Poor lass, he thought, as they plunged on. She must be fair terrified. Maggie fell farther behind as they went over a particularly craggy spot, and Quinn glanced back to make sure she was all right. He blinked, and then he grinned.
Maggie was smiling from ear to ear, her blue eyes bright and sparkling with life. What a woman! Where any other lass would have been frightened and barely hanging on for dear life, she was actually enjoying their adventure!
He laughed, but then realized what this could mean. Likely the lass would want to join him on every gambit he undertook!
There was no time to consider this new problem. He had led their pursuers on a ragged chase across the Highlands,with several clever turns and hidden trails that would take better men than they to find. Quinn felt almost sure they had lost the villains. He gave Saint his head as the horse picked his way down a rough, rocky patch.
Below, Quinn could see the beginning of the forest, and sanctuary. He slowed, waiting for Maggie to catch up, and began to plan how he would keep her from joining him on his rides. With any other woman it would be easy, but with this lass, the very thing he told her not to do, that was what she would attempt.
Short of tying her up every time he went raiding, he couldn’t think of any way to force her to do as he asked. The more he pondered the problem, the more he realized that if he wanted to keep Maggie safe, there was only one answer.
He had to give up his plans for revenge.
Maggie couldn’t believe she had actually taken part in a heist and then ridden hell for leather across the Highlands at Quinn’s side! As her horse, which she had privately rechristened“Thunder,” had galloped beside Saint, she’d felt a giddiness unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
She’d always been the most cautious of souls. Forever in the back of her mind was the fear that something would happen to her, and then what would happen to her sisters? She’d been determined that the twins would not have to go through any more trauma in their young lives.
Ahead, Quinn slowed and led her into a deep, dark forest.As she followed, Maggie suddenly realized that during the years she’d cared for the twins, she had developed more than a motherly personality—she had practically taken on the attitude of a grandmother! She had dressed sedately, driven sedately, lived sedately—until now.
Her heartbeat quickened. Now she felt as if she could do anything!
The adrenaline surged through her veins and Maggie laughed out loud, feeling wild and free—just before her horse stepped in a hole and sent her flying straight toward a rock twenty feet tall.
Maggie missed the rock. Although she rolled for several feet when she hit the ground, when she finally came to a stop there wasn’t any major part of her body that screamed it was broken, though she did hurt all over. In spite of the aches and bruises she would have tomorrow, she still felt more alive than she ever had in her life.
“Maggie!” There was horror in Quinn’s voice as he leaned over her.
Maggie flung her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, finding his mouth through the shadows, possessingit even as she felt his bewilderment and then the quickening of passion as his arms tightened around her.
Suddenly her blood was on fire, and she shoved Quinn to his back and shed her breeches, yanking them over her feet and off before straddling his hips and finding his lips again. He was hard as a rock beneath her and made short work of her shirt, pulling it over her head, molding his hands over her breasts as he broke their kiss and lifted his mouth to her bare skin.
Maggie had never felt so glorious, so strong, so brilliant.So capable of anything. She jerked Quinn’s black breeches down and slid over his marvelously rigid flesh, the evidence that he felt the same furious passion as she.
There was no time for soft caresses or gentle touches—it took only seconds for Quinn to understand her need, lifting her up and then letting her slide down, impaling herself upon him, watching her ride him as she had ridden her pony across the Highlands, wild with abandon and freedom.
His hands curved around her waist, and with his help, Maggie rose and fell upon his shaft, again and again, feelingthe pulsating throb build and grow within her, sending her higher and higher, closer and closer to the incredible pleasure only Quinn could give. Just when she thought she had reached the clouds, his mouth closed around her nipple and sent her into space. She closed her eyes and moaned, arching back as his arms tightened around her. Then he rolled her to her back and began to move inside of her, hot and hard, taking her all the way to Jupiter, breathless, mindless. Then he grew still.
Maggie’s eyes flew open even as she moaned her protest. She was filled with him, completely and utterly, and Jupiter was nice, but she had really wanted to go all the way to Pluto. She urged him on, pressing up against him, her hands in his hair.
But Quinn slid his hands up her body to cradle her face between them, and his green eyes glittered into hers as an amazing smile lit his face. She drew in a sharp breath as their gazes fused, and she grew still as well.
“Maggie,” he said softly, “do ye remember when ye said that ye loved me?”
Her voice was a whisper. “Yes,” she said, her heart flutteringlike a hummingbird inside her chest.
“Och, lass, forgive me for not knowing then what I know now.”
“What?” she asked, afraid to hope.
“That I love ye more than the sky and the moon and the stars. Ye are my heart, sweet Maggie.” He kissed her softly.
Then everything changed, just like that. Maggie stared up at him in wonder as slowly, gently, Quinn began to truly make love to her. As he stroked her body below, with each shattering thrust, Maggie felt him claim her, possess her, love her, tell her wordlessly that she belonged to him, and he to her. And as their bodies collided and she soared upwardinto the stratosphere he created, Maggie felt the last little bit of fear inside of her crumble and disappear.
With a cry of surrender, she let herself love Quinn MacIntyrewith every fiber of her soul. When Quinn shuddered and cried out, too, and then looked into her eyes, Maggie knew he had surrendered as well. He loved her.
She came back to earth slowly, drifting in his arms, spent, magnificent in her exhaustion. Now there was no goingback. She was Quinn’s. He was hers. Forever.
Maggie woke with the dawn, her head on Quinn’s chest, her legs tangled in the plaid he’d thrown across the two of them after making love for the—she’d lost count of how many times. The man was a stallion. As she lay in his arms half awake, the realization that she was naked, on the ground, in Scotland, beside a highwayman, made her smile.
In Maggie’s wildest dreams she’d never imagined such a thing happening to her. Though she ached in every part of her body from the night spent on the hard ground—and other hard things, she thought smugly—it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now but Quinn and what they felt for each other.
Immediately, guilty images of Ellie and Allie filled her mind, but she pushed them away. There were things to be figured out, okay, she knew that. But right now she was wrapped in afterglow and, like Scarlett O’Hara, would think about her sisters and Rachel and her life back in Texas tomorrow.
Maggie sat up and stretched her arms over her head, relishingthe feel of her long hair as it brushed against her bare back. The cold morning air was refreshing, making every molecule in her body sit up and take notice. Suddenlyshe was filled with a joy so wonderful that she couldn’t help it—she laughed out loud.
“I have bedded a faery,” Quinn said, his voice rough from sleep. “I can only pray she will nae fly away from me.”
Maggie glanced over her shoulder and almost melted. Quinn lay on his side, watching her, his dark hair tousled against a jaw that was shadowed by morning stubble. She had seen him shave a few times, once at a stream, once in the stables; watched the wicked blade of a dagger as he scraped it across his face and throat. She should have told him not to bother, that she loved his rough beard. Now she wanted to rake her face against his, just to fee
l the burn. His eyes were gray green this morning, like a stormy sea, but there was nothing storm tossed about the emotion she saw mirrored there. He loved her. She hugged the knowledgetightly to herself.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning, Maggie mine,” he said. He reached up and ran one finger down her bare arm, and she licked her lips. His eyes darted to her mouth and his voice grew deeper. “Did ye sleep well?”
“Aye,” she murmured, lying down again beside him. “Like a newborn babe.” She grinned. “Who slept on rocks.”
He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her on top of him, leg to leg, belly to belly, other parts to other parts. Her mouth hovered above his as she gazed into his eyes.
“Perhaps I make a better mattress for a faery princess,” he said. “In fact, perhaps her ladyship would like to try bouncing on the mattress.”
Maggie laughed and kissed him, her heartbeat automaticallykicking up a notch at the touch of his lips. “Maybe I just would,” she said, her voice sounding silky and sexy to her ears. Amazing what being loved would do for a girl.
“Of course,” he murmured, as he leaned up and began nuzzling her neck, “ye are never going to do such a foolish thing again.”
Maggie was half lost in his touch, but still cognizant enough for his words to sink in. “Hmm? What foolish thing? Bouncing on your, er, mattress?”
“Dressing like an outlaw and placing yerself in danger.” He slid his hand up her side to capture one breast.
She stopped his hand before things could get any hotter.
“Wait a minute,” she said, sitting up and straddling his hips. “I saved your butt, laddie. You were the one in danger, and if you think that I’m not going to”—Quinn twisted his wrist beneath her hand and broke free—“that I’m not going to”—he gently pulled her arm behind her, making her arch her back as he ran his tongue between her breasts—“going to—”
What was she not going to do?
Quinn pulled her down to him and his mouth closed over her right nipple.
“Not going to—not—no, no, no . . .” She melted into the fire that was Quinn’s mouth until he finally paused and spoke.
“Ah, Maggie,” Quinn said, “have I told ye that making love to ye is like drowning in pleasure?” His voice was soft as he moved his mouth to her ear and began licking the tender spot below her earlobe, but somehow Maggie found the strength to pull away from him. “Ye dinna want to make love to me again?” he asked, confusion in his voice.
“Oh, aye, laddie,” she said. She pushed him back to the ground and bent her head to slowly kiss a path down his chest to his navel, letting the tip of her tongue touch him afterevery kiss. She raised her head slightly, while her hands kept busy smoothing the dark curls clustered in the middle of his chest. “I want to make love to you, but first we need to get something straight between us.” Quinn grinned unabashedas she blushed. “Something else,” she said.
“All right, lass, what do ye need me to say?”
She smiled. He was going to be cooperative after all. “You have to tell me that you won’t go on any more moonlitescapades unless I go with you.”
“Lass, dinna be silly. Of course I willna let ye do that. It is too dangerous.”
“Okay, well, that’s a shame, because I would really like to do this.” She moved up his chest again and bit his right nipple gently. His hands slid around her waist and tightened there. “And this”—she laved the left nipple and bit it, too, even as she pressed her hips down against the hard length of him—“or this—”
She slid back down to his navel, painted it with her tongue, and then kissed her way downward as Quinn’s fingersclutched the top of her head. She stopped just short of her destination, and he moaned in frustration.
“What are ye tryin’ to do to me, girl?” he cried.
Maggie sat up, and attempted to ignore the jolt that shot through her as she did.
“It’s too, too bad,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the tremble in her voice. “There are a lot of other fun things that I wish I could do”—she leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, letting her tongue trace his lips—“that I would do right now,”—she pressed her hips into his—“but if you’re going to be a chauvinist pig and tell me I can’t ride with you on your little jaunts, I guess from now on we’ll just have to be friends.”
“This is blackmail of the most evil kind,” Quinn said, his fingers sliding over her hips and biting into her flesh. She shivered, but fought back, determined not to succumb to his touch without getting what she wanted first.
“Blackmail? Hey, the Scots invented blackmail, didn’t they? Isn’t that when a reiver promises not to steal a rich man’s cattle in return for payment?”
“Aye,” Quinn said and then caught his breath as Maggie wiggled again on top of him. “Ye are killin’ me.”
“So, you should understand this perfectly,” she said as she clamped her legs more tightly around his now shifting hips. “Stop that. And really, if you think about it, you win both ways. I’ll help you rob from the rich and give to Ian, and you’ll get great sex. I don’t see a downside here for you, laddie.”
Quinn lifted his head to say something else, but she dipped her own head down to the very sexy little indention just below his belly button and licked him there, just once. He let his head fall back to the ground.
“No, dammit, I willna risk ye! Ye mean too much to me.”
“Well, there is one way we can compromise,” she said.
“Tell me,” he groaned as she licked him once again.
“Simple. You don’t put yourself at risk either. That means you don’t play highwayman anymore. We’ll find anotherway to get Ian out.”
There was a long silence, then an equally long sigh. “Ye win,” he said. “May the saints forgive me—ye win!”
“I thought so,” Maggie said, and then set about assuring him that he had truly made the right decision.
Maggie was dreaming.
In her dream, there was a voice, a deep, dark voice. It was cursing. And with every curse, there was a sound.
Click.
Click.
Then the voice: “What the hell?”
After a few more curses, and a few more clicks, there came the sound of a bagpipe being murdered.
She opened her eyes to darkness, and a single beam of light dancing across the ceiling, keeping time with the moaning bagpipe until the noise finally stopped. Then she realized—she wasn’t dreaming.
“Quinn?”
Maggie sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to adjust them to the dark room. She was in Ian’s cottage, with Quinn. But where was he? And what were all these sounds and lights and—she went suddenly still.
“Where in the world did ye get all of those strange things?” Quinn asked from the floor at the end of her bed. The dancing light rose and shone upon her breasts beneaththe thin gown she wore, one at a time. “And how does this work? How does it contain the fire that makes it shine?”
Oh, boy. Quinn had been looking through her backpack.
“Excuse me,” she said, “but that is my property, and it is private!”
He moved the light of the small flashlight over her breasts again, then down to the apex at her thighs.
“Private? Take off yer gown, lass, and I will show ye private.” He moved the light up to her face and Maggie shadowed her eyes, wishing she had something to throw at him.
“Put it back!” she ordered, then gasped as Quinn was suddenly beside her. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry,” he said mildly, clicking the light off and on. He lay back on the bed and directed the light at the ceiling again.
“You’re going to wear out the battery,” she said. “Now turn it off and come back to bed!”
“Battery?” Quinn sat up and pulled her down beside him. “All right, lass, what are these things?” He lifted her backpack from his shoulder and poured the contents out on the bed.
Maggie stared down glum
ly at an empty box of Band-Aids,the end of a roll of gauze, adhesive tape, hair barrettes, rubber bands, safety pins, antibiotic ointment, matches, a lighter, a pair of tiny scissors, a huge package of bubble gum, and two chocolate bars. She’d eaten the other two. For a moment it was as if she was back in her own time, at Fado’s Pub, celebrating her birthday with her sisters and Rachel.
“And what in the name of heaven—” Quinn pulled out a length of foil squares attached to one another. “What are these?”
Maggie grabbed the condoms out of his hands and threw them back into the backpack, then started gathering up the rest of her things as she glared at him. “Those are mine, just like everything else in that bag, and I will thank you to keep your nose—and your mitts—out of it!”
“Mitts?” He frowned at her, the humor in his voice disappearing.“I have no mitts. What are ye getting so upset about? I just wanted to know where these remarkable inventionscame from.”
Maggie stuffed the candy bars into the pack, changed her mind, and took them both out, tossing Quinn one and tearing the wrapper off of the other.
“Well, it’s none of your business, okay? Just stay out of my things!”
His dark brows clashed together over suddenly cold green eyes. Quinn stood slowly, his shoulders taut with anger as he tossed the candy back to her. She didn’t try to catch it, but let it fall to the floor.
“Quinn—” she began, feeling miserable.
“Dinna fash yerself,” he said, “I will most certainly ‘stay out of yer things.’ ” He crossed to the door and went out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Well, that went well,” Maggie said, and began to plot how she could get Quinn to forgive her, without answering his questions about the stuff in her pack.
For the next few days Maggie worked at the manor house, made sure Ian was well fed and not abused, and made mad, passionate love to Quinn every night. He had gotten over their fight, and had insisted that she stay with him at the cottage again, instead of in Jenny’s room. He missed her, he said, and Maggie’s heart had soared at his words. They never spoke of her “things” again. Every night after her workday was over, he met her in the stables. Sometimes they slept there; other nights they waited till dark and then slipped away on their ponies, back to the cottage.
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