She didn't look at him until she finished speaking.
Ronan stood by the window, silent as he looked out at grounds. His skin had gone ashen; the only indicator of any reaction.
Here it comes, Kara thought with dread—and a stab of hurt. He'll have his men send me to the dungeons of Macleay Castle.
But when he turned to look at her, there was no anger. No disbelief. Only . . . comprehension.
“This—village ye came across in yer time,” he said slowly. “Describe it.”
“There's not much to describe. It was in ruins. It looked like it could be from this time—possibly older," she said, puzzled as to why he wanted to know more about the village.
“Ye said there was a castle? A castle that lay just beyond the ruins of the village?”
“Yes,” she said, her heart picking up its pace. "How did you—”
“The village ye went tae in yer own time is called Tairseach," Ronan said. "I’ve long thought these mere superstitions—but for years there've been rumors of people disappearing around it. Some believe that Tairseach used to be the home of stiuireadh—druid witches.”
A chill crept down her spine and she took a seat on the edge of the bed. She remembered the line from Alice's letter, about the disappearances in this area.
"I heard a whisper before I disappeared. A woman's voice. She was calling my name," Kara said, unease pooling in her gut. "I thought I was crazy, that it was just the wind. But . . . maybe it was one of those witches."
Ronan grew even more pale and didn't speak for several moments.
“Fiona, Eadan’s wife . . .” Ronan murmured, his brow furrowed, "The one with the same accent as yers. Eadan wanted me and his men tae take her tae Tairseach after a battle with another clan—in case anything happened tae him. He still refuses tae tell me where she’s really from.”
"She's a time traveler as well. She must be," Kara said, shaking her head in a daze. "That was my first thought when you told me about her accent."
"Christ," Ronan muttered, moving to a chair by the window and sinking down into it. "I knew ye were hiding something, but I never expected . . . "
“I swear on my grandmother’s grave that what I speak is the truth,” she said, approaching him with an imploring look. “I don’t know how it’s possible—but I’ve traveled back in time.”
“I believe ye, lass,” Ronan said.
At the conviction on his face, the tension in her body dissipated, and tears pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t realized how important it was that he believe her until this moment—and not just for reasons of self-preservation.
But his face remained turbulent.
"My steward spotted a lass wandering the grounds—a different lass—not long before ye arrived. The night of Eadan's wedding. He claimed tae see her vanish before his eyes, but I didnae believe him. But now that ye’re here—from another time . . .”
“Do you think she was a witch? That she had had something to do with my arrival here?” Kara asked.
That whisper she'd heard in her own time. The witch appearing on Ronan's property. The two occurrences could be linked.
“I donnae ken,” Ronan said. “'Tis believed the druid witches may have an effect on the disappearances around Tairseach, but no one kens for certain.”
Kara bit her lip, her mind whirring. What she wouldn't do for her laptop right now. Whenever she worked on a story, trying to solve the mystery that lay at its heart, she wrote out all her thoughts in a document on her laptop. It made it so much easier to figure out all her unanswered questions when they were laid out before her.
But she wasn't here to solve the mystery of time travel. She was here to save lives.
"You know what I’m here for,” she said. “If I can save my ancestors—I can save other lives too. It's why I want to know what's happening with Clan Macleay. Alice found records showing my ancestor's deaths resulted from a clan conflict in this area. Remember how I told you I was good at finding things?” At his nod, she continued, “In my time, I was something called an investigative journalist.”
Ronan looked baffled by the term, so she explained the best way she could. “If there was ever a conflict among the nobles of your clan, and you sent someone to find out what happened, how the conflict was started—"
“That would often end in fighting, or a man dead,” Ronan said, his eyes filling with worry. “Is that what ye do in yer time, lass? Handle conflicts between men?"
“Not exactly," she hedged. "I answered questions and wrote reports—stories—about the answers I uncovered. And I was good at my job. Finding out how something happened doesn’t get you killed in the future. At least, not usually,” she added, thinking about a couple of dangerous encounters she'd gotten herself into with sources who didn't want her to interview them.
“I’ll not have ye putting yerself in any danger,” Ronan said with a scowl, reading the shift in her expression.
“Ronan," she said, with an exasperated sigh. "I can help. I will help. The only difference is—will you work with me or not?”
Ronan's scowl deepened, but she saw a glint of admiration in his golden eyes.
"Well," he muttered, "I suppose I've no choice."
"No," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't."
He gave her a grudging smile, and she listened intently as he told her of the former rivalry between Clan Macleay and Clan Acheson, the battle with Dughall, the presumed peace. And the recent threats—fires, thefts, ill omens.
“My cousin left, thinking all was well," Ronan said, closing his eyes. "But as soon as I’m left in charge . . ."
He looked away from her, but Kara caught the guilt and insecurity lurking in his expression.
“You can’t think this is your fault?”
“I donnae ken," Ronan grunted, still not looking at her. "Perhaps this new enemy waited for a weak leader such as myself tae step in for Eadan before they targeted us.”
“Or it could have been in the works from the moment your clan defeated Dughall and his men,” she returned. “Tell me more about this rivalry with Clan Acheson. What caused it?”
"A land dispute in the north. Long ago, it belonged to their clan. The lands were ceded to our clan generations ago as part of a truce. But the lands are much desired—they're fertile soil in a region where fertile soil is hard tae find. Dughall and others in Clan Acheson believed the lands were still rightfully theirs."
“Who was Clan Acheson allied with?” she asked, mulling over his words.
“They’ve always worked on their own,” he said. "Now they're allied with us. We've purged the members who were on Dughall's side. And I’ve already considered the possibility of allies. I asked a sympathizer of their clan if they ever mentioned anyone else they were working with; she said they didnae.”
“She?” Kara asked, an irrational stab of jealousy pricking at her chest.
“Elspeth. She’s a widow in our clan who was close to members of Clan Acheson.”
“And do you think she told you the truth?” Kara asked, resisting the urge to demand just how well he knew this widow.
“No,” Ronan said with a sigh. “I donnae.”
“I think it’s unlikely Clan Acheson would have taken on your clan without allies. I think you should keep looking into it.”
“Aye?” he asked, his eyes glittering with challenge. "Ye mean tae tell me how tae handle this investigation?"
"I mean to help you," she insisted. "Now you can be stubborn and keep going down the wrong path, or you let me help. I'm from the future, and I know something's going to happen that'll cause a lot of innocent people here to die. Unless we do something to stop it."
Ronan's mouth tightened, but he gave her a nod of grudging respect.
"All right," he said. "I'll let ye help. But," he added, his tone firm, "ye may be from another time, but ye’re in my time now. I'm laird and leader of this clan in my cousin's stead. Ye must do as I say and stay out of harm’s way, do ye understand?”
/>
“Yes.”
“And now,” he said, advancing toward her, "I have questions of my own.”
Chapter 13
Ronan drew closer to Kara, and her mind filled with the memory of his mouth pressed to her center, to her throat, his body flush against hers. A rush of desire coursed through her, and she licked her dry lips. It was difficult to focus when he was so close to her.
“And what is that?” she whispered.
She braced herself for him to ask her what the future was like, what would happen to Scotland, to his clan.
“Is there a man waiting for ye—back in yer own time?”
Raw vulnerability filled his expression, and she blinked at him in astonishment. Out of all the things he could ask, that's what he went with? But delight rippled through her at his obvious jealousy.
“No,” she said, smiling. “There's no one."
Stark relief entered his eyes, and he returned her smile. She stilled as a surge of her own jealousy filled her.
“And you?” she asked, recalling what Aislin told her about his mistresses. "Do you have a mistress or two tucked away somewhere?”
“No,” he said immediately. Her shoulders sank with relief. “And now that I’ve had a taste of ye, lass . . .”
His gaze darkened with lust, and he stepped even closer, encroaching upon her personal space. She met his eyes, heart hammering.
“No other lass compares.”
The moment stretched between them, fraught with erotic tension, until Kara couldn’t wait any longer. She took the initiative and seized his mouth with hers.
He growled into her mouth as they kissed and they moved in tandem to the bed. As they fell onto it, his hand reached down to lift her gown, his finger dipping into her moist center.
“Ye're already wet for me,” he murmured against her mouth. “The first time—that was pure lust. This time,” his voice lowered to a husky growl, “’tis for exploration. But first, I need another taste of yer sweetness.”
He sat her up as he removed her gown, tunic, and underdress, before lowering her back to the bed and peppering kisses along her abdomen until he reached her center, dipping his tongue inside of her. Kara let out a cry, gripping the sheets as he tasted her. His amber eyes lifted to meet hers, and he tore his mouth from her to whisper, "The wetness between yer thighs is like the sweetest wine.”
“Ronan,” she moaned, reaching down for him, aching for him to sink himself inside her, but he evaded her grasp.
“No. I told ye,” he said with a wink. “This time, ’tis an exploration.”
He kept his mouth on her center until her pleasure reached its climax and she came with a desperate cry. He stood, taking off his tunic and kilt, his eyes roaming her nude body as he did so.
“Christ, Kara,” he whispered. “Ye have the body of a goddess.”
Kara flushed hot at his compliment, but as she took in his body, all chiseled muscle, every inch of him gleaming and pronounced, she shook her head in amazement.
“And you have the body of a god.”
He chuckled, and she sat up, eager to take his hardness in her mouth, but he again pushed her back down.
“All in good time, lass. I want tae savor yer body the way it was meant tae be savored.”
He leaned down to seize her nipple in his mouth, laving it with his full attention before turning his focus to the other one. She wound her hand through his chestnut strands, reveling in the feel of him against her, as he bathed her breasts with licks and kisses.
Finally, he lifted himself up, keeping his gaze locked with hers as he buried himself inside her. Kara wrapped her legs around him, shuddering at the sensation of his length buried within her, and their eyes remained locked as he began to thrust.
Whimpering with pleasure, she lowered her hands to grip his buttocks as he moved within her. Their movements became frenzied, and Kara locked her legs around him, needing him closer as their bodies came together, over and over again, until their mutual pleasure built to a crescendo.
"Kara," Ronan gasped, shuddering as his body quaked with the force of his climax, followed by her own only seconds later, the room swimming around her as her body shook.
Kara struggled to catch her breath as they came back to earth, their bodies still entwined. Rona pulled her close, reaching out to stroke her hair.
“Yer hair is like burnished gold,” he whispered, taking her in with reverence. “Yer eyes like the meadows just beyond the manor. Ye are a witch, my Kara, but one of a different kind. Ye've bewitched me since the moment I laid eyes on ye. Do ye know how beautiful ye are?”
“You're beautiful too,” she whispered, taking in his tawny eyes, his strong jaw dotted with stubble, those sensual lips, and yet another surge of lust crashed into her.
“If a man said that, I’d spear him with my sword,” Ronan said, scowling.
“It’s a compliment,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You're the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
His eyes darkened. “And how many men have ye seen?”
She grinned. “None have compared to you.”
It was true. Even the first kiss she'd shared with Ronan outshone the mediocre sex she’d had with past boyfriends. A sudden pang pierced her. No other man would ever compare to Ronan.
“What is it?” he asked, noticing the change in her expression.
“Nothing,” she said, pushing aside the thought of the future, a future in which Ronan didn’t exist. “Is there anything else you wanted to know? About my time?”
“No,” he said, with surprising swiftness. “’Tis not my place tae know of the future. But—” he hedged, studying her with curiosity. “Where is this land ye’re from? That’s given ye and Fiona such a strange accent?”
"Are you sure you want to know?" she teased. "I'll have to tell you a little of the future."
"Aye," he said, "But try not tae divulge much of it."
“There’s a land that hasn’t been discovered by Europeans yet,” she hedged. “People from the countries of Europe will colonize it. After some time has passed, their descendants will speak a common tongue—the form of English I’m speaking now.”
“The English," Ronan muttered with an irritated growl. "They still exist in the future, then? The Scots willnae have wiped them out?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so,” she said with a rueful grin. She decided it was best to not mention the global dominance England would have in the future—or the fact that Scotland would become a part of the United Kingdom.
“Enough. I donnae want tae ken anymore,” Ronan said, his handsome face creasing with annoyance. “But I do want tae ken more about ye, Kara. Not the story ye told me before. The real ye.”
Kara rested her head on his chest. “Certain things I told you were true. I was close to my grandmother. She encouraged my love of writing. She was happy that I went into journalism as a profession, though I think a part of her hoped I would’ve taken more of an interest in history.”
She traced the lines of his muscled chest, before continuing, “I immediately started working after university, and I loved it."
"Lasses can attend university in your time?" Ronan asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Yes," she said, poking him. "And women can do many other things in my time as well. For years, my life was my work. I didn’t get to see Alice as much as I wanted. As much as I should have. I didn’t have much time for friends, relationships. Looking back, it’s like . . . I was searching for something.”
“What were ye searching for?”
“I don’t know,” she mused. “But I do know that my life felt empty when my job ended. I think . . . I was using my job to fill some kind of gap. I was aimless. And then Alice died . . .” The familiar pull of grief tugged at her, and she swallowed against a wave of tears. “I think that’s why I so badly want to do what she asked me to in her letter. This is my last tangible connection to Alice. And then . . . she'll truly be gone."
Her voice broke, and Ronan reached
out to pull her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck, the wetness of her tears dampening his skin.
"When I lost my father, I was consumed by grief," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Uncle Bran would take me for long walks in those early days. When we took those walks, he told me tae say everything I wanted tae tell my father, tae pretend he was walking at my side. At first, it seemed mad, but when I started doing it . . . it made his loss bearable. Ye should do the same. Ye’ll always have a connection tae yer grandmother. Here,” he said, reaching out to touch the center of her chest.
She smiled through her tears, and he wiped away her tears with his thumb, his eyes soft with compassion.
Alice may be gone, and she was six hundred years in the past, but in this moment, for the first time in a long time, a sense of calm settled over her. A sense of home.
Chapter 14
Ronan remained awake long after Kara drifted off to sleep in his arms. He gazed down at her sleeping form, ruminating over her story. As soon as she told him she was from another time, as strange and unbelievable as it was . . . it made sense. The vagueness of her backstory. Her strange accent. Tairseach. The stiuireadh who'd shown up on his property before she'd arrived.
And there were the similarities to Fiona. Fiona had shown up in a similar manner, emerging from the cellar of Macleay Castle in a scandalous dress, one that must be common in their time. Her accent, nearly the same as Kara's. Eadan's refusal to tell him Fiona's true place of birth.
Fiona had traveled through time. Just like Kara.
Why hadn’t Eadan told him the truth about his wife? Did he not trust him?
But as Ronan studied Kara, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair back from her face, a surge of protectiveness filled him—and he understood. Eadan wanted to protect his wife. Though Eadan and Ronan weren't superstitious, there were many in the castle and surrounding villages who were. Many fervently believed in—and despised—witches. And they would certainly consider a lass who could travel through time a witch.
He now understood with stark clarity why Kara hadn't wanted to reveal whom she was, and guilt flooded him. For all she knew, he could have thrown her into the dungeons and had her hung for witchcraft.
Ronan's Captive: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Fate Book 2) Page 7