Kissed by the Laird (First Ladies of the Fae Book 1)

by Sydney Sloane

  The gray stone pillars were a part of Moy’s landscape for as long as he could recall. As he dismounted, Ian felt a strange surge of energy began to flow through the key that now lay on his chest, along with his own familiar medallion. Eight feet across, the circle’s roughened pillars were various in shapes and sizes. Many told tales about the stone’s existence, and who may have created the sacred circles. However, most believed they were the ancient worshipping ground of the druids.

  He tethered his horse’s lead to a nearby limb and dismounted. Even before he entered in the midst, Ian could feel a strange pull as he moved toward the circular holy place. Within the circle, many a druid ceremony had taken place. Everything about the standing stones appeared as always, but wariness still attempted to consume his sensibilities. With each step, he took the power of the key strengthened. The warmth he felt earlier was near to scorching and Ian shifted the leather cord that held the ancient key so it lay against the strap of his sword’s sheath.

  Once inside he did not have to wait long before the otherworld took over. A green orb floated above him, and widened until he could see the image that lay at its center. His desire won out over his logic.

  His temples pounded as the energy consumed the surrounding area, but the vision of the lass became clearer. She ran through the rain, but what he saw next sent an icy chill down his spine. A white-hot rage stirred within him when that vile beast placed a knife to her neck. Unlike his dreams, Ian did not need to stand by and watch the horrific scene unfold before his eyes. If he had any doubts about the key’s magic, they were gone when it had provided him with a portal that would lead him to the woman who haunted his dreams. “I am coming, Mo Ghraidh!” With no thought to his own safety, he leaped into the midst of the emerald orb. All went black.

  Chapter Eight

  Through the slits in his eyes, Ian scanned the surrounding area and tried to recall where he was or what happened. The pounding in his chest increased when he couldn’t readily recall the events that led him to this foreign place. Lying on the flat of his shirtless back, he could feel the soggy ground beneath him, and a sharp jab at the back of his ribs. He realized it was his own sword digging into the flesh of his back. He was so weak. Reaching out for a nearby tree, Ian managed to find the strength to roll himself onto his side. Weakness filled his body, but with the aid of a nearby tree and several attempts, he managed to rise to his feet.

  The tree? It was all coming back. The dreams. The lass under the tree. He didn’t want to believe what he was seeing, but Mo Daol was right all along. Though things were out of the ordinary, he remembered the vision in his dreams and knew he needed to find Caroline fast.

  The sound of voices echoed through the strange place he appeared. However, the lass’s voice drew his attention.

  “Stop it! I’m up! Stop pulling!”

  Though the oddities around him made him uneasy, his concern for the lass’s safety was at the forefront of his mind. The sound of her voice cut through the air, it was clear to him a woman was in some sort danger. This was his Caroline, and it looked as though he arrived in time.

  Ian was more than ready to face the villains that hunted His woman. With a sneer, he trudged with a purpose through the heavy rain and wind, as though it was no more than a fine Scottish mist. The voices became clearer when he came to a small alley.

  The small flameless torches he spied crossing the park shed their faint light and guided him as he made his way to the outside corridor of the buildings. Though he managed to keep his wits about him, the temptation to skewer any man that laid a hand upon a defenseless woman overwhelmed his senses.

  Shadowed by the darkness, Ian’s fist clenched at his side as the bastard dragged the young woman to her feet by the back her hair, and placed a knife to her slender neck. All of it was similar to his dream, but when the lass lifted her head and confirmed it, his heart slammed at the walls of his chest. It was her! The exact image of his dreams. The immediate recognition made it difficult for him not to run in and cut the bastard down that held her life in his hands. However, he did not have a plan on how to intervene, but he knew in no uncertain terms, he would kill any or all who dare harm what belonged to him.

  A deep voice resonated from out of the darkness. “Let the lass go, and I will ferget ye put a blade to her neck.” The voice was deep and lethal, as he gave the command.

  Stepping out of the deep shadows, as a magnificent display of strength manifested before Caroline’s eyes. A man—no a giant stood before them. He had to be close to six and half feet in height, with the broadest shoulders she had ever seen. Even with pieces of her wet hair plastered across one eye, she could see the well-developed muscles of his chest and stomach. Despite still having a sharp knife held near her neck, Caroline found herself in awe with the entity that appeared to come from nowhere. A warmth coursed in her belly and worked its way lower. Good Lord, he was perfection in plaid. Get a grip, Caroline. You’re about to die, and your lusting after a figment of your imagination.

  Starting at his feet, she continued her upward appraisal of his tight-corded muscles, as they disappeared under what she assumed to be a reddish kilt with lines of green and black running through it. He wore no shirt, and there was a thick, worn strap of leather across his large, bronzed chest as it disappeared over his left shoulder, where the hilt of a very large sword sat upon his back. Dark, wavy hair fell just past his broad shoulders and reminded Caroline of the medieval warriors of old.

  When he spoke again, she heard the finality of his words, and knew this was his last warning. “If ye go now, I will let ye live another day, but if ye harm a mere hair on my lass’s head I will part yer head from yer shoulders where ye stand.”

  What the hell is he thinking? The vermin who chased her into this alley still had a knife to her neck, and it was obvious to anyone of them who held the advantage. How dare this giant warrior take such a gamble with her life? Wait! Did he just say his lass?

  Always quiet and quick to understand, a normal Caroline would have just let things play out without so much as a squeak. Though the knife still pressed dangerously close to her neck, she had enough of this “life isn’t fair” crap.

  Finding the strength that lay within her all along, Caroline spoke in a clipped tone. “Ummmm…excuse me…Mr. Giant, sir. Don’t you think I should have a say in this. After all, it is my neck that he plans to slice open.”

  When his gaze landed upon Caroline, it looked as though he struggled to maintain a hardened visage. If she wasn’t mistaken he was trying not to laugh, and that’s when Caroline became annoyed.

  “I have no idea what you could possibly find humorous in this whole mess?” She shot him a ferocious glare of her own, though it didn’t make him flinch in the least. It was obvious to all present, that his loyalties lay with her, and she’d be a fool to not take any help he could offer.

  As though he read her thoughts, he said. “Listen to me, lass.” His eyes locked upon hers as he continued. “Not a hair will be harmed upon your head.” He said each word slowly and emphasized each word for not only her understanding, but for the slug that held her too.

  The driver tightened his hold around her waist and cut the warrior’s words off. “Go to hell, William Wallace! This doesn’t concern you and when I’m done with the whore…I’m going rip your God damn heart out!”

  The warrior didn’t even flinch and remained calm and unaffected by her attacker’s threat. Other than a slight pause in words, his eyes never left hers. “Do ye trust me?” It wasn’t a plea, but a challenge.

  Caroline never took her eye off the man, though she was certain of one thing, the man was arrogant. Who would make idle threats, when it was obvious to all who held the power? One glance at his well-formed biceps, she knew no matter who he was, or where he came from, he could kick some serious ass, but it was still three to one.

  Their eyes met again, and without any preamble, she felt a surge of familiarity between her, and the giant. Everything in her heart cr
ied out to place her life in his hands, but did she dare step outside the solidarity of the world she created. The voice in her head told her to snap out of it. She could not put into words why, but her heart told her this man…was her future.

  Her heart won out.

  Regardless of the odds, Caroline’s obvious choice was the guy with the biggest sword…and this warrior wore his as though it was an extension of his body. Without taking, her eyes off his she gave him his reply. With a subtle nod, she put her trust and her life in his hands.

  A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth letting her know he was pleased with her choice.

  Annoyed by the silent exchange between her and the warrior, her attacker spat out, “Are you fucking stupid, freak?” He grounded out toward the warrior. “I have her, and the knife!”

  Caroline didn’t miss the quiver in the guy’s last statement, or the slight tremble in the hand that held the weapon to her throat. Though it was faint, she felt it. The slight release of the knife for a split second. Deciding this may be her one slim chance at survival; she threw back an elbow, as hard as she could muster, and caught her assailant straight in the ribs. The distraction was small, but Caroline wasted no time. She spun around, and grabbed the dirty bastard right by his testicles and squeezed them like a lemon at a Fourth of July picnic. A high-pitched wail and the sound of metal hitting the ground below was her cue to release and run.

  When the chaos erupted, the two other men wasted no time running toward the back of the alley, and disappeared into the darkness of the park. The moment the assailant let her go, Caroline ran and never looked back. She fled the alley in the opposite direction of the other men toward Main St. If she didn’t stop, she could be safe within the confines of her apartment in less than four minutes.

  The last thing she saw was the giant heading toward the wailing man upon the ground, but a guttural cry rent through the darkness, before Caroline even made it to the end of the alley. Fear told her to keep running, but her heart told her to stop. What if her giant was hurt? She couldn’t just leave him, but neither could she fight off the thugs.

  “Are ye all right, Caroline?” The shock of his gentle voice caused her to stumble backward, and she would have fallen if he had not reached out and pulled her into his arms.

  Looking around his wide girth, Caroline saw a man sprawled face down in his own blood pooled around his midsection. She attempted to answer him, but no words would form. She’d never witnessed a person’s death before, unless her parents’ accident counted. However, her parents’ deaths could not be compared to what she was witnessing now.

  Fleeting images flowed through her mind. How many hours had passed, as she sat in the backseat of the twisted metal ball that was once a car? Why couldn’t she remember? It was so dark that night. Yes, it had rained hard and a thick fog rolled in off the ocean.

  A low hum formed low in her throat, as Caroline hummed a faint tune to fill the eerie silence. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, as the fear consumed her entire body. All the while, she was unaware of her deceased parents’ bodies lying only feet from her. If not for the darkness, the gruesome sight would have marred her fragile, innocent mind. Maybe the darkness had protected her…

  Ian heard the audible gasp and knew why.

  “Is he…”

  “Is he dead?” He asked the question that she could not articulate. With his large hands on either side of her face, he lifted her head to look at him. In a gentle tone, he spoke. “Aye lass. The scoundrel gave me no other choice. I intended to subdue him, but the coward drew his knife.”

  Caroline brought a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God! I’m dead!” The young woman threw her hands in the air and started to pace. “I knew it! I just knew this would happen!”

  A frantic look formed upon her angelic face, as sweat formed at the top of her lip and brow. Though, some of her words were foreign to him, he assessed from her reaction that seeing a dead man was not an everyday occurrence in her time.

  Ian stood silently and let her come to terms with what she was witnessing. She stopped before him and placed her hands on her hips. Her rapid barrage of questions came one after another, as arrows fired from a castle wall that was under attack. “Wait did you just call me Caroline? How did you know my name? Who are you? Where did you come from? You look familiar….like I’ve seen you before. Have we met…?”

  Caroline’s face ashened, and she collapsed into his arms.

  Chapter Nine

  Several minutes passed while Ian sat upon the stone steps of the large building inscribed with the words Harper Cove Town Hall as he attempted to rouse the young woman on his lap. When her pallor waned he knew she was going to faint, and was prepared to catch her when she started to sway toward him. Judging from her reaction earlier in the alley, he started to realize that killing a man in self-defense in this time might not have been a wise choice. Not that he would have done anything different. Once he had seen the vermin rise with the knife in hand, he had no other choice. One look at the enraged man’s face and Ian knew what he intended for the girl.

  The rain slowed to just a thick mist. Tiny rivulets of moisture seeped through his plaid, but his only concern was for the woman unconscious in his arms.

  “Come on my lass.” He crooned. The swelling in her right eye was turning more purple than red from when he first arrived. “Tis sorry I am Mo Ghraidh that did not get to ye in time. Tis a shame to mark such a lovely face.” With a gentle touch, Ian drew the back of his hand over the injured eye.

  Though she remained unresponsive, he could not help releasing a sigh of relief. The rise and fall of her chest told him she lived. Relief flooded through him when he realized he was in time to alter the end of his latest dream. If his grandmother had her say, it was fate and magic at work and it was fast becoming difficult to deny the old woman’s stories.

  Dark lashes fanned across the skin of her prominent cheekbones, as he studied the girl curled up on his lap, the droplets of mist caught on their very tips. Wisps of her dark hair plastered her face and forehead, and he tenderly pushed them away. The fullness of her lips mesmerized him, and he imagined his mouth covering her own. She was a perfect fit. Like a piece of heaven lay across his thighs.

  What was wrong with him? He was a warrior, and to be complacent in such a foreign land could mean their deaths. All thoughts of his complacency disappeared when the unconscious girl shifted in his arms, and pressed her rounded bottom against his already swelling cock. A growl expelled from between his gritted teeth at her movement.

  “Jesu, keeping us safe will prove difficult if ye continue to fidget, lass.”

  He should investigate all that surrounded them and prepared himself for any danger. Instead, he dwelled on the woman lying in his arms, and wondered how she rendered him daft in a matter of moments. All the years he trained were for naught if he could not focus on getting them out of the precarious situation. He appeared out of nowhere, something he could not fully explain himself, killed a man, and may have scared a girl to death…and now all he could think on how wonderful it would be to push himself deep inside her…“Your a cad, Ian MacLaine.”

  The heavy scent of salty brine on the wind told him they were near the sea. With the thick wall of mist hanging in front of him, it could be mistaken as Scotland. Faint beacons of light were sparse and placed throughout the courtyard before him. Trees and bushes lined the cobblestone walkways to perfection.

  “What kind of place is this that even the plants grow at command?”

  A howl in the distance jerked him from his thoughts, and he went in full warrior mode, grabbed the dirk from his boot, and realized it was no more than a dog. At the recognition, he slid the weapon back in place.

  Taking the back of his hand, he caressed the side of her face, starting at her temple and stopped at the corner of her mouth. Though she remained unresponsive, he spoke. “Where is your family, and why would they allow one so young to walk into the night unprotected?”

 
One look at her wine-colored lips, and the urge to taste them caused a lapse in his control. Unlike any of the wenches he tumbled in the past, where he would take what they would offer, there was more to this one. Ian lowered his head and brushed his lips tenderly across the woman’s. The taste of the salt air lingered upon them, as he nipped at the fuller bottom lip. As he pulled back, he closed his eyes as he savored her warm shallow breath caressing his face. He swallowed hard at the desire that struck not just his loins, but also his soul. As he opened his own eyes, hers fluttered open. At the sight, Ian expelled a relieved breath. “Och Caroline, ye near scared me to death.”

  As soon as he spoke, her entire body tensed in his arms at the exact same moment her bearings returned. Her eyes flew open, took one look at his face, and let out a yelp as she flailed her arms and legs in Ian’s lap. She used both her hands to shove at his chest and scrambled off his lap. Unprepared for her intense reaction, he was unable to reach out fast enough. He looked on in horror, as she tumbled down a few steps onto the ground.

  She cried out when her knees landed on the pavement. “Owww!”

  Ian jumped to his feet and rushed to aid her. As he stretched an arm out in her direction, she sprang like a cat onto her own feet and held up a bloodied palm into his face, “Whoa! Stay. Right. There. Big guy!”

  There was no time for him to react as she woke, and nor did he think she would turn into a wee wildcat and scramble away for her life. “Settle down, lass.” He held up both his hands. A gesture of surrender to assure her he meant no ill will toward her. “I will not move.”