The Highlander's Vow (Loch Moigh #4)

by Barbara Longley

  “Go change, Sky.” Struan released her and set their bags on the narrow planks edging the water. “I’ll wait.” He took off his shirt.

  She would go into a stall to remove her outer garments, if she could only tear her eyes from him. He had a fine dusting of dark-blond hair on his sculpted chest, which narrowed into a path leading down to the waistband of his shorts. She had to force herself not to reach out and touch.

  She raised her eyes and found him watching her intently. Did he stand a little straighter and flex his muscles for her benefit? He did! Their gazes met and held, and the ability to think deserted her.

  “You plan to stand there ogling me all morning?” His gaze smoldered into hers.

  “Well . . . I . . .” She frowned. She’d never before heard the word ogling, but ’twas clear enough what he meant. He’d caught her staring at his very fine form. Lifting her chin, she turned on her heel and strode to the nearest stall, pulling the curtain shut behind her. Holding her palms to her flaming cheeks, she realized she’d forgotten her bag.

  “Do you need anything in this tote, princess?” Struan called out smugly.

  “No,” she snapped. But she did. She wanted the long T-shirt to wear over her suit. She bit her lip. If he could stand half-naked before her, surely she could walk out of the tiny stall in her swimming garment to fetch the T-shirt. Grumbling under her breath, she toed off her sneakers and slid out of her jeans, setting them on the wooden bench before lifting her blouse off over her head.

  Not since she’d been a bairn, splashing about in Loch Moigh with her siblings, had she exposed herself so to anyone. Damnation, she was a MacKintosh. Straightening her posture, she swatted the curtain aside and forced herself to walk as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Still, she couldn’t look Struan’s way, nor could she hide the color filling her cheeks.

  His sudden intake of breath drew her attention. His eyes darkened, and his mouth opened slightly as if he meant to say something but forgot how to form the words. He stared, his gaze roaming slowly over her from head to toe. Sky moved to her bag, pulled out the white T-shirt with a sports logo printed across the front and tugged it over her head.

  “Hey, that’s mine,” he rasped out.

  “So? Lindsay said you left it behind. She gave it to me to use as a cover-up.”

  He grinned wolfishly. “It won’t help.”

  “I dinna ken what you mean. Are we going to bathe in the pool, or do you plan on ogling me all morning?”

  “I plan to get into the pool and ogle you simultaneously. The water is crystal clear, and I’m an oddity, a rare species of multitasking male.”

  Laughter burst forth, and her embarrassment evaporated. For certes, she planned to do the very same—look her fill and soak in the mineral water.

  Struan climbed down one of the rickety ladders into the pool. “Should you slip and fall as you enter, I’ll be right here to catch you, my lady.” He flashed her a boyish grin.

  Her pulse raced. Was he inviting her to fall into his arms? “Such chivalry,” she muttered. For all her thoughts of seducing Struan, she lacked the courage, or mayhap the skill. The importance of her virtue and rank had been hammered into her since she’d been a bairn, after all.

  Carefully, she stepped on the first rung of the ladder and descended into the hot water. At the bottom rung, she pushed herself off to float on her back. “Och, ’tis like bathwater.” The occasional bubble rose from the stones beneath to tickle her backside.

  Struan swam to her and stretched out to float by her side. “Relaxing, isn’t it? Just what I need for my aching muscles.”

  “I have noticed you’ve been at the lists every day. What compels you so? There is no need, since you will no’ be returning to the past with me and the McGladreys.”

  “I’m competitive. I want to be in better shape once Connor returns.” He grunted. “I can’t stand the idea that a man in his fifties beat me so easily. My da would never have let me hear the end of such a defeat.”

  He’d given her the perfect opening. “Tell me about your sire. Did you have siblings?”

  “My da was a good man and strong. We were close.” His voice wavered a bit. “I had two half brothers and a half sister. I never knew my mother. She died in childbirth with me.”

  “I am sorry you lost your mother, Struan.” Sky stopped floating and turned toward him whilst treading water. “Who was your sire to the Sutherlands? I only ask because, as I mentioned before, you resemble the earl of Sutherland who is kin to me most remarkably, and his brothers as well. If you were to stand amongst the Sutherlands of my time, anyone who saw you together would believe you to be another brother.”

  “What difference does it make who my father was, or my half siblings for that matter?” he snapped. “They’re all long gone, and who I am today has nothing to do with them.”

  She’d touched upon an open wound, and her heart turned over at the roiling emotions emanating from him. Her curiosity only grew stronger at his refusal to open up to her. What was it in his past that still plagued him so? “Talking about your kin might ease the ache. I sense a deep hurt within you whenever I bring them up. Mayhap—”

  “Let it be, princess.” He came toward her, and she soon found herself buoyed in his arms. “What do you think of the hot spring?”

  “Very relaxing. Pleasant.” She searched his face, looking for some clue as to why he hid his past from her. He didn’t trust her, and that hurt.

  He kissed her lightly. “Let the past stay in the past. You’re with me in the here and now. Can’t we just relax and have a good time?” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’m even willing to help you do just that.”

  “How so?” Best not press him. Mayhap at some point, he’d trust her enough to share his troubled past with her.

  “Like this.” He kissed her again, this time teasing her lower lip with his teeth. She sighed, mingling her breath with his. Tentatively, she touched her tongue to the seam of his mouth. He groaned, slanted her head and accepted her invitation, plunging his tongue in to tangle with hers. The evidence of his desire pressed against her belly, and need spiraled through her.

  “You don’t need the T-shirt,” he whispered. “Now that it’s wet, I can see right through it anyway.”

  She backed out of his arms and looked down. The fabric clung to her, and the cotton did little in the way of covering her. He chuckled deep in his throat, sending shivers down her spine.

  “Here, let me help.” Struan reached below the surface of the water and tugged the sodden fabric up. Sky raised her arms. He lifted the T-shirt over her head and tossed it to the ledge surrounding the pool, where it landed with a resounding splat. Then he pulled her close again. “Do you have any idea how breathtakingly beautiful you are?”

  She shook her head. All she could do was stare at him, losing herself in the deep blue of his eyes. She studied his face, taking note of the darker blond stubble covering his cheeks and chin. Her perusal came to rest on his generous mouth.

  “I’m having trouble treading water while wanting to kiss you like I do.” He kicked harder, propelling them toward one of the many ladders. “Let’s get out and dangle our feet in the pool.”

  “If you wish,” she managed to reply.

  “I do wish,” he said, his voice hoarse. He placed her on the lowest rung of the ladder and followed her up.

  As soon as they were out of the pool, Struan settled himself on the wooden slats and tugged her down beside him. Once again he held her close and his mouth sought hers, and she melted against him. His hand rose along her waist, brushing the bottom of her breast. A riot of sensual pleasure exploded within her, shooting downward toward the apex of her thighs.

  Struan broke the kiss to peer intently at her. “What will you do if you can’t get back, Sky?”

  “I . . .” She cleared her throat, attempting to eliminate the quaver in her voice. “I will get back.”

  “But if you can’t,” he said, his mouth a heartbeat away from hers, “stay
here. Stay in Gordon Hollow with me.” He kissed her again, his tongue sliding around hers before he pulled back again. “Obviously there’s something between us. If you stayed, we could get to know each other better and see where it leads, aye?”

  Reading the hope and vulnerability in his request nearly broke her heart. She forced herself to move away from him and struggled to regain control over her passion. “I canna stay, Struan. I have a responsibility, an obligation to protect my family. How could I live with myself if my disappearance should lead to their demise?” She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “I wish things were different, but I must get back to my time. I have to at least attempt to avert disaster. What . . . what if Oliver forces my younger sister to become his ill-fated bride in my stead? She’s already there in his keep. ’Twould be all too easy to force my father’s compliance.”

  “Humph. Have you so little confidence in your father that you think him unable to defend his family without your help? You said yourself your ma and siblings sometimes have visions when your clan is in danger. Think you they have not already been warned?”

  None of those possibilities had occurred to her, but even so, what if the Erskines imprisoned them whilst they were still at Kildrummy? What good would visions or fae abilities do her family then? “’Tis no’ enough. So much could happen. If they’re still with the Erskines, far from home and separated from our allies, they are vulnerable. How will visions help if they’re already being held deep in the pit of our enemy’s keep?”

  Struan growled and raked his fingers through his damp hair. “OK, let’s say you aren’t able to find an open passage through time on your trip to Scotland. Then what? Do you plan to spend decades trying to get back? Will you waste the rest of your life in pursuit of that goal until you’re old and gray?” His gaze bored into hers. “Fate brought you here, princess. Chances are good you’ll remain here—that you’re meant to live out the rest of your life in this era. Have you thought of that?”

  “Nay, Struan.” She shook her head. ’Twas no’ fate that brought me here.”

  “We’re going to have to agree to disagree on that point.” He reached for her hand, gripping it tightly in his. “If it would put your mind at ease, we can research what became of your kin. Your sire is an earl. Surely we’ll find plenty written about him and your family.”

  She shook her head again, and a tear slid down her cheek. “You dinna understand.”

  “Nay. ’Tis you who dinna understand,” he snapped. “You refuse to see the obvious.” He let go of her hand and shot up. Stomping over to where their bags sat upon the planks, he grabbed them both. “Let’s change and go have breakfast. I’m starving.”

  He dropped her bag beside her and disappeared into one of the changing stalls. Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, Sky stared after him. Their morning together was ruined, and all the good feelings she’d held but a few moments ago were caught in an impasse between them.

  Images flashed through her mind, her dear sister, gaunt, thirsting, being starved to death in the Erskines’ dungeon. Her mother, in much the same state, weeping over the murder of her beloved husband. Though they weren’t visions, they were possibilities. She kent well enough what could happen, and she had to intervene.

  Struan couldn’t understand the ties that bound her. Despite what he believed, she had no choice but to return.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Triumph flared as Struan drove Connor McGladrey back with yet another series of offensive blows. Inch by inch he gained ground against his nemesis. Connor grunted with effort, and sweat dripped down his face. Struan smirked. He’d finally reached the point where he’d forced Connor to break a sweat and retreat. He let loose a raucous laugh.

  “Enough,” Connor cried, dropping the tip of his sword into the hard-packed clay of the Gordons’ lists. “Well done, laddie. You gave this old man a grand workout. You’ve come far since that first time we trained together.”

  “Thank you.” Struan bowed slightly. The McGladreys had returned to Gordon Hollow three weeks ago, the same day Sky’s picture ID had arrived in the mail. Since their return, Struan had spent all his spare time running, training and improving his skill. Grinding, but well worth the effort if for no other reason than to be able to claim a single victory over the master swordsman panting before him.

  His respect for Connor had grown. Not only was the older man excellent at training, but Connor also proved himself to be fair, honorable and even humorous at times. “I’m grateful to you for teaching me a few new tricks,” Struan conceded. Lucky for him, the animosity he’d suffered at the hands of his stepbrothers had forced him to become a fast learner. His skill had improved by leaps and bounds under Connor’s brutal tutelage.

  He waved toward Gene and Marjorie’s house. “Let’s go have some breakfast. Trouncing you has given me an appetite, and Lindsay said she’s trying out a new recipe for baked French toast this morning. She wants taste testers.” He lifted his nose into the air and sniffed. “Mmm. I can smell it from here.”

  “You just want to strut about the kitchen and crow over your victory,” Connor teased, wiping the sweat from his eyes with his shirt sleeve.

  “That’s definitely a perk.” Struan grinned. Sky sometimes watched him work out. Hopefully, she’d witnessed today’s performance.

  “Have you given any thought to coming with us to Scotland, laddie?”

  And . . . here it is. His gut twisted. As he’d expected, Connor meant to pressure him into turning hero and joining them on their mission. “I’ve thought of nothing else.”

  “The odds of being able to travel to and from are in our favor, what with the map of portals Katherine and I have made. And don’t forget, the MacKintosh have ties with the fae, especially to Áine. Sky says Áine has her own cottage near baron DúnConnell’s keep, and she’s a frequent visitor to our son-in-law’s hall. I’m confident she’ll aid us if need be.”

  Struan replied with a grunt of skepticism. “I want to read some of the histories you’ve gathered about folks disappearing and reappearing, especially those you collected about Scotland.” Going back and forth through time couldn’t be as easy as Connor wished to believe. Struan started out for the back patio doors, and Connor took up a position beside him.

  “All right. I’ll give them to you today. I could use another sword arm by my side, laddie. We don’t know what we’ll be facing once we reach the past, especially if we use the same portal in Scotland where Sky came through.”

  “Sure enough you’ll be facing more peril than you bargained for,” Struan grumbled. “That’s just the way things were back then, and it makes no difference where you land. It’s foolhardy to even attempt such a thing.” He stopped walking. “What if you end up in the middle of a village market? Suddenly popping out of thin air is a sure way to be seen as a demon from hell. I see stakes and a large bonfire in your future.”

  “According to our research—”

  “Damn your research,” he bit out. “The only thing you can count on is a total lack of control over anything that happens once you step through that accursed wavering light show. You should be helping me talk Sky into staying where she is, not encouraging her to place herself in the hands of her enemy. Keeping her here is the best way to protect her.”

  “I’m disappointed, laddie,” Connor told him.

  “It’s not about you.” Struan glared. “I care about Sky, and going back to 1443 is not in her best interest.” He did care about her, and unfortunately for him, the more time he spent with her, the deeper his feelings ran, making his decision all the more difficult. Plus, the more he felt for her, the more he wanted her. Which made no sense at all, since what drew him to her was also what drove him batty.

  Her loyalty to her clan and kin, the way she loved her family unconditionally—despite the fact they’d bartered her off to a black-hearted scumbag—her obstinacy, wit, quiet strength, even her willingness to sacrifice her own safety for the sake
of others. The very qualities that had her stubbornly refusing to see the futility of her insane plan were the characteristics that called to him the most.

  She embodied everything he’d ever hoped for in a woman, and letting her go would tear him apart. Yep. His desperation and indecision increased tenfold each day they waited for Sky’s passport to arrive.

  Struan started walking again. He wasn’t about to tell Connor or Sky that he’d already done the research on her kin. The outcome of the feud that had indeed ensued between the Erskines and the MacKintosh clan was not good. A lot of blood was spilled, and innocent lives were lost. But Sky’s return wouldn’t guarantee things would turn out any better.

  All the accounts he’d read dealt mostly with the earls and the men on either side who’d lost their lives. At least he knew the earl of Mar had been stripped of his title and evicted from Kildrummy. Unfortunately, too many common folk had lost their homes as well. Still, the best part was learning that Sky’s betrothed hadn’t survived.

  Though he’d searched, Struan hadn’t been able to find a single word written about Sky, and he didn’t know what to make of that. Barely a line had been added alluding to the fact that it had been a second broken betrothal contract on the part of the MacKintosh that had caused the clash.

  Struan suffered a spasm of guilt over yet another sin of omission against the woman who had laid siege to his heart. He shook it off. After all, Connor might have already done his own look-see through the history books, and nothing was stopping Sky from doing the same if she wished. It wasn’t like he’d hidden all the computers and purposefully kept anything from her.

  “You say you’ve thought of nothing else,” Connor said, bringing Struan out of his own thoughts. “Am I correct in assuming you have not yet reached a decision?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, heroism is like driving in the fast lane to an early grave, and I have no wish to exceed that particular speed limit,” he muttered under his breath. They’d reached the patio doors, and the wonderful scent of bacon and egg-rich cinnamon French toast had his taste buds standing at attention. He and Connor set their weapons against the wall.