A Magical Highland Solstice

by Mary Morgan

  “Ye would dare to use from the salt cellar? ’Tis costly and for the meat and fish. I keep it in the other part of the kitchen.” Moira’s tone was one of shock.

  Good grief! “I only require a pinch, but if you’re in short supply, I’ll use the cheese and pepper.”

  “Ye will find the pepper in the spice box. Here is the key.”

  Eve turned around slowly. “A key…to the spices?”

  Moira nodded. “Most definitely.” She removed a long black cord with a large key.

  “On second thought, I’ll stick with the cheese and dill.” Shaking her head in confusion, Eve turned back to her cooking. Crumbling up bits of cheese into the pan, she let it melt down. Content with the results, she glanced around for a plate.

  Glenna handed her a small wooden one.

  Eve scooped out the savory meal and went to sit across from Moira. Both women looked at her meal as if it contained some kind of unearthly specimen. “Any forks?” she asked.

  Again, Glenna handed her a rather large item resembling a pitchfork. “Uh…no thanks.” Instead, Eve cut a slice of the bread on the table. Digging into her meal, she closed her eyes and savored the flavors. “Mmm…”

  Glenna burst out in laughter and poured her something to drink. “Ye can wash down your eggs with ale.” She then glanced at Moira. “She will do.”

  Eve was about to ask what she meant, when three children came running into the kitchen. Presuming them to be the ones Glenna asked for, she smiled at them.

  Glenna clapped her hands. “There will be nae running into the kitchens at any time. Do ye understand?”

  “Aye,” they all responded at once.

  Eve hid her smile over the rim of her cup. As she took a sip, she almost choked on the ale. “This is ale?” she sputtered, trying to catch her breath.

  “The finest,” stated Moira.

  Tastes like stale bread. “Is there any water?”

  “I can fetch some for ye,” replied the lad.

  “I would be most grateful. What’s your name?” Eve took a small bite of bread.

  “Tomas.”

  “Thank you.”

  Smiling, he started to dash off, but caught himself and wandered casually out of the kitchen.

  The two girls crowded around Eve. “Ye are verra pretty. Are ye here to help Moira?”

  “Why, thank you. Yes, you could say I’m here to help Moira and Glenna, as well. What are your names?”

  The fair-haired girl answered, “I am Grizel.”

  “I am Nola,” responded the other who had shocking red hair.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

  The girls giggled.

  “Now that ye have made your greetings, I need some fresh milk and fennel from the garden,” ordered Glenna.

  Both girls sprinted away, hand in hand.

  “No running!” yelled Glenna.

  Soon Tomas returned with a large jug of water. Setting it down on the table, some of the contents splashed over the sides. “’Tis verra cold.”

  “Don’t worry. I like it chilled.” Eve glanced around for another cup, but Glenna pried the one from her hands and dumped the remaining ale back into the jug. Eve nodded her thanks when Glenna handed back the cup.

  After filling her cup she drank deeply, relishing the cold water.

  “Come with me Tomas. I want to inspect the rest of the meat larder,” ordered Glenna.

  As Eve watched the two, she continued eating her meal, aware of Moira watching her every move.

  Moira leaned forward. “’Tis not what ye foresaw when ye stepped through the gates of Castle Creag?”

  Eve wiped away the crumbs from her mouth. “Honestly, no. But I’m here now and willing to do my best.”

  Reaching her hand across the table, Moira placed it over Eve’s. “Cormac Murray is a good man. He has battled many demons, but his loyalty has always been to his clan. Dinnae let his bark frighten ye. When men are scared of their own feelings, they tend to act like stubborn lads.”

  Curious, Eve asked, “Why are you sharing this with me? It’s not like I’m staying any great length of time.”

  Moira shrugged and pulled the shawl more closely around her body. “Only wisdom to see ye through.”

  Suddenly, the weight of the past few days took their toll on Eve. Standing she said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll clean up and then I would like to see my room.”

  Moira waved her off. “Nae. Another will scour and wash. Knowing my cousin, she will most likely want to do it herself before she prepares the next meal. I believe Cormac told one of the lasses to prepare a chamber. Ye are an honored guest.”

  “I’m no one special. Any room with a soft bed will do,” protested Eve as she started to move away.

  “Wrong. Ye may be here to help Moira, but ye are my guest,” argued the low male voice, his soft burr sending a tingling sensation across Eve’s skin.

  Slowly, Eve turned and their gazes locked. Cormac leaned against the wall, his arms behind his back. How long had he been standing there? Heat flooded her face, but she refused to look away. Her breathing became shallow, and her heart lurched when he pushed away from the wall—making his way toward Eve.

  She swallowed, hard. The closer he came, the more she had to angle her head up to meet his stare. Neither took their eyes off the other, and as he approached, he held out his hand.

  “If ye will permit me, I will show ye to your chamber.”

  As she took his hand, the contact of his fingers sliding over hers was electrifying. She let out a slight gasp and noticed he had felt the same. His eyes widened, and then he smiled, leading her out of the kitchen.

  Making their way up the narrow stairs, they continued to climb in silence. Walking along a short corridor, Cormac paused in front of a door.

  He leaned in close. “I may be stubborn, Eve Brannigan, but I am nae a lad.” Opening the door, he bowed slightly. “Sleep well, lass.”

  Eve watched Cormac walk away. Letting out a long held breath, she knew in her heart sleep would not come anytime soon. Her body and mind were consumed with only one thought—what would it be like to kiss Laird Cormac Murray?

  Chapter Nine

  “The maiden presented the knight with a gift of her heart, wrapped in gold, silver, crimson, and green.”

  “Good dog,” he muttered softly. Leaning against the window arch, Cormac watched Fergus trail after Eve. From the first day, the dog had attached himself to her—companion and protector, following her everywhere. When one of the guards got too close, the animal let out a short bark of disapproval and stood in front of her. Cormac had rewarded Fergus that same night with a huge bone.

  It would seem Fergus was not the only one enchanted by the lass. The entire castle had fallen under her charm. She had taken to the kitchens as if she belonged there, and shockingly, Moira and Glenna—harpy of the north had praised her baking. Not once had he heard a grievance against Eve.

  When he had escorted her to her chambers several days ago, he vowed to stay away from Eve. However, her radiance, smile, and voice drew him to her, and often, Cormac would find himself standing outside the kitchens simply for a glance of the lass. She was a siren calling out to him, bringing the lustful beast forth, and something else. Something he preferred not to think about. Had he not made a pledge to never take a wife? Aye! Yet, he found his heart softening to the idea.

  A lone pig sauntered into the bailey after making an escape from its stall. Eve’s laughter drifted up to him as one of the lads attempted to catch the animal—both landing in a snow pile by the gates.

  He pounded the wall. “Why did ye send her here, Fae? To tempt and torment me? She is not of this world. ’Tis cruel.” Cormac’s mind battled his body.

  “Bed the lass and end this,” grumbled Gordon behind him.

  Cormac stiffened at his friend’s remark. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave him a cold stare. “Why are ye here?”

  Holding up a piece of rotted wood, he replied, “Ye ordered me
to see to the blacksmith’s door. Told me ye were gathering fresh wood.”

  “I was on my way,” he shot back. “Could ye not wait?”

  “For how long? ’Tis midday and ye departed early morn,” argued Gordon.

  Ignoring his friend’s outburst, he pushed away from the wall and strode out the door. “Are ye coming?” he demanded. His steps quickened as he made his way out of the castle. The cold blast of air doused the fire of anger and lust, and Cormac welcomed the embrace.

  Entering the stables, he pointed to a cart. “There is your wood. Do ye require anything else?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Good.”

  Storming out of the stables, Cormac collided with the source of his recent fixation—Eve. Grabbing both her arms, he tried to steady them, but managed to twist and fall backwards into the snow. She landed on top of him. Cormac closed his eyes and let out a faint, desperate groan.

  “Did I hurt you?” she asked softly.

  When he opened his eyes, Cormac gazed into a sea of green. Her eyes held his and he became even more captivated. He lifted his hand, and gently brushed the curls from her face. He felt her tremble from his touch. “I am nae hurt. And ye?”

  “No.”

  Inhaling her scent, he said, “Ye smell of cinnamon.”

  A rosy stain spread across her cheeks. “I’m attempting to bake cinnamon bread, but I don’t believe it will do well. I need more sugar.”

  Cormac was sorely tempted to steal a kiss from the lass. Would her lips taste of sugar? Before he could find out, Fergus interrupted the moment—when he ambled over and licked Cormac’s face.

  Eve burst out laughing and rolled to the side and stood up.

  “Off with ye. Your breath is foul smelling.” He shoved the dog away in a playful gesture and stood also. Brushing the snow off his clothes, he did the same to Eve’s back.

  “Ye do ken sugar is like gold here—more so in the winter. Come spring, merchants will fill our supply.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand any of this? Why don’t you go to the store—market and buy some?” She waved her hand about. “And where are your cars? I understand how you might want to present a medieval appearance for your guests, but I haven’t seen any. Are they arriving soon?” She shook out the last bits of snow from her cloak. “I have another question. Please tell me you have a bathroom…umm…loo. Yes, that’s the word. I don’t want to complain, but I don’t relish using a chamber pot. I’ve mentioned this earlier to Moira and Glenna, but clearly they don’t understand me. They insist that I should direct any further questions to you.”

  She spoke too quickly for Cormac to understand her words. Almost like his friend’s wife, Brigid MacKay. How he longed for it to be spring or summer. Then he would take her to Urquhart and leave her there. Surely, the MacKays would ken what to do with the lass. Yet, the truth was, Eve Brannigan was here—in his time and the longer she stayed, the more questions she would continue to ask. And he feared only one.

  He gently grabbed her elbow and steered her back toward the entrance of the castle. “Ye are wet. Go warm yourself. I will speak with Moira about providing ye with more sugar.”

  Eve jerked free from his grasp. “You know, Cormac, I’m tired of everyone not answering my questions. It’s as if you pick the ones you understand, but ignore the others.”

  He started to object, but she held up her hand. “I haven’t had a decent hot bath in days, and I’m tired. Don’t get me wrong, I love challenging myself and have enjoyed the past few days of learning medieval life in the kitchens, but—”

  “I shall have someone bring up the wooden tub to your chamber.”

  Her mouth gaped open in shock. “Is there running hot water with the tub?”

  Cormac winced. “Nae, but ye will have hot water.”

  Ignoring any further outbursts from the lass, he quickly stepped aside and made his way up to his chambers. Passing Wallace in the corridor, he instructed him to haul the wooden tub into Eve’s chamber.

  How long could he keep the truth from Eve? Yet, until he found a way to return the lass, no one must say a word about the year. Although, did he truly want her to leave?

  Entering his chambers, he paused. “Greetings, Cathal.” Removing his tunic, he placed it on a chair and strode into his inner chamber. Pulling forth a dry one from his trunk, he tugged it over his head. Striding back, he stood by the fire to warm his trews.

  Cathal leaned forward in his chair. “Lively play in the snow? Or hard work?”

  “A disturbance with a lass.”

  “Aww…Eve Brannigan.”

  Cormac shifted his stance. “Do ye ken the lass is not from this time?”

  “Truly?” Cathal stroked his beard in thought.

  “Dinnae claim ye did not ken. She speaks like the MacKay women for one.”

  The druid laughed. “Aye, she does indeed.”

  “Do ye have the power to send her back through the stones?”

  Cathal arched a brow. “The Fae sent the lass here to this time. Clearly, they have a reason, and I wish not to alter the plans of the Fae.”

  Cormac pointed a finger at the druid. “What if she desires to return? Do not the Fae listen to requests?”

  “Dinnae meddle with the Fae, Cormac. Ye must seek out why she was sent here.”

  Rubbing a hand across his face, he strolled over to his desk. Grabbing a jug, he held it up. “Wine?”

  “Please.”

  Filling two mugs, Cormac handed one to the druid. “Ye have yet to answer my question. Can ye send the lass back to her time?”

  Cathal narrowed his lips and gazed into his mug. “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  The druid met his stare. “If the Fae or the lass wishes it so.”

  “Until I can find a way to inform her of the time―”

  Both men turned when shouting erupted in the corridor.

  Not even bothering to knock, Eve flung the door open. “Are you serious? A wooden tub and it has to be filled with hot water? It’s absurd! And here I thought you were teasing. I’m not about to ask anyone to haul buckets of water up those stairs for me.”

  “Ye were saying, Cormac…” The druid smiled over the rim of his mug.

  Cormac gave the man a look of warning. Handing Eve his mug, he steered her out of his chambers. “’Tis the way it is done here at Creag. Until a proper bath can be made, ye will have to make do with the tub. Pray forgive me for the inconvenience.”

  She sniffed the contents. “Smells good. Wine?”

  “Aye,” he answered. “Plum.”

  “May I?”

  Smiling, he nodded.

  Cormac watched as she downed the entire contents. She blinked and then handed him the mug.

  “Delicious. Now that I’ve warmed up, I won’t require a bath. Perhaps later, but please send your men out of my room. They have more important things to attend to. I have to return to the kitchens.”

  “But I have done as ye have wished. Did ye not state ye hadn’t had a…what was the word ye used?” he teased.

  “Decent,” she replied.

  Moving her along the corridor, he glanced inside her chamber. The tub set in front of a blazing fire was already half-filled. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he pushed her ahead of him. He put the mug down on the table and went to test the water.

  “’Tis a pity ye would forego a fine bath. If this were in my chambers, I would strip my clothes and sink deep within.”

  Eve’s eyes went wide. A tinge of pink scored her cheeks, and he wanted her even more.

  Cormac’s mind screamed at him to leave her chambers, but his feet refused to take the steps out of the room. He would give anything to see Eve Brannigan soaking naked in his tub—rubbing soap over her arms, her full breasts, dipping his fingers between her thighs.

  He stalked her like a hunter, and she was his prey.

  When he stood mere inches in front of her, his hand reached out and captured a stray c
url at the nape of her neck. Wrapping it around his finger, he tugged. “So verra beautiful.” Her lips were red, stained from the wine and with each rise and fall of her breath, he could see her own battle of lust within her eyes.

  “One kiss,” he murmured against her cheek. The tight knot within him begged for release.

  She swallowed. “I…do…don’t know.”

  “I will nae beg for one, Eve.” He nuzzled the skin below her ear, making him crave her even more.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He kissed the lock of hair and desire burst forth from him. Letting the curl unravel, he grabbed Eve around the waist with one arm. Cupping her cheek, he stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. Lowering his head, his lips feasted lightly on her mouth, until she opened fully and darted her sweet tongue into him. His shy lass had become brazen. No longer gentle, he crushed her to his chest and plundered her mouth fully. He stroked her tongue, the velvet touch sending him spiraling.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers digging into his scalp and Cormac groaned. Not leaving the tempting taste of her lips, his hand moved gently up along her waist until his fingers brushed over a pert nipple. He drew her gasp into his body as he deepened the kiss. Cormac wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep within her body.

  Lifting her in one swift move, he carried her to the bed and gently put her down. She was a vision lying there—her golden hair spread out against the furs. Lowering himself beside her, he wasted no time in pressing kisses along the tops of her breasts, along the side of her neck, and once more taking her mouth with savage intensity.

  His hand slipped under her gown. The first touch of his fingers on her soft thigh had her breath coming out in gasps. But when his hand brushed over the silken curls, he was the one to let out a moan. Dipping one finger between her sweet folds, Cormac burned with desire to taste and feast on her body.

  One hand clutched at his tunic, while the other yanked on his trews.

  “What do ye want, Eve?” His question sounded hoarse even to his own ears.

  A low growl was his answer. Cormac froze. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the intruder. Fergus sat baring his teeth at him.

  “Lugh’s balls,” he muttered. Returning his gaze to Eve, he closed his eyes. What had he been thinking? The door to her chamber was open. Anyone could have wandered by and seen them. She was his guest, not some lass to be bedded.