Highlander’s Curse

by Melissa Mayhue

  The sight of Abby standing by his bed took Colin’s breath away.

  Suddenly unsure of what to do or say, he simply stood drinking in the sight of her. The candlelight flickering in the room shone around her like some mystical halo. Her long, brown hair cascaded over one shoulder, exposing her soft, slender neck and the raw, red mark that marred it.

  She’d suffered enough.

  How could he ever have considered risking her life by taking her with him tomorrow? Whether through reason or trickery, she must not go with him. If nothing else, he’d convince her to wish herself home. Anything that would keep her safe. Even if it meant losing her forever.

  And yet now, as their eyes locked, all schemes flitted away like tiny midges at sunset. He could think of nothing more than pulling on the ribbon hanging loosely at her neck, releasing the fluffy gown that concealed her lovely body. In his mind, it already floated to the floor in a whisper of cloth, revealing the treasures beneath.

  He could almost feel her soft skin against his as he’d lower her to the bed and cover her body with his.

  “We should probably talk.”

  Not at all the words he’d heard from her in his momentary fantasy. Though, in truth, there had been no words at all, only those tiny little moans of pleasure he knew she would make.

  “Indeed we should.” He strode to the darkened fireplace, turning his back to her, hoping she’d not noticed the evidence of his earlier imaginings that even now pressed out against his plaid.

  Damnation, but the woman had a powerful effect on him. More evidence to support his mother’s claim that she was his Soulmate.

  “I must ask you again to reconsider your decision to come with me. You would be safe here with my family.” Straightforward, to the point, was always his first choice, though with Abby, he had little hope it would work.

  As he expected, it didn’t.

  “No way. That discussion is closed. I’m going with you. I mean, we got married and everything just so that your whole family would agree to it. Why waste a good marriage, right?”

  They had indeed married. The mere idea sent a wave of disbelief coursing through him. It was done. She was his wife now. If his mother was to be believed, he was married to his Soulmate. He should be the happiest man alive. But happy was about as far from what he felt as he could imagine.

  Instead, he’d only added to his burden of responsibility and worry. Now it wasn’t just the lives of his clansmen and the fate of his king resting on his shoulders. The life of his Soulmate lay in his hands as well.

  His options to protect her were dwindling.

  As he’d expected, straightforward hadn’t worked. He already knew she was too stubborn to give in to any arguing he might try again, and he certainly wasn’t willing to risk her whisking them both back to the future in a pique of anger. Not before he’d had the chance to find his kinsmen and warn his king.

  If only he could get her to relax, to let down her suspicious guard, maybe then he could reason with her.

  “As you say, wife, why waste a good marriage?” He turned to face her, sending his best smile her direction as he strode to the chest at the foot of his bed and lifted the lid. Digging under his spare shirts, he pulled out a drying cloth and tucked it under his arm. “I’ve a lovely idea for our last evening of civilization. Will you accompany me?”

  He held out a hand in invitation and waited.

  Indecision danced over her face as she wrapped the ribbon holding her gown closed around and around her finger until he feared she might cut off the flow of blood to the digit.

  “Like this?” she asked at last, her hand sweeping down the front of her nightdress.

  Modesty? The woman amazed him. In her own time she walked about in broad daylight wearing less than half the covering she wore now.

  “What you have on is fine. It’s late. Most of Dun Ard’s people have taken to their bedchambers. If it makes you feel better”—he paused to open the chest again, pulling out one of his plaids—“take this. Wrap it about yer shoulders.”

  Abby did as he suggested and then accepted the hand he offered, following along with him down the stairs and through the castle, out into the gardens and to the low building beyond.

  “A bathhouse?” Abby stood in the doorway, her widened eyes reflecting the flames from the massive stone fireplace.

  “It’s no as good as a hot shower, granted, but it’s pleasant enough.” And too bad it was they had no shower. A mental image of Abby standing under the flowing waters, her head flung back, her soft throat waiting for his tongue to forge a trail downward . . .

  He roughly pushed the idyllic fantasy from his mind. He was here for a purpose, not a dalliance.

  “No, I think it’s great.” She smiled up at him before moving farther into the room. “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all. My studies had led me to believe bathhouses were only common in areas settled by Viking peoples.”

  “So much for yer modern-day studies, aye?” Colin returned her smile, placing a hand at the small of her back to direct her toward the far side of the room.

  A half wall, not quite as high as the top of his head, separated two bathing areas. A large, carved tub sat on either side of the wall, waiting to be filled from the enormous iron kettles hanging in the fireplace.

  “Yer welcome to take the tub on the far side, and I’ll stand outside to act as yer guard. No one will enter, you have my word.”

  He headed to the fireplace and filled a bucket from the nearest kettle. When he turned, he found her rooted to the spot where he’d left her, her face a picture of discomfort.

  “Is there something wrong? I thought you’d enjoy a good soak before we set out on the morrow. It’ll be a long time before you’ll find such as this again.”

  She shook her head and her hands fisted in the cloth of the plaid she wore around her shoulders. “You’re going to wait outside?”

  “I would consider nothing else.” He only hoped he’d managed to sound offended enough to put her concerns to rest.

  She followed him to the kettles on his next trip, picking up another bucket and helping him to fill the tub.

  “We have soaps here on the shelf. My mother makes them herself and takes great pride in the variety of smelly things she can do with them.” He chose one of the bars and handed it to Abby as he passed by her on his way out.

  Once through the door, he leaned against the wall, knowing from here he’d never hear the whisper of falling cloth on her side of the partition or even the small splashing sound she’d make when she stepped into the tub.

  Again the visions assaulted him, the soft gown sliding down over her curves and fluttering to the ground at her feet. He slid down to sit, back against the wall, and dropped his head into his hands, fighting to push the vision from his mind.

  He still had work to do this night.

  Raising his voice, he called out to her. “Yer water is warm enough?”

  “It’s perfect.” Her answer floated to him. “And I love your mom’s soap. I don’t know what she’s used, but it smells just like my favorite lemon candles.”

  Candles! How could he have forgotten?

  “Aye, it’s no so very different from the great steaming tub out back of yer own home, though we’ve no so many candles for you to light.”

  Enough chatter. Time to address his purpose tonight. After another minute of silence, he sent the first volley of reason her direction.

  “Yer accustomed to days on a horse, are you? It can be discomforting to a new rider.” Give her something to think on.

  “I’m comfortable with horses. Granted, I rode for fun, not for transportation, but I’ll be able to keep up with you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I dinna recall saying I was worried. I’m only thinking of yer comfort.” And of convincing her to stay behind. “We’ll have need to ride hard to cover as much ground as we can each day. You ken we’ll be sleeping in the open as well, do you? There’ll be no luxuries to comfor
t you. No bathhouses, no garderobes for yer convenience.”

  “Convenience? Ha!” The water splashed loudly as if she had sat up suddenly or moved about. “Garderobe? That smelly stone bench with a hole is hardly what I’d call a convenience. I’m not even sure that qualifies as a whole step up from peeing behind a bush. Trust me, Colin, I’m fine with bushes. I’ve been training for archaeology field work for years. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

  Not at all the response he’d hoped for. She was likely the most stubborn woman he had ever encountered! Even his younger sister, Sallie, on her worst days had never been so set in her ways.

  Neither his demands nor his arguments had worked, and now even reasoning had failed to budge her from her insistence on accompanying him.

  Perhaps a more subtle form of persuasion would work.

  If she was indeed his Soulmate, she should feel the pull of attraction every bit as deeply as he did. Taking advantage of that might be akin to dishonesty, but a little dishonesty seemed a small price to pay for his Soulmate’s safety.

  “Not much longer,” she called. “I’m almost ready to go.”

  It was the signal he’d waited for.

  Pushing up to his feet, he turned back inside the building, picking up the plaid she’d dropped on the bench as he approached her. She bent from the waist, vigorously rubbing her hair with the end of the drying cloth she’d wrapped around herself.

  Her eyes widened when she straightened and noticed him standing there.

  “You’ll need this for the walk back.” He held out the plaid as he again started toward her.

  A few more steps and she was within reach, the outline of her enticing curves just visible through the cloth. He wrapped his arms around her to drape the plaid over her head and shoulders, drawing her close within the confines of the soft material.

  Too late he realized his inability to control his own attraction to her. Not even the plaid that separated them could disguise his quickly hardening shaft.

  “Oh!” She looked up at him, her eyes large with surprise.

  There was little he could say. His traitorous body spoke loudly on its own.

  “He”—Colin glanced quickly down and back to her face again—“is, I fear, beyond my ability to control. While I canna prevent his appearance, I can see to it that he behaves himself while he’s here.”

  She continued to stare up at him, the corner of her mouth twitching until she broke out in a peal of laughter.

  “Honest to God, Colin.” She pulled the corners of the plaid from his hands and hugged them close before moving around him to collect her nightdress. “Men and their penises totally crack me up. I’m frankly surprised you haven’t given it a name.”

  Struggling to regain both his composure and the upper hand he felt he might have lost in that exchange, he followed her out of the bathhouse. There was a slight chance he should be offended by her laughter and her comments, but the sight of her perfectly rounded arse swaying back and forth in front of him as they made their way back to their room occupied too much of his imagination to let him dwell on any slight or insult.

  Though all of his other attempts to dissuade her from going with him had failed, he wasn’t yet ready to admit defeat. The tactic on which he had just embarked, wooing her into agreement, would, if nothing else, be a most enjoyable way to spend his evening.

  The only problem with his current plan was that he’d have to use great care not find himself ending up the wooed party.

  Was it just this afternoon she’d been wishing she’d taken more physics classes in pursuit of her degree? She’d been way off on that call. It was definitely more biology classes she should have taken.

  Specifically, she desperately needed one that covered how to control her raging hormonal impulses in the presence of this certifiable Holy-Shit-Hot-Guy.

  Abby pushed open the door of their bedchamber and entered, all too aware of Colin so close behind her. When the door clicked shut, she nearly jumped.

  Skittish much? Oh yeah. Skittish very much.

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider waiting in the hall while I change into my nightgown?” The smirk he wore answered before he did.

  “No, wife, I dinna think I’ll be doing that. But I will turn my back if you like.”

  “Yes, I’d like that. And you don’t have to keep calling me your. . .”

  The words died in her mouth as he turned his back, pulling his shirt up and over his head as he did so.

  A noise escaped from her, something primal rising up out of her throat. Something between a whimper and a squeak over which she had no more control than Colin had had over his erection out in the bathhouse.

  A pretty impressive erection, too, now that she thought about it. Easily as impressive as the muscular back he was now presenting to her.

  The man’s body clearly belonged on a piece of Michelangelo’s marble. It was, without a doubt, the best she’d ever seen. Not that she’d seen a lot so up close and personal. But of the ones she had seen, his was definitely the best.

  Letting out a shaky breath, she grabbed up her nightdress and dropped it down over her head, letting the drying towel drop only after the gown had fallen into place. For the first time since she’d seen the clothing selection Ellie had presented, she was actually grateful there was so much material in what she’d be wearing through the night.

  “Okay. I’m done.”

  “Then it’s time for bed,” he announced, crossing the room to poke at the fire until the flames died down.

  One look at Colin’s expression as he approached and Abby knew it was time for immediate action. She pulled the coverlet from the top of the bed and quickly wadded it into a roll, plopping it on top of the nearest pillow and pushing the entire bundle toward him.

  “There. Do you think that will be enough bedding for you? I mean, you are planning on sleeping on the floor, right?” Because he wasn’t sleeping in the bed. Not with her. She remembered all too well how she’d behaved the last time she’d been horizontal next to Colin.

  “I’ve enough of the hard ground in my future. It’s my own bed I’ll be sleeping in this night.”

  “Okay.” She pulled the bundle back toward her and picked it up in her arms. “You’re right. It is your bed. I’ll take the floor.”

  The hearth looked a likely spot. There was already a rug there to soften the stone floor a bit. She skirted around the bed, but made it only a few steps before Colin’s big hand clamped down on her arm.

  “No.” He pulled her to him until their faces were mere inches apart. “You’ll have yer own fill of the hard ground in a day’s time.”

  And then he was kissing her.

  She somehow missed the start of it. One minute she was staring into the deep pools of his Caribbean blue eyes and the next thing she knew, her tongue was buried in his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair, and her body thrumming with need.

  He broke the kiss, his warm lips trailing across her cheek and to her neck as she fought to catch her breath in quick, desperate little huffs.

  Damn, but he was dangerous. And not just because of the way he looked. Or the way he kissed. It was the soft-guy interior packaged in a tough-guy wrapper. It was the kind and gentle way he touched her, the sweet things he did for her.

  It was everything about him.

  “A shame it is. Hard, rocky ground under yer lovely soft body,” he whispered. “Every night, stones and twigs digging into yer flesh. Unless you’ll but agree to stay here and wait for me to return to you.”

  Okay. Not everything about him. His unrelenting stubbornness wasn’t all that attractive.

  “No.”

  He buried his face in her neck, holding her so close she could feel his heartbeat pounding against her breast.

  “Then wish yerself home now. I’d have you lost to me rather than risk yer safety by taking you with me.”

  He was nothing if not honest with her. She owed him no less. It was time to confess.

  “I
t won’t work. I already tried. You’re my only way home, Colin. I don’t understand all that much about Faerie Magic, but I do know I can’t go back without you at my side. I’d be happy to wish us both back, if that’s what you want.” In a heartbeat.

  “I canna. And I’ve yer oath you’ll no try it without my consent.” He drew his head up from her, pain evident in his face. “Can you no understand that I couldna live with myself if I thought I’d let my kinsmen die without even trying to save them?”

  “I do.” Her oath was all that kept her from saying the words to send them home right now. “Can’t you understand my need to be at your side?”

  “I do,” he answered in an echo of her own words, sweeping an arm under her legs and lifting her off her feet like a small child. “Truce, then. We’ll share the bed this night, me to my side and you to yers, aye? I swear to you that I’ll make him-with-no-name behave himself.”

  When he gave her that almost smile of his, she had to force herself not to drag his face down for another kiss. How could she not agree to his offer? Even in his annoying efforts to leave her behind, she knew his goal was to keep her safe. He’d hidden nothing from her.

  “Truce, then,” she agreed, rolling onto her side to blow out the candle next to the bed.

  Candles. Her eyes fluttered open, the word niggling at some uncomfortable spot in the back of her mind. What was it about . . .

  It’s no so very different from the great steaming tub out back of yer own home, though we’ve no so many candles for you to light.

  “How did you know about my hot tub? You didn’t go into my backyard when you were there.”

  The pause before he answered seemed to last an eternity.

  “I returned later. I saw you there, with yer candles lit all about you.”

  “You spied on me? You hid out in the bushes and spied on me? Why would you do that?”

  “I needed to see for myself that you were . . .” Another pause, as if he had changed his mind about what to say and was hunting for new words. “I wanted to see you were safe.”

  Perhaps she’d been too quick to conclude he hid nothing. Too quick to assume his honesty.

  “And you never thought to tell me about that?”