Loving the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  Sadie straightened her shoulders. “It was my fault. I walked away without even thinking about my stuff.”

  He raised a finger to her cheek and brushed a strand of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

  “We didn’t get off to a very good start, did we, lass?”

  Sadie balled her left hand into a fist and shoved it into her pocket, determined not to run her own finger over his cheek.

  Lord, she was attracted to this man, and it had nothing to do with having seen every naked inch of him four days ago.

  Well, maybe that had a little bit to do with it. But it was more than this unfamiliar stirring of lust she was feeling right now as she stared up into his warm, mesmerizing forest-green eyes. It was the warmth of his touch, the way he held her gloved hand as if it were a perfectly normal act, the way he looked at her, smiled at her, and made her feel…well…special.

  “The start of what?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said we didn’t get off to a very good start. The start of what?”

  He tugged her forward, pulling her off balance toward him, and released her to wrap both of his arms around her. He hugged her to him tightly, and his chest heaved with another deep sigh.

  “The start of a cautious but important friendship,” he whispered over her head, his arms tightening around her.

  Sadie wanted to bury her face in his shirt and weep.

  Friendship.

  Dammit. She was lusting after his body, standing in his arms in the middle of the moonlit road, foolishly hoping that he had been talking about starting a flaming affair.

  And he was offering her friendship.

  Sadie pulled away with a jerk. She shot him a good glare to let him know what she thought of his offer, then turned and started walking toward home again.

  Morgan quietly fell into step beside his obviously angry date, not knowing whether to be amused or angry himself.

  He did know he was damned frustrated. He wanted the woman with a fierceness that was almost painful. There was nothing casual about his feelings for Mercedes. He didn’t just want to bed her, he wanted to possess her, to capture and hold on to that powerful energy he felt whenever she was close.

  He rubbed the softly humming burl on his chest again as he walked along the dark road, keeping pace with the silent woman beside him. If he were a gentleman, he would not be starting anything with her tonight but ending things by taking her to her door, politely saying good night, and walking away and never seeing her again.

  Aye, that is what he should do.

  If he were a gentleman.

  By the time they reached Sadie’s front porch, she was dreading the sympathy kiss on the cheek Morgan likely would give her and his wan smile and false declaration that he’d had a nice time tonight, that maybe they’d see each other around sometime soon.

  Well, not this time. And not with this man.

  Sadie had actually had a wonderful evening. Morgan MacKeage had been a nearly perfect date—attentive, considerate, amusing, and entertaining. He had danced like Fred Astaire and made her feel like Ginger Rogers. Heck, even the near brawl on the dance floor had been invigorating.

  She didn’t want a peck. Not from a guy who could probably lay a kiss on a girl that would blow her socks off.

  And she was not going to let this man ruin the first truly wonderful date she’d ever had, because she was not going to let him kiss her at all.

  But before Sadie could complete her thought, one of Morgan’s large hands came around the back of her neck and slowly drew her closer. With his other hand, Morgan lifted her face toward his. “I’ve been wondering if you taste as good as you look,” he whispered just before he touched his lips to hers.

  Sadie stopped breathing as he completely engulfed her in his embrace, tightening his hand on her hair, wrapping his arm around her back with fierce intent. He canted her head and deepened the kiss, urging her mouth open, sweeping his tongue inside.

  Sadie was so overwhelmed she completely lost all train of thought save one: she didn’t want him to stop.

  Because her arms were being held at her sides, she could only move her hands to grip the back of his waist. And, glory of glories, she actually had to stand on tiptoe to kiss him back.

  The guy rumbled an earthy, approving growl at her tentative action and tightened his hold on her, taking her breath away again. Their tongues introduced themselves, forgoing the pleasantries and getting immediately down to business. Sadie kneaded her fingers into his back, wondering if she might simply crawl into his skin beside him.

  He broke the contact suddenly and tilted her head to expose her neck. Sadie whimpered the moment his mouth touched her throat.

  Light flashed in the back of her eyes, and she wiggled her arms free to reach up and grab his shoulders. He lifted her then, bringing her feet completely off the ground, and stepped forward until her back was pressed against the side of the house. He moved even closer, nestling himself between her thighs.

  With only the fleeting worry that she might burst into flames, Sadie wrapped her legs around his waist and welcomed the storm brewing deep inside the pit of her stomach.

  His mouth trailed a path of fire down her throat, to the opening of her blouse. His teeth rasped against her skin briefly, and then a button popped. Sadie felt his hot mouth touching the sensitive skin at the base of her throat.

  “Morgan,” she whispered, closing her eyes, letting her head fall back against the house. She pulled at his hair, tugging it free of its ponytail, running her fingers through the length of it. She finally gave in to the urge she’d had all evening and fingered one of the small, thin braids that now ran loose down the sides of his face.

  He lifted his head and stared at her, then took possession of her mouth again, just as deeply and far more intimately than before. The vision of evergreen eyes swam through Sadie’s dizzily reeling mind.

  Her hands trembled with building passion as she held Morgan to herself, savoring his taste. Their tongues sparred. Their lips molded together. And their pounding hearts beat against each other.

  He tore his mouth free, taking a shuddering breath that rocked her like a small earthquake, and blew it out harshly as he rested his forehead on hers.

  “Two choices, Mercedes. We make love right now, right here on this porch, or you run like hell into your house and lock the door.”

  He thrust his hips forward, forcefully, backing up his ultimatum with hard, blatant evidence that clearly said which choice he preferred.

  Heat scorched her cheeks, and Sadie couldn’t decide if it was radiating from him or from inside herself, as she realized just how close she was to committing emotional suicide.

  And just how much she wanted to.

  She immediately reversed her grip on his shoulders and pushed at him frantically as she unwrapped her legs from around his waist and dropped her feet to the porch. She pushed him again when he continued to hold her tightly, staring down at her with a look that said he wanted to take the choice out of her hands.

  He suddenly let go, dropped his arms to his sides, and took a step back.

  Sadie shivered. With his hair loose and tangled in waves, his face harsh from lust denied, and his dark eyes unreadable, her date had lost his mask of civility.

  He was that same madman again who had chased her through the woods four days ago.

  And she suddenly felt just as vulnerable as she had then.

  Sadie spun around and groped for the knob, twisting it violently and throwing her weight against the door until it opened and she could run inside and slam it shut behind her. And, as he had so kindly suggested, she threw home the bolt with a desperate twist and backed away into the safety of the kitchen shadows.

  She stood there in the dark, breathing heavily, listening for his footsteps on the porch stairs. They were five minutes in coming, and in that time every touch, every sensation, every emotion his kiss had evoked ran through her head like sparks of energy gathering stre
ngth. Sadie touched her trembling fingers to her lips and shivered again.

  Holy heck. That had been one hell of a sympathy kiss.

  But it wasn’t until she was lying in bed later that night, stark naked because every inch of her skin was super-sensitive, her heart still pounding in her chest and her mind still reeling with confused emotions, that Sadie realized Morgan MacKeage hadn’t simply kissed her socks off—he’d blown them clean past the summit of Fraser Mountain.

  Chapter Nine

  It had taken Sadie most of the morning to wiggle gently out of her mother’s clutches. Charlotte had wanted to know how Sadie could have lost one of her shoes, why Morgan’s jacket had been found crumpled in a ball on the kitchen floor, and what she thought of her date last night.

  Sadie still couldn’t believe the lame excuses and raving praises she’d come up with to appease her mother.

  She was glad she’d made Eric open his store early this morning, so she could pick up her new GPS and cell phone, backpack and supplies, as well as a new, overpriced camera.

  Now she was finally back at her cabin. She was going to miss Ping, though. She had left the cat at her mother’s house, afraid the wolf might return and decide Ping would make a tasty lunch. No matter what the priest had said, she wasn’t trusting Faol with her pet.

  Sadie opened her cabin door and set her new backpack and supplies on the table. She walked over to the model of the park and studied the eastern mountain range.

  Morgan MacKeage had built his house halfway up Fraser Mountain, he’d told her last night. He owned a good chunk of land there that ran all the way down to Prospect River.

  Which meant he owned the southeastern corner of the proposed wilderness park.

  Sadie pulled out the map she’d been given the day she took this job. She spread it on top of the model and studied it again. The boundary of the park, traced in bright green marker, definitely included the western slope of Fraser Mountain. It was nearly five thousand acres—a small part of the park but a very important part. The south access road would be going across the MacKeage land, bringing people in through Pine Creek.

  Sadie suddenly straightened from looking at the map, pushed her hair behind her ears, and listened. She heard it again, a gentle, barely audible woof.

  She closed her eyes and dropped her head. Damn. She’d been hoping that damn wolf would be gone by now. Had he been hanging around for three whole days, waiting for her to return?

  And now he wanted her to come out and say hello?

  Sadie moved to the window and peeked out. And there he was, sitting just on the edge of the forest, staring at the cabin. With a gasp, Sadie ran to the door and threw it open.

  He was holding her old backpack his mouth.

  The one she’d lost.

  And it looked to be full.

  Faol stood up and took several steps forward, his tail wagging. Sadie slowly walked down the steps and stopped a good ten paces from the wolf when he let out another muffled woof.

  “What have you got there, big boy?” she asked. “Where did you find that?”

  He took a step closer to her, giving a soft whine.

  Sadie took a step back.

  Faol immediately sat down and gently laid the pack on the ground at his feet. He lifted his head, and this time his bark was stronger, almost demanding.

  Not for all of Plum’s gold would Sadie move an inch closer to the huge, powerful-looking animal. She was not bending down to take her pack, putting her face mere inches from Faol’s teeth.

  He wagged his tail as he sat there staring at her, sending a cloud of dust wafting into the air. He whined again, stood up, and took several steps back.

  Keeping ten paces between them, Sadie moved forward, matching his retreat. But he stopped suddenly, only a few feet from the pack.

  She darted a look at her pack and almost cried with relief when she saw the camera lens peeking past the zipper. Sadie looked back at the wolf. His tongue was lolling out the side of his mouth, his eyes—a crisp, iridescent green—round and sharply focused as he softly whined again, darting his own look from her to the pack, then back at her.

  Sadie took another cautious step forward, then waited, watching him. He lifted a paw and started to lick it clean.

  She took another step forward.

  He yawned, then walked his front legs forward until he was lying down, for all the world looking as if he couldn’t care less that she was there.

  Two more cautious steps, then Sadie used her toe to hook the strap on her pack and slowly pull it toward her.

  Faol laid his head on his paws.

  The pack now on the ground at her own feet, Sadie bent her knees and blindly felt for the strap, grabbing it and then slowly straightening. With her back to the cabin and her eyes trained on the still reclined wolf, Sadie retreated until she felt the porch touch her thighs. Then, keeping one guarded eye on her visitor, she sat down, opened the zipper, and looked inside.

  The wolf completely forgotten, Sadie stared at the contents of the pack. She lifted her father’s camera out, then dumped the rest onto the porch.

  It was all there: GPS, cell phone, surveyor’s ribbon, knife, water bottle, even the shredded duct tape she’d been bound with.

  Everything. All there.

  And all dry.

  Sadie looked over at Faol. He was sitting up now, staring at her, his tongue lolling out again, his eyes unblinking, and his head cocked as if he were expecting her to speak to him.

  And say what? Thank you for returning my things, wolf?

  Sadie hugged her father’s camera to her chest and laughed out loud. She was going nuts, and she didn’t care.

  “Thank you, big boy,” she said, waving the camera at him. “I don’t know where you found this stuff or how you knew to bring it here, but thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  She wiped at the unexpected tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes. Her daddy’s camera. She had it back.

  Sadie went into the cabin and rummaged around in her supplies on the table. She found the bag of beef jerky she’d bought from Eric this morning, tore it open, and grabbed a handful of the dried meat. She headed back outdoors and down the steps toward the wolf.

  “This might go against everything I believe about feeding wild animals, you big, beautiful wolf, but I’ve never met anyone who deserves a reward as much as you do. Here,” she said, tossing the beef onto the ground in front of him. “I promise there’ll be more where that came from. Next trip into town, I’m buying you the biggest bag on the shelf.”

  Faol sniffed the food at his feet but didn’t actually touch it. He lifted his head and looked at her.

  “Hey. That’s not the cheap stuff,” Sadie told him. “That’s prime beef.”

  He suddenly raised his nose into the air and gave a long, plaintive howl before he turned and trotted away, disappearing into the forest.

  Shivers ran down Sadie’s spine as the last echo of the haunting cry faded into the air around her. She stared at the spot where Faol had disappeared. He couldn’t have known the pack belonged to her. He was just an animal who had found something in the woods and brought it here, the same way Ping brought hunting trophies to Sadie to show off.

  That must be it. Faol didn’t like the food because it carried a human scent. And he had just found the pack, and because it had her scent on it, he had brought it here.

  Yeah. That was a perfectly logical explanation.

  Morgan forced more power to his tired muscles and pushed his overheated body through the calm waters of the cold lake. He was on his second trip across the lake, and still he couldn’t seem to outswim the emotions driving his thoughts.

  Mercedes Quill. She was responsible for his mood this evening. He’d spent the entire day thinking about her. It didn’t seem to matter that she was independent, prickly sometimes to the point of rudeness, and determined to open this valley to hordes of people who needed wilderness parks in order to play at primitive living.

  Merced
es was beautiful.

  Intelligent in a most challenging way.

  He’d walked off her porch last night frustrated to the point of pain and decided on the point that he would have her—on whatever terms it took, by whatever means he could find.

  Mercedes Quill was his. Morgan had declared that she belonged to him in the late hours of last night as he’d stood in the mist-shrouded moonlight overlooking the waterfall. He’d told God, the forest, and anyone who could hear him that the blue-eyed woman who walked this valley was his.

  Morgan pulled himself onto the boulder in the middle of the cove and let the setting sun wash over his body. He wrapped his fist around the cherrywood burl hanging from his neck and watched the sky dance in a brilliant display of colors that arced from soft blue to a warm, vibrant red.

  And somewhere in the middle he saw Mercedes.

  Aye. After last night on the porch, aroused by his kisses, her eyes had been the same deep blue of tonight’s sky. And Morgan made another vow then, that he would see that same color again, fired by the passion of their lovemaking.

  But first he must find a way to explain to Mercedes that when she had walked into his valley and planted her first ribbon, she’d entered the world of an ancient and possessive man.

  A world she would never be leaving again.

  A gentle bark carried over the water toward him. Morgan turned in the direction of the sound and saw Faol standing on the shore of the lake, staring at him.

  “Go away, you accursed beast,” Morgan said, turning his back on the wolf. “I’m not in the mood for your company.”

  Faol barked again, louder this time, more urgently.

  Morgan dove into the water, swimming back across the lake, away from the wolf. His stroke less rushed, his breathing barely labored, he thought again of the drùidh’s vision and the blackness that had swarmed through the valley, chasing the yellow light.

  He couldn’t tell Mercedes that she was in danger, because he couldn’t explain to her how he knew such a thing. Nor could he let her discover his gorge. The woman was too intelligent, too curious, and too knowledgeable about this forest not to realize that something more than just the fickleness of nature was at work here. And she was too modern to comprehend that the magic of an aging drùidh was responsible.