “But why me?”

  He rubbed his brow. “Aside from the obvious” – his gaze went hot again, flicking her length – “considering the sword’s power, I suspect it feels we’re well suited. I’m no’ easy man, see you.” A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “My pride in Barra is great. Seven hundred years strong, and with each century, my love for Barra hasnae let much room in my heart for a woman.

  Mindy pushed back her hair, confused. “Then why is there-”

  “Room for you?” He looked at her, awareness crackling between them. “Some might say there’s never been a woman able to share my love for Barra. Ladies from afar cannae appreciate my watery territory, so full of rock, wind, cold, and little else.” He glanced at the window, the misty gray sky, so brooding even at this early hour. “Barrach lasses love the land and sea as I do, but they know nothing else.”

  “So?” She still didn’t understand.

  “You know the difference.” He strode forward then and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. “You, above all others, would value Barra’s worth. You’d appreciate why to call these wild, rugged isles home means no’ just to dwell here but to live.

  He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “That, Mindy-lass, will be what the Heartbreaker sees in you.”

  On the words, he vanished, taking his blue-sparking sword and his dog with him. And leaving behind a horrible, aching void worse than anything Mindy had ever known.

  But it was an emptiness she wasn’t going to accept.

  Not now that he’d kissed her so passionately.

  Taught her the meaning of crazy-mad, earth-shattering sex without even touching a finger to her. And especially not after the things he’d just said to her.

  Mindy’s heart began a slow, hard thumping and the most wondrous warmth spread through her, letting her feel almost as if she were glowing inside.

  She agreed with his sword. They were destined to be together. And – she was sure – if such a thing was even halfway possible, Scotland was the place where it could happen. She only needed to figure out the logistics.

  And she would.

  It was just a matter of time.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bran of Barra spun and tumbled through the thick gray m
ist of the Twilight World of the Great Beyond, sifting himself as fast as he could back to his beloved tower. Unfortunately, his fury slowed his passage through the dark place, which took severe umbrage to any souls daring to taint the fog-shrouded quiet with bursts of agitation.

  Too bad he wanted to rail and vent so loudly.

  Odin’s balls, Thor’s thundery toenails, or Lugh’s anything, didn’t begin to express the rage he was so close to spewing into the eerie maze of mist, shadow, and emptiness.

  But he wasn’t of a mind to add to his misery by suffering the lash of bone-piercing lightning bolts.

  So he caught himself, he set his jaw, and did his best to blank his expression. He was too late. Already the whirling mists were darkening and jagged spears of lightning ripped past him, bent on punishment. Some came so close he was sure they’d scorch his plaid or singe his beard.

  Everywhere thunder boomed. Each deafening clap rolled over him like an angry, sulfurous wave, hurting his ears and echoing deep into the roiling black mist he couldn’t sift through fast enough.

  He should have known better.

  Others had complained – and warned – about the like. Telling tales of how the vast and empty resting place for the damned switched in an instant from an innocuous swirl of billowy gray mist to a hellish nightmare of icy, angriest black, each dark cloud shot through with punishing jolts of lightning and ear-splitting thunder.

  “Lucifer’s knees!” He clenched his fists, the infernal din rattling his teeth.

  Just barely, he dodged a particularly wicked jolt of lightning, aimed – he winced – at a most sensitive part of his body.

  Some of his dearest friends had been speared by such bolts, though, they insisted bravely, the pain was swift and vanished as quickly. Namely, once the victim released whatever foul mood or un-good thought had sullied his mind.

  The Twilight World of the Great Beyond didn’t tolerate annoyance.

  A quirk that had never before concerned him because he’d always sifted through in high fettle.

  This passage was different.

  He wasn’t in good spirits.

  And at the moment, he deserved his foul humor.