It was only then she realized he was completely bare beside her and her natural reaction was to scramble out of the pallet, though her alarm was quickly tempered by the fact that he hadn’t bothered to touch her all night long. And very quick on the heels of that realization was a keen sense of disappointment—which made about zero sense.
He lifted a brow. “Ach, lass, ye’d think ye’d ne’er seen a mon’s bod before.”
“A what?”
His lips curved entirely too roguishly. “That thing you’re ogling now as though it were a one-eyed demon.”
Annie’s cheeks heated. “Well!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen yours!” And she wished she hadn’t even now, because there it was—well, hardly…hard. He was without a doubt the most well endowed man she had ever seen without pants, but he wasn’t the least bit aroused.
Maybe he really wasn’t attracted to her? She wasn’t Kate, after all…but she wasn’t chopped liver either. Maybe her cousin was right and she did need a makeover?
“Are ye done yet?” he asked with a conspicuous note of laughter in his voice. “And yet if it please ye…take a closer look, and mayhap I’ll change my mind.”
Annie blinked away the confusion from her mind. She stood, brushing off her poncho, and finally pulled off the price tag, crushing it in her fist. “Where’s my stone?” she demanded.
He was still grinning, and the sight of his smile was maddening. She could see the way he was looking at her and she was certain he was attracted to her, no matter what he claimed.
She wanted her crystal back!
“Ye blush well for a faerie,” he said, ignoring her question. “Di’ ye no’ say so…I would think ye were flesh and blood same as me.”
“Why wouldn’t a faerie blush?” she challenged.
Callum’s grin widened at the question.
She was a true Highlander—spirited and bold, no matter where she had come from. Aye, she would fit in very well with the women of his clan—all of whom would as soon box a mon’s ears as to bow down before him.
“If you’re thinking of ravaging me, don’t,” she warned. “I know karate.”
Callum chuckled. He didn’t move from where he lay, though he did cover himself to give her eyes respite. “I dinna know what karate is,” he assured her, “but rest ye well, lass, for I dinna have ravaging in mind. Why the hell would ye say such a thing?”
She narrowed her green eyes at him. “Why else would you sleep like that in the middle of winter?” she demanded, her tone full of censure. “You are attracted to me.” she persisted, “Why don’t you admit it!”
Callum screwed his face at her. “Winter? Nay, lass, ’tis summer yet, and I slept this way…” He rose from the pallet, retrieving his breacan. “… because ye were shivering like a willow and I meant tae keep ye warm.” He lifted a brow. “Ye dinna show much appreciation, and yet ye’re welcome nonetheless.”
“Oh,” she said with far less sass, and then she had the good graces to look disconcerted and mayhap a little chastened. “In that case…thank you…I guess.” But her lovely face screwed with what he read as disappointment.
Callum’s shoulders shook again with mirth. She stood before him, looking for all the world like a wildling, ready to flee, but her eyes begged him to know her as a man would know a woman. He wrapped his breacan about himself, covering his nakedness so she might finally look at him straight in the face—not out of the corner of her eyes—for he had the sudden yen to spy the color of those eyes: green rimmed by the color of aged uisge.
Unlike Callum, she had slept fully dressed. And despite his claims to the contrary, aye, the sight of her lovely bare legs tested his resolve.
If the gods be willing, he fully intended to bed the lass, but she would be the one to ask. He’d make her beg, in fact, and then he would hold her by his side forevermore, guarding her jealously, for after seeing her in the morning light, with her lovely black hair, mussed from sleep, and those sweet rosy cheeks, he knew she would make him the envy of every man. But inasmuch as she seemed intrigued by his bod, he sensed it would take far more than the gift he was blessed with to truly win her heart and make her stay here with him in the vale. Nay, lust would not be enough—not for him either—for he craved something more—something that had eluded him with all the women of seven clans.
But right now, he needed to know for certain what had brought her to this vale and he intended to set a test for her. For her sake, he hoped she’d pass. “I have something I wish to show ye,” he said with a slow grin, sensing he knew how to tempt the winsome lass. Her gaze slid toward his groin and he laughed, and reassured, “Nay, lass, not that.”
Chapter Eight
Annie’s cheeks were still burning as Callum led her out of the crannog—a cone shaped dwelling that sat out on the lake. She had visited one a few years back out on Loch Tay. Only this one was quite some larger, built with smaller dens encircling a big hall. It was clear that the structure had seen better days, but they were busy making repairs. Already this morning the men were at work, hauling in timber, and now that they had abandoned the chieftain’s quarters, the noise level increased.
A single door led out to a narrow pier that stretched out toward the shore. Once off the pier, Callum took her by the hand. Stunned by the gesture, Annie allowed it, wondering when the last time was that she’d held a man’s hand.
While her thoughts were entirely pre-occupied with the strange way Callum made her feel, he led her across the vale and up a hill, apparently not caring that his kinsmen were all watching. They knew he liked her, and his actions only illustrated that fact—if only she could get him to admit it. “I really, really need my Winter Stone,” she fretted.
“Dinna fash yerself, lass.”
Annie had never really considered herself obsessive in nature, but clearly she was, because she seemed to have a one-track mind where Callum was concerned. “Where I come from, men only hold a woman’s hand if they like them.”
“In that place ye say you’re from?” he asked without looking at her. “What is it? Merica?”
“A-merica,” Annie replied. And then she brooded, because he simply refused to confess. She couldn’t possibly be the only one experiencing these feelings? She had half a mind to throw herself at him and kiss him right here in the field. She combed her hair with her fingers and tried to find the nerve.
In the bright light of day, the valley was gorgeous. Unsullied. The grass was still green and the sky was bluer than Annie had ever seen it. Yesterday’s storm had never come to fruition, but it didn’t appear this valley lacked for water. In fact, it was as rich and verdant as she’d ever seen it.
She followed Callum up the hillside to an opening in a cave, where two surly men sat guarding the entrance. A sudden frisson of excitement flew through her, finally displacing her wayward thoughts. She had come here searching for a cave, and here one was…
She turned to appraise the area, trying to calculate where she was.
“Ye recall my uncle Brude?” Callum proffered, and the man, with his two-pronged beard, merely scowled at her. Callum gestured to the other, seated on his rump. “Angus,” he said, introducing them.
Angus tipped his head, and cast a narrow-eyed glance at Brude. The two shared a look of surprise as Callum invited her within the cave. Neither voiced a complaint, however, and Annie surmised neither dared, despite his uncle’s dissention last night.
“Where are we going?” she asked at his back, though she was beginning to sense she already knew, and her heart was pounding like a drum against her ribs. And for the first time since she’d arrived here, it had nothing to do with the man leading her through the maze of caves.
Callum peered back at her, flashing perfect white teeth in the darkness of the cave—a smile any dentist would love. “I’m going to show ye what ye came to see…”
Chapter Nine
The Stone of Destiny.
Lia Fail, as it was hailed by the Irish.
Callum’s pe
ople called it Clach-na-cinneamhain.
Whatever it’s name, there it sat upon an altar made of rough hewn stone in the center of the deepest cave, with mist rising from unseen places.
Even having braced herself for the sight of it, Annie wasn’t fully prepared.
It didn’t glow with some holy light. It didn’t even look holy. It was just a big dark lump of volcanic rock…and yet…it was magnificent. Drawn to it like a magnet to metal, Annie bolted across the room. Thankfully, Callum didn’t hold her back.
The stone, much darker than the one that sat beneath the chair in Westminster Abbey for seven hundred years, was smooth on top, polished by the years. She knew in every way that it was different because she had taken a thousand photos of that other one with her missing camera. And as she had suspected, this one wasn’t made of sandstone. It was made of what appeared to be basalt. Unlike the one commonly held as the Stone of Scone, it had no handles on either side, but there were holes where handles might have once been. Clearly, it wasn’t an easy object to tote around. Seeing it up close, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that the stone returned to Edinburgh in 1996 was a fake.
This one bore an intricately carved metal plaque. Annie ran her fingers over the etched letters, worn with age, but clearly visible.
Unless the fates be faulty grown
And prophet’s voice be vain
Where’er is found this sacred stone
The blood of Alba reigns.
Her throat was suddenly thick, and she found it difficult to swallow.
Here it is, daddy. Here it is!
Now this was a stone to last the ages! That other sandstone block that had been seized by Edward had broken at least once when it was stolen from Westminster. But that’s just the sort of thing that had kept Annie so intrigued by this puzzle—that the widely accepted answers were not the ones that made sense.
But this…this made sense—this had always made sense—that the stone would have been hidden somewhere in the hillside. She had been so certain of it, despite having no proof. And now she knew precisely where it was.
The moment was so incredibly breathtaking Annie only belatedly realized her crystal was glowing softly in the corner—a ghostly green light.
Her ticket home.
If she found her way home using the crystal…would the Stone of Destiny be right here? She didn’t recall this cave from her walkabouts. Had they hidden the entrance somehow? Had it collapsed over time? She ran her fingers over the top of the smooth stone, where it had worn to a soft sheen, and she peered up at Callum, recalling him only then. That’s how entranced she was by this discovery…for an instant the stone had eclipsed the one man in her life that she had been drawn to at first sight.
It was true. She had never felt quite such an electric attraction with anyone. Nor ever so at ease in someone’s presence. Something was different with Callum…very different.
She blinked at him, seeing him with whole new eyes. For all that he looked like a barbarian, he was the most civilized man she had ever known. He was letting her enjoy this moment, somehow sensing how momentous it was for her. Never once had Paul allowed himself to fall second place to anything she cared about. She didn’t think then, merely acted. She turned, celebrating the moment, and threw her arms around Callum’s neck, kissing him soundly—not to prove anything, but just because. Because she wanted to kiss this man as much as she had wanted to find the Stone of Destiny.
He made some startled sound, then relaxed in her embrace, automatically wrapping his arms about her waist, and Annie reveled in the strength of them.
And then the world held its breath as their lips melted together into a searing kiss…the most passionate, heartfelt, knee-weakening kiss of Annie’s life. In that heady instant she no longer needed the Winter Stone to verify what she already knew…his body hardened between them, pressing against her, and all rational thought extinguished at the feel of it. Without thinking, only feeling, her hand slid between them, finding all the evidence she needed.
“You want me,” she said softly, smirking, and the Winter Stone burned brighter in the corner, its color warming the room in shades of pink.
“Ach, God,” Callum protested, but the feel of her hand along his shaft evaporated his resolve. To hell with waiting for Biera. To hell with trials and restless kinsmen. If any man dared to touch this woman, he’d rip out his heart with his own hands.
If he needed proof that Annie was flesh and blood, he had it now, for her skin set fire to his hands and his lips. “Aye,” he told her gruffly. “I want ye, lass.” And then he lifted her up on the stone table, his body trembling with a desire he had never experienced with any woman in all his nearly thirty years.
For all his attempts to deny her—and himself—his ardor spun into reality like a tempest, filling his veins with liquid fire.
Reaching between them, he sought her wetness and was thwarted by her tiny red breeches. For an instant, he considered gently removing them, but they were a senseless garment anyway and—gah!—they were in his way. His hands trembled as he ripped the delicate lace, his brain fogged with desire. He tossed them onto the floor as she squirmed against his belly, seeking the part of him that was harder now than the bloody stone. Instead of complaining, she moaned softly into the back of his throat and spread her legs like a beautiful flower.
“Oh, yes,” Annie whispered, and instinctively wrapped her legs around Callum’s hips, anchoring herself with his body, hardly aware of thought, only feeling. Somewhere in the back of her head she winced over the thought of where he would take her—right here on the Stone of Destiny. But she was powerless to stop this now. Her skin was on fire, her breasts ached to be free, the muscles of her legs tensed and her body throbbed to have him inside—literally throbbed, she marveled, as she spread her legs as far as they would go, willing him to come inside her.
He kissed her senseless, never breaking the contact of their lips, and Annie’s desire spiraled out of control. The sight of her torn, red, lace panties on the floor only made her want him more. It was further proof of his desire though his hands remained gentle.
She wanted more.
His fingers didn’t disappoint her. He pressed one inside her body, groaning as he found her wet to the touch. Annie moaned too in response, sliding down to give him better access. But his fingers weren’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted everything he had shown her this morning and she wanted it now. Her heart beat faster, the sound of it like thunder in her ears.
Then suddenly it was there, his skin hot against hers, pressing hard, and Annie cried out and slid down over his shaft, reveling in the delicious way it stretched her body as she took him inside.
She sighed with satisfaction and deepened the kiss, mimicking with her tongue exactly how she wanted him to move inside her. She felt so naughty, but oh, so good.
It happened so fast. And for once in her life she didn’t care about anyone but the two hearts beating in this room. The Winter Stone glowed brightly in the corner and a cold mist rose from their feet, intensifying the heat of Callum’s hands. Annie felt as though she were on fire.
She had no idea how she’d come to be here, but suddenly it felt more like home than anywhere else had ever felt.
They made love against the stone, and she couldn’t have cared less that her back was chafing against the rock. His arms embraced her as he thrust inside her, filling her completely and withdrawing, giving her the most intense pleasure she had ever known.
By all the gods, Callum couldn’t have stopped himself if he had tried. But he didn’t. Wouldn’t. It had been far too long since he had craved a woman’s body so desperately.
She wasn’t the least bit timid, matching his desire and surpassing it tenfold. She was a goddess, his faerie princess, desire incarnate…. He reveled in her body and her passion, groaning with pleasure when she filled his mouth with her soft coos of release. And then instead of growing timid with the return of rational thought, she merely grinned at him, and w
hispered, her tone filled with satisfaction, “I knew it,” she said. “You do like me.”
Her Winter Stone lit the entire grotto with a fiery glow that matched his ardor, and he found his release instantly, filling her body with a powerful burst of seed. And in that heady moment, Callum knew he believed in faeries after all, for there was naught that could explain what had passed between them here but to describe it as magic. Forever more, that ridge whereupon he had discovered her would be known as the faerie glen.
“So ye did, lass,” he whispered with a deeper sense of satisfaction than he’d ever felt. “So ye did. And hereto, I pledge ye my troth…if ye will have me, Annie Ross.”
Chapter Ten
Startled by his words, Annie lay back upon the Stone of Destiny.
Talk about fear of commitment—he apparently had none at all. How far they had come…when men no longer saw this act as a bond.
He let her go, but his hands sought and cupped her breasts, gently, as only a lover would. His hands continued to worship her body, even once they were done, and he continued to move inside her, as though to caress her from within.
“I will cherish and protect you always,” he swore. “And I will be true, for I dinna mean to sire bairns who will go through life without a Da.”
Reality swept into the cave, with a gust of cold mist, but Annie didn’t move. She hadn’t even considered that. Damn.
She couldn’t stay. Now more than ever she needed to go back…to prove herself to the scientific community.
What had she done?
He might be everything she had ever fantasized about in a man, but this was not her world. She had clearly been sent here to find the stone so she could reveal it to a doubting-Thomas world.
The Winter Stone: One Legend, Three Enchanting Novellas Page 7
