Shades of Pink

by 33 authors

  It was rare Declan lost his head, but this was ridiculous. He was being arrested for something he hadn’t done yet. Time didn’t work that way. No one could be prosecuted for something that would happen in the future. While time travel was possible, no one could go to the future. It was past-only and it was always damage control. No one just up and time-jumped for a vacation. It’s why his team was off the books, and it’s why everyone was screened so thoroughly. Very few made it into the Time Ops, and even fewer left. What that meant was everyone followed the rules. Everyone.

  “Under whose orders?”

  “Orders come from above.”

  Before they could stop him, Declan gripped his pendant and jumped back into his office. He tore out of there at a dead run until he found Jackson Tremaine.

  “Declan! What the hell?”

  “Don’t fuck with me Tremaine,” Declan snarled. “I’ve got an Eclipse team in my dungeon cell telling me I’m under arrest.”

  “For what?” As if by mutual understanding, they both turned and walked towards the privacy of Declan’s office.

  “Fuck if I know. Find out. The orders come from the future. I’m being arrested for something I haven’t done yet. Look up case file 112563 and be quick about it. I’ve got to get back to that cell before the McClure finds it empty.”

  “The future? That isn’t allowed.”

  Declan’s face was grim. “I know.” Entering Declan’s office, they ignored the stares they were receiving and shut the door.

  Raking his hand through his hair, he snarled, “Well shit. As if I don’t have enough problems.”

  Jackson brought up the case file on his tablet and a chill went down Declan’s spine as he saw Jackson’s face turn to stone. This wasn’t going to end well.

  “It says that you interfered with a death.”

  Declan interrupted him. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

  “What worries me more than you allowing someone to live, is why you’re being apprehended before it happens. Time Ops doesn’t work that way. They aren’t allowed to interfere anymore than we are. This is bad, Dec. This is really bad.”

  Declan knew that.

  “The Cleaners weren’t sent in after you, though, so that’s a spot of good news.”

  “Yet,” Declan growled.

  Jackson dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yet.” He took a deep breath, but paused as if he didn’t want to add anything. When he did speak, it was hesitantly. “Whatever convinces you to let this person live, you can’t. You have to fix this Declan, because I don’t think I can.”

  Declan wanted to choke his friend.

  “Who did I save?”

  Jackson glanced down at his tablet once more and said, “Ian McClure, son of the laird. Does this mean anything to you?”

  Declan shook his head. He hadn’t met the man, why would he risk the timeline for someone he hadn’t met?

  “Figure it out Dec. Go back and fix this, I’ll see what I can find out on my end.”

  Before Jackson could turn to leave, Declan put his hand on his shoulder. “Oh, and the MacRae mentioned that something is happening in London. I don’t believe in coincidences, Jackson.”

  “Neither do I.”

  They shared a look. Alone, it might not mean anything, but added to Declan’s current problem? The two instances had to be connected. Something had happened in Time Ops, and if Jackson didn’t know about it that meant it was big. Declan could handle whatever was thrown his way, but for some reason a woman in a wet pink sark was in the front of his mind, and he didn’t want to see her hurt. He wanted to get back to his cell quickly so he could see her again. What was it about her that was drawing him in?

  Shaking off thoughts of Fiona, Declan instead concentrated on how he and Jackson were going to figure out not only what was happening in Scotland, but what was going on in London.

  “I’ll go myself,” Jackson said. “I don’t know how high this goes or who we can trust, but I’m due a field assignment and I think I’d like to see London again.” The smile he gave Declan wasn’t pretty. Neither was the one Declan gave him in return.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 5

  Fiona was barely breathing when Declan disappeared. He was right; the men who had come for him were not her father’s men. When they disappeared, her breath rushed out in an audible whoosh and the shaking began. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, her whole body trembled and before she could blink, Declan was back in his cell. Dear God was she going mad?

  “Fiona lass, I ken you’re still there.”

  His voice was sumptuous, and somehow she trusted it. She wanted to go to him. But how could she trust a man who disappeared at will? It was witchcraft. It was madness. It was something she had to do. Placing one foot in front of the other until she stood before the bars that were his prison, she stared at him.

  “Are you a demon?” It slipped out. She hadn’t meant to ask that, but it was there, waiting for an answer.

  “Nay lass, you ken I’m no’.” He held her eyes, willing her to believe him. Could she?

  “I watched you disappear. Then I blinked and yet you stand before me.”

  His slow nod did nothing to reassure her.

  “How is this possible? Dare I believe my own eyes?” Fiona moved to grasp the bars in front of him. “Help me to understand.”

  She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he spoke. It slipped out from between her lips in a nearly inaudible gasp, but she could tell he heard. This man missed nothing.

  “I can’t tell you everything, Fiona, and for that I apologize. I’m no’ from here, and by here, I don’t mean Scotland.”

  Fiona didn’t move, afraid that taking even the smallest of breaths might stop him from talking.

  “I come only with good intentions, you must believe me in that. No matter what else happens, I come with no intent to harm. Something has happened that caused my people to come check on it. That is all. I keep track and interfere only when necessary.”

  She was more confused than before. “You check on what? My clan? My father’s people?”

  Declan dragged his hand through his hair, and closed his eyes for a brief second before pinning her with his stare. “What I tell you doesna leave this room, aye?”

  Fiona nodded, noticing his accent thickened when he was upset. He sounded more like a Highlander with each passing second.

  “My people are from a different time. I am from a different time.”

  She didn’t laugh. Something that fantastical ought to be funny, but she couldn’t find the humor.

  “Someone has come back to your time and my job is to ensure that nothing is changed that could alter the timeline. I was only supposed to speak to your father to find out if he kens of anything unusual. Those men from earlier?”

  She nodded.

  “They want to take me back to my time for something I haven’t done.”

  “What,” she croaked. Clearing her throat, she tried once more, “What is it you’ve done?”

  “Haven’t done,” he corrected her. “And I don’t ken.” Fiona nearly stepped back when he narrowed his eyes and growled, “Yet.” This man was a warrior, like her father’s men, but he was so much more.

  She wanted to believe him. But coming from another time? That wasn’t real. Nobody could do that. Yet she couldn’t ignore what she had seen. Not only had he disappeared and come back, but those men had worn garments like nothing she had ever seen. And they had disappeared as well. The same instinct that led her to feel connected to him was instructing her to believe him now.

  * * *

  Declan wouldn’t tell Fiona that his crime was saving her brother. He still didn’t have all the information, and he didn’t want to frighten her. Asking her to believe in time travel was test enough of her faith in him without adding to her worry. If she trusted him, that is.

  A grating noise drew his attention towards the top of the stairs.

  “It looks as if your father has fina
lly decided to see me.”

  Fiona scurried back to her hiding place, and Declan stepped away from the bars, unsure of what awaited him at the hands of the McClure’s men.

  A hulking man, taller than even Declan, approached the bars of his cell and several armed men stood behind him. Declan rolled his shoulders debating if he should allow the beating they so desperately wanted to give him, or if he should fight back. Already mapping out the fight in his head, he was prepared for the first punch, knowing it would be to his stomach. He allowed it, tightening his abs in preparation. The second blow was aimed to break his nose, and Declan blocked it, returning one of his own to the man’s face. While the blood gushed from his attacker’s nose, Declan threw an uppercut that knocked him out.

  He looked to the other men, all with swords drawn now, and ordered, “Take me to the McClure.”

  No one moved, so Declan barked, “Now!”

  The men jumped into action, immediately dragging Declan out of the cell, towards the stairs. He shook them off and followed on his own power.

  The laird awaited him, but when he noticed his missing guard, he indicated they move to a different room. Once in the laird’s solar with the door firmly shut, he turned around and glared.

  “Where is Angus Óg?” Although his eyes stayed on Declan’s, the question was meant for his men.

  No one spoke. Declan held the laird’s gaze. Finally one man’s voice filled the silence.

  “Angus is still in the dungeon, m’laird.”

  The McClure’s gaze went directly to the man who’d spoken. “Did I no’ say to bring our guest directly to me? Did I no’ say that he was to remain unharmed?”

  A chorus of “ayes” met his ears.

  “If Angus is still in the dungeon, that leads me to believe he attacked our guest. Am I wrong?”

  “Nay, laird.”

  “You’ve my apologies Wallace.”

  Declan dipped his head in acknowledgement.

  “As I see you’ve no marks, am I to assume Angus lost the fight?”

  “He is sleeping like a wee lamb in my cell, laird."

  “Ahh.” The McClure turned his back and walked to stand behind his desk. A large and intimidating man, he walked as a warrior would. Declan guessed this man would be formidable in battle. Turning, he hefted his belt and sporran, “So Declan Wallace, of no clan to call your own, why are ye here on my lands? I’ll forgive your treatment of my daughter as she’s explained ye thought ye were saving her, but that doesna explain why ye were there to begin with.”

  “Laird McClure, the McRae clan will speak for me, should you desire. It is at their behest that I came to your lands.” Declan wisely left out any mention of the McClure’s daughter, and the fact that he was technically on MacLeod lands. “They merely wanted to ensure that you and your people had enjoyed yourselves at the last gathering. The younger McRae recently wed, and ‘tis my understanding that the MacRae wishes to cultivate a closer friendship with your clan.”

  The McClure grunted. “You’d be his emissary then?”

  Declan shook his head, “Nay laird, I’m merely a messenger. The MacRae would like me to invite you and your family to their next clan gathering. Any more than that is between the two of you.”

  He grunted once more. “You were being charitable and doing a favor for your friend, is that it?” Was that sarcasm Declan sensed? “Aye then. You’ve a warm bed and a hot meal, tomorrow you’re on your way.”

  So much for Highland hospitality. “Aye laird. I thank you. Might I have my weapons back?”

  “Meek doesna become you, Declan Wallace.”

  “Aye laird.” Before he turned away from him, Declan swore there was a bit of a smile on the McClure’s lips.

  “Oh and Wallace?” The laird didn’t turn around.

  “Aye?”

  “It seems my daughter has taken a fancy to you. Doona make me regret allowing you to stay the night.”

  “Understood.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER 6

  Fiona was going to wear her rug bare if she kept pacing like this. Declan was from another time? How was this possible? How could she believe such a tale? And why did it matter to her so much? She so badly wanted for him to be telling the truth, but how could she believe him? After what she had seen, how could she not?

  She flopped backwards onto her bed. None of this was helping. Her mind was running in circles. Sitting up, Fiona decided to go talk to him. She knew where he was staying, she could sneak through the castle and be in his rooms in a minute.

  Slipping through the hallway was easy enough, but when she knocked on his door, she was unprepared for him to answer without his shirt. The heavy slabs of muscle on his torso held her rapt. It wasn’t until he spoke that she was able to tear her gaze from his body.

  “Lady Fiona, what a surprise.” The humor in his voice made her ears burn.

  “Weel, might I come in?”

  A look flared in his eyes, but was gone before she could figure out what it meant. “Are you sure that’s entirely proper, lass?”

  Fiona laughed a little. “What about meeting you has been proper at all?”

  Inclining his head, Declan opened his door further so she could slip into his room. Fiona looked around and noticed her father had given him his sword back. Her father trusted him. Interesting.

  Declan shut the door, but he hadn’t moved his arm, so Fiona couldn’t pass by him without touching his bare chest. Meeting his eyes, she couldn’t help but become fascinated by the color. She’d thought them brown at first, but now they looked nearly green. Amazing.

  When he brought his other arm up to the door, trapping her between his warm body and the cool wood behind her, she hardly breathed. Would he kiss her? Would she allow it? She didn’t even have to think hard about that. Of course she would allow it. She craved it.

  His head bent, her heart sped up, and his breath against her ear stunned her. He wasn’t going to kiss her.

  “Why are you here, Fiona?”

  She jerked her head back hitting the door, trying to meet his eyes, but Declan wouldn’t budge. His lips stayed close to her ear, not touching.

  “I want to believe you, but how can I?” Fiona was proud that her voice didn’t waver. His breath against the shell of her ear was stirring the hair at her temple, distracting her. What was it about this man that called to her?

  “Why is it so important to you, lass?”

  Had his lips brushed her ear that time? Suppressing a shiver, she turned as much as she could, her mouth to his ear this time, “I doona ken. Explain that to me, Declan. Why do you matter to me so much?”

  His body shuddered giving her a slight thrill that she might affect him just as much as he affected her. Pulling back slightly, his eyes met hers. “Fiona, love, you doona ken what you’re doin’ to me.”

  She wasn’t completely ignorant of what happened between a man and a woman, but she had never felt like this before. Why him? Why now? Then his lips descended on hers and she couldn’t form a coherent thought to save her life.

  Declan’s lips barely fluttered against hers, but it was enough. It set off the spark that had been smoldering until a raging fire ripped through her body settling in her belly. When his tongue dragged across her lower lip she gasped and wrapped herself around him, demanding he satisfy her newfound need. Her tongue slid against his eliciting a groan she felt rather than heard.

  His arms left the door to grasp her waist in an almost bruising grip. Fiona didn’t care. She couldn’t get close enough. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. Nothing like this. His lips feathered across hers one second, barely there but for the briefest of pauses. The next moment, his lips devoured hers, stealing her breath and robbing her sanity.

  The tips of his fingers trailed from her waist to her breast, lightly dragging over her nipple before cupping her whole breast. Fiona’s legs gave out and Declan lifted her into his arms. They were on his bed before she could breathe, his body pressing hers into the m
attress, his hands pulling her skirts up to her thighs. Each brush of his fingers made her thighs clench. Her legs pressed together, restlessly seeking she knew not what, but she knew Declan could give it to her.

  Pulling back, he looked down into her eyes, “Are you sure, Fiona lass?”

  Her fingers tightened on the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet her seeking lips, “Aye, oh aye.”

  With a groan he allowed her to explore his mouth, her tongue darting in and out, mimicking what he had done earlier. She let her hands roam across his naked back, until they reached the taut muscles of his buttocks. Her fingers played beneath the edge of his plaid, and Declan growled against her lips, losing control and nearly ripping her gown in his haste to undress her. When she was down to her sark, he stared at her for a moment, trailing his fingers around the pink lace trim at her neckline. With an almost tender look, he gathered handfuls of material until he could slip it over her head.

  Once she was freed from the shift, Fiona reached for his belt, tugging it free and letting his plaid pool around them. Declan shoved it off the bed and leaned down to capture her lips once more. While his tongue slid and twined with hers, his fingers worked their own magic against the downy curls at her core. When one finger slipped inside her, she nearly bucked against his hand. His finger and his tongue danced in time to an ancient rhythm her hips instantly recognized. When he rubbed his thumb against her center, Fiona gasped and exploded around his finger.

  After the ripples stopped, she dared open her eyes and gasped at the look of such obvious desire on Declan’s face. No one had ever looked at her like that. Lifting his finger to his mouth he flicked his tongue around it and his eyes closed in bliss. Fiona’s lips parted, her breathing speeding up once more. As he withdrew his finger, he reached down to his cock, positioning himself at her entrance, and inch by inch, began to press into her body.

  There was so much discomfort that Fiona began to squirm. By the time Declan was fully seated to the hilt, Fiona was biting her lip from the sharp, pinching sensation. But then he moved. Slowly, so slowly, the full feeling and the delicious friction doing wonderful things to her body. She felt the beginnings of another slow ripple until her body was tight with wanting. Her inner muscles were squeezing him, and she felt it. His control shattered and he began to thrust harder, faster, deeper until she saw stars once more. Declan pressed his lips to hers to muffle her scream while his body shuddered.