Highlander's Captive

by Mariah Stone

  She was lying in the heap of furs and blankets in front of the fireplace. The fire was already dying, and it crackled softly. He walked soundlessly towards Amy and stood for a moment, watching her. She lay on her side, her long hair spilled over the white fur.

  But she didn’t sleep. A small whimper and a sniff reached his ears.

  She was crying.

  “Oh mo gaol,” he whispered. My love.

  She turned to him, her eyes bloodshot, eyelids swollen. He slid down next to her, into the welcoming warmth under the blankets, and brought her into his arms. She enveloped him with her feminine, sweet scent of forest and nature and cooking.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.

  Her breath was warm and humid against his neck.

  “I couldna keep from seeing ye…” He lifted her chin. “What is it, Amy? Why are ye crying?”

  “You know why…”

  “Nae, I dinna.”

  “Because I lied to you. Because I must leave, and yet it breaks my heart. Because…”

  She swallowed, then exhaled softly.

  “Because I love you.”

  The words washed over him, reaching the very depths of his soul. He brushed the tears off Amy’s wet cheeks, then reached out and kissed one tear away. If he could, he would lick away all her sadness, all her troubles, all her misery.

  But he couldn’t.

  What he could do, was show how much he loved her despite everything that had happened between them. Despite the fact that this would be the last time.

  He planted the softest of kisses from her wet cheek slowly down to her mouth, then kissed her on her lips as gently as he could muster. And even this tender brush of her skin against his sent a fiery current through his veins.

  He deepened the kiss, dipping his tongue into her mouth. She tasted salty, of pain and heartbreak, and they echoed within him, making his chest ache.

  She wrapped her hands around his neck and brought herself closer. He could feel her soft breasts and her hardening nipples through the thin fabric of her shift.

  He ran his hands down her back, slowly, savoring every inch of her graceful body, the curve of her lower back, the firm roundness of her gorgeous arse. He squeezed the cheeks of her bottom and kneaded them. She writhed against him and threw one leg over his hips, and pressed her sex into his.

  He was already hard. His cock swelled for her, jerking impatiently.

  But he would be patient. He would be everything she wanted him to be.

  Craig pulled her shift up to her waist, then higher, and removed it completely. He looked down her body, those perfect, soft, round breasts, her milky skin glowing in the darkness. He removed his own shirt and then his pants, and they lay skin to skin, nothing to hide, nowhere to run.

  He lowered his head and took her breast in his mouth, the velvety skin sweet and delicious. He circled her soft nipple with his tongue, feeling satisfaction as it hardened. He sucked on it and bit gently, over and over, until Amy started giving out kitten-like throaty whimpers.

  Then he moved to the other breast and repeated the same on it while massaging the first. She arched into him, giving him even more access.

  Her hands ran through his hair, something he always loved.

  He then slowly continued his way downward with his mouth until he found the sweet triangle of soft hair. He lifted her leg over his shoulder, opening her for his touch.

  He spread her gentle folds, marveling at the beautiful center of her.

  “So soft, so warm,” he murmured and kissed her there with the exact pressure he knew she liked. She shuddered, and he put her other leg over his shoulder, as well, keeping her hips steady with his hands. He kept teasing her, savoring the feel of her against him, stretching every moment into an eternity.

  She stiffened in that way that meant she’d find her release soon, and he withdrew. He turned her over, with her buttocks to him. Like that, he’d be able to give her pleasure with his hands where he knew she’d love it.

  He placed his throbbing erection against her hot, sleek sex. An intense jolt of pleasure ran through him. He was thick and aching for her.

  Brushing his hand against her long, graceful back, he gently entered her and moved slowly. She gasped, pushing back to meet him.

  He pushed until he was completely enveloped, squeezed by her sleek tightness. She arched her back, and he cupped one breast with his hand. With the other, he found her hot folds and the knot of her pleasure and began massaging it.

  She trembled, and a deep, guttural moan escaped her mouth.

  “Aye, my sweet lass,” he said. “Take it in. Ye’re so beautiful.”

  He began moving slowly out of her, and then as slowly, back in again, circling his hips to reach the deepest places within her, and to give her the most pleasure.

  “Ohh, Craig,” she moaned. “Ohhh…”

  He increased his rhythm slightly, both greedy to have her and willing this to never end.

  He worshiped her with his body. Every thrust a praising song to her beauty. Every brush of his fingers a prayer to her. Every breath a confession of love.

  He was stretching this. Each plunge in and out bringing him closer to her, soothing the pain, expanding the boundaries of his body and soul. He was a ship becalmed on a stagnant sea and she was the wind.

  He was the ground, frozen after winter, and she was the first sun of spring.

  He was the iron, and she was the fire, melting it and turning it into a sword.

  Together, they were one.

  At least for now.

  And he wanted this now to last forever.

  But too soon, her body was trembling on the edge of release, and he knew she needed him to be rough at the end because that would give her the most pleasure.

  He sped up, in a smooth, relentless rhythm, just enough to heighten her sensations but not so hard as to cause her pain.

  He was close himself, intense heat pulsing through his blood from the points of their connection, from where he owned her and she owned him.

  She clenched around him, crying the sweet, urgent sounds of her need for release. Everything tightened within him ferociously, and without stopping, he leaned forward and turned her head to him, finding her mouth and sealing a desperate kiss on her lips.

  The orgasm ran through him in a fiery gust of bliss, releasing him in a charring wave. Amy convulsed and unraveled in his hands.

  He spilled himself into her, their moans melting together, their breath one song.

  He crushed her to him, pressing her harder, as though to make her part of himself. They breathed together, their chests heaving in the same rhythm.

  “I love ye, Amy,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too,” she echoed.

  He closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, trying them on to test their truth, but not quite believing them.

  Slowly, she turned to him, silky in his arms.

  “Craig…” she said.

  He marveled at her, trying to memorize every small detail of her face. The big eyes, the full lips, the nose, a little pointy.

  She cupped his jaw, then planted the softest, sweetest kiss on his lips. She buried her face in his neck and he felt something hot and wet on his skin. He brought her to him, tighter, and felt her uneven breath as she cried gently in his arms.

  They fell asleep like that.

  And when he woke up, the space by his side was empty and the fire was long dead. He sat up, cold sadness creeping into his heart.

  He looked around the room, but it was empty save the first aid kit and Amy’s shift on the bed.

  Was she gone?

  Was that it? No goodbye, nothing?

  He supposed last night was all the goodbye they could have said, but still, why did it feel like he’d lost something more valuable than his life?

  Mayhap she wasn’t gone yet. He stood and hastily shoved on his clothes. If he hurried, mayhap he’d still catch her…

  But
why? What would it change? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he couldn’t bear the thought that she’d be gone forever, that he’d never see her again.

  He rushed down one flight of stairs, then down another other, then across the courtyard into the eastern tower, past the guards and into the underground storeroom. He shoved the door to the back room open.

  There she was, crouching by the rock, in her jacket and her tight trousers, with her strange bag on her back. Her hand was on the stone.

  She already looked slightly faded, like the color was being washed out of her.

  Everything inside Craig screamed at him to run to her and stop her. To drop to his knees and beg her to stay. These were the last moments he’d ever see her in his life. Could he truly not see past her name? Could he not give her another chance?

  It took every last drop of his willpower to stay, to not take another step towards her.

  The rock glowed again, blue and brown. She was vanishing, like fog blown away by a strong wind.

  She looked back at him, their eyes locking, hers full of panic, sadness, and loss.

  “Amy!” He took a step towards her to grab her wrist and yank her back to him, away from anything that would bring pain to her.

  But the next moment, she was gone.

  He ran to the rock, unable to believe she’d just disappeared.

  She had. Not a trace of her remained.

  He knew the realization would take him like an avalanche later. Like the disastrous news of Marjorie being kidnapped and raped, and the experience of seeing his dead grandfather. The pain would crush him, devour him, change him.

  But for now, he just stared at the carved waves and the road and the handprint.

  And wondered if he’d ever forgive himself for letting the love of his life go.

  Chapter 34

  Stowe, Vermont, late January 2021

  Amy let out a full breath in a puff of steam. The brilliance of the snow against the rich green, almost black, pines on the slopes of Mount Mansfield hurt her eyes. The day was bright, the sky that sort of winter blue it only gets a few times per year.

  She wished Craig could see it.

  Every time she had a nice moment, her first thought was to share it with Craig.

  Craig, in his green-brown Highlands.

  Craig, who was long dead.

  As always, a spasm of pain ran through her at the thought.

  “So, where to?” Jenny asked, closing the door of Amy’s house behind her. “Wow, it’s cold.”

  Amy pulled her sister’s thick knitted hat deeper over Jenny’s ears. “How about we walk to the pub instead of driving. It’s just fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh yes, and the air is so fresh. Bites my ass really nicely.”

  Amy laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t be a drama queen.”

  Jenny chuckled. “I only arrived yesterday. Let me get used to this cold. Are you sure this is the lowest temperature possible?”

  They began walking towards the town center. Snow crunched pleasantly under Amy’s shoes. Houses of white wooden panels and red brick, their roofs covered in snow, lined the street.

  “Wait till the end of February,” Amy said. “Then most of my work is fighting hypothermia in lost skiers and hikers up in the mountains.”

  “Oh, I’m not waiting till February. Not staying longer than I have to. In fact”—Jenny winked—“my secret plan is to pack you up and take you with me to North Carolina.”

  The scent of Stowe—crisp snow and nature mixed with a whiff of freshly baked muffins, pies, and meat casseroles—wasn’t welcoming as it used to be. It was a painful reminder of the comfort of home she’d felt in Inverlochy, when she had been happy with Craig.

  The comfort she’d lost.

  The man she’d lost.

  She’d happily trade the scent of muffins and pies for the scent of stew, and the warmth of her cozy home for the coolness of the castle walls.

  And the touch of his hands, his body, his moss-green gaze, and being called “lass” a hundred times a day.

  “Ah well,” Amy said through a forced smile. “My home is here. I’m needed.” She gestured at Mount Mansfield.

  “I’m so glad you got your old job back,” Jenny said. “And sorry it took me so long to come and see you.”

  “No, no, please don’t apologize. You have a job. You cannot babysit your older sister. I’m fine.”

  Amy felt her sister’s inquisitive eyes on her. “You don’t look fine, hon.”

  She glanced at Jenny quickly. “No? Well, I am.”

  Amy looked straight ahead of her, her shoulders tensing. She wanted this freedom, right? She didn’t want to be in a relationship. She’d told herself that many times after she’d come back. This was the right decision.

  “If I’m not yet, I will be,” she said, decisively.

  “Okay, I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me. What are you hiding?” Jenny asked, concern in her voice.

  Amy swallowed. Her nose was freezing, so were her cheeks. She’d told Jenny she’d gotten lost underground in the tunnels in Inverlochy, and when she woke up, the class was gone. She said she’d been tired of babysitting and had decided to stay alone to explore the Highlands and got lost in the mountains. That’s what she’d told the Scottish police, too.

  But Jenny had never bought that story. She hadn’t asked many more questions over the phone, but Amy knew they had been brewing in her sister’s head and waiting to be asked when she arrived.

  Amy was tired. All that time she’d lied to Craig had made her miserable. She didn’t want to lie to Jenny.

  “I’ll tell you once we have something alcoholic in front of us. I’ll just tell you the truth. You’ll probably think I’m a lunatic. I’ll tell you anyway. You can decide if you think I’m a huge liar for the rest of your life.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Jenny said.

  “You have no idea.”

  They arrived at the pub, one of three in Stowe. It had the classic, dark-wood interior of a ski resort. The scents of beer and bleach surrounded Amy. A hockey game was on the TVs, and rock music played over the speakers. The familiar scene where Amy had come hundreds of times with her SAR buddies, and Nick, felt tense and small and confining. How had she felt cozy here before?

  They took a booth by the window, and Amy bought a beer for Jenny and a scotch for herself. They clinked glasses, and Amy took a sip, letting the liquid burn her mouth and throat and settle like a small fire in her stomach. It was richer and more sophisticated than the uisge she’d had in Inverlochy with Craig, and it was only an echo of the taste that reminded her so much of her adventure.

  But she craved anything, anything at all, that might bring her closer to Craig in some way. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining she was drinking from a silver cup in the great hall of Inverlochy Castle. The whiskey was like a part of him she wanted to absorb into her system.

  Daily desperation, sadness, and loss were like heavy cast-iron handcuffs on her wrists. Her shoulders ached, her muscles were tense. Would she ever stop hurting?

  “I see you acquired some Scottish tastes,” Jenny said. “Don’t remember you ever drinking scotch before.”

  Amy chuckled. “Especially since it was Dad’s poison of choice.”

  “Yeah.”

  They kept silent for a moment.

  “So, what happened?” Jenny said carefully.

  Amy took a deep breath and met her sister’s eyes. They were blue like hers, but Jenny was dark haired like Mom, whereas Amy had Dad’s coloring.

  “Okay, before I begin, just please know that I’m well aware of how insane all this is going to sound.”

  “Okay…” Jenny said slowly.

  “Okay.”

  And Amy began. She told Jenny about Sìneag, about the rock, about the siege, and about Craig. And everything that had happened to her. They asked for another round of drinks, then another. Night settled behind the window, and the pub began filling with people, many of whom gr
eeted Amy.

  They were on the fourth round of drinks when Amy finally finished telling how she’d gotten back. It felt good to tell all of this to someone, to stop pretending like nothing extraordinary had happened to her.

  It had. And it had changed her. In fact, this would almost certainly be the greatest event of her whole life. How sad would it be if she couldn’t share it with the person she was closest to?

  Sad and smart, judging by the wide-eyed expression of disbelief on Jenny’s face. She gulped her beer, already a little tipsy, and simply stared at Amy.

  “Do you have any proof?” Jenny said finally.

  “Proof?”

  “Yeah. That you didn’t imagine it all or hallucinate. I mean, I totally understand that you believe it happened. But, I’m sorry, hon, it’s just really hard to imagine time travel being real.”

  Disappointment coiled in Amy’s stomach. She shrugged. “I don’t have proof, Jen. I get that you don’t believe me. Had I heard a story like that, I wouldn’t have either. So I don’t blame you. And you have no idea how I wish this were a hallucination and not the truth.”

  Jenny frowned. “Why?”

  “Because then Craig would be a product of my imagination. And I would be able to stop wondering if I made a mistake by leaving.”

  Jenny swirled her beer in the glass. “You love him, huh?”

  Amy slowly nodded. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I do.”

  “You loved Nick, too.”

  “Exactly. That’s the point. I did. I had the most perfect guy in the world, who wanted to be married to me. Who didn’t live hundreds of years in the past.”

  “No kidding. But is this different? With Craig?”

  “If I say it is, will you think it’s wishful thinking? Like, I wish it were different, but really, it’s the same? That even if I’d stayed with him, I’d have ended up escaping the marriage just like I did with Nick?”

  “I don’t know, hon. Somehow, I don’t think so.”

  “Why?”

  Jenny looked out of the window for a moment. “Because you are different.”