by Davis, Dee
"Good night, Marjory." No answer. He inhaled the soft floral fragrance of her hair, marveling at the fact that she could still smell so good after all they had been through.
It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 15
Marjory stood by the shell of a window and looked at the stars, thinking, as she always did, of her mother. Happiness would be all that her mother's spirit would wish for her now. No cry for vengeance would come from those long dead lips. Gleda would only want for her daughter to find a love as rich as the union she had shared with Marjory's father.
Marjory tried to reach inside herself, to find her anger and her pain, but all she could think of was the man lying on the pallet by the fire. Heaven help her, she wanted him. As surely as there were clans in Scotland, she wanted this man, whoever he turned out to be.
She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the early morning chill. One thing was for certain. He was not the man she had been forced to marry, not the man who had taken her with the callousness of a conqueror. She shivered again, but this time it wasn't the cold.
"You're going to catch your death."
Marjory felt the meager warmth of Cameron's blanket wrap around her shoulders. She leaned back against him, letting her body mold to his.
"Are you wishing on the stars?" His voice curled around her, warm and alive, lighting fires deep within her.
"I dinna believe in such nonsense." But she wanted to, oh heavenly Father, she wanted to.
Cameron pulled her closer, his chin resting on her head. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight." He paused for a minute, looking up at the night sky. "I'm pretty sure my mother used to recite that for me. And then I'd make a wish."
Marjory stared up at the twinkling stars, and felt hope blossoming. "My mother always said they were angels."
"Maybe they are." His voice was soft, thoughtful. "If so, then maybe one of them is my mother."
"Mine, too." She twined her fingers through his, not wanting the moment to end. "Except that I don't believe in them anymore."
"If you did, what would you wish for, Marjory mine?"
She turned in his embrace, amazed at her own boldness. He met her gaze and she caught her breath. His face was close to hers, so close she could feel his breath as it stirred tendrils of her hair.
She swallowed convulsively. She could feel the blood coursing through her body. "I'd wish for you, Cameron."
His arms tightened around her. "You called me Cameron." He leaned even closer and she shivered as his hair brushed against her cheek.
"'Tis your name."
"Yes, but you've never used it before." He whispered the words and they came out sounding like a caress.
"I know." She swallowed again, trying to focus on his words. "But 'twould be wrong to call you by another man's name. And you're no' Ewen Cameron, of that I'm certain."
"How can you be so sure?" His eyes searched hers, the intensity there almost as dazzling as the stars.
"Ewen canna swim."
He laughed, a rich, deep sound that echoed off of the remaining walls of the cottage. She tried to pull away, unexpectedly hurt by his laughter, but he pulled her back, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Wait, Marjory. I wasn't laughing at you. It's just that after all this time and everything I've been through, I find it amazing that something as insignificant as swimming could convince you."
She looked up at him, letting his words sink in. Her heart had begun its staccato beating again. His warmth flowed into her, robbing her of strength. She leaned against him, trying to find words for what she was feeling. "'Tis just that…"
"Hush." He placed a finger over her mouth. "There's been enough talking." With one swift movement, his lips replaced his hand. Marjory felt his tongue trace the contour of her bottom lip, and opened her mouth in response. Her insides turned to liquid fire, their tongues thrusting and parrying almost as if they dueled. Marjory wondered, briefly, what they battled for and then lost the thought as his mouth left hers and strayed to the curve of her throat.
The blanket he'd given her fell to the floor. She moaned in ecstasy, feeling a place deep inside her tighten and throb with need. No one had ever made her feel this way before. She reached for his head, pressing it into the soft skin of her throat. She shivered with delight as he followed one tender wet kiss with another. Her hands curled instinctively into the soft silkiness of his hair.
She tipped back her head, offering herself to him. He licked lightly at the swell of her breast above where the other blanket covered it. Suddenly she wanted more. Much more. Her nipples hardened and she wondered what she was anticipating, but almost as quickly as the thought came, it fled in the wake of sensation.
She was on fire, and somehow she knew, innately, that Cameron was the only one who could put it out. He tugged at the knot at her shoulder. She pushed his hand aside and slowly released the knot, allowing the blanket to fall to the floor. Skin met skin as he sighed, pulling her close, accepting her offering, letting his body heat warm her. His hands massaged the small of her back, circling lower to cup her bottom.
His manhood pressed, hot against her thigh, and a curious sense of elation filled her. This was the way it was supposed to be between a man and a woman. She didn't know how she knew, but she was certain.
He bent his head, his mouth covering her breast. All thought stopped at the rough feel of his tongue as it laved her skin. He sucked, briefly, at the peak, releasing it and blowing softly. Marjory felt, as much as heard, the moan that escaped her lips, coming from somewhere deep within her. She pushed against him, wanting more.
He smiled. She could see the white of his teeth in the shadowy light. Lifting her up into his arms, he held her against his chest, and she marveled at the feel of his skin against hers.
"You're sure?" A shadow flickered across his face. "This doesn't change anything." The words came out a mere whisper, but Marjory could not mistake the meaning.
She reached up to cover his lips with her finger, to stop him from saying anything more. "I want you, Cameron." She met his gaze. She had never been more sure of anything in her life. Her body cried for his in a way older than time. Whoever he was, for tonight at least he belonged to her.
He walked to the pallet and gently laid her on the makeshift bed. She shivered as the cold air washed across her. Instinctively, she raised her arms, calling to him, offering him all that she had, all that she was. He bent and stripped off his trews. She gasped at the sheer size of him. He stood before her, a warrior. Her warrior.
He gently laid himself over her, resting his weight on his elbows. Their eyes met and she sucked in a breath at the desire she saw reflected in the depths of his eyes. He bent to kiss her again. This time as softly as a butterfly. She felt her own desire rising. She wanted more from him. So much more.
She shyly reached down and circled his strength. He sucked in a breath and she stroked the length of him, amazed at the combination of velvet and steel. He deepened the kiss, his tongue invading her mouth. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, reveling in the feel of his weight against her body.
He stroked the side of her hip, sending ripples of pleasure washing through her. His lips wandered down her shoulder, placing light nipping kisses as they passed. Reaching her breast, he pulled it deep into his mouth and began to suck. She cried out with the joy of it, sensation rocking her, pulling at her very core.
His hand stroked along her belly, inching lower, tangling in the curls at the apex of her thighs. She tightened, squeezing her legs together. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. "Trust me."
How many times had he said this to her? And always, always he had held true to his words. A fleeting image of Aida crossed her vision. She fought against it. She would not let that woman in here. Not now.
With a breath like a sigh, she relaxed her legs. His mouth again found her breast and she tipped back
her head, wanting more. His hand caressed the length of her thigh. Her body tightened in anticipation and she held her breath, waiting for his fingers to move higher.
With one finger, he parted the satiny folds that guarded her secret most place. In an instant, he was inside her, his finger stroking, stroking, stroking. She arched against him unable to control the shudders that rocked through her. Her muscles clenched at the sensation, and she wondered how a body could stand this kind of pleasure.
His lips left her breast and he trailed long tender kisses along the soft swelling of her stomach, the combination of his mouth and hands making her wild. She moaned with disappointment when he removed his finger.
"Patience, Marjory mine, patience." His voice was rough with emotion.
She writhed against him, desperate for more, crying out when his mouth found the sweet soft core of her, his tongue darting in and out, in and out, until she thought she'd explode. Sensation surrounded her, driving her higher and higher, until there was nothing but fire and need.
He changed the rhythm, moving higher and circling her tiny nub with featherlike strokes, faster and faster, until the world burst into shards of color. She reached for him, holding on as spasms of pure joy racked her body. Never had she ever dreamed she could feel like this.
Slowly, slowly, she began to come down, her body still trembling. She opened her eyes and found him watching her. She smiled tentatively, suddenly unsure. He reached for her face, caressing it with the back of his hand. "You're beautiful."
Her heart soared.
"There's more. Can I take you there?"
She nodded, unsure if she could survive any more pleasure, but afraid to not take the chance. He pushed up onto his elbows and bent to kiss her, the taste of her still on his lips. His tongue ravaged her, sliding into her mouth and thrusting with a rhythm that matched her own. She felt the fire building again and marveled at the power of her need. She wanted him now more than ever before. And this time she wanted to be together.
"I want you." She hadn't realized she'd spoken the words until she saw the answering desire flash in his eyes.
With a quick twist, he positioned himself above her, his eyes never leaving hers, and then he pushed himself into her. She opened her legs, welcoming him, wanting to take him deeper and deeper still, to sheath him in her heat, to make him hers, forever.
Slowly, he began to move and she felt a rhythm begin. Matching her body's movements to his thrusting, she met him stroke for stroke, feeling a burst of fire with every pulsing beat. Body against body, soul against soul, she felt them unite as they rose higher and higher on each wave of pleasure. Together, they rode the wind, each stroke taking them nearer to the sun until, with a blinding white light, she felt herself break into a million pieces, felt his arms tightening around her as he found his own release.
Lost in a cloud of ecstasy, she drifted slowly back to earth, feeling the warm security of his arms and knowing that, for once, the demons could not get to her. With a sigh, she snuggled into his side and allowed herself to sleep.
*****
Waking, Cameron shifted, trying not to disturb Marjory. She was beautiful. Not in the artful, bottle-it-and-sell-it kind of way so common in his century, but in a natural, what-you-see- is-what-you-get kind of way.
He'd wanted so much to please her. To prove to her that a man and a woman coming together could be a joyous thing. It had been hard to contain his own desire. To pleasure her first. But it had been more than worth it.
Marjory was amazing. She had given him more than her body. She had gifted him with a part of her soul. It was the most precious gift he had ever received.
A niggle of guilt tugged at the back of his mind. He shouldn't have let it happen. The little voice in his head chided him for his callousness. He had taken from her, but what had he given in return? A night to remember? No, Marjory wasn't like that. Last night had been a commitment of sorts, a commitment that he couldn't afford to make.
He had to get back to his own time. He had to face himself, to discover for better or worse who he really was. Everything else was secondary. He had to find a way to make her understand that.
The little niggle of guilt blossomed into full-fledged culpability. With a sigh, he disentangled himself from her sleeping form, smoothing back a stray strand of silky black hair. She smiled in her sleep. Dear God, what had he done?
He stood, shivering in the cool morning air. His muscles were sore from their ordeal on the lake, and he stretched, trying to work out some of the stiffness. First the swim, then the hike to the cottage, and then… he smiled despite his worries. The night might have started on a bad note, but it had definitely ended as a perfectly orchestrated symphony. He laughed at the poetic turn of his thoughts, pulling on his trews.
He tugged his shirt over his head, then stared at his plaid, shaking his head ruefully. It looked dry, but that didn't mean he'd be able to get the damn thing on.
"Cameron?"
Happiness rippled through him at the sound of his name on her lips. He turned to find blue eyes gazing at him sleepily. "Good morning."
She yawned, stretching like a cat, and glanced at the sky. "We should have been on our way ages ago."
"I guess we got a little sidetracked." He grinned, remembering in vivid detail the exact nature of their detour.
She sat up, smiling, pushing her hair back from her face. He felt his body tighten as he drank in the sight of her luscious curves. Suddenly, aware of his scrutiny, she blushed pulling the blanket up to her chin.
"I'm sorry, I forgot…" Her face grew redder. "I mean…"
"Hush, princess. It's all right. Here, put this on." He handed her the shift, turning his back so that she could dress. The irony of his actions didn't escape him, but he felt, perhaps absurdly, under the circumstances, a powerful urge to protect her, even from himself.
Especially from himself.
"You can turn around now. I'm decent." She had not only donned the shift, but had managed to tie the blanket securely back into place. It gave her an exotic look. Not that 15th century Scotland wasn't exotic. "Do you have any idea what time o' day it is?"
"No, not exactly." He glanced at the sun, wishing for his Rolex. "But I'd say it's almost noon."
"I beg your pardon?" She looked at him quizzically.
"I think it's nearly midday." He corrected, wondering if he'd ever get used the language barrier. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't be here long enough to worry about adjusting his speech permanently.
Marjory made her way to the doorway, fastening her sporran around her waist as she walked. "We'd best get moving then."
"I can't go anywhere until I get this thing on." He pointed at the length of wool still hanging from the tree limb.
She stood with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised in question.
Cameron actually felt himself blush. He shrugged. "I can't get the damned thing on without help."
Her laughter peeled out across the room, punctuating his embarrassment. "Come here then, I'll give you a hand."
He grabbed the wool and held it out to her. She wrapped it around his waist, neatly gathering its bulk into pleats. At the feel of her hands, he caught his breath, his heart rate accelerating. He tried grabbing the material from her. A mistake, skin against skin was even more compelling. They stood holding hands, staring at each other, their breathing coming in gasps, the plaid falling forgotten to the floor.
*****
Sunlight streamed through the hole in the roof, pulling Marjory from the contented lethargy of sleep. Opening her eyes, she nestled closer to Cameron's radiating warmth. He groaned in his sleep, one arm thrown possessively across her waist.
She stretched, pointing her toes, feeling her body come fully awake. She closed her eyes against the intrusive sun and allowed herself to relive the night and morning's discoveries. The second time had been even better than the first, and her body hummed at the just thought of Cameron's lips and hands touching her. She shivered with delig
ht at the memory.
She probably ought to be feeling remorse, or, at the very least, regret, but the plain fact was she didn't. Perhaps those feelings would come later. She pushed the thought aside. Right now, she simply wanted to enjoy the moment. Time enough, later, for concern.
She rolled slightly, turning toward Cameron. His eyes flickered open sleepily. She smiled, self consciously. It was one thing to remember their lovemaking on her own and quite another to think of it with him watching. She felt herself blush and bit the side of her lip. "We fell asleep again."
Cameron grinned, pulling her close. "Well you have a way of wearing a man out, Marjory mine."
Her face grew even hotter. "I…I…that is…"
Her voice seemed to have deserted her. Fortunately, she was spared having to try and summon it. His mouth covered hers, opening for a long deep kiss. Marjory felt the heat building inside her again. She pressed against him, feeling his arms lock around her. She reveled in the feel of him, giving and taking as the passion of the kiss intensified.
He pulled back, a question burning brightly in his golden eyes.
But before she could answer a loud rumble erupted from the beneath the blanket.
"What was that?" Cameron sat up, holding his hand to his chest in mock terror.
"'Twas my belly." She admitted, fighting embarrassment. Cameron reached to run a hand down her cheek, smiling with tenderness. Marjory felt her heart skip a beat.
"Well, I suppose if I were a true warrior, I'd go and kill something for us to eat, but I'm afraid my skill set doesn't extend that far."
Marjory had never heard the phrase, but she understood the meaning. And again it reinforced what Cameron had claimed last night. Ewen had been a great hunter. Evidently, the new, and greatly improved she might add, Cameron, wasn't.
Not a problem. She'd been hunting since she was a wee lass. "I could try and snare a rabbit."