She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Cursed?”
“Aye. Ye read about the legend here. It’s what brought ye here. What brought ye to me.” His voice took on a tone of surprised wonder. “Maybe it's fate that brought you here.”
“What happened?” She repeated her question, her voice was just above a whisper.
“I refused a woman.”
“Refused?”
“Aye. She tried to seduce me, to lure me. But I was in love with Bridget. I told her no…the woman.” He shrugged in a way that made her turn to look at him, caught the look on his face, the look that told her he couldn’t help that women fell over themselves for him. She couldn’t suppress a smile; no matter where or in what century they were born in, men all acted the same.
“And she cursed you?”
“She was a witch.”
“A witch? As in a broom-riding, cauldron-stirring witch?” This time she couldn’t keep the laughter from her voice.
He scowled at her, eyes flashing. “Ye make it sound as if that’s the madness talkin and not me. Witch.” He spat out the word. “Scotland had—has—witches, ye ken. She wasna hedge-witch, ditch-witch, whatever ye want to call her. She wasna a cunning woman either, sommat to tell ye when to plant, or to give ye a salve...” His accent had gotten thicker, almost incomprehensible. It was clear she'd upset him. He took a breath, waved his hand. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, calmer, but still carried pain. Whatever had happened to him, it had scarred him deeply.
“She was in league with sommat evil, sommat dark. She cast a spell, told me I would grow old verra slowly. And that those I loved…Bridget…I would have to watch her grow old and die, and then I would be left alone. I'd be left with only memories, until I finally grew old, and withered, and died. But that it would take a verra long time to die.”
He fell silent. The pain in her heart was sudden and intense, his words sinking in. To love someone, and to know you’ll only be able to watch them grow old, but not grow old with them. And then watch them die.
“Oh, Ross. I’m sorry.” His name came easily to her lips, as if that's who he'd always been.
He took her hand, winding his fingers through hers, brushing his fingers across her knuckles. But something was wrong, something nagged the back of her mind. She shook her head. And then it dawned on her.
“But…the dates on the marker…they’re not…”
“Aye. She dinna live to grow old. She dinna have the chance.” His voice held so much…pain, loss…she remembered how he’d looked at the portrait of Bridget Munro.
“What happened to her?”
But with this question he shook his head, drawing a sharp breath. “Not now.” The darkness in his voice told her this topic was off limits, and she bit back her next question.
He was quiet for so long she thought he’d finished with his story. “Do ye believe me? Do ye believe who I am? What happened to me?”
Something let go inside her, the last bit of doubt, regardless how wild the story seemed. “I do.” It was the only answer she could give him.
Chapter Eight
The dream began abruptly. She was in the air, flying, the stars and moon spinning above her. The freedom was amazing, intense, and she spread her arms, believing she was flying.
Gradually she became aware of something holding her, something hard beneath her legs, cradling her body. She looked away from the stars, down to the claws—no, talons that held her, running her fingers over them. They were sharp; she needed to be careful.
Then she was falling, the talons no longer holding her. Cold wind rushed past her. She screamed, or tried to. Her voice sounded muffled, and she tried to scream again.
Then something—or someone—was holding her, arms wrapping around her body. The dream ended as abruptly as it had started. She was warm and safe as she came awake in Ross's bed.
“Twas a dream, nothing more.” His voice sounded drowsy, just-woken, but strong and reassuring. The fear and anxiety of the dream faded.
“What time is it?” She pushed up on one elbow, squinting toward the window. It was still light outside, the sky overcast. It could have been afternoon, or morning. A disorienting feeling of not knowing if it was the same day or the next washed over her.
“It's almost the end of the day.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Meaning sundown? Or when people stop working?”
“Fair question. It's almost sundown.” He sat up beside her. The warm rich scent of their afternoon together rose up around them, set off a tingle across her skin.
“Will ye stay?”
For a moment she was confused. She wasn't going anywhere right now. But then she realized what he meant.
“You want me to stay the night?” She pulled her edge of the sheet around her body, slid her legs off the side of the bed. The sheet tangled around her waist, holding her from pulling it off the bed. If she wanted to go somewhere, she'd have to cross the room naked. For a moment she wondered at her sudden bout of modesty.
He reached out, hand on her thigh, tugging at the sheet. It slid against her skin, soft as a kiss. “Aye. I'd like it verra much if ye'd stay.”
“And this time you'll stay as well?” She winced. The look on his face made her wish she could take back the words, hearing what sounded like an accusation in them. Maybe there was. But she hadn't meant to bring it up.
Then he raised an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth curving up in a smile. “Aye. I'll stay. It was wrong of me to leave ye. A cold and heartless act.” The smile grew as he tugged harder on the sheet, fingers brushing against her knee.
“Let me make it up to ye, for being a heartless bastard, leaving ye alone in the bed.” He tugged the sheet higher, exposing her thigh. His fingers slipped beneath the linen, sliding over her skin. She shivered as his fingers crept higher, moving over the tender skin of the inside of her thigh.
“Is that how you're going to make it up to me?” She leaned back, relaxing her grip on the sheet. It didn't take much for it to puddle around her hips. With a twitch, Ross pulled it away from her.
“It might just be.”
“And do you think that's the right way to apologize for being a...what did you call yourself? A heartless bastard?”
“It's the best I can do, at the moment.” He sat up, reached out, and caressed one breast. His eyes darkened as his fingers played over her skin. A small gasp escaped her lips as he ran his thumb across her nipple. “But know I'd move heaven and earth for ye, Arianna, if I could. If ye asked me.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she blinked at Ross, all thoughts of if he was a soulless jerk or whatever he'd said leaving her mind. Every sense was focused on Ross, on his hand touching her, on his eyes, now locked with hers.
He moved his hand, sliding it to her arm, pulling her toward him. It didn't take much; she was already leaning into him, and she went willingly. He lay back and she let him pull her down onto his chest.
She ached to kiss him, but it was delicious torture to hesitate, to let her eyes move over his face, the heavy-lidded dark eyes, the full lips, slightly parted, waiting for her.
Beneath her body she could feel Ross shift, his legs moving apart, his hips rising against her thighs. A corner of the sheet lay between them, the only thing that separated her from his rising erection.
She braced one arm beside his shoulders, holding his gaze, reaching between them to pull away the sheet. As she did, Ross's slid one hand down her side, fingers playing over her waist, moving to cup her ass. She pushed up, enough to look into his eyes.
“Do you have any problems with me taking control here? You're not too masculine to let...”
He reached up, cupping the back of her head. “I have no problem with whatever ye want to do to me.” He pulled her closer, his lips brushing hers. “Ye can do as ye please, as long as ye please.”
She kissed him then, or he pulled her down. She wasn't sure, but she didn't care. The kiss was brutal, passionate, and all-co
nsuming. For a moment she forgot her brash words, forgot everything but the feel of his mouth against hers, the taste of him as his tongue slipped between her lips.
Ross shifted beneath her again, settling her firmly between his legs. His erection rested against her stomach, the heat and hardness bringing her back to the here and now. Reluctantly breaking away from his kiss, she pushed up, gasping.
“Oh, my god. Ross...what you do to me.”
“It's mutual, lass. Whatever it is...ye do it to me too.”
He claimed her mouth again, and she didn't care who was doing what to whom. His hands slid over her, cupping her ass. She spread her legs as he moved his hands lower, clutching her as she moved her thighs down his hips, until her knees hit the bed.
His erection rose up against the insides of her thighs, brushing the tender skin, the softness of it belying the hardness beneath. He was all man, and he was all hers. And she was ready for him.
Shifting her weight she settled down on him, the length of him sliding into her. He made a noise against her mouth, a moan, or maybe her name. It didn't matter. All that mattered now was them, together, in a dance as old as time.
She settled onto him as he flexed his hips, thrusting up into her. She broke the kiss, tipping her head back, breathing out a long sigh. He made a soft sound and she looked down at him.
Ross's eyes were dark with passion, almost closed. He reached up, palm against her cheek, and she leaned against him.
“Do whatever ye want to do to me, Arianna. I want ye, no matter how it happens.”
He set his hands on her hips as she pushed up with her legs, a shiver running through her as he slid out of her. She stopped, rocked her hips, arching her back, felt him flex against her body, heard him moan as he closed his eyes, and let his head fall back on the pillow.
For a moment, she hesitated. She wanted him inside, to feel him sliding into her again. His fingers tensed against her skin, his hips making a subtle movement beneath her. It seemed he wasn't as willing to wait for her to make the next move.
He opened his eyes, looking into hers. For an instant she saw mirrored there all the passion and arousal she felt, the deep ache for more, to connect. To be one.
She sank down on him as he rose, filling her, pushing further into her. She cried out, sitting back, grinding her body down onto his hips, rocking back and forth.
He reached up, hands caressing her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples. White heat raced through her, and she grabbed his wrists, leveraging her body up, then coming down hard.
Ross grunted beneath her, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts seductive, and wicked. She leaned forward, brushing her lips quickly across his, then sat back.
“Get ready.”
Something took hold of her and she moved over him like she'd never done with any man before, had never even thought about moving. It was wanton and wild, and more intense than any experience she'd ever had. She felt a wave of feminine power sweep through her.
Each downward movement of her body drove him deep into her, setting the stage for another thrust, another surge of heat as he filled her, as she took him into her slick wetness.
She pushed, controlling him, holding just the head of his cock inside her, shimmying her hips, teasing him. He smiled at her, letting her play her game, as she rolled her hips up and back, He grunted again, hips rising, but she arched away.
“Ye're a wicked girl, Arianna. Wicked...but I love ye for it.”
His words took her by surprise, and when he reached for her, she let him pull her down against his chest. He reached up, hand against her cheek. The playful smile faded, his eyes searching hers.
“I said I love ye, Arianna. And I mean it.”
His kiss was tender and wild and filled with longing, and it sent a wave of emotions through her, arousal and desire, and something else. Something she'd never felt before, with any man. She broke the kiss with a gasp.
“I love you too, Ross.”
The words rose to her lips easily, and she smiled. She'd said the words before, with other men, but this time something was different. These came from her heart, from her soul, and the feeling that came with saying them was euphoric. She wanted to say them again. Yet, how could she possibly love a man she had only just met? A man she knew so little about? A man who was so impossibly complicated? Yet, there was no question that she felt so connected to him, as though she had known him her entire life.
“I love you.”
The euphoria was there, and it excited her. But the look on Ross's face eclipsed the elation she felt. The look on his face was one of naked emotion, the longing replaced with love.
“Aye...” And that word was enough, for both of them.
Ross rolled over, taking her with him, pinning her to the bed. “Ye don't mind if I take...what did ye say? Control?” His hips were already flexing forward, driving himself into her, each thrust more forceful than the last.
“I don't mind in the least.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You can do to me whatever you want.”
And he did do whatever he wanted. Within minutes he had brought her to the edge of something amazing, her body arching beneath him, arms now flung wide, fingers gripping the sheets. Ross buried his head against her shoulder, and she felt his lips on her skin, his tongue playing along her skin. Then she felt the quick sharp graze of his teeth, the pain sharp and unexpected.
It was enough. More than enough. She threw her head back, body shuddering up against Ross as the first waves of her orgasm crashed through her. For a moment everything faded except the exquisite pleasure Ross was creating inside her. She rode the wave, spiraling higher than she'd ever gone before.
Gradually she became aware of noises, cries and groans, of Ross's movements between her thighs. It took her a minute to untangle what she was hearing, sorting her wild cries from Ross's deep sounds of obvious pleasure. She opened her eyes.
Ross looked down at her, breathing hard. He grinned, his hair falling over his forehead. “Welcome back, from wherever ye been.”
He rolled onto his back, flinging his arm over his forehead. “Lord and saints, have mercy.” His heaving chest was covered with a sheen of perspiration, and he turned his head on the pillow. “Ye'd send me to an early grave, if that were possible.”
She smiled, not quite sure if he was making a joke, but then he started to laugh.
“It's fine, Arianna. Ye've lifted a weight from me. I've not felt like this in...a very long time.” His lowered his eyes briefly, then looked back into her face. He reached out, fingers playing along her hairline.
“It's been a long time, longer than I want to think about. Longer than anyone should have to live. But ye have lifted a burden, at least for the moment.”
He turned to her, propping himself on one elbow. “Ye've touched me in a way no woman has. Not even Bridget.”
Arianna shook her head. “No...don't say that. She was the love of your life.”
“She was. But she's gone.”
“And I'm here.”
“Aye, but it's not just that yer here. Not that yer warm and beautiful...” He gave her a crooked smile. “...sexy and beautiful.” His eyes drifted lower, his hand moving to her breast, one finger trailing over her skin.
“You're repeating yourself.” Her breath had gone shallow and fast. “But you can repeat yourself if you like.”
“I'd like to repeat things with ye, always, as long as I can, Arianna.” He leaned over, lips brushing against hers. “As long as ye'd let me.”
“Practice makes perfect.” She reached for him, and in the gathering dark they came together again, repeating the dance, perfecting their movements.
Chapter Nine
Movement woke her. She rolled over, bumping into Ross.
“Oh...you're still here.”
“Aye. I said I'd stay.” He rolled toward her, pushing her back against the pillows. “And I'm glad I did.” He brushed his lips across hers. When he pulled away his eyes
were dark, his lips curved in that wicked smile she was growing to love.
“Are ye glad ye stayed?”
“Verra glad.”
He laughed, the first real laugh she'd heard from him. “Oh, lass. Dinna try the accent. It's not going to work. I love ye the way ye are.”
Before she could even grasp what he'd said, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
“I eat breakfast. A big breakfast.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at her. “Are ye one of these women who won't eat till ye be starving?”
“I eat breakfast.” She was struggling out of the tangled bed linens. “But I am starving.”
He leaned back, planting a hearty kiss on her cheek. “Then breakfast it is.”
He climbed out of bed, apparently used to walking around naked. Not that she minded. There was nothing wrong with watching a gorgeous man walk around with no clothes on, especially one as handsome as Ross.
Ross. His name came so easily to her mind. Craig James had already faded. He'd been the real man of mystery, not Cameron. Ross was real, alive...and at the moment, he was hers. But what he'd told her last night, about not just who he was but what he was...
“Arianna?”
Startled she looked up, thoughts interrupted. He was standing by the side of the bed, tucking a clean white shirt into his kilt. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“Will ye come down?”
“In a minute. I want a shower first.” Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her knees. “Do I have time?”
“Ye do.” Leaning over he kissed her again, lips lingering over hers. He rested his forehead against her briefly, eyes practically burning into hers. “Down the hall. Don't take long.”
She had a momentary debate over getting dressed, or wearing her sheet ensemble down the hall to the bathroom. But then it was only Ross and her in the castle. And he’d certainly seen her naked. A flush colored her face and she slipped out of the room naked, eyes widening at the surprising coldness of the stone floor. What did she expect? It was a castle in Scotland after all.
Kiss Of Fire (BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance): Dragon Shifter Romance Page 6
