Loving the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  So, without thinking, she took another drink of her wine.

  Tears immediately came to her eyes, and her throat closed up in defense of the powerful taste. It was all she could do not to break into a fit of coughing.

  The man beside her chuckled again and set down his mug so that he could take her right hand in both of his. Ignoring her tug to get free, he turned her hand palm-up and traced a finger lightly over her scars.

  “Will you tell me about the fire?” he asked, his voice soft and low-timbered, sending a shiver down Sadie’s spine.

  “No.”

  “About your sister, then. And your da.”

  “No.”

  He laughed softly and let go of her hand. He lifted his sword off her lap, set it on the ground beside him, and reached over to take her mug of terrible wine and set it beside his sword. And then he grabbed her by the waist and picked her up. In the blink of an eye, Sadie found herself straddling his thighs, her eyes level with his.

  She stopped breathing again.

  “Then, if you’re not in the mood for conversation, what should we do with the rest of our evening, lass?”

  With all the hormones in her body suddenly zinging around like sparks from a wildfire, Sadie pondered her options. She was all alone in the woods with a very handsome man, miles from nowhere with nothing to disturb them, and it might be nice to feel that tingling sensation deep in her chest again.

  “I’m not asking you to solve the world’s problems,” he said through a grin, giving her a squeeze. “I’m only looking for suggestions on how to occupy our time.”

  We could kiss until the cows come home, she thought.

  She truly did love the taste of Morgan MacKeage. She liked the way he smelled, the way he felt, and the way he made all five of her senses come alive.

  But she just couldn’t work up the nerve to start something that would end with her taking off her clothes.

  Morgan answered his own question, not with words but with action. He cupped the sides of her face and pulled Sadie into his kiss, canting her head to access her mouth fully.

  Her resistance faltered under the siege of his sensual, enticing lips. His hands sent shivers down her spine as they wrapped around her back and pulled her against his solid body.

  Sadie quit fighting—both Morgan and herself. She trailed her mouth over his jaw, tracing the edge of his beard with her lips. She felt his groan rumble through every inch of her own trembling body, felt his muscles tense, heard his indrawn breath.

  She dropped her hands to his shoulders, then his chest, digging her fingers into his shirt. She groaned this time, as she followed her fingers with her mouth, kissing his neck and throat. She worked at the buttons of his shirt. One came open. The next one popped off. And God bless the rest, they retreated without a fight.

  Sadie pushed his shirt aside and caught her breath again. He was magnificent. Better than she remembered.

  He still wore that strange-looking object around his neck, dangling from a leather cord over his breast bone. It looked to be made of sandstone or wood, swirling lines that appeared to be in constant motion.

  An illusion of the disappearing sun.

  Or her own emotions, maybe.

  “Why couldn’t you have been a dork?” Sadie asked with a sigh of resignation.

  He pulled back and looked at her though narrowed eyes. “What is a dork?”

  Sadie gave him a slow, warm grin. “It’s a term of endearment,” she whispered, curling her fingers into the mat of hair on his chest. “One that fits you better than that sword you carry around like some medieval warrior.”

  So quickly that she didn’t even have time to scream, Sadie found herself flat on her back on the ground, one very unamused male lying on top of her.

  “Don’t throw my words back at me, Mercedes.”

  Pleased to have her brain back in charge of her hormones, Sadie gave him a huge, satisfyingly smug smile.

  Morgan did not respond. He had gone suddenly tense, his face raised to the sky, his head cocked to the side as if he were listening for something.

  “Do you hear that?” he whispered.

  Sadie held her breath and listened, too. And she heard what he had, far off in the distance, the low rumble of an approaching storm.

  “That’s thunder,” she said, turning her head to the western sky. “The front’s moving in.” She looked back at him and smiled. “We’re in for a good soaking, judging by the heaviness of the air. Did you bring a tent?”

  He still wasn’t listening to her. He released her so suddenly, and scrambled off so quickly, that Sadie couldn’t stifle a grunt of surprise. He stood over her, facing west, his hands clenched into fists and his entire countenance as fierce and foreboding as the churning sky.

  Sadie scrambled to her own feet and took hold of his sleeve. “It’s just a thunderstorm, Morgan. A cold front is moving down from Canada tonight, washing away the humidity.”

  He shrugged her off and took several steps back. Sadie could only stare at him. This great big bear of a man was afraid of thunderstorms? Lightning flashed on the other side of the valley, and she saw Morgan flinch violently.

  She also saw his expression clearly for that one brief moment. Tightly controlled, stone-cold terror was etched into every line of his face.

  “Morgan,” she said, moving toward him again.

  He took another step back, holding up his hands to stop her advance. “Don’t come near me, Mercedes,” he said, his voice harsh with warning.

  Lightning struck high on a mountain across the valley, sending a wave of rumbling thunder toward them. Another flash, farther north, then another, the strikes echoing like cannons along the length of the river. A west wind kicked up, pushed ahead of the arriving storm, sending a flurry of leaves into the air around them. The rain arrived with surprising force, beating more leaves from the trees and adding to the chaos.

  Morgan suddenly pivoted on his heel, strode to his canoe, and picked up his sword. Sadie ran after him.

  He whirled back toward her. “Falbh!”

  She stopped on the spot at the sight of that sword pointed at her.

  “Begone!” he shouted, waving his weapon toward the woods. “Go back to your camp.”

  She could only stare at him in shock and confusion. He suddenly slid his sword back into its sheath and settled it over his shoulders onto his back. Lightning flashed again, closer this time, sending the smell of ozone through the air as thunder shook the ground with resonating force.

  Sadie blinked against the brightness of the lightning and the driving rain, then blinked again when she realized she was staring at nothing.

  Morgan MacKeage was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Daar paced the length of his cabin porch, then stopped suddenly to frown at the darkening sky. Lightning flashed in the distance, creating a halo over the mountains to the west.

  Another storm was visiting the valley.

  There was something happening here, more than just Morgan and Mercedes’ conflict over a park being built. For eighty years the balance of good and evil in the valley had been uneven, since the death of Jedediah Plum. The restless prospector still roamed this valley, waiting for justice finally to be served. And in that time the darkness had been building, gathering strength for the inevitable confrontation.

  Daar had spent the entire summer trying to learn the reason for this impending clash of powers. Why here, in Mercedes’ valley? And why now of all times, just when he was finally getting Morgan settled into a new and promising life?

  Daar rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a tired sigh. As best as he could tell, the violent death of Jedediah Plum had gone unpunished, and the murderer’s spirit of greed was still alive today in his descendants. An evil had gone unavenged eighty years ago, tilting in its favor the balance of energy in this valley. The blackness Daar and Morgan had seen earlier this summer had been entrenched here since that long-ago murder.

  And just recently, in this gene
ration, Daar had learned through his spells that the darkness had gathered even more strength. Other murders, somehow connected to Jedediah Plum, had again gone unpunished.

  The yellow light, which symbolized not only Mercedes but also her family, seemed to be equally involved. It was possible that Caroline Quill had been the second victim of the darkness and Frank Quill the third.

  And Mercedes might be in danger of becoming the fourth.

  Daar had tried many spells over the last few weeks, attempting to vanquish the blackness. But the churning powers would not be budged. It was happening here, now, and to the folly of all who stumbled into its path. The energies needed to be rebalanced. Grievous wrongs had to be righted. A simple, lonely prospector wanted peace.

  That Mercedes and Morgan were sitting smack in the middle of this war was beyond the wizard’s power to control. He had done what he could to protect them. It was now up to the warrior to unite with the woman against the darkness and lead them both safely through the coming maelstrom.

  Daar’s delicate cane began to hum in his hand, and he lifted it skyward and waved it at the valley beyond. He saw the glow of a familiar green light, charged with energy, running through the forest, desperate, driven, aimlessly searching for safety.

  Daar shook his head. No words of assurance could convince Morgan that he was not in danger of being sent on another journey through time. For two years the wizard had made promises to all the Highlanders, but only Greylen seemed to believe him.

  Probably because Grey thought that Daar’s banished staff had left him powerless.

  The humming grew louder. Insistent. Daar fought to control his staff as it pulled against the turbulence of the approaching storm. Yellow light, as bright and vibrant as the sun, sparked through the wizard’s mind.

  Daar smiled. Such passion from one so innocent. Such determination and potent vigor. If anyone could capture and hold the interest of Morgan MacKeage, it was Mercedes Quill.

  She was a fine match for the warrior—strong, intelligent, and possessing the courage it would take to fight by his side. And for that Daar was glad, because if he understood the signs he’d been reading these last few weeks, Mercedes Quill’s search for the gold was sending her deep into the middle of a violent war.

  Morgan ran without direction save one: away from Mercedes. He had to protect her from the storm, from the terror of a journey that could send him, and possibly anyone near him, through time.

  As much as he wanted to run to Mercedes, not from her—to bury himself in her soft strength and hold on tightly until the storm had passed—he could not endanger her that way.

  But if he were gone, who would keep her safe from the darkness that roamed this valley now?

  Morgan stopped his flight abruptly on that thought and squinted through the driving rain to get his bearings. Though it seemed like a hundred, he’d traveled less than half a mile from the river. Lightning flashed again, followed almost immediately by ground-shaking thunder. The storm surrounded him. Wind bowed the tops of the taller trees and drove the autumn-turned leaves from the branches of oak and maple and beech.

  A voice, high-pitched and insistent, came through the echoing thunder, faint at first but moving closer.

  Morgan dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. Mercedes, the maddening little gràineag, was searching for him.

  He was torn between continuing on for her safety and returning to her for his own selfish reasons. Dammit. They belonged to each other.

  He could protect her, be they in this time or another; he could face any challenge as long as they were together.

  But did he have that right yet, to choose Mercedes’ destiny for her? She’d been about to give herself to him, but did she fully understand what that giving meant?

  And was he desperate enough—and selfish enough—to wait until after he possessed Mercedes to explain to her the age-old laws of claiming?

  He did not care for this modern society’s rules of mating. Once he made love to Mercedes, there was no turning back. She would be his until eternity.

  Morgan moved into the shelter of a giant spruce tree. The sound of her calling him was closer now, echoing from several directions and carried on the wind. Her voice rang with desperation and concern—and maybe just a touch of anger.

  Morgan couldn’t keep from smiling. His little gràineag was nothing if not tenacious. She’d drown herself searching for him, or possibly catch pneumonia. But she would not give up, he knew, because she was proving herself to be just as possessive as he was.

  And for that reason alone, he stepped into her path.

  As quickly and mysteriously as he had disappeared, Morgan was suddenly standing in front of her, a dark, formidable specter visible only in the strobe of lightning that pulsed through the sky.

  His shirt was still unbuttoned, the leather strap of his sword lying across his chest. Water ran in steaming rivulets over the harsh planes of his face, down his neck, over his powerful body that could have been carved from granite.

  For one brief moment, in one particularly blinding flash of light, Sadie saw clearly the danger she was in. Morgan MacKeage would not negotiate. Would offer no concessions. Accept no excuses.

  He would demand her complete surrender.

  And then he would demand even more.

  The air between them crackled with electricity. The object hanging around his neck seemed to sparkle and hum with energy, taking on an ethereal glow of its own. The nerves covering every inch of Sadie’s skin came alive. She didn’t know if it was the storm crashing around them or the blood rushing through her head, but she was having a hard time keeping her balance. Her heart wanted to jump out of her chest. Her knees wanted to buckle. And she couldn’t stop shaking.

  Morgan suddenly stepped forward and swept her into his arms, lifting her against him and burying his face in her neck. “Too late, Mercedes,” he growled into her hair. “It’s happening now. And we both live with the consequence.”

  She couldn’t have denied him even if she understood what he was talking about. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him fiercely. He carried her deeper into the forest, until he found an outcropping of ledge that would protect them from the storm. He stood her on her feet, pulled off his sword, and set it on the ground, then gathered the grass that grew at the base of the ledge, fashioning a soft bed.

  He worked quickly, in silence, keeping one guarded eye on her as if he were afraid she’d bolt. Sadie stood rooted in place, unable to look away.

  He straightened and turned and took her back in his arms, kissing her with a passion that bordered on desperation. Sadie kissed him for their entire journey to the ground, smelling the rain heating his skin, tasting the woods he was so much a part of, feeling the tension gathering in every one of his muscles.

  He covered her with his body, surrounding her completely.

  And Sadie welcomed the onslaught of emotion that overloaded her senses. She sent her hands exploring, touching, kneading his flesh. She opened her mouth to him, suckled his tongue, and tugged on his hair in an attempt to get even closer.

  His hands were everywhere, pulling at her clothes, rubbing exposed skin that felt to be on fire. In a frenzy of movement, with time suspended despite her urgency, Sadie helped him tear away all of their clothes. The storm receded from her mind, her focus narrowed on just the two of them, sharpening inward until only warmth and light and feelings were left.

  He laced their fingers together and lifted her hands above her head, using his mouth to trace a path across her face, down her neck, to between her now exposed breasts. Searing heat followed his lips; shivering anticipation preceded them. He kissed the nipple of her right breast, taking it into his mouth and sucking. Sadie shivered and cried out and arched her back with pleasure.

  His mouth moved on, over her breasts, his teeth rasping her skin and sending shudders throughout her. Sadie wrapped her legs around his waist and arched her back again, feeling his erection pushing against her bel
ly.

  He lifted himself off her slightly, just enough that he could stare down at her face. The swirling, now brightened glow of his necklace exposed harsh features and eyes sharp with intent.

  “Do you take me, Mercedes?” he asked in a low, guttural voice. “And all that I have to offer—do you take me?”

  Her mouth suddenly desert-dry, she could only nod.

  He pressed himself forward against her belly, then retreated again. “Say it, Mercedes. Say it out loud, so all can hear. Do you take me?”

  “Yes, Morgan. Everything you offer.”

  Some of the tension eased from his face at her words. His muscles relaxed slightly, and it felt as if he all but melted against her. His mouth returned to hers in a kiss that was different this time. More possessive.

  “Take my shoulders, lass, and hold tight,” he whispered. “It will be unpleasant for only a moment, I promise.”

  Unpleasant?

  How could anything that had to do with this be unpleasant? Sadie was shaking with the need to feel him inside her. “Get on with it, Morgan,” she whispered huskily.

  A slow, maddening smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “So you can find the words when you need them, huh, gràineag?” he said, moving back and reaching one hand between them, guiding himself between her thighs.

  Sadie sucked in her breath and held it as he slowly pushed against her. His mouth returned, his hands trapped hers, and his hips finally moved in the direction she wanted.

  Weighted tension. Unbelievable pleasure. An awareness of stretching, filling, spiraling heat. The moment he had spoken of lasted a lifetime measured in seconds.

  And suddenly he was completely inside her.

  It was Sadie who moved then, lifting her hips to accept him, digging her nails into his shoulders, and reaching up to capture his mouth again. She swallowed his moan that came the moment he began to move, rocking them both in a rhythm that shot repeating currents of fire throughout her.

  The pleasure doubled. Tripled. With a cry of pure joy, Sadie turned her mouth onto his shoulder, feeling his straining muscles against her teeth as she tightened around him.