A chill brushed Drustan’s spine.
“Then you drew three more on the slab. And we waited for midnight.”
“Och, Christ,” Drustan murmured. How could she have knowledge of such things? The legends hinted the stones were used for travel, but no one—save himself, Dageus, and Silvan—knew the how of it. Except now, Gwen Cassidy did.
“Do you recall the symbols?” he asked roughly.
She described several of them to him, and her descriptions, although incomplete, bore enough accuracy to unsettle him deeply.
His mind rejecting it, he floundered for something solid to think about. Something less disturbing. He grinned, striking upon a fine topic. He had no doubt she’d try to change it quickly. “You claimed I took your virginity. When did I make love to you, lass?” he said huskily, turning his mouth toward the door.
Gwen sat on the other side and turned her mouth toward the door. She kissed it, then felt utterly foolish, but from the sound of his voice, it seemed as if he, too, was sitting with his back to the door. And his voice had sounded closer that time, as if he’d turned his mouth toward hers.
“In the stones, right before we went through.”
“Did I know you were a virgin?”
“No,” she whispered.
“What?”
“No,” she said more loudly.
“You deceived me?”
“No, I just didn’t think it was important enough to mention,” she said defensively.
“Bullshit. Sometimes not telling the whole truth is the same thing as lying.”
Gwen winced, not liking having her own words tossed back in her face. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make love to me if you knew,” she admitted. And you were afraid I’d leave you if I knew the truth about you. What a fine pair we were.
“Why were you still a maiden at twenty and five?”
“I…I just never found the right man.”
“And what would the right man be for you, Gwen Cassidy?”
“I hardly think that has anything to do—”
“Surely you can find it in your heart to grant me a few boons, seeing where you’ve kept me trapped for the day.”
“Oh, all right,” she said grudgingly. “The right man…let’s see, he’d be smart yet playful. He’d have a good heart and be faithful—”
“Faithful is important to you?”
“Very. I don’t share. If he’s my man, he’s mine only.”
She could hear a smile in his voice when he said, “Go on.”
“Well, he’d like simple things. Like good coffee and good food. A family—”
“You want children?”
“Dozens,” she sighed.
“Would you teach them to read and such?”
Gwen drew a deep breath, her eyes misting. Life required a delicate balance. Her own had been painfully unbalanced. She knew exactly what she’d teach her children. “I’d teach them to read and to dream and to look at the stars and wonder. I’d teach them the value of imagination. I’d teach them to play every bit as hard as they worked.” She sighed heavily before adding softly, “And I’d teach them that all the brains in the world can’t compensate for love.”
She heard him draw a harsh breath. He was silent a long time, as if her words had meant much to him. “You truly believe love is the most important thing?”
“I know it is.” She’d learned all kinds of lessons in Scotland. A career, success, and critical acclaim—none of it amounted to much of anything without love. It was the necessary ingredient that had been missing all her life.
“How did I make love to you, Gwendolyn Cassidy?”
Gwen’s lips parted on a soft moan. The simple words he’d just said had sent heat lancing through her body. He was beginning to sound like her Drustan. This intimate talk was melting her; perhaps it was melting his defenses as well.
“How, Gwen? Tell me how I made love to you. Tell me in much detail.”
Wetting her lips, she began, her voice lowering intimately.
Silvan grabbed Nell’s hand and tugged.
Nay, she mouthed.
We can’t eavesdrop on this, he mouthed back. ’Tis not proper.
Proper be damned, old man. I’m not leavin’. Her lips were pursed, her gaze stubborn.
Silvan gaped but, after a few moments, sat back down.
And when Gwen spoke, he found himself ceding her a sort of privacy by imagining it was Nell telling him in such detail how he’d made love to her. At first he kept his chin firmly down, eyes averted, but after a time he stole a surreptitious peek at her.
Nell did not look away.
Brown eyes met blue and held.
His heart pounded.
“And then you said something to me, there at the end, that I’ll never forget. You said the sweetest words, and they kind of shivered through me. You said it in that funny voice you have.”
“What did I say?” Drustan moved his hand on his cock. His kilt was tossed to the side, his legs spread, palm around his shaft. He was so aroused that he thought he was going to explode. She’d told him in detail how he’d made love to her, and it had been the most erotic experience of his life. Sitting in the dark, watching the images in his mind’s eye, he’d felt as if he’d been reliving it. His mind had filled in details she’d not mentioned, details that may have sprung solely from his imagination or from some deeply buried memory. He knew not.
He cared not.
It no longer signified if she was lying or telling the truth. He wanted Gwen Cassidy in a way that defied reason, in a way he refused to further question.
He admired her tenacity; he desired her with every fiber of his being; she made him laugh, she made him furious. She stood her ground; she believed him a Druid and desired him anyway.
By Amergin, he—thrice-jilted Drustan MacKeltar—was being pursued by a woman who knew what he was.
He could no longer recall why he’d ever resisted her to begin with.
He struggled against an intense desire to bring himself to completion, to find release—a release he’d desperately needed since the moment she’d entered his home. But, nay, not in so empty a fashion. He wanted it with her. Inside her.
“What you said was so romantic,” she said with a little sigh.
“Um-hmm,” he managed. When she spoke again, it took him a few moments to realize what she was saying.
And when he did, he leaped to his feet, roaring, but she kept speaking: “If aught must be lost, ’twill be my honor for yours. If one must be forsaken, ’twill be my soul for yours. Should death come anon, ’twill be my life for yours. I am Given. That’s what you said.”
As she finished, Drustan doubled over. A spark of heat and light built inside him and spread, enveloping him. He couldn’t talk, he could scarce breathe, as wave after wave of emotion crashed over him….
Gwen doubled over, as a wave of intense emotion crashed over her. She felt funny, really weird, like she’d just said something irrevocable….
“Och, Christ, Nellie,” Silvan whispered, stunned both by Gwen’s words and by the realization that he was holding Nell’s hand, and she was letting him. “She just married him.”
“Married?” Nell’s fingers tightened on his.
“Aye, the Druid vows. I didn’t work that spell, even when I wed my wife.”
Nell’s lips parted on a “why,” but then they both peeked breathlessly over the balustrade, desperate to hear what would happen next.
21
“Ahem,” Drustan said after a long time. “Do you know you just married me, lass?”
“What?” Gwen shouted.
“Would you please let your husband out of the garderobe?”
Gwen was stunned. She’d married him with those words?
“Those were the Druid wedding vows you just said to me, a binding spell, and I doona understand how you knew it, but—”
God, he still didn’t remember! she realized with a sinking sensation, even though she’d told him all of it, down
to the minute details. “I knew it, you dolt, because you said it to me! And I didn’t know I was marrying you—”
“Doona be thinkin’ you’ll be gettin’ out of it,” he said testily.
“I’m not trying to get out of it—”
“You’re not?” he exclaimed.
“You want to be married to me? Without even remembering?”
“ ‘Tis too late. We are. Nothing can undo it. Best you grow accustomed to it.” He punched the door for emphasis.
“What about your betrothed?”
He muttered something about his betrothed that warmed her heart. “But that’s another thing I doona understand, lass. If what you claimed happened did indeed happen, I doona understand why I wouldn’t have woven a spell for you to carry to me. I would have known the possibility existed that I might not make it back. I would surely have given you a memory spell.”
“A m-m-memory sp-spell?” Gwen sputtered. Could it have been that simple all along? Did she have the key to make him remember, but he’d not told her how to use it? What hadn’t she told him so far? She’d deliberately withheld a few details so she might have something to test him with should he suddenly claim to have regained total recall. Closing her eyes, she thought hard, sifting through details. Oh!
Have you a good memory, Gwen Cassidy? he’d asked her in the car as they’d approached Ban Drochaid. “Oh, God. Like something that rhymed?” she shrieked.
“It may have.”
“If you’d given me such a spell, would you have told me how to use it?” she said accusingly.
There was a long silence, then he admitted, “Like as not, I wouldn’t have told you until the last possible moment.”
“And if at the last possible moment you melted?” she pressed.
There was a harsh intake of air, then an extended silence behind the door. Then, “Speak your rhyme if you have one!” he exclaimed.
She turned around and faced the door, then laid her palms and cheek against it.
Quietly but clearly, she spoke.
Drustan was facing the door, his palms spread against the cool wood, his cheek pressed to it. He’d whispered the Druid wedding vows back the moment she’d said them. There was no way she was getting away from him now. His former betrothal meant naught. He was well and truly wed. Druid binding vows could never be broken. There was no such thing as Druid divorce.
He braced himself, waiting for her words, hoping and fearing.
Her melodic voice carried clearly through the door. And as she spoke, the words shivered through him, mixing past and future with a cosmic mortar and pestle.
“Wither thou goest, there goest I, two flames sparked from but one ember; both forward and backward doth time fly, wither thou art, remember.”
He hit the floor doubled over, clutching his head.
Och, Christ, he thought, my head will surely split. It felt as if he were being ripped in two, or had been ripped in two and some unseen force was trying to crush two parts back together again.
It was purest instinct to fight it.
Words from a dream place buffeted him: You don’t trust me.
I do trust you, wee lass. I am trusting you far more than you know. But he wasn’t. He was afraid he’d lose her.
Then images:
Another flash of those blue trews, a naked Gwen beneath him, above him. A crimson scrap of ribbon in his teeth. The white bridge.
You would fight me to the death. The counterfeit’s lips moved soundlessly. I see. I see now why only one lives. ’Tis not nature which is innately indifferent, but our own fear that causes us to destroy each other. I beg you, accept me. Let us both be.
I will never accept you, Drustan roared.
He’d fought, viciously and victoriously.
Let us both be.
Drustan drew upon his Druid will, forcing himself to relax his defenses, forcing himself to submit.
Love her, the counterfeit whispered.
“Och, Gwen,” Drustan breathed. “Love Gwen.”
Gwen eyed the door warily. There’d not been a sound from behind it since the moment she’d said the rhyme.
Worried, she scratched at the door. “Drustan?” she asked nervously.
There was a long silence.
“Drustan, are you okay?”
“Gwen, lass, open this door this very instant,” he ordered. He sounded winded, out of breath.
“You have to answer some questions first,” she hedged, wanting to know exactly who would be stepping out of the garderobe. “What was the name of the store—”
“Barrett’s,” he said impatiently.
“What did you want me to buy you in the store to wear?”
“I wanted purple trews and a purple shirt and you gave me a black T-shirt and black trews and hard white shoes. I didn’t fit in your blue trews and you threatened to help me fit with my sword.” His voice deepened smugly. “But I recall your threats ceased once I kissed you thoroughly. You became quite the amenable lass after that.”
She blushed, remembering exactly how wantonly she’d responded to his kiss. A tremor of excitement raced through her. He was her Drustan again! “So what was the saleslady’s name in Barrett’s? The bitchy, unattractive one,” she added, wrinkling her nose.
“Truth be told, I haven’t the veriest, lass. I had eyes for only you.”
Oh, God, what a great answer!
“Open the bletherin’ door!”
Tears misted her eyes as she leaped up to hit the top lance and knock it loose. It clattered to the floor, followed by the second one.
“And what was I wearing when you made love to me?” she said, kicking the third and fourth out of the way, still unable to believe that she had him back.
“When I made love to you?” he purred through the door. “Nothing. But before that you wore tan trews cut off at the thigh, a chemise cut off at the waist, boots named Timberland, socks named Polo Sport, and a red ribbon I—”
She yanked the door open. “Removed with your teeth and tongue,” she cried.
“Gwendolyn!” He crushed her in his arms and kissed her, a deep soul kiss that seared her all the way down to her toes.
When Gwen wrapped her arms around his neck, he cupped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her, pulling her legs about his waist. She locked her ankles behind him. He was never getting away from her again.
“You want me, lass. Me. Knowing all that I am,” he said incredulously.
“Always will,” she mumbled against his mouth.
He laughed exultantly.
Their coming together was not a gentle thing. She tugged at his kilt, he tore at her trews, clothing flew this way and that, until, gasping for breath between kisses, they both stood naked near the staircase in the Greathall. Gwen glanced up at him, eyes widening, breath coming in short pants, as she belatedly realized where they were. Then her gaze drifted over his incredible body, and she forgot not only where she was but what century she was in. There was nothing but him.
Silvery eyes glittering, he grabbed her hand, tugged her down the corridor into the buttery, slammed the door shut with a kick, and flattened her up against the wall, leaving their clothing strewn about the hall.
Gwen pressed her palms against his muscular chest and sighed with pleasure. She couldn’t get enough of touching him. During the time he’d not known her, it had been the worst sort of torture, looking at him every day, unable to caress and kiss him. She had a lot of lost time to make up for, and began by tracing her hands up over his shoulders, down his back, skimming to his muscular hips. His skin was velvet over steel, he smelled of man and spice and every woman’s fantasy.
“Ah, God, I missed you, lass.” He took her mouth roughly, hands bracketing her face, kissing her so deeply that she couldn’t breathe, until he filled her lungs with his own breath.
“I missed you too,” she whimpered.
“I’m so sorry, Gwen,” he whispered, “for not believing you—”
“Apologize later. Kiss now!
”
His laughter rolled erotic and rich in the dark buttery. He pushed her back atop sacks of grain and lowered himself over her, suspending his weight on his forearms. And he kissed her. Slow, intensely intimate kisses, and mad rushes of deep kisses. She drank him in as if he were the air she needed to survive.
Melting back against the sacks, she moaned when his muscular thigh slid between her legs. He traced hot, wet kisses down her neck, over her collarbones, across her shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his, rubbing against him wantonly, savoring the slick slide of him.
Drustan gazed down at her, marveling. She was so beautiful; her cheeks flushed, her eyes stormy with passion, her lips half parted on a soft gasp. She was his soul mate, smart, lovely, and tenacious. He would love her to his dying breath, and beyond if such was possible for a Druid and his mate. He would show her with his body all the things he felt for her, and mayhap she would murmur those tender words he’d so longed to hear back in the circle of stones when she’d given him her virginity.
She whimpered when he rasped his unshaven jaw against her nipples. She arched up, hungry for more. He shifted his body so the thick, hot length of him rested between her thighs, moving his hips in slow, even thrusts.
Then he pulled back, driving her mad, and proceeded to taste her from head to toe.
Starting at her toes.
Gwen tossed her head back in ecstasy. Long, velvety strokes of his tongue on her calves and ankles. Bending her legs, he traced silky kisses on the backs of her knees. Wet, hungry kisses on her thighs, teasing flickers against the sensitive skin where her hip met her leg.
Then deep, warm, wet kisses where she needed him the most. Lapping and nibbling, his hands glided up her body to tease her nipples as he kissed and tasted her until she shuddered against his mouth, arching her hips up for more.
Resonance built to an exquisite peak, and she shattered, crying his name.
The Highlander Series 7-Book Bundle Page 116