But Eadan still looked doubtful.
“It’s worth a try,” she pressed. “I’m staying here to help, remember?”
“I’m still having a guard on ye at all times,” Eadan said, after a pause. “And ye’re not tae wander the grounds alone, Fiona.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I promise.”
Eadan studied her, admiration filling his expression as he shook his head.
“I doonae ken if ye’re foolish or brave, lass,” he said finally, stepping forward to cup the sides of her face.
“Perhaps both?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat at his nearness.
“Aye,” Eadan growled, before leaning down to claim her mouth with his. Keeping his arms around her, he walked backward with her to the bed.
“Lie still, my Fiona,” he whispered, and her heart soared at the possessiveness of his words. It took everything in her power to remain still as he divested her of her clothing.
When he stripped off his tunic and kilt, desire spiraled through her. His muscular torso gleamed in the illumination from the fireplace, his blue eyes hot with lust, his lips parted as he surveyed her naked body. He was so beautiful.
She couldn’t help herself. Disobeying his command, she sat up, peppering kisses along the plane of his broad muscular chest, going lower, lower still, until she took his hard erect length into her mouth.
“Christ, Fiona,” he gasped, as she luxuriated in the feel of him in her mouth, licking along his length, before sucking him down whole. “Ye’re going tae kill me.”
She smiled around his shaft, and continued to suckle him, as his hands wound through her hair, his teeth clenched with restrained lust, his eyes filled with raw desire.
“I want tae cum inside ye,” he ground out, releasing himself from her mouth with great effort.
He sat down on the bed next to her, lifting her up and gently sinking her down onto his erection.
Fiona let out a pleasured moan at the sensation of him filling her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, locking eyes with him as he clutched her rear. Their eyes remained on each other as Fiona rode him, and Eadan’s hands wandered from her rear to her breasts, stroking them before pulling each aching nipple into his mouth. Fiona gasped and threw her head back, feeling the start of her orgasm spiral deep within her belly.
“Aye, my Fiona,” he whispered. “Come for me, lass. My siren.”
And Fiona did, her body quaking her release, as Eadan groaned his own orgasm, his grasp tightening as he spilled himself inside of her.
Fiona buried her face in his neck, still coming down from the dizzying heights Eadan had taken her to. Eadan kept her in his arms, removing himself from her as he moved to lie down on the bed. When they lay sideways, he reached out to stroke her tousled hair.
“I’m a fool tae not have thought of this before—but we’ve not been careful. I doonae want tae send ye back with a babe in yer belly.”
Her chest tightened at his mention of her going back to her own time, but she forced a smile.
“No need. In my time, there are sophisticated—and effective—ways of preventing women from getting pregnant.”
She’d received a birth control shot for years now, though a part of her wondered if it would withstand a supernatural event such as time travel. And it would wear off in a few weeks’ time. A sliver of delight went through her, just for a moment, at the thought of having Eadan’s child . . . of having a real marriage with him.
But she quickly squashed the thought. Eadan had his duties as laird and soon-to-be chief of Clan Macleay. Knowing Eadan, as soon as this business with Clan Acheson was sorted, he’d marry a suitable Scottish bride. Pain struck her at the thought, and she swallowed.
When she looked back up at Eadan, she saw a flash of what looked like regret in his eyes before it vanished. She blinked. He couldn’t want her to have his child . . . could he?
“Tell me more,” Eadan said abruptly, averting his gaze. “About your time.”
Fiona propped herself up on her elbow, thinking for a moment. How to summarize the twenty-first century?
“It’s loud,” she said, after a moment. “A lot louder than this time. I find the quiet here more peaceful. Technology—which I think many people in this time would equate to magic—dominates the future. It makes things more convenient. But I think it’s caused less personal connections. Everyone has a device to hide behind.”
He listened as she told him as much as she could about the modern age, his beautiful eyes filled with wonder. She suspected it took a lot for a rational man like Eadan to express genuine surprise, and she relished in the look of boyish wonder on his face when she described airplanes.
But his expression suddenly darkened and he propped himself up on one elbow, studying her with intensity.
“What?” she asked, startled by his sudden mood shift; it was like storm clouds shielding the sun.
“Is there someone waiting for ye? Back in yer time?” he asked.
Fiona smiled, delight coursing through her at the unmistakable jealousy in his eyes.
“No,” she said. “I was engaged—betrothed to someone. But he betrayed me with another woman, and I ended it.”
“He’s a fool,” Eadan said, reaching out to trace her face with his fingertip. “Why would any man go elsewhere when he can have this?”
His hand dropped from her face to her throat, to the curve of her breast, her abdomen. Fiona shivered with desire as his finger trailed lower, until he pressed it into her moist, aching center.
“Hold still, lass,” he whispered, kissing his way down her abdomen. “I want tae hear ye scream my name.”
And she did.
The next morning, when Fiona offered to help in the kitchens, Una looked so horrified that she had to restrain herself from laughing.
“Estranged wife or not, ye’re the lady of the castle!” Una gasped.
“I insist,” Fiona said firmly. “I want to earn my keep while I’m here.”
“Earn yer keep?” Una asked, looking even more horrified. “As wife of the laird—"
“Eadan gave his blessing,” Fiona said, giving her a firm look.
Una’s shoulders slumped and she gave her a reluctant nod. Fiona could understand her hesitancy; social roles were much more stratified in this time.
Una looked down at the fine gown she’d been about to hand Fiona to wear, setting it down with a sigh.
“Well, we’ll have tae dress ye in something a little less—fine,” Una grumbled.
She left and returned with a simple dark brown gown made of wool. Fiona found it far more comfortable than the fancier gowns Una usually dressed her in, and considered requesting that she wear clothes like this more often, but she suspected that would give Una a heart attack.
Once dressed, she trailed Una into the kitchens. Before they entered, the kitchens had buzzed with laughter and conversation. But as soon as she entered, it was like a record scratching. All conversation halted and everyone turned to face her, mouths agape.
“Lady Macleay has offered her help 'til she’s on her way,” Una said stiffly, leveling them all with hard stares. “She’s tae be treated with the utmost respect.”
The kitchens remained quiet as Una led her to the head cook, a middle-aged woman named Isla who wiped her hands on her apron and kept her gaze lowered. She seemed reluctant to have Fiona do anything, but finally gave her a small tray of vegetables to chop.
As Fiona got to work in a small corner, the servants remained quiet. When conversation picked up again, it was hushed. Fiona felt like she was the strict teacher and the servants wary students. She knew it would take time for them to warm up to her, but she didn’t have months for that. She’d have to figure out a way of endearing herself to them so that at least one of them would open up to her. Given how they all avoided even looking at her, she didn’t know how that was going to happen.
Her thoughts turned to Eadan, and her decision to stay. Here she was, chopping vegetab
les in a medieval kitchen, when she could be back in her own time, taking a long bath in her bed-and-breakfast, reeling from her trip through time. But the thought of leaving Eadan made her heart constrict.
For so many years she’d kept her heart closed off, and there’d been a part of her that preferred things that way. But now that she’d seen the other side of opening up to someone, how good it felt—how could she ever go back to the way she’d been before?
But it didn’t matter. She reminded herself for the millionth time that Eadan had his duties to Clan Macleay, and that’s where his focus would remain.
She just knew that when she returned to the twenty-first century, she’d leave a part of her heart behind . . . with a man from another time.
Chapter 18
“We cannae have ye as a spy, Eadan. Ye’re laird of the castle, and ye stand out,” Ronan said.
Eadan glared at his cousin. He and Ronan had just met with his trusted men in his private study, and his men had just left. They were spying on Dughall and his men for Eadan, but they’d found nothing. And there was still no sign of Naoghas, dead or alive. Weary with their lack of progress, Eadan had proposed doing the spying himself.
“I could be discreet,” Eadan said, raking his hand through his hair with frustration.
“’Tis a foolish idea, and ye ken it. Yer men are doing the best they can,” Ronan said. “And . . . I have tae tell ye. Gossip’s swirling about ye and Fiona.”
“What gossip?” Eadan asked, stiffening.
“That ye seem close for two people trying tae get their marriage annulled.”
“’Tis no one’s business,” Eadan said, avoiding Ronan’s eyes. “She’ll be gone soon.”
But Ronan was perceptive; he trained an intense gaze on Eadan.
“What’s going on between ye and the lass?” Ronan asked. “Ye can tell me, Eadan.”
Eadan hesitated. He and Fiona had agreed to keep her secret to themselves. Everyone would think she was mad, and for those who didn’t, they’d accuse her of witchcraft. Eadan trusted Ronan with his life, but he wouldn’t divulge her secret to anyone. He expelled a sigh, deciding to tell him a half truth.
“I care about Fiona. More than I should,” Eadan hedged, though his words were an understatement. Fiona had infused his world with light, with joy. He dreaded the day he’d have to part with her.
“Have ye bedded the lass?”
“That’s not yer business,” Eadan growled. He didn’t want Ronan—or any man—to even think of his Fiona in the throes of passion.
“Ye are,” Ronan said, shaking his head. “I know jealousy when I see it. I suspected yer feelings for the lass when ye attacked Uisdean. Fiona is bonnie, of that there’s no doubt. But doonae let her distract ye, Dughall’s—”
“I’m not distracted. I’m doing everything I can tae bring Dughall down,” Eadan returned.
Ronan’s mouth tightened, but he gave him a quick nod before leaving him alone.
Eadan sank down into his chair. He’d just lied to Ronan; Fiona was distracting him. He recalled her lush body writhing beneath his, the sweetness of her quim, his name on her lips as she came, and arousal filled every part of him. He thought of her amusement as she tried to explain the concept of a “computer” to him, her soft laughter that reminded him of bells, the determination in her eyes when she told him she would stay to help him.
Eadan rubbed his temple. It was no surprise that people around the castle noticed how he behaved around Fiona. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her when he was in her presence.
She’s still going back tae her own time, he told himself. This situation with Dughall would resolve and she'd be out of his life, forever. He imagined her in this distant future, eventually marrying another man, and his fists clenched at his sides. He forced away the thought, jealousy and pain filling him at the thought of his Fiona with another man.
Eadan made himself focus on reading papers that Naoghas had left behind regarding land requests from various nobles of the clan.
When a servant notified him that supper was being served, he pushed aside the papers, his eagerness to see Fiona so great he had to restrain himself from practically running to the great hall.
But before he could leave, Ronan entered, his mouth set in a grim line. He was holding a trembling male servant by his arm. Eadan recognized the servant as Maon; he’d worked at Macleay Castle for many years in the stables.
Eadan’s eyes widened in surprise as Ronan threw Maon to the floor, glowering at him.
“What are ye doing?” Eadan demanded, glaring at Ronan. He wouldn’t tolerate the mistreatment of his servants, and shock filled him at Ronan’s behavior. His cousin had always treated the servants with kindness.
“This man,” Ronan bit out, “was following yer wife. He admitted he’s a spy for Dughall.”
Fury coiled through Eadan. He reached down, dragging Maon up by the collar of his tunic, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.
“P—please, m’laird—" Maon sputtered.
“Why were ye following my wife?” Eadan snarled.
“Dughall—he paid me. Wanted me tae follow ‘er—not tae harm ‘er, I swear. I was tae follow ‘er and report back to ‘im.”
Eadan’s grip eased on Maon’s collar—a little.
“How long have ye been following her?”
“’Tis—’tis only the first day,” he said. “Please—” Maon’s eyes glistened with tears. “I’ve a sick bairn, and we cannae afford tae pay the healer. Otherwise, I’d never’ve done it. Mercy, m’laird. Please.”
Eadan gazed down at the man, sympathy filling him, dampening his rage. He recognized a desperate man when he saw one. He was lucky he hadn’t harmed Fiona or Eadan wouldn’t feel so merciful.
“How much is he paying ye?” Eadan asked.
When Maon told him the amount, Eadan swore. That bastard, he thought. Dughall spent that much coin to spy on Fiona?
“I’ll pay ye double,” Eadan said, after a pause, ignoring Ronan’s curse and look of disbelief. Maon’s eyes widened, as he continued, “Ye pretend tae keep spying on Fiona, but this time, ye give Dughall false information. Tell him that Fiona’s eager tae leave, we keep our distance, and I suspect another clan of wrongdoing. Ye report back tae me or Ronan at the same time every day in the stables. Regardless of whether ye help me, I’ll arrange a healer for yer bairn. But,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “if I get word of ye telling Dughall any of this and betraying me again, I’ll not hesitate tae destroy ye. Understand?”
“Aye,” Maon said, looking both terrified and relieved. “I understand.”
Eadan hated to do it, but he took supper in his chamber. If Dughall had more spies working in his castle, he didn’t want to risk them reporting his behavior around Fiona. He wouldn’t be able to mask his feelings for her, his concern.
But once it was late and the castle had gone quiet, he went to her chamber.
His heart lifted at the sight of her; she was changing into her nightdress. She stilled at the sight of him, relief flooding her expression.
“I didn’t see you at supper,” she said. “I—I thought you were avoiding me.”
“I was,” he admitted, and a look of hurt crossed her face. “But not for the reason ye think.”
He told her about the servant who’d been following her. She paled, sinking down into the bed.
“This is why ’tis important that ye’re careful. I think Dughall will harm ye. Fiona,” he hedged, forcing himself to continue, “are ye certain ye want tae stay? Dughall is—"
“I gave you my word,” Fiona said, her eyes flashing, and another surge of admiration went through him. “A deal’s a deal.”
She held his gaze, and he gave her a relenting nod.
“How was yer time in the kitchens?” he asked.
She looked pleased that he changed the subject, though she sighed.
“The servants acted like frightened animals around me,” she said. “I tried striking up conver
sations, but I only got one word replies.”
“They’re used tae Magaidh,” he said darkly. “She treated them with contempt. Give them some time, they’ll warm up tae ye.”
He knew he should leave and return to his own chamber, but he’d stopped listening to logic the moment he made love to her that first time.
He approached, reaching out to stop her as she started to lace up her nightdress, heat spreading through him as he touched her bare skin.
“Ye willnae be needing tae get dressed, siren,” he said gruffly, before his mouth claimed hers.
Chapter 19
Fiona tried to concentrate on chopping vegetables, but images from the passionate night she’d shared with Eadan filled her mind. His lips on her skin, their naked bodies fused together as he moved within her. She’d lain awake after he slipped from her room to avoid being seen in the morning, unable to stop herself from fantasizing about waking up next to him every morning.
Though she hadn’t been in 1390 for long, she didn’t feel as out of sorts as she had when she’d first arrived, and to her surprise, she hadn’t longed for the conveniences of the future that much. Yes, sometimes she missed the internet or her cell phone. But it was refreshing to spend time painting, or walking the castle grounds, or just conversing with Eadan.
The one thing she did miss from her time was Isabelle, and her heart tightened when she thought of how worried her friend must be. As soon as she could, she would try and figure out how to let her friend know she was all right. Could she send a letter through the portal, with the hope that some wayward tourist would stumble upon the village and get it to her?
But Fiona shook aside the thought. There was no need to do such a thing, because she would return to her own time herself, where she belonged, though a sliver of dread filled her at the thought.
“Careful, m’lady,” a hesitant voice said, and Fiona looked up. A young woman with strawberry blond hair and kind blue eyes, who couldn’t be older than nineteen or twenty, stood there, gesturing to the knife Fiona was holding.
[Highlander Fate 01.0] Eadan's Vow Page 9