“It be a good night for a betrothal with all the luck at hand,” Kristie said and rocked back on her heels.
“I might away for a bite to eat,” Jean said. She and Eileanor excused themselves to wander off toward the bonfire, where a few women were fixing something in a pot.
Then she saw him. His dark hair fell in waves below his ears. Highlights of white and orange glowed from the fire as he passed by.
“Creag!” she called.
He looked at her and his lips parted into a grin. Her chest tightened, and she forgot to breathe. He hurried over and said, “Ye look as bonnie as the loch at first morning’s light.”
She looked him over, unwilling to say aloud how handsome she found him, and noticed he wore no blooms. Kristie lifted her hand to pluck a stem of gorse from her flowery crown and offered it to him. “Ye should have a flower.”
He reached up, his fingers brushing against hers to accept it. Creag looked away to tuck it in the folds of his plaid where it was pinned at his shoulder. Some shouting could be heard from nearby, and he glanced up. “I was off to collect the cattle for the running. I dinnae suppose ye would want to help?”
“I would,” she answered with a smile.
Creag nodded and led the way to a large group of mostly men who had herded the cattle into a circle. A few fellows were on ponies, and the rest were on foot with their arms outstretched.
“All right lads!” Sacharie shouted. “Time to send our beasts through. Let us pray for a year of luck and health!”
Kristie stepped closer to Creag and muttered, “What are we to do?”
He leaned in and answered under his breath, “I dinnae know. I was hoping ye would know.”
The men before them began shouting and clapping their hands to startle the animals in the direction of the bonfires. Others held reeds to swat with, and the procession of cattle started forward. Mooing tangled with the melodic sound of music on the hill when Kristie and Creag decided it was time to join in.
They held out their hands to help shoo the animals. It could have been the frighteningly high flames or the musicians, but a heifer and her calf cut away from the group and tried hurrying off from the ruckus. Kristie and Creag looked at each other before pulling back.
The mother and calf slowed to a stop, though the heifer turned her head to keep her eye on them. Kristie hurried around the cows to stand in front of them, and they began to run away toward the bonfire until they spotted Creag and hurried into yet another direction.
“Nay, not that way!” Kristie couldn’t help but laugh.
She stood and watched Creag try to run after the animals to herd them in the correct direction, but when it turned into a ridiculous chase of going every which way but the right one, she had to brace her hands to her knees because she was laughing too hard.
Creag ran past her and grabbed her ’round the waist, nearly knocking her off her feet. “What are ye chirping at?”
She yelped, then laughed even harder. His breath was hot on her cheek as his chest heaved while panting. Kristie slapped him on the shoulder and took off running toward the cows with her skirts lifted.
“This is how ye do it!”
The heifer and calf saw her charging their way and rushed toward the back of the herd. His footfalls came after her, and she stopped once the animals were headed between the two bonfires.
He put his hands to his waist to catch his breath and laughed. “Ye are as fast as they come. And now I could use a drink.”
“There,” she answered, pointing to a fellow with casks in the back of his cart.
The night flew by faster than Kristie thought possible. Dancing and laughter filled every moment as if she were a child again. She was surprised when Jean found her and said, “I best get Eoghan home to bed. Do ye wish to stay and walk back, or come in the cart with me and the bairn?”
Kristie breathed in the smoky air, not wanting the fun to end. “I am nay ready to return.”
“Very well,” Jean said and leaned in to give her a quick embrace. “See ye back home.”
Kristie watched her sister-in-law leave with Eoghan wrapped in her arms, until giggling caught her attention. She glanced over to see a group of people dancing rounds before the musicians. Moira was beaming and prancing in a circle with her redheaded admirer close behind.
“Another dance?” Creag asked as he came up with a mischievous look.
She gave no answer, but rushed past him toward the gaiety. Kristie poured herself into spinning around the fire, caught up in her happiness. It was the night she gave herself permission to live like she never had. To exist in contentment. So she was disappointed when Creag suggested they return home.
“Nay, not yet.”
He looked around at the few people who remained and lifted his brows. “Most have gone to get their sleep so they may wake to drink the dew of the morning.”
“Very well,” she answered with a sigh and turned in the direction of home.
They walked in silence for some time, moving over the hills and dales in the moonlight.
Creag’s voice broke the quiet. “I want to thank ye for showing me kindness and taking me in. I know I was just an outsider to ye, but—”
She didn’t want to be reminded of his departure. “None of that. We need not speak of it. Ye were brought to us—to me.”
Kristie felt his eyes on her as they walked. He breathed out, “By who, then?”
He started laughing. “The fairies. Who else?”
She swatted his shoulder and said, “Are ye teasing me?”
Creag grinned at her. “Nay, it be a funny thing that ye go from hating me to thanking the fairies for delivering me on yer shore.”
“I never hated ye.”
To say that just because she didn’t dance about or treat him like a love-crazed lass was silly. She’d been cautious. There was nothing wrong with that. That was how you survived.
Kristie breathed out. “I should be the one thanking ye for all ye have done.”
She didn’t want to be talking about such serious things when her evening had been filled with playfulness and excitement. She slowed down, allowing Creag to continue on across the heather without realizing she’d disappeared from his side and hurried behind a birch tree.
Moments later, she heard his voice call, “Kristie? Where are ye?”
“The fairies have got me,” she whispered back.
She watched his darkened silhouette turn and walk her way. She held her breath as he got closer until he stopped only two strides away and turned his back to her. Kristie took her opportunity and leapt out, wrapping her arms around him as he had done to her earlier. Her exuberance knocked them both onto the ground.
Creag rolled over and growled, “Are ye a fairy or a beast?”
“Neither,” Kristie whispered, leaning her face closer to his.
His warm breath touched her lips as she lay on top of his body. Never in her life had she felt like she did in that moment. Pounding thundered through her chest and echoed in her ears while she stared into his dark eyes. She closed the gap between them, pressing her mouth to his.
Creag’s hands cupped her face, and when she stopped for air, he asked, “Are ye sure?”
She didn’t want her magical night to end. She knew her outsider would be gone from her life tomorrow, and she was willing to live in a fantasy for a taste of happiness, even if it would end by morning’s light. She stopped pushing her feelings for him away and accepted them for what they were. Love.
Kristie kissed him once more and lifted herself off him. She unbound her hair, letting her wavy locks fall over her shoulders, and she reached for her brooch. It didn’t take long to remove her plaid. She pulled one of the stems of gorse from her head and began to walk into the grove of birch. “Follow the blooms.”
She dropped one of the yellow flowers and smiled, then ran farther into the trees, listening for his footfalls behind her.
***
He didn’t understand what was happ
ening. It was as if he were in a dream, but nothing like the ones that had jarred him from his sleep. Nothing as mundane or traumatizing as memories from his past.
Creag stood up and watched her walk away from him. The pale cloth of her tunic caught the moonlight, though it was her long, flowing hair that took his notice. He wanted to discover if it was as soft as it appeared and whether it smelled of saltwater or perfumed flowers.
He knew by daybreak he would be gone, off to track down his brother—if he could with so little to go on. Although she knew this, too. He didn’t believe she had planned to ensnare him, but ensnared he was. He could still taste her lips on his, and he wanted more.
Creag rose to his feet, sensing a game at hand, and listened for her laughter. Yellow flowers trailed between the white birch trunks. He followed them through the grove until he found her plaid stretched out on the grass, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Kristie,” he whispered as he stepped onto the large, square tartan.
“Say it again,” a soft voice answered back. “I want to remember how ye say my name.”
“Kristie.”
He turned around, and there she was. She dropped her tunic onto the ground. Only a sheer white chemise covered her. The curves of her hips and breasts were revealed through the fabric, and he tried to swallow though his throat was dry. He could not imagine a more beautiful sight. The love in his heart expanded so much he thought it might suffocate him where he stood.
She closed the gap between them, and he found himself unsure. He may have had energy when it came to his games and teasing her. It was natural to him. But the intimacy of the moment left him uncertain. He had no memory or sense of experience when it came to women. And this woman was all he could think of.
Kristie stood before him, looking into his eyes. All coyness was lost from her expression, and shyness replaced it. She glanced down at her empty hands and muttered, “Maybe I am just a foolish old rook.”
“Nay,” he answered and shook his head. “Ye are the most bonnie, bonnie lass I have ever seen.”
She laughed and pressed her finger into his chest. “For a fellow who forgot his past and has seen no more than thirty females since who are not near swaddling nor the grave, I dinnae think much of that.”
He reached out to touch her exposed collarbone, and her eyes flickered shut in response. Creag whispered, “If I lost my wits again tomorrow, I could never forget yer beauty—the sparkle of yer eyes, the curve of yer lips when ye try to hold yer tongue. It would be like forgetting the sea or the sun.”
Kristie looked up at him. “And I could never forget ye—whoever ye truly are.”
Creag traced his fingers up her throat to her chin before lowering his lips to hers. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he couldn’t imagine anything more enticing than her kisses until he felt her hands begin to wrestle with his leather belt.
Before he could help her, she dropped it to the ground. She pulled at his plaid so that it finally tumbled over his shoulder and down his back, joining her dress and his belt in the grass. Kristie didn’t waste any time lifting his tunic over his head, but when it got tangled, Creag couldn’t help but chuckle. He took over and safely removed it, dropping it in a wadded pile.
He stood amongst the birch trees without a stitch of clothing. Kristie stared at him before touching his chest. The chill night air might have cooled him to the bone if it weren’t for the burning fire radiating from his torso throughout his body. Creag nuzzled his face against her neck and breathed in deeply. The sweat on her skin and the trace of a floral scent stirred in his lungs.
He pressed his hands against the base of her back. A thin layer of linen separated them, but not for long. Creag grabbed hold of the fabric and dragged it up her back. She raised her arms so he could remove her chemise.
He tried to swallow his nervous energy as he stared at her skin in the moonlight. If he could have remained there forever, it wouldn’t have been long enough to memorize the contours of her body or her glowing beauty. She took hold of his hand and led him to the plaid on the ground.
The fairies might have danced around the grove, or a storm could have raged, yet he wouldn’t have noticed. No thoughts of his departure remained in his mind. He was consumed by the touch of her hands guiding him to her.
Kristie was not a virgin. She had experience being with a man, though everything about Creag was different. The way he looked at her and treated her, the way he touched her and said her name, like it was the last and first time rolled into one.
She was confident she would likely never marry again. Loneliness would be worn upon her breast. She had accepted it. For this one night, she would know love and passion. She would let it kindle her soul until she was put to rest.
When Creag lowered onto her and they became one, a tear dropped from her cheek. He pressed his lips to her neck and trailed kisses down to her breast. She wrapped her legs around him to drive him deeper. A soft moan escaped his lips, which spurred her to lift her hips. A rhythm rolled through them both, constant as the tides of the sea.
It had been her duty as Duncan’s wife to lie with him in bed. It had never been a displeasure, but it was never as passionate as this. Never did his touch send her nerves reeling like Creag’s did. If a fire kindled between them both in that moment and they burned up in flames, she would die happy.
One of Creag’s hands cupped her thigh as the other supported the back of her head. He lifted her face to his, and their warm lips met in a hungry kiss. Their exploration of tender love continued in the moonlight, bending to their whims and needs.
Though she didn’t wish it to end, she couldn’t stop the shivers tracing up her back as Creag drove into her one final time. Her enjoyment peaked and she clung to his shoulders. He blinked down at her through heavy-lidded eyes, then raised his hand to brush his fingers over her hair.
“How can I leave ye?” he whispered.
“Because ye must. Kin above all else.”
She could see the conflict written upon his face, but she had already accepted their fate.
She murmured, “I will be fine. Really.”
“Once I find my brother, I can return to ye,” Creag said.
“How can ye promise a thing like that?” She wasn’t cross with him. She was simply stating things clearly. “Ye have no idea of yer obligations, or how far yer search will take ye.”
Creag lifted himself off her so she could sit up. A cool breeze wove through the birch trees, tousling her hair and chasing a chill across her pores. He retrieved their clothes, and they dressed in silence.
When they found their way back to the open hills, wrapped in their plaids and walking in silence, he took hold of her hand and interwove his fingers between hers.
“Ye are the strongest sort of woman. Stubborn as well,” he said with a melancholy smirk.
“Best accept it,” she answered.
“Can I ask a favor of ye?” He gave her hand a squeeze and glanced at her before saying, “I made something for Jock for my going away. Can I ask that ye give it to him?”
She returned his gaze and grinned. “I will, but ye best return my dirk, or I might have to take it from ye by force.”
He nodded quietly and stared out at the dark lines that formed the hills surrounding the loch. “I will be returning everything ye kindly lent to me.”
Kristie shook her head. “Excepting yer clothes, of course.”
Creag remained quiet and didn’t answer. “If ye could, I have one more thing to ask of ye.”
She considered telling him it depended, but held her retort. “Anything.”
He stopped and seemed to consider his words carefully. She stood waiting for him to speak, unsure what to expect.
“It may be a strange thing to ask of ye, but if ye ever see another seal on yer shore, would ye keep it safe from the likes of William or anyone else who hungers for its hide?”
Kristie was taken aback by the question. She couldn’t understand it a bit, but
just the same she answered, “I will, though I dinnae understand why.”
“Some things are not to be understood.”
It felt as if she was coming to the end of her waking dream. She knew reality would be there to greet her in the morning. She would have to go seek a fellow to hire to help them make their rent. Kristie would have to look to the harvest and bringing in a profit from their cattle. There was much to get done. With every step closer to the farm, her evening made of fantasy began to dim.
When they arrived on her field between the two homes, they stopped. She knew she couldn’t take another loss, another departure of someone important in her life. Goodbyes were too painful.
So she took a deep breath and faced him, taking his hands in hers and lifting them to her mouth. Kristie kissed his knuckles and whispered into them, not being able to look up into his gray eyes. “Best not say farewell.”
Creag lowered his head, and his warm breath grazed her brow. “If I were ever to come back—”
“I would welcome ye into the home ye built with these two hands,” she whispered.
He slipped out of her hold and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her head against his chest. Kristie pinched her eyes shut while his heartbeat echoed in her ear. She tried to absorb every bit of enjoyment it gave her to be held in such a warm embrace. She could have stood there until morning broke, but someone had to be strong enough walk away.
Tears traced down her face as she breathed in his scent once more. It reminded her of the salty ocean breeze coming off the coast in the morning light. She clenched her teeth and pushed away from him and ran blindly back to their new home—a place that would forever remind her of the outsider who changed her life.
Chapter 13
The sea air burned in his throat like it had never done before. He stared out at the dark shapes of the trees and land that surrounded the long, shiny loch, the instrument of his pain. He could not remain in good conscience, nor could he leave without mourning what he was turning away from.
Outsider (Time of Myths: Shapeshifter Sagas Book 4) Page 14