The fire was safe; he couldn't see her back moving with each breath when he stared at the fire, or imagine what her face looked like, softened in sleep, her long dark eyelashes dusting her cheekbones...Connor exhaled in a gust and gave in, letting his mind wander back to Mackenzie.
He'd never wanted a woman like this. And he'd almost convinced himself that it was because she belonged to another, because she wasn't his, but he knew that was only part of the attraction. A small part. The majority of it was the beautiful, naked woman sleeping, unaware, so trusting, in his bed. She trusted him. That's what ultimately kept Connor from joining Mackenzie in his bed; he wanted to deserve that trust. He'd never really cared much what women thought of him. Women had always found him attractive, and he'd never had to work at it. For him to care so much what this girl thought of him was annoying. Why should it matter? Some chit who belonged to another had piqued his interest and he 90
was acting like a schoolboy. So he passed the next few hours glaring at the fire, drinking whisky, and trying his damndest not to look at Mackenzie.
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Chapter Eight
Mackenzie woke up this time because she was cold. No wonder, the blankets had slipped down to her waist.
Brrr...she pulled them up to her chest only to realize that she was naked. She never slept naked. She sat up quickly, pressing the sheets to her chest, as the previous night came back to her in a whoosh, pushing sleep far away. She shoved her unruly curls out of her eyes, and found Connor's plaid beneath the twisted sheets. Connor! Mackenzie's eyes found him sitting by the fire. He was holding a bottle of something, probably whiskey, she thought, and he was staring blearily into the fire. At her rustling the covers, his eyes sharpened and he turned to Mackenzie. He looked like hell.
"Have you slept?"
"Nay."
His terse reply would normally have irritated her, but she felt so grateful to him, that she let it pass. She would try to behave, she owed him that much, if not much, much more.
Besides, he hadn't slept, and it was who knew how late. Ugh, she ran a hand over her face and checked her watch, pushing the light button. 3:15. Double ugh. He didn't say anything, but she glanced up to see Connor's eyes following her movements. Oh right, the watch. What year was it again? Did they have watches here in the 1700s? She thought that the pocket watch had been invented in the 1500s, but wasn't sure. Her grandpa's pocket watch was from the 1700s; it had been in the family for generations, so she was pretty sure 92
that Connor would have seen a watch before. But definitely not one that lit up. So she rolled out of bed and wrapped his plaid around her like a towel in one quick movement, then padded softly to kneel in front of him.
"Here," she offered him her watch. "Go on, take it," she coaxed, extending her arm toward Connor. "It tells time, see?
This button makes it light up."
Connor didn't move at first. He slowly reached for it, and their fingers brushed. It took all she had not to jerk her hand back. It felt as if an electric current had just passed from him through her and it almost burned. The spark was undeniable.
No matter his feelings, or his motives, the spark was there.
The desire to touch him again was so strong that she clutched the plaid tighter around herself to keep her hands from reaching out again. She watched him do nothing more than glance at her watch before handing it back. She reached for her watch and tried not to touch his fingers this time.
Mackenzie fastened the clasp and peeked up at Connor from beneath her lashes. The firelight danced over his features.
The harsh angles of his face, high cheekbones, bronzed skin, straight nose, wide mouth...her eyes strayed to his mouth just long enough to see the lines tighten around his lips. She looked into his eyes and saw...desire. It was hot, blatant, big bad wolf desire. He wanted her. While the thought thrilled her, it also scared her. Big time.
Her hand tightened on his plaid as if it were a lifeline.
Connor noticed and his eyes dropped to her breasts. Her heart pounded in her ears as her heartbeat increased under his gaze. She wondered if he could see her pulse; it felt like 93
her heart would jump out of her chest. Mackenzie dropped her gaze and lowered her face, hiding in her hair. Her hair was curling around her face and shoulders shielding her eyes from him. A strong finger lifted her chin until she met his eyes.
"Doona hide from me, lass."
Her eyes widened. Damn, she knew she had expressive eyes, and she really didn't want him to see how the simple touch of his finger under her chin wreaked further havoc with her pulse, and how it felt like she had electricity running through her veins instead of blood. Mackenzie shivered and changed the topic.
"How did I end up in your bed?" Mackenzie could guess, but she had to say something to break the tension she felt building.
"You fell asleep in the chair and I carried you to my bed. I thought it would be best until your linens were changed." His eyes flashed and his chin lifted a bit; she remembered that Connor didn't like to explain himself, "Your honor is intact."
Her forehead creased, "My hon—" Why would he say that?
"Oh!" Mackenzie blushed, "I didn't mean to insinuate, that is, umm, I mean, Connor, I know you wouldn't take advantage of me...," she trailed off lamely.
"How?" Was it a threat?
"Excuse me?"
"How, Mackenzie, how do you ken I didn't climb in beside you and run my hands down your soft, tempting, naked body?" he husked.
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Mackenzie blurted out the truth, "Because you look like hell."
Connor actually laughed out loud. His whole face changed with the happy sound. He looked years younger.
"You should laugh more often," Mackenzie said softly, before her brain could edit.
"I should?" He looked surprised and curious.
Mackenzie tried not to blush again under the weight of his stare, and dropped her eyes. "You just should, that's all," she mumbled.
Again, that finger tilted her face until she met his gaze.
The sapphire blue gave nothing away. His poker face was back, so it surprised her when he leaned his face down close to hers and paused just a breath away from her lips.
"Mackenzie?"
"Yes?" she breathed out. Where was her voice?
"Your plaid is slipping." His lips twitched with the laughter he withheld.
"Oh!" Mackenzie looked down to see that her grip had indeed loosened on the plaid she held around her naked body.
A creamy swell of breast was peeking tantalizingly over the top of it. She hugged Connor's plaid closer to her breasts and when she looked up with wide eyes, his hands gripped her by her shoulders and he hauled her up onto his lap.
His kiss was demanding and insistent and brought liquid desire to pool in her belly. He ran his hands over her bare back; the plaid had slipped loose again, and while it covered her breasts, it dipped low to her waist in the back. His hands were gently skimming at first, brushing down her sides and 95
the sides of her breasts. Then they were on the small of her back, pressing her closer. His kiss became more urgent. He tugged on the plaid until she let go of it, and he crushed her bare breasts to his chest. His chest hair felt scratchy and rough, but it only added to the thrill, gently scraping against her nipples, and heightening her desire. Connor's hands didn't stay in one place for long, now they were on her hips, gripping her tightly, and it felt natural for Mackenzie to turn and straddle him. She wanted nothing more than for Connor to stop this overwhelming need she felt for him. She was hot, so hot. Her skin was on fire, and sensitive to his every touch.
She'd never felt this way about a man before, and she'd never let a man get so close to her before either. Not physically, but in a different way, Mackenzie felt closer to Connor than she had any of her previous boyfriends, and she didn't know why. Maybe it was the way he looked at her? It made her heart stutter when she stared into those blue eyes of his. He se
emed slightly surprised when she'd turned towards him and shifted to straddle his bulging erection. She could feel the pent up desire in him but she also felt that he was holding tightly to his control.
"Don't" she breathed against his lips. He pulled back confused, and Mackenzie clarified, more boldly, "Don't hold back. That's not what I want."
His "What do you want, Mackenzie?" was whispered along her neck. He trailed his lips back and forth from the line of her jaw to her collarbone. Then he paused at the hollow of her neck, waiting, his lips hovering. He wanted to hear it. He wanted her to say it.
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"Oh, God, Connor, this. You. I want..." she couldn't finish the sentence because his mouth had taken hold of one of her nipples. He sucked, licked and scraped gently with his teeth until she thought she'd go crazy with need. And the heat...her whole body felt like it was on fire. She was instinctively rubbing against the trews he wore in a splendid agony.
Mackenzie didn't know what she wanted, but she knew she wanted this burning to end. She was playing with fire, but she wanted to burn. It was so acute, it was almost painful, but she didn't want him to stop. He knew what she wanted though, because his fingers that had strayed from her hips to her thighs, paused to brush against her. She stilled. Then he slipped one long finger into her and she gasped in the exquisite shock. Connor groaned. His one finger gave her more pleasure than anything she had ever experienced in her whole life!
She'd had boyfriends before, of course, but there had never been this kind of heat with any of them. He brought her so forcefully to climax, that she wanted to just lean against him for a moment. But he gathered her in his arms, and strode to the bed, placing her gently against the pillows.
When his hands dropped to the laces on his trews, a sharp rapping on the door startled Mackenzie. Connor growled in irritation. Mackenzie gasped. She was floating in fantasy one minute, the next she'd dropped like a stone back into reality, such as it was for her. Her eyes flew to his and then to her naked body. The panic started to build and she scrambled off the bed to wrap herself in his plaid once more, and she hid behind the door.
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When she'd knelt before him to show off the timepiece, he'd been unable to tear his eyes from hers, until the plaid she'd been clutching to her breast started to slip down. She had tucked one end into the other, and it had barely covered her. Then he'd been unable to tear his eyes away from the tempting ivory swells peeking above his plaid. When he'd collected himself enough to take her small clock, their fingers had touched and the attraction was undeniable. He knew she felt it too.
So with the fire glowing behind her, and Mackenzie kneeling in front of him, her little clock held no interest to him. It paled in comparison to the things he was thinking of her lips doing to him. When he'd pointed out that her plaid was slipping down, it was her blush that had killed his resolve. The color of her creamy skin with the pink touching the tops of her breasts; he almost groaned as he watched her reposition herself. And before he could think, he reacted; he pulled Mackenzie up onto his lap and kissed her until he was breathing hard. He wanted her skin against his; he tugged at the plaid until her hand released it, and pressed her against his chest. Connor trailed his lips down her neck to her breasts and when he finally drew her nipple into his mouth, it felt like destiny was calling him home. That's what Mackenzie felt like; home. That thought both scared him and thrilled him.
Then Mackenzie had turned to sit on top of him, and Connor knew that she wanted him too. And knowing that such a bold move meant that she was not a maid, he felt relief that he would soon take her. For there was no doubt that this was leading to his bed...if they made it that far.
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"Oh," she moaned and her head fell back, her hair brushing the tops of his thighs. Connor tangled his hand in her silken curls and brought her mouth back to his at the same time as he slid one finger into her. God she was wet. In the most primitive way, her body welcomed him, encouraged him. He felt her gasp against his lips and pulled back just enough to watch her eyes drift shut. He wanted to make her call out his name over and over again.
The emotions that crossed her face as he stroked her were an incredible aphrodisiac to him. He wanted more, he needed all of her. Now. And in that instant, he knew she was his.
She'd been made for him. He stared into her heavy-lidded emerald green eyes as she looked back at him with the unfocused gaze of passion. She was his. And he would claim her. He shoved all the new emotions he was experiencing out of his mind, and instead watched her dazed eyes flicker with desire. He was as surprised by the force of her climax as she seemed to be. But when Mackenzie leaned her forehead against his, he scooped her up with every intention of taking her to his bed.
This time, he would join her.
But fate had other plans; when he placed her against the pillows, someone knocked on the door. Damn! He glanced down at the woman lying naked in his bed, and saw her panic at being caught.
He dressed quickly and growled out, "Aye?"
"Forgive the interruption, my Laird, but ye are needed. Our prisoner has broken and ye need to hear his news." Connor recognized Dougal's voice through the door. Mackenzie had 99
tucked his plaid around herself once again, and hurried to stand behind the door, so when Connor opened it, she wouldn't be seen. Connor opened the door to his captain, but didn't open it fully,
"I'll be right down."
There was a pause before Dougal answered, "Aye me Laird, we'll await yer arrival."
Connor shut the door and turned to Mackenzie. She looked so beautiful with the firelight behind her, catching her curls in its glow. He rather liked seeing her with his plaid wrapped about her shoulders; the expanse of bare leg it afforded him was incredible. It was a shame to leave her. He bent his head to kiss her and his lips tingled from their kiss.
"I must go."
"Oh," Mackenzie looked down at her bare feet, her metallic aqua blue nail polish in "Skinny Jeans" still on from her pedicure with Jenna pre-time travel. Jenna had chosen a muted hot pink called "It's all about me," how typical Jenna.
"But I canna go yet," Connor's voice snapped her head up.
"Oh?" He smiled at the hopeful look on her face.
"Nay, I need..." he trailed off suggestively.
"Yes?" her voice was barely a whisper.
"This." Connor stripped her of his plaid in one smooth movement and began to pleat it around himself.
"Connor!" Mackenzie gasped, futilely covering herself with her hands.
He tried not to laugh at the stricken expression in her eyes. But he quickly turned serious, "Rest, now, you'll need it."
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Her brow creased, "Why, what's happening later?" His abrupt mood change from teasing to somber confused Mackenzie.
"Tonight, you're mine" he breathed it against her parted lips before succumbing to one last, long, lingering kiss. Then he turned to walk out the door, leaving her with his fingers trailing along her cheek.
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101
Chapter Nine
The second the door clicked shut, Mackenzie let her breath out in a gust. She hadn't even realized that she'd been holding it. And she leaned against the cool wood. It felt rough against her naked back. She looked around the room, wondering if she'd have to wrap the sheet around her toga-style, or if there was something else in here that she could wear? She stepped over her ruined shift in disgust, and thought of returning to her room, wondering what awaited her there. She sighed and settled for the sheet, tucking it over one arm, and around her chest like a sarong. Mackenzie took a deep calming breath and opened the door to her room.
Luckily, no one was in her room, alive, or otherwise. It was apparent that her room had been cleaned as well. Her bed was freshly made, and there was even a fresh linen shift on top of the brocade cover. She hadn't really looked at the bed before; it was a huge wooden canopy bed with the duvet matching the canopy in a golden brocade. No one would ever know that t
here had been two dead bodies lying there just a few hours before.
Mackenzie mentally thanked Bronwyn, or whomever, for the clean shift and threw it on hurriedly, tossing Connor's sheet on the chair. Connor had said to get some rest, but she could see the pale light from the sunrise streaking through her window. Glancing at her watch she saw it was after five.
Ugh, she ran a hand across her face and wished for some coffee, or an energy drink, or some other form of caffeine.
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She wasn't sure what they would eat here, or when breakfast would be, so she tried to dress herself so she could go explore. Hmm, the stays were much harder to do herself than she'd expected. So she passed the time by digging through her purse. Oh! The amulet! She'd forgotten about that. She put it around her neck, and stuffed it down into her shift.
When Bronwyn knocked on the door, Mackenzie half expected to see Connor standing there. But she let Bronwyn in with a bright smile; she was, after all, the only person who hadn't looked at her with hate or anger.
"Good morning, my Lady. Have ye slept much? I heard about all the excitement last night."
A wry smile twisted Mackenzie's lips as she thought of Bronwyn's understatement ; excitement. Hah! "Not much, Bronwyn, thank you for asking." She was determined to make friends with Bronwyn. She needed a friend.
"I'd imagine not, dearie. Here ye are; I had Cook make some scones and eggs for ye. We thought it best to introduce ye to our foods slowly. Tonight we'll serve haggis; it's not for the faint of heart." As she said this, she'd gone to the large trunk and pulled out a lavender gown with some more undergarments that looked bulky and uncomfortable.
Mackenzie sighed as she thought wistfully of jeans and a t-shirt. "Here we go, dearie, this one will look lovely on ye."
Mackenzie smiled at being called "dearie" by a girl her own age, if not younger. But she preferred it to "My Lady" by far.
This time, Mackenzie watched how Bronwyn laced up her stays, and wrapped a full skirt thingie around her waist.
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