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

by Sydney Sloane

  They turned down the poorly lit street that led to her apartment. She pointed to the lone light at the top of a building. “I live up there. The one with the light on.”

  When he took the first step, she said. “You don’t need to carry me up the stairs, so put me down here. I can walk up by myself.”

  “Nay, ye weigh not more than a wee dove, and I find I like the feel of ye in my arms. There is no point in arguing with me. Besides, I would like a word with your father.”

  The word father hit like an icy pail of water thrown in her face. “My father…?”

  “Aye. What kind of father would let his defenseless daughter roam about in the night and the rain?” He looked affronted at the lack of her protection.

  Her response came out on a hitched breath. “A dead one.”

  Ian froze. His eyes opened wide. “Your mother?”

  She hated the look of pity on his face as he questioned her…or was it understanding.

  Caroline shook her head; her emotions still ran high from the night’s events. Before she realized it, they were at the top of the stairs at the door to her apartment. He spoke no words when he finally put her down. Unable to find her keys in the park, she lifted the doormat, removed the spare key, and unlocked the door. She made a mental note to go back to the park in the morning.

  As she made her way through the place she called home for the last fifteen years, she turned on every light as she walked toward the living room. They were both completely drenched. What she needed was a hot shower and her little white pills. Hopefully, when she woke in the morning, this would all be one giant nightmare…well, except for Ian. That part was like a dream, but he couldn’t stay. The last thought weighed heavy on her heart. To have someone like him—no, it needed to be Ian—no one else would do. Who was she kidding, it was never going to happen? It wasn’t possible, was it?

  His deep brogue broke through her thoughts. “We need tae get ye out of these clothes.”

  She placed a hand to her neck. “Excuse me!”

  He was quick to correct himself as the hue of his skin turned crimson. “Nay, ye misunderstand. I would no’ have ye become ill. Ye need a hot bath and dry clothes.”

  With a nod, she started toward her room to retrieve a pair of pajama shorts, and her favorite USM T-shirt, but stopped and asked. “Will you be here when I’m done?”

  “Aye, I will not go anywhere, lass. Ye have my promise.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The strange world Ian appeared in was nothing like he could have ever imagined. An entire room lit up by a single touch of a finger. It took Caroline a quarter of an hour to bathe and change before she came out and offered him the same hospitality. Once she had shown him how to turn the rain contraption on and off, she gave him a small square cloth, and chunk of green soap.

  Hot water ran down his body, as Ian glanced over the different bottles in the tiny area. He lifted a purple bottle from the shelf and examined it from end to end. Once he figured out how to open the top, he gave it a quick squeeze. Liquid soap squirted upward and went everywhere, including his chest. A sweet, floral scent of lavender mingled with the steam of the shower and overtook the small chamber. Every breath he inhaled reminded him of Caroline. With his thoughts astray, Ian wasn’t aware his legs slid in opposite directions. He struggled to get his footing, but it only made matters worse. His feet continued to slide of their own volition when he spotted the shiny silver device Caroline twisted to make the warm rain. If he could just reach it. That was his last thought, before his feet came out from beneath him. Ian landed at the bottom of the shower with a resounding thud.

  “God’s Wounds!” He shouted when several bottles rained down upon his head.

  “Ian! Are you all right? Do you need help?” Her concerned voice called to him from the other side of the door.

  “Nay. I am fine. Go back to your task.” He grimaced and he rubbed his head.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Aye, I am fine.” Liar.

  He tried to stand, but the shower floor was still slick. The harder he tried to get his large frame back to standing, the more he struggled and it proved to be a dangerous task. Once he gained his footing again, he decided, the green soap did not smell half-bad and scrubbed the evidence of his earlier activities from his body.

  Despite the fall, this thing called a shower was incredible. In a matter of minutes, he washed the mud and blood from his body. He turned the knobs, as she instructed him earlier, and stepped out. Ian took the bright yellow cloth, Caroline called a towel he dried himself when he recalled that he had handed his kilt to Caroline for cleaning. For now, he sat naked on the porcelain chair in the privy, but when he leaned back and hit the shiny handle, his heart nearly leaped from his chest. He needed to get his kilt.

  With no other choice, Ian grabbed the fluffy pink cloak that hung on the back of the door and wrapped it around his waist. The girl had enough of a shock for one night, and he did not want to add to it by walking out bare-arsed through her keep. Pulling the door ajar, Ian looked from left to right, before he stepped into the short corridor. Hopefully, he would be dressed in his own plaid, well before she ever saw him gallivanting around her home half dressed.

  As he walked down the short hall, he came to the first room. A pink floral pattern decorated the walls and the musty smell of books from within assailed his nose. Not an item was out of place, the entire room reminded him of a shrine. Ian studied the few portraits lining the walls, though they were sparse. He stopped when the sounds clanking and shifting around in the other room caught his attention. As far as he knew, they were the only two in her home. Ian knew if he followed the sounds, he would find Caroline.

  Steam rose from thick mugs, when he entered into what had to be her kitchen. If he was not mistaken the smell of chocolate teased his nose. Only the wealthy could consume the expensive concoction. He imbibed on the rare treat on his travels to Edinburgh on occasion. However, it was not the delicious concoction diverting his attention. It was Caroline.

  With hooded eyes, Caroline shifted over the tabletops, as she bit her lower lip in concentration. Her hair dried into long, delectable waves and hung over one shoulder and exposed the slender, ivory column of her neck. The contrast of her deep chocolate tendrils against such perfection made him think of the finest silks in France. What was he thinking? He was here to save the lass, which he did. The only question left was could he follow through with the Fae’s plan and convince her to follow him back in time?

  A bloodlust still ran through him from the fight earlier, but the urge to reach out and touch this woman was not to slake his lust from battle. This desire to touch her had nothing to do with lust. It went deeper. Ian’s manhood started making decisions, and he crossed the room. He clutched the fluffy cloak about his narrow hips, and in a few stealthy steps, he found himself pressed up behind Caroline’s back. The sight of her slender neck urged him closer. He lowered his head to inhale her flowery scent, and placed a warm kiss at the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  Caroline jumped at his touch. “Ahhh!”

  To Ian’s relief, she only turned slightly. “My apologies. I did not realize…What I mean is…”

  She gave him a nervous chuckle from over her shoulder, as he stumbled over his words to explain his actions.

  With her back still toward him, Ian saw the warm glow spread along her jaw line. Never making eye contact with him she said. “No, Ian. It’s me…I’m not use to having anyone else around. There is no need to apologize.”

  She grabbed a cloth from the nearby sink, and made quick work of wiping up the chocolate that had spilled over the mugs brim. It was also when Ian recalled that he was covered in Caroline’s attire. Without thought, he yanked it off and tossed it across the room before she could see him covered in her clothing.

  “Arrrrrhhh!” He groaned when he realized the stupidity of his impulsiveness.

  The muscles in her neck went taut as a bowstring at his growl, and Caroline ceased cl
eaning. In an attempt to keep her from turning around, Ian started to caress her shoulders. Beneath his hands, her muscles were tense, but after a matter of seconds, she relaxed. While she accepted his ministrations, he scanned the area for his plaid, but still could not see it anywhere.

  Her eyes peered over her shoulder and looked up at him and said, “I made you a cup of cocoa. Do you want it?”

  From over her head, he watched as she placed small white balls into the dark brown liquid. “What are those white bits yer adding?”

  She took one from the bag, held it up with her fingertips for his inspection, and said. “It’s a marshmallow.”

  So far, she had not noticed his lack of clothing. Whatever ye do…do not look down.

  Ian lowered his head, ate the tiny confection from her fingertips, and nipped the very tips, as he teasingly sucked the remainder of its sweetness from her thumb. When Caroline flicked her own tongue out to wet her parched lips, he knew it was not a reaction of disgust. This woman wanted him, as much he wanted her.

  He was the first to break the silence. “Delicious. I will have my chocolate with these marshmallows.” As his tongue brushed over her finger, he left her standing there wide-eyed, as her mouth formed into the shape of an “O”.

  The feel of his tongue pulling at her finger affected her whole body. A warmth flowed through her veins. Heat suffused her cheeks at the sensation of his wet, warm tongue upon her fingertips. To avoid his burning gaze, she looked down, took a sip of her hot cocoa, and choked on a marshmallow when her eyes locked upon his package.

  With an audible gulp, Caroline found herself unable to resist the urge to peruse his lower half. Her face reddened to the point of burning. His length was close to spanning the foot of space between them. When she lifted her head, she could not look the handsome warrior in the eyes. “Ummm…you have no clothes on.”

  His faced turned a slight crimson, but his voice remained confident. “Aye, I am well aware of that. I came to retrieve my plaid, but was….distracted.” When Caroline continued to stare, Ian gave her a knowing smirk.

  Caroline knew what happened between a man and a woman, and she hoped if she ever had the chance that it would be with a man like Ian. Every inch of him astounded her. From his dark looks, to his well-formed chest and the tight muscles that ran low across his stomach. He towered her over by at least a foot, but not once, since this stranger from another land, another time appeared did she fear his presence. Shocked, but never feared. It didn’t exist between them, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel alone.

  The moment Ian appeared and threatened the dirt bag that attacked her on the way home, some of her anxieties released. At the sound of him clearing his throat, it reminded her that a medieval warrior still stood in the middle of her kitchen…naked.

  Walking to the shuttered doors on the opposite side of the kitchen, she said. “Your plaid? I washed it by hand the best I could and put it in the dryer. It should be ready by now.” As she opened the white door, she was hit was a blast of heat. Caroline tugged the lengthy piece of material out, shook it, and tossed into his waiting hands.

  He put the fabric to his cheek. “It’s verra hot. This dryer has harnessed the sun’s power to make it so?”

  “Umm…no. Just electricity.” Caroline knew he hadn’t understood a word she said, nor was she listening. With a mind of their own, her eyes wandered lower again. It was impossible to tear her eyes from the display he made.

  “From the looks upon yer face, I take it I meet yer approval.”

  “Ahh….no. I mean….yes. I…” He must think I’m a complete pervert.

  “Do ye have my belt?”

  “Belt? Oh yeah.” She walked back across the tiny room to the louvered doors, and retrieved the leather accessory and placed into his hand.

  “Is it okay to use the pink chamber to don my plaid?”

  “Pink chamber?” She realized he meant her grandmother’s room. “Of course, that’s fine.”

  God help her. He turned around to leave and she could not control the urge to watch the way his perfectly rounded backside flexed, as he walked out of the room.

  Mama Mia!

  Chapter Twelve

  Even as he pleated the red, black and green material, something did not feel right. Ian rolled himself in it, secured his belt, and stood. Why did the edge of it sway around his thighs, and not at his knees? With one look down, he had his answer. As he barreled out of the room, he was determined to make her pay for renting his tartan in half.

  As soon as Ian entered the room, Caroline could not help notice that his plaid barely covered his man parts. When she placed a hand over mouth, in what he thought was utter shock, Ian felt a sense of empowerment. Her burst of laughter caught him off guard.

  Ian glared in Caroline’s direction. “I see nothing mirthful about my ruined plaid, woman. What have ye done to it? I would have the remainder of it.” His voice shook the walls of the tiny kitchen.

  She chuckled and apologized. “I’m sorry, Ian.” She snickered again in his direction. “Really…I am, but with everything that happened. I wasn’t thinking and shouldn’t have put your kilt in the dryer.”

  “This dryer again?”

  “Yes, the dryer?” She pointed to the laundry door. “It’s a machine that dries your clothes, and your plaid is made of wool. The heat made it shrink.”

  “Well, it should be destroyed and I will see to it myself!”

  As ridiculous as he felt, Ian could tell her confession was truthful and it was impossible to stay angered at here when her face lit up that way. There was no sign of vulnerability or insecurity radiating from her at this moment. Straight, white teeth shone as her face lit up with a smile. Lost. He was completely lost in the brilliance of Caroline’s smile. He would give up a dozen tartans to wake up every morning to the image before him.

  All he could say was “If it was an accident. All is well. Though I will admit to feeling a bit underdressed.”

  She raised a skeptical eyebrow in his direction. “Well, it seems to me you’re wearing a bit more than you were earlier.”

  He rubbed at the day’s growth of whiskers upon his chin and grinned. “Aye, I suppose your right about that.”

  Still leaning back against the counter in the kitchen, Caroline tried to examine her reaction to this man. In just one night, she could feel an unexplainable pull toward him. Ian’s appearance in the alley had shocked her, but it was impossible not to react that way. Men didn’t just fall from the sky, swoop in and save ladies in distress. Whether it was explainable or not, he had done just that. Even in his new mini-style kilt, the man reeked of strength and she found herself desiring to be with him. He was exactly what she always dreamed of…had dreamed of. The thought brought back his words from earlier. Ye are the one who has haunted my dreams. Was that even possible?

  “Caroline? Ye have not heard one word I have spoken.”

  “Ummm…Oh, I’m sorry, Ian. I was…I must have been daydreaming.” Lame. “Would you like your hot chocolate now? We can drink it in the living room if you like. It’s where I put the book and you laid your sword down.”

  “It’s called a claidheamh mòr.”

  “I thought you guys called them claymores?”

  He smiled, “Aye, that too.”

  Caroline handed him the hot mug of chocolate and made sure to put plenty of marshmallows, and lead him to the only piece of furniture in the room, a single sofa. Ian followed her suit and sat upon the worn cushions of the settee. With his shorter kilt, it took him several tries to find a modest position. On the worn coffee table before them, lay her backpack and his claymore.

  “My apologies for earlier, I did not realize ye had no family, lass? I mean…where I am from…well, we would not let our women walk about in the night unprotected. Ye must have been verra young when they died.” His mouth was in a grim line.

  “Yes. I was four years old at the time. For a time, I had my grandmother, but she passed on not long ago.”
She blew at the steam that rose from the cup of chocolate.

  She could feel Ian’s stare as it bore into her, and knew he was seeking a more definitive answer regarding her parents. “Ummm…my parents, they were killed in a car…” Realizing he didn’t know what a car was, she tried to choose her words carefully. “They were in an accident…with a carriage.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.” A sincere look of sympathy crossed his face.

  “It was so long ago. I can hardly recall the details, except…” She closed her eyes as she tried to picture the faces of her parents, their images fading with time. “I can still remember how dark it was that night, but I can’t even remember how mother wore her hair, or the color of my father’s eyes. My grandmother told me they were a rich brown like mine.” It was strange to sit here with Ian, and vocalize the horrors of that night. It was though an infected wound opened, as she bared her heart. “I was so scared. I called over and over, but they never answered my cries. It was so dark. I could not even see my own hands in front of me.” As she spoke, she could feel herself go to that special place inside her own mind. Where she could go to shut herself off from the rest of the world, the memories, the fear and forget the pain. She was on the verge, when Ian’s voice broke through.

  “Caroline?” His look of concern and understanding came through when he called her name.

  “Huh? What was that, Ian?” The empty look dissipated, as she came back to the present.

  “We do not have to speak on it lass if ye do not wish it.”

  “Oh…I just remember it was very dark.”

  “Aye, ye said it was Mo Ghraidh.” He gave her hand a tender squeeze.

  She nodded and swallowed back the building lump at the back of her throat. Caroline took the mug and she leaned back against the sofa. It was several minutes before she could regain her composure, and she spoke again.