by Unknown
She sucked in her breath when she saw the delicate, golden, heart-shaped locket with an engraved “G” on the front. It appeared antique, very antique, and was the size of maybe a quarter. Underneath the small locket was a folded piece of parchment. Gwen set the box down and scooped out the locket and paper.
Carefully, with deft fingers, she unfolded the minute piece of paper and read:
Gwen,
keep this locket close to your heart.
-J-
“What is it, lass,” Cain asked, silently coming up behind her.
She handed Cain the box with the note. His finger brushed hers when he took it, sending shivers running over her body. “I-I found this box inside the wall."
Cain stared at the box, frowning. Immediately, upon holding the box, he knew magic surrounded it. Only Gwen could have opened the box.
Gwen held the locket out for him to see. “This locket lay inside."
Cain handed the box back to Gwen and motioned for her to handover the locket. Hesitantly, she did, surprised when Cain held it in front of her.
“Hold up your hair."
Gwen did as he instructed, holding her hair up off her neck. His knuckles brushed against her skin at the base of her neck as he fastened the locket. He smoothed the fine chain against her neck, the friction of the rough pads of his fingers shooting shivers down her back and along her shoulders.
“It fits ye perfectly,” he whispered by her ear. Cain knelt down and closed up the panel, making it appear as a solid wall once more.
Gwen brushed her hand over the locket laying against her breastbone and began to walk toward the door. As soon as she set foot out of the study, Cain grabbed her from behind, quickly placing his hand over her mouth.
“Shh,” he whispered.
Gwen wanted to ask why, when the bottom step squeaked. Shadows moved on the walls by the staircase, and from the number of them, one person hadn't intruded, but three.
Cain abruptly pulled Gwen back inside the study, shutting and locking the door. He strode over, picking up the satchel, firmly placing it over his head, crossing the strap over his chest and shoulder.
“What’s going on?” she whispered. Just then, footsteps pounded down the hallway. She and Cain both stared at the door and the wobbling knob.
Cain grasped her shoulders, spinning her toward him. “Ye ken how I told ye we had to go back in time?” Gwen nodded as her attention focused on the door being pounded on. “Weel, we’re taking an early flight.”
* * * * *
CHAPTER FIVE
Gwen spun her head around. The blood drained from her face as she stared at Cain. “I-I can't go with you," she said frantically.
Cain grasped onto the sides of her head, so she could see the importance of his next words. “The three men on the other side of that door will kill ye."
Yes, but we'll both be dead if I go with you! she wanted to say.
"1247, Lochcarron, Scotland," he mumbled to himself. Furious pounding came from the other side of the door. Fear consumed Gwen's features.
“What is it?” Cain asked impatiently.
“Do you think those men are the same people who broke into the office?”
A splinter of the door fell to the ground, followed by more hacked in pieces. “I’d say that’s a good guess. We need to go…now. Hold onto me and dinna let go for any reason, no matter how scared ye become.” Cain only began his chant after a solid nod from Gwen, and after her arms wrapped tightly around him. She laid her cheek close to his chest, squeezing her eyes shut.
Cain held out his arms. “Mighty souls, I call upon ye. Carry me through time. 1247, Lochcarron, Scotland. My soul is yours for the taking, but only after this wish of making."
A dark, gray whirlwind erupted from the floor and began to encompass them both. Gwen’s hair flapped around them as she felt Cain’s strong, secure arms wrap around her. She felt herself rise up as the wind became more dense. Just as she and Cain disappeared into thin air, the door to the study burst into pieces and three, monstrous men charged in.
* * * * *
As they dropped through a night sky, it felt like de-ja-vu for Cain. He made out a small, thatched roof directly below and quickly spun them around so he would hit first. Crashing through the roof, they landed on a grungy, hay filled mattress.
A plump old woman sitting by the fire threw her hand over her heart. As she gazed upon Cain and his black eyes, she jumped up, and ran screaming from the cottage, disappearing into the night.
Cain looked down at Gwen pressed close against his chest. She held her eyes tightly closed. A hunger he’d forgotten about, raced through him. This ravishing beast was what he had wanted to warn Gwen about earlier. She should be running with the old hag instead of clinging to him like he was her savior.
Maybe he was, his dark-half hissed. A savior in letting her have a release she’d never forget. Cain fought from the inside, but gained nothing as the beast began to stroke Gwen’s back.
Gwen kept her eyes tightly shut, holding on to Cain for dear life. Everything had just begun to stop spinning, and now, she reverently prayed to not throw up all over Cain. She had only time-traveled once before, and that had been with Julianna when they had come to the twenty-first century. Julianna had given her a foul potion, making her fall asleep before they had left, only to peacefully awake in the new time period. After this experience with Cain, she would gladly take the disgusting drink again.
Cain must have realized she felt sick, she thought, because he began rubbing her back with slow, reassuring strokes. Gwen creased her brow as Cain's touch turned rough, stopping at her lower back, only to take hold of her hips. His erection pressed snug against her. Yes, she had dreamt about this, but his touch, at this moment, felt tainted.
She pushed up from his chest, but in a heartbeat, he flipped her onto her back, straddling her, imprisoning her to the bed. Cain leaned down, pinning her hands above her head.
“Cain,” Gwen said breathlessly, “stop, please. I know you’re in there.”
Cain panted. He stared at her with a longing he hadn't felt in ages. “I can’t,” he gritted out, shaking his head from side to side. After an anguished roar, he let go of her hands and grabbed his head. Would this be the time the demons consumed him whole, leaving him to never have a conscience again?
Gwen reached out and stroked the side of his face, stilling him. How could one man even have a chance at winning such a fight? From the looks of pain crossing his face, he fought one hell of a battle.
“Shh,” she whispered. She sat up, little by little, until she sat in front of him. Lightly running her fingers down the side of his face, Cain abruptly caught her hand. He glared at her with black, soulless eyes.
A cruel smile crossed his face. “Ye should let a sleeping lion lie.”
Gwen scurried back across the bed, frantically scratching at his hold. As he pulled her back down underneath him and buried his head into her chest, she searched wildly around her. On the floor, next to her and the side of the bed, sat a copper chamber pot.
Gwen reached down, and on her second attempt of frantically searching the floor with her hands, she latched on to the edge of the chamber pot. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, right before she brought the heavy bedpan up with all her might, swinging it across his head. A look of pure shock…and respect, crossed Cain's face before he toppled over onto the rush covered floor. Gwen froze as she stared down at Cain’s crumpled form.
For the first time, she glanced around, taking in her surroundings. She glimpsed the hole above her. They had crashed through a roof. Glancing back down, she noticed grimy rushes barely covering the dirt floor. Shadows flickered across the walls from the bright fire in the quaint hearth. A small wooden table sat in the far corner of the one room cottage. A single lit candle sat on the table, and what looked like dried herbs, lay spread out across the top.
Gwen scratched her leg as pieces of hay poked up through the crude, but familiar mattress. As images of bedbugs and othe
r unsightlies filled her mind, Gwen jumped off the bed. Her bare feet slid into soft soil. She cringed. After becoming comfortable in the twenty-first century, she had absolutely fallen in love with showers and indoor plumbing. She had missed the simple way of things in the thirteenth century, but certain luxuries from the future would now be hard to live without.
Cain made a noise. Gwen glanced down, her attention back to the man she needed if she was ever to get back home…or survive. It had been tough learning to blend in and stay safe in the twenty-first century, but here…. These times were far more dangerous, and especially for a woman traveling alone. Gwen released a sigh. She'd have to get accustomed to her old ways. All her clothes and everything she had loved, sat hundreds of centuries away. Why couldn’t she have left her clothes on for one more hour, instead of hastily putting her pajamas on.
Gwen hunched down, brushing the hair out of Cain's eyes. She studied the harsh lines of his jaw, strong and masculine. His long, dark lashes lay peacefully across his cheeks. Without thinking, she ran her hand over his forehead and down the side of his face. What was it about this man that attracted her so much? He most likely terrified everyone he came upon, but with her…she had to fight to stay away.
Gwen sighed wistfully as her gaze traveled down over Cain’s five o’clock shadow, down his strong throat, and over his muscular tattooed chest. His shirt had lost a few buttons, hanging open, exposing his chest and eye-catching skin.
Before Gwen realized what she did, she reached out, pressing her hand to his chest. His fine blond hairs tickled her fingers. The heat of him radiated up, traveling through her, warming her, exciting her from the intimate touch.
“Lass?”
Gwen’s gaze shot up to Cain’s. He watched her with clear, sane eyes. Snatching her hand back, she stuttered, “I-I, uh, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She stood up, dusting herself off, fidgeting under Cain’s heavy stare. “Um, so…when will whatever’s inside of you go away?” she asked softly, diverting her gaze.
Cain slowly stood up, brushed his jeans off, and gave her a cold stare. “Never.”
“You’re stuck like that forever?” she asked sadly.
After a long silence, Cain barely whispered. “Aye.” He turned toward the hearth. “But it doesna matter anymore. The one person I was meant to be with is gone.”
Gwen felt sick to her stomach. I'm right here! she wanted to yell. With nothing better to say, she mumbled one of Julianna's favorite phrases, "It’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.”
Cain spun around, standing nose to nose, his fists clenched. “Try it!” he roared. “A part of ye dies!”
Tears filled her eyes. She knew what he went through. She felt the same way. No matter how many times Julianna would say that to her when she'd start crying over Cain, it still hurt. A part of her heart felt hollow...because he wasn't with her. "Sorry," she barely whispered, choking back a sob.
Cain rubbed his hands over his face and turned away. “We need to find garments," he said roughly. "We'll need to fit in this century, and then, with the first signs of morn, we’ll start our trip to Lochcarron."
"Aren't we in Lochcarron?"
Cain glanced out the corner of his eyes. "I’m not sure where we are. My magic has been a little 'off' lately.”
“Since you became human?”
“Aye,” Cain grumbled. Glancing around, he spotted a trunk up against the wall by the door. Opening the heavy, dirt covered lid, he found a few articles of clothing that would have to work until they found something better. Cain lifted out, what appeared to be a tablecloth with sleeves. He threw it over to Gwen.
“What’s this?” she asked, barely touching the fabric as she held it up.
“Your new dress.”
She shook her head. “I can’t wear this.” She balled the material up. “It won’t fit.”
Cain turned around and gave her a cold look. “Then, make it fit.”
As Cain continued to dig through the chest, Gwen held the dress up to her nose. She coughed, almost gagging. “I don’t think these are clean,” she said, holding the garment at arm's length.
Instantly, Cain paused from rifling through the trunk. His shoulders tensed. “’Tis the best we’ve got until something better comes along," he gritted out. "Remember, we’re in the thirteenth century now. Things are different."
Gwen's gaze slowly made its way back to the dress in her hands. Holding her breath, she slipped it over her head and over her t-shirt and boy shorts. Immediately, the scratchiness of the coarse brown fabric chaffed her skin. She sneezed. She would have to find something else and soon. Without warning, a piece of rope landed at her feet. She glanced up questioningly.
“’Tis for your waist,” Cain said, trying not to smile, “if ye have one in that dress.” Gwen narrowed her eyes. “'Tis not that bad,” he said, disguising a laugh with a cough. The dress was so big over her small frame, the monstrosity all but consumed her. Her head, the only body part visible, stuck out the top of the God-awful creation.
Gwen was about to retort, when she caught a glimpse of the side of his face and the smile that hinted at his lips. She chewed at her lip. That smile, one she thought he was no longer capable of showing anymore gave her hope. Clearly, the "Cain" she once knew still hid deep within.
Cain realized she watched him and glanced over his shoulder at her. “What is it, lass?” he asked coolly.
Gwen swallowed, shaking her head, as the moment of any friendliness from him disappeared.
“Ye should get some rest," he said quietly. "‘Tis a long way if we dinna find a horse.”
Gwen released the breath she held and watched as Cain returned to the trunk. She was about to turn toward the bed, when a dark blue and green tartan landed in her arms. She glanced up once more.
“’Tis chilly this time of year in Scotland. That should keep ye warm.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled, wrapping herself up and lying down on the scratchy bed. As she closed her eyes, facing her back to him, desperately trying to fall asleep, she couldn't deny the spark that had been re-ignited inside her. That one, genuine, happy smile he had shown, gave her hope. She wasn’t giving up on him just yet.
* * * * *
Cain placed languid kisses up her legs, pausing at her thigh, only to give the sensitive skin a nip. Gwen smiled, arching her back as he continued upward. His hands searched her body, leaving no spot untouched.
He pressed his mouth to her stomach, working his way up to her breasts. Covering one aching breast with his mouth, he suckled hard, biting her swollen nipple before moving to the next one. Gwen moaned in pleasure, arching her back more and more, holding him to her. A long sigh of ecstasy escaped her.
“Gwen!”
Gwen’s eyes shot open. It took a moment for the dream to clear from her head, and realize Cain stood fully dressed beside the bed. She felt her face turn beet red. “W-what is it?” she asked, her voice husky from her dream.
“Ye were...crying,” Cain said, hesitantly.
Gwen nodded, immediately rolling over, squeezing her eyes shut. The dream had been so real…God it had been so real! Her body still believed she had just had sex with Cain. Every nerve ending tingled from his sensual touches.
Cain stood in front of the fire place and glanced over his shoulder at Gwen, who now lay motionless with her back toward him. He ran a hand through his hair. Bloody Hell. The way she writhed on the bed when he had been lying on the floor, trying to fall asleep. He had almost lost himself in his bloody breeches like a wee lad, just from listening to her move and moan on the mattress.
It hadn't helped that he used a little magic to peak into her dream. He had searched her entire body with his mouth. She had been an arched frenzy of emotion, begging for more. He silently cursed. His erection had returned and now was strained at the seams of the one pair of breeches he had found. He stole another glance at her. Would that really be what she’d act like in bed? You’ll never find out, his beast
s said mockingly. Cain cursed under his breath. Damn it, if he didn’t want to jump in bed with her.
Gwen heard the door shut and opened her eyes, not having to pretend to sleep any longer. What a fool she had made of herself. She rubbed her hands over her face and sat up. “Way to go, Gwendolyn,” she mumbled.
She pressed her feet to the ground and stood up, scratching her arms and legs. How she wanted a shower. She didn’t know if she itched from the dress, or the bed. She wrapped the tartan around her like a shawl and headed outside.
As she stepped out of the cottage onto a stepping stone, the first signs of morning were showing themselves. Radiant pinks and purples with hints of oranges streaked the sky, fading behind smooth rolling hills in the distance. She followed the path a ways, glancing around. The small crofter's cottage sat in the middle of no where. Deep-green, gentle rolling hills surrounded them.
“’Tis beautiful, no?” Cain said softly from right behind her.
She wanted to turn around and press up against him, the dream still seeming to have residual effects. “Yes."
Cain inhaled deeply. “This is the one thing I missed so much about Scotland. The sunrises and the smells first thing in the morn. I think we’re outside the village of Torridon. ‘Tis not too far from Lochcarron. Mayhap, a day of walking.” Cain grasped the strap of the leather satchel lying across his chest with one hand and held out the other to Gwen. “Shall we?”
* * * * *
“What is wrong?” Cain grumbled.
Gwen scratched her collarbone again. “I think I’m getting hives. I’m allergic to whatever this dress is made out of.”
It had been an entire morning of walking and him realizing he had been wrong about where they had landed. Gwen had continuously scratched at her neck, arms, and sides. She hadn’t complained once, but his patience was long gone, and found it was way too easy to snap at her for his mistakes.
