He obliged her with a groan, sinking inside her warmth as he kept his eyes locked on hers. She felt like heaven around him, and he had to clench his teeth to hold still, to allow her to get used to his length. After a few, torturous moments he began to move, slowly, afraid that he would instantly reach his release at the glorious feel of her.
Evelyn moaned, wrapping her legs around him and reaching down to grasp his buttocks. His lioness locked eyes with him, licking her dry lips.
"Don't hold back," she rasped. "Please . . . "
Her words, her beauty, and the feel of her undid him. He increased the pace of his thrusts, his breath coming out in guttural gasps as they moved together. Her body seemed made for him, and his for hers, as their nude bodies writhed together in that primal, eternal rhythm.
“Oh God . . . " Evelyn breathed, her eyes closing in bliss. He suckled at the base of her throat as he moved, reveling in the feel of her sweet tightness around his cock. Her hair was spread out behind her, like a curtain of fire; it was just as he’d imagined in his dreams.
“Ye’re beautiful, Evelyn,” he rasped.
He wanted to savor their lovemaking, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back his release for much longer; her tightness felt too perfect around his cock.
“Look at me, lioness,” he whispered, and those striking eyes of hers opened, focusing on him. He leaned down to suckle at a rosy breast, and she shuddered, letting out a delirious cry as another release claimed her.
He watched her shudder with possessive pride before he increased the pace of his thrusts, and he groaned as his climax roiled through him. He spilled himself inside her, keeping his eyes locked on hers until his body stilled.
As they caught their breaths, he looped a leg around her and tugged her into the crook of his arm, burying his face in her hair.
Silence stretched between them for several moments; there was only the sign of their rapid breaths and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. He adjusted himself to look down at her.
“Tell me,” he said quietly, reaching out to wrap several strands of flame-red hair around his finger. "Tell me about yer time. And all about ye. From the beginning."
She froze, startled eyes meeting his.
"You believe me?"
"I donnae believe ye're a liar," he replied. "Nor do I believe ye're mad. Aye, I believe ye, Evelyn."
Ever since her confession, Evelyn seemed lighter, as if the confession had dislodged an invisible weight from her shoulders; the burden of her secret was no longer bearing down on her. He detected no lingering tension. He could only believed that she'd told him nothing but the truth—as mad as it seemed.
And there was the memory of Artair's bride, Diana, at their wedding; her cryptic words to him. I think you'll find happiness of your own with a bonnie lass. And sooner than you think.
Had Diana been referring to Evelyn? If so, how had she known? Was she a time traveler as well? When he saw Artair again, he had many questions for his former laird.
"I can tell that your mind is racing," she said. "I know you have questions."
"Aye," he said. "How can I not? But I doubt I'd be able tae understand it even if ye could explain how ye traveled through centuries."
"I couldn't explain that to you—I don't know how it works, only that I can do it," she said, giving him a wry smile. "Some days I still pinch myself when I wake up here. I can hardly believe all this myself."
"Tell me about ye," he repeated, aching for more knowledge about her. "Everything about ye in this future time."
She sat up, propping her head on her elbow.
"My mother raised me in a city called Seattle. It will be a city in lands not discovered yet. I thought my father had died of an illness when I was a baby . . . until Mom told me the truth. That's when I learned about Tairseach, stiuireadh, time travel . . . all of it."
He listened intently as she described this distant future dominated by something she called "technology”: carriages without horses, buildings as tall as hills and mountains, vast lands on the other side of the ocean. She told him about her mother’s life in this time, that she had a profession of her own—as many women did. Evelyn told him how she’d studied this time period at university, knowing that she would one day return to the time in which she was born.
"Ever since my mother told me her secret, I've always felt torn between two time periods—even though I'd never lived in the past," Evelyn mused.
"It seems like ye've only been focused on the past and the tragedy of what happened tae yer father, even when ye were in yer own time," he said. "Did ye not enjoy a life of yer own, separate from what yer mother told ye? Separate from the past?"
"How could I focus on anything else?" she said, her body tensing with defensiveness. "If you learned you'd been born centuries in the past, how would you react?"
"Ye forget that I did learn something life changing about my birth," he reminded her. "I'm glad my parents didnae tell me sooner, though I was at first angered. I was able tae live a normal life with my siblings, tae enjoy my time as a bairn and a youth. Had I kent what I ken now, I never would have had peace. All I'm suggesting tae ye, lass, is that when ye return," he continued, his heart clenching at the thought, "ye focus on yer life in that time—and yer life alone."
"It'll be hard for me, Latharn. Ever since my mother died, I feel like this time has connected me to her. Letting go of this time period will feel like letting go of her . . . and my father's memory. But I know she'd want me to move forward with my life. So . . . I'll try," Evelyn said, after a brief pause and a strained smile.
He suppressed the pain that spread through his chest at the thought of her eventual departure. But she would be safe in this future she spoke of. As for Latharn, he had to wed a noble lass to secure his claim.
Even as he told himself this, there was something that still bothered him, though it should have been none of his concern. He had no permanent claim on her.
“Ye’re not a virgin,” he said, before he could stop himself.
Evelyn leaned back, arching an eyebrow.
“Neither are you,” she coolly returned.
“’Tis different for me,” he protested. “Ye’re—"
“In my time,” Evelyn interrupted, giving him a firm look, “many women my age aren't virgins. It’s not common for women to wait for marriage until they bed a man. So yes, I’ve had a lover,” she said.
A wave of jealousy swept over him, and he clenched his jaw.
"But," she continued, her tone softening as she reached out to touch the side of his face, “no one has ever made love to me like that. I might as well have been a virgin.”
Her face flamed, and male pride overtook his jealousy. He grinned down at her, though he still longed to put her other lover to his blade. It was best that this man was in another time, far from his reach.
“Are you jealous, Latharn MacUisdean?” Evelyn teased, studying his fierce expression with a grin.
“Aye,” he admitted. There was no use denying it. “I donnae like the thought of any other man enjoying yer lovely body.”
A look of delight flared in her eyes before it was gone again.
“I’m the one who should be jealous,” she said. “I’m not the one who will soon wed someone else.”
“It willnae be soon,” he said, but her expression darkened; his words didn’t seem to reassure her. “I—I donnae want tae wed, but I must. It may not be for some time, and it will only be for purposes of—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Evelyn interrupted. “I know you have your duties. And after I help you take down that bastard, I’ll be able to return to my time with a lighter heart, knowing I've avenged my father in my own way."
But her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and his stomach again clenched at the thought of Evelyn disappearing into the fabric of time.
“We must savor the time we do have together,” he said, winding his hand in her hair and tugging her close. “But I’ll not have
ye putting yerself in danger again. Ye must do everything I say if ye're tae remain.”
A flash of that familiar defiance shone in her eyes before it dissipated, and she expelled a sigh.
“All right,” she muttered.
To his surprise, she moved out of his arms, exposing every inch of her beautiful body to his hungry eyes as she climbed out of bed. She reached for her underdress, and he scowled.
“Where are ye going?” he demanded.
“It’s best if I don’t sleep in your bed," she said, not looking at him as she slipped on her underdress. "The others will know.”
Latharn climbed out of bed, yanking her to him with a growl.
“Aoife is discreet, and my men have no reason tae come tae my chamber,” he said. “Ye’ll stay in my bed while we’re lovers. And,” he added, nipping at her ear as another surge of desire flowed through him, “I've not finished with ye, lioness. I intend,” he continued, maneuvering her back to the bed and lowering her gown, settling himself between her thighs, "tae make use of every moment I have with ye, starting now."
Chapter 18
The next morning, Evelyn tried to keep her expression neutral as she stood next to Latharn. They were gathered before a dozen of his men in the large drawing room.
The night before had been . . . glorious. There was no other word to describe it. After they'd made love a second time, they'd fallen asleep entwined in each other's arms.
Earlier that morning, they'd simply held each other, listening to the sound of the Highlands in the morning; the distant sound of horse hooves, birds cawing, the whisper of the dawn breeze.
It was in the quiet of the dawn that Evelyn had proposed to Latharn how she could help going forward, and to her relief, Latharn had agreed. But he’d wanted to share with his men her continued involvement—most would assume she would be on her way after her ordeal of being captured.
Now, nervousness spiraled through her as she met each man’s gaze, which ranged from mildly curious to borderline hostile. It was one thing to work as a spy in the castle and another thing altogether to work alongside a group of the burly Highlanders who now followed Latharn.
"As ye may ken, Eibhlin’s father was Tormod Ualan O’Brolchan,” Latharn said. “He was killed by my uncle for his loyalty tae my father. To avenge him, and for his honor, 'tis her desire tae keep working alongside us until I’ve removed Padraig from power and take my rightful place.”
“She nearly got herself killed by Padraig,” Gormal said with a scowl. "What can the lass help with? I hope ye're not suggesting she fight."
He started to reply, but it was Evelyn who spoke up.
“No,” she said, setting her nervousness aside as she stepped forward. “Though I’m probably a better archer than many of yer men. But there is something I can do tae help that none of ye can."
It was odd to speak in her affected accent now that Latharn knew who she truly was, but it was vital she keep up the ruse with the others. It was best that the rest of these men didn't know she was a twenty-first century time traveler; she suspected they wouldn't be as understanding as Latharn.
"And what is that?" Horas asked. Unlike Gormal, he wasn't glaring at her; he looked genuinely curious.
"I can talk tae the women of Clan Creagach,” she said. "My mother was friendly with some of the noble wives; I’m hoping they remember her. The wives of nobles are more influential then ye all ken—or as some of ye may already ken,'' she added, giving the men a knowing look.
Several of the men looked amused and even chuckled at her words.
“I may not be wed, but I think ye speak truth, lass,” Horas said, his eyes twinkling.
“Aye,” Baigh added, his own eyes alight with amusement. “As someone wed tae quite the wife, Eibhlin speaks truth.”
"I can talk tae them, persuade them tae convince their husbands tae join Latharn if they’re still hesitant,” she said. This was what she’d proposed to Latharn this morning; by the looks in the men’s eyes before her, she could see that at least some of them were amenable to the idea.
"Now," Latharn said, “we need tae prepare for what’s next.”
Everyone dispersed: some men off to training drills to prepare for the eventual battle, while Latharn had a private meeting with Gormal to discuss his upcoming meeting with the chief of Clan Creagach.
“I want Horas and Tulach tae train ye tae defend yerself,” Latharn told her, as everyone dispersed. “I donnae want what happened with Padraig tae happen again.”
She almost refused, wanting to remind him that she’d already had such training in her own time, but Latharn gave her a firm look. And, she grudgingly reminded herself, her training hadn’t prevented her from being captured.
“Please, Evelyn,” he murmured, his words low enough for only her to hear as he spoke her true name, and a shiver snaked down her spine. Her eyes dropped to his lips, recalling how those lips had felt on her body last night.
She obediently turned to trail after Horas and Tulach to stop herself from salivating over Latharn with other people present.
Nothing has changed. He has his duty, she reminded herself. And you have your duty as well. You have to focus.
* * *
Horas and Tulach were thoroughly impressed with Evelyn during her brief training session with them. She easily outperformed them during archery practice, and held her own when Horas taught her how to fight using a dagger.
“Where did ye learn such skills, lass?” Horas asked, his eyes wide with amazement.
“An uncle liked tae teach me how tae defend myself,” she lied.
“I’d like tae meet this uncle of yers,” Tulach grunted, rubbing his arm where she’d struck him during a practice fight, and she laughed.
After her training with Horas and Tulach, she didn’t see Latharn for the rest of the day. She finally saw him at supper, looking achingly handsome as always: his dark hair sexily disheveled, his whiskey-colored eyes filled with concentration as he spoke to Gormal. She knew he was insecure about his past as a servant, but seated at the head of the table, surrounded by his men, he looked every inch a leader. She tried hard to not stare at him, but that was like trying to avoid the pull of a magnet.
“He’ll make a fine leader,” Tulach said, catching one of her stray gazes at Latharn.
Tulach was seated at her side, and she flushed, hoping he didn’t guess the true reason for her stares, but he looked lost in his own thoughts.
“His uncle Steaphan MacUisdean let my family starve when he was laird,” Tulach continued, his eyes shadowing with grief. “It was a harsh winter, and they didnae have enough coin for rent. He took much of their stores of food for payment. My parents ate little, so we could eat. My father didnae survive the winter.”
Anger and sympathy roiled through her, and she clenched her fists at her side. She’d suspected there was some deeper reason that had propelled Tulach to work for Latharn.
“I’m sorry, Tulach,” she murmured.
“Padraig is just like his father; he doesnae care for the common folk. But Latharn—he hasnae kent wealth. He kens what ’tis like tae struggle. And he’s a good man. I ken no other family will suffer like mine did when he’s laird.”
She nodded her agreement, pride swelling in her chest. Latharn would give up his own food stores rather than let anyone else starve. There was kindness and empathy in every pore of his handsome body.
The men around her abruptly fell silent, and she turned as Latharn got to his feet.
“I wanted ye all tae ken that the chieftain of Clan Creagach has agreed tae meet with me tomorrow. We’ll discuss an alliance then,” he said. His gaze shifted to hers, and Evelyn couldn't help but bask in his gaze, which was like the warming rays of the sun. “Eibhlin will accompany me tae meet with his wife and the other noble wives tae persuade their men tae join our cause.”
All eyes turned to her. She swallowed hard and gave him a nod. After hearing Tulach’s story, she was more determined than ever to succeed.
* * *
Latharn didn’t come to her bed that night, and she tossed and turned, desire for him humming throughout her body when she finally fell into a restless sleep, which was punctuated by nightmares of her time in the cell with Padraig.
When she awoke, she forced aside the memory of her nightmares, her need for Latharn still coursing through her. She had to concentrate as she washed and dressed in a borrowed gown that Aoife had picked up from a wife of one of Latharn’s allies.
She entered the dining room to find a dozen men already gathered as Aoife placed platters of food down. She tried to keep her hunger for Latharn out of her eyes as he stood and approached her. Even at barely past dawn he looked gorgeous, wearing a dark tunic and belted plaid kilt with not a strand of dark hair out of place. At the sight of him, her heart did a brief catapult in her chest.
"Good morning tae ye,” he said. "Are ye ready tae speak tae Lady Reuda Creagach?”
His voice was loud enough for the others to hear and oddly impersonal; she realized that he wanted the appearance of talking "business" with her while the others were within earshot.
"Aye," she said.
This was only a half truth. She’d mostly fantasized about Latharn and had to force herself to remain in her chamber and not seek him out the night before.
"Good," he said. "What do ye think ye'll discuss?"
He held out his hand, gesturing for her to follow, and as soon as they were out of the room, he took her hand, leading her into an empty adjoining chamber, pressing her against the wall. Her eyes widened in surprise as he seized her mouth with his in a passionate kiss. She whimpered against his mouth as his tongue probed hers, his arms wrapping around her waist to press her flush against his hard, muscular body.
“I ached for ye last night, but Gormal came tae my chamber tae review what I was tae say today,” he murmured, when he finally released her. “I’d much rather have enjoyed yer company last night, lioness.”
Joy flooded her at his words; he shifted so that she could feel his arousal, and a torrent of desire swept over her. He kissed her once more, and she returned it, clinging to him like he was a life raft amid a tumultuous ocean, until they were forced to break apart for air. Latharn rested his forehead against hers, his voice low and husky as he spoke.
Latharn's Destiny: Highlander Fate Book Six Page 11