Gravel shifted beneath my footsteps as I topped the shallow rise of the cambered surface the lodge rested upon.
Yesterday was different. The maidens had required my assistance. Not another day would pass without paying homage to Lugh. Yes. Today is the day I pay homage to Mother Earth this century. I stepped off the drive onto asphalt and headed toward the tree line, gaining a bonnie view.
Three firm footsteps and I cleared the road. Beyond the street, the hillside gently sloped downward. Four additional steps allowed me to squat in vegetation.
The horizon glowed. Orange drove purple back from all but a few wispy clouds in the heavens.
It's funny how peace comes with reverence. Perhaps Lugh would pity me. Time to speak of my charge and Duty. Although Gods tended to have better things to do.
Birds twittered in the distance.
The jingling music evoked a strategy from the shadowy rafters of my mind. A poem might bring all together. I eyed the brightening edge of the world.
"I'll wear thy colors in my cap," I whispered.
"Thy picture in my heart;
And he that bends not to thine eye, Shall rue it to his smart.
Then tell me how to woo thee, love;
Oh tell me how to woo thee."
If Robert Burns' words could meld sun to sky for all eternity at sunset, surely Robert Graham's words could grant me the secret to Katie's love. I'd kill two birds with one stone.
A loud sound clapped behind me.
Not my maiden. This isn't how I intended to bring her to me. I spun, a palm catching my weight in the heather, so I could peer through the shifting light of dawn.
Aye. She ran into the yard, looking around frantically. "Murdo?"
What had the bastard cousin done? He'd pay. I leapt skyward, stretching both legs into a full run.
She noticed my approach and stilled in front of the house.
Then I was there, staring down into her wide eyes. "What happened, Katie?" Where is carcass John?
Her gaze slid to the ground.
The bastard raped her. Because I'd left the lodge. Now to suffer and hear of the deed. "Katie?"
"I." She shook her head at her feet. "I thought you left."
What? No. Never.
Glancing up at me timidly, she shot me a pleading stare.
By the Gods, I'd die right then and there if she would not speak her heart. Time to prove my intentions. I gulped to control my voice, extending a hand. "Will you walk with me, Katie?"
Her gaze riveted upon my palm.
Yet, the warmth of her palm slid across mine.
Wee fingers gripped his tightly.
The strength of a sword smith clung to me. How odd for a Brother to be assigned to a woman who wouldn't require much protection? But the Universe worked in mysterious ways. "Come with me, Katie." I tugged her back across the hillside and walked to the spot where I'd spoken to Lugh.
Her blonde crown floated at my shoulder.
"You were out here?" she asked.
If only to show Lugh much I adored her. Now to explain without frightening her like Cousin John. "Sit here." I nodded at the ground.
She sank into the soft vegetation.
Good. No more bolting. I settled in the soft heather beside her. "I couldn't miss the sunrise."
****
"I feel silly," I admitted, gazing at the sky as its pink hue intensified above the dark horizon. Here I am with Mr. Sentimental, watching the sunrise and I'd screamed loud enough to wake the dead from Fort William to Inverness. Didn't sentimentality rank up there with poetry recitations?
"No, Katie." He wrapped a consolatory arm around my shoulders. "Watch him rise for duty."
Lord. That arm felt good. Warm. Strong. Almost seemed to pull me close. To his tree-trunk chest. How could I watch the sun when he held me so intimately and not react like Jennifer?
The arm tightened around me.
God it felt like he liked me. Really liked me. Or thought I was just his friend. Friends were good at the moment. Forget work. I could sit here all day.
His arm pulled my shoulder deeper into his drumming chest.
Holy shit. Maybe more than friends? But I'll be damned if I looked like Jennifer. Ever!
"Before you stormed into the yard, I was recalling a poem." His words rumbled inside his chest.
No way. A perfect knight-in-colorful-tartan would recite Burns while veering me into the sunset. Sunrise would do just as nicely. "Oh?"
"I hadn't finished."
Oh no. I butted into his statement. "Don't let me interrupt."
"I'll tend thy chamber door all night--"
Poetry? God, I'd melt.
"And squire thee all the day," he said softly.
"If sweetest sounds can win thy ear,
these sounds I'll strive to catch;
thy voice I'll steal to woo thyself, that voice that none can match.
But if fond love thy heart can gain,
I never broke a vow;
no maiden lays her skaith to me, I never loved but you.
For you alone I ride the ring,
For you I wear the blue." He stopped.
Why? Maybe it's time to applaud. Only a stupid girl would clap and disrupt the magic bubble around them.
"Katie?"
What now? Slowly, I peered up at his glinting eyes.
His gaze was so intent he couldn't want any words.
"I'm going to kiss you," he slowly said.
Am I hearing things? And what did that matter? I'm not the one initiating this kiss. Why the wait? "Hurry."
****
Staring down at sweet maiden lips, I almost choked on my heart. Or the word hurry? Had Lugh heard my plea of witnessed my plight? No sense wasting the opportunity. Eyeing her poised mouth, I leaned down slowly.
My maiden moved faster.
Her surprising hungry hands snaked around my neck, locking onto me, pulling my lips down, to jolt in agony as our mouths met.
Soft. Warm. Silken.
Her lips could kick a man's heart into overdrive.
To throw her on the ground, pin her sweet curves beneath my body, claim her for my own, and bind our hearts together. This was madness. Pure idiocy. I'd lost my mind kissing her when she was destined to be mine. Destined to draw my soul to hers for Holy Union. Anyone could see what we are doing.
By the Gods, she thrust her strong demanding tongue into my mouth and groaned.
Need shot between my heart and rock-hard rod.
That column could support a stony roof. Shit. I'd lose control. Here and now.
There's no way I could take her in front of the house. In front of John. Or any man. This had to end before I can't stop. Pushing upward and away from those silken demanding lips, I tried to back away.
Wee maiden lips followed me.
Refused to release me.
My aching loin thrashed and throbbed.
She'd kill me. Us. Not my goal. I opened my eyes, pushing harder, watching maiden's eyelids flutter.
Her lips slipped away but the shadow of a furrow creased her brow like a lightning bolt of shadow. "What's wrong?"
The sun would explode. Aye. Because of this madness. "Naught but all the world can see us."
Her chin cocked toward the rising golden sun. She blinked, slowly looking toward Lugh, then back at me with a wee smile and a glint in her eye. "Let's go inside."
Och! No argument. From her either.
She pushed up from the heather and grabbed my elbow. "Hurry," she insisted.
The frustration in her voice forewarned of binding. No problem with that issue. I jumped to follow in her wake.
Soon she'd be completely mine. For eternity.
Heather shifted to hard road, then to gravel beneath my feet, and, before I knew it, she turned the knob and peered over her shoulder with a grin as the door fell inward.
"The world isn't in here," she reported.
John stood across the threshold.
John was in there. Not a world
. Just a vile satellite. Rather, a runaway asteroid, plummeting toward Earth.
****
I stared over my shoulder at my man's face, darkened with shadow on the front porch. He's mine. Mine. I have a man. Finally. Now to secure him on the bed. Oh. Yes. On the bed. No problem. Really. Girls do it all the time. They just rarely snagged a perfect man. My goal. He'd be mine momentarily. I pulled him across the threshold and turned.
Sticky Fingers rubbed his head where he stood, clutching the banister. "Keep it down," the hung-over moron snarled.
If only the bastard's head would explode. After yesterday's hangover, I know how miserable he felt. I gulped down a guffaw.
Murdo brushed past my elbow, stepping to John's side. "There's no reason to shout, man. You've only yourself to blame."
Good thing I hadn't laughed.
Murdo glanced at me sideways.
Why? To admonish me for my thoughts. He couldn’t know what I was thinking.
"I've got to get busy on that motor," John moaned.
For some reason, I don't like the sound of that statement. "What's the deal with that motor?"
"It belongs to Da's friend," John snapped.
He waited until the last minute to fix it? Why am I not surprised? The dolt couldn't even do his father a favor. I sucked down one long soothing breath. "How long has Uncle John been gone?"
"Women." John waved a dismissive palm at me, struggling to step to the bottommost step.
The bastard needed to reassemble the freaking motor. "Going somewhere?"
Murdo blinked reprovingly at me and turned back to John, reaching for his arm as if to pat him.
Consolingly. Was I supposed to feel admonished? Well, that was the last straw. Whose side was Murdo on? If it was John's, I'd be better off heading out to the forge. Man-less. Virtue intact. I headed for the kitchen to empty the trash.
It had to be overflowing after John's party. I'll just have to do everything myself.
And it was. Mounded with bottles and bags. Geesh. I dragged the garbage can to the garage door and touched the doorknob.
Cold metal jolted my with a shocking yellow spark.
Odd. I didn't recall seeing sparks other times I was zapped with static electricity. I turned the squeaking doorknob and pulled the door inward.
The garage light glared, filling the hall with additional illumination. Murdo knelt in the middle of the room, trying to fit two thingamajigs back together. He turned an arched brow my direction.
Weird. What did he hope to achieve with the motors? "What are you doing?" I stepped over to claim a spot at the edge of the closest sheet of canvas.
Murdo focused on the parts in his hand. "Piecing this beast back together for room and board."
The man is Mr. Perfect. With honor. Values. And a mind filled with poetry. Still one problem remained. "But aren't you forgetting that John's best seen for the worthless son he is?"
A sultry smile played on Murdo's lips. "How could his father see him otherwise?" His gaze slid down me.
To where?
That blue gaze rolled back up me to lock on my gaze. "You look like a Highland lass standing there with your hands on your hips."
Good to hear. But nothing new. "My father was Scottish. It's genetic."
Murdo chuckled.
Why? "What's so funny?"
"'Tis genetic all right." His nose turned back to the parts in his hands.
Maybe genes were at fault. Maybe not. Maybe sounded better. But they hadn't helped Cousin John with handling his alcohol. "Will John be able to drive to the foundry?"
"Possibly after lunch," he said without looking at me.
Great. Lose my man to mechanics and my ride. How to get to the forge? I could wrestle John for his keys. "Is John still standing?"
Still, Murdo focused on the parts. "Aye. He'll be in the lavatory."
Lavatory? Murdo had to be military. I studied him.
He scanned the endless expanse of tubes and metal.
Maybe. Someone who had to have disemboweled a battleship. "What was this mess before it was so cruelly dissected?"
"Three motorcycles."
How could he tell? "And you're to rebuild all three?"
He continued searching for a part. "No. One."
Uncle John obviously got caught up in the testosterone rush of the reconstruction the way he recycled things and took on great challenges. Hopefully, Murdo could rebuild the bike. To work now. I spun for the door.
"And where might you be headed?" he timbered.
What a question. I shot him a questioning glance. "I've got to get to work."
"Katie?"
The way his voice hummed froze my feet.
The image of his gorgeous wide sculpted chest materialized in my mind.
I'd like to run both palms over that vibrating torso of undulating succulent flesh. "Yes?"
Murdo had placed the parts on the floor and was rising. His kilt fell to his knees. The tartan flapped as he carefully stepped, straining those bulky calves over chunks and bits, toward me.
Too sexy.
"You must promise to be careful around your cousin." He halted in front of me, staring me down with a stern gaze.
Not sexy. "I always am careful around him." I wasn't born yesterday.
His voice lowered. "You and I--" He blinked once. "We have unfinished business."
The man could rumble like that any time. And if he thought I'd forget, he was mistaken. Besides, he could sweeten the pot. "Don't forget it. I'll have another kiss to tie me over."
He grinned, leaning down, planting soft firm lips over mine.
Heaven. He sucked my stomach up in one whoosh and rammed it into my throbbing heart so hard that if dove down. Way down to rest low in my belly. So low. I ached between my legs. Oh yes. Right where my friends claimed men hit them hard. Made them squirm. Thrash. Murdo's magic was strong. And worked to unlock things barred away for safekeeping.
The garage grew incredibly warm.
But those fabulous soft lips shrank away. No. "What now?" I droned, popping my eyes open.
Gorgeous Murdo smiled with a curious arch to his brow. "Mhmph?"
"I don't want you to stop." Why couldn't we just go upstairs? Take care of the real business at hand. The forge could wait.
"John's afoot."
"I don't care." I stared his unyielding gaze down. Doesn't he want to have sex? He is male. Shouldn't he want to do the wild thing? "Let's go upstairs."
"Not with John lurking." Murdo didn't blink.
Damn. Sticky Fingers ruined everything by simply breathing.
Murdo brushed a knuckle against my chin. "Soon, Katie."
Gads, to jump him. Take what had been hidden for so long. Fine. I'm not Jennifer. I can stop. Wait. Be patient. Right? I closed my eyes, turning back to the door and a search for John's car keys.
The welcoming hallway led me to the staircase. The stairs ushered me to the second floor. The wooden floor guided me down the hall to the bathroom where the door was slightly ajar. Yellow light escaped from the vertical crack. John sat with his head in his hands, perched on the toilet, fully clothed.
Only a fool would enter. I'd just act like a tough bitch. Insistent. "Where are the keys, John?"
"Huh?" Sticky Fingers sat motionless, holding his head.
"Where are the car keys?"
He turned a squinting mask toward the door.
He only played dumb. But I'd speak slowly just in case. "I need the car keys."
"What for?" he growled.
He knew but just wanted to be difficult. I bit down a tirade. "To go to the foundry. To work."
Sticky Fingers staggered to his feet, bracing his palms against the counter. "I'm going with you."
Oh Lord.
Chapter 14
"You can't." Katie managed not to kick the door open at Cousin John where he stood over the commode. "You've got to stay and help Murdo put that motorcycle back together." Kiss the filthy commode--the perfect match for the man fashioned
from feces.
"Huh?" His squinting knotted mask glared at me.
Like he'd get out of what he was supposed to be doing. "Murdo's downstairs, reassembling the motor your father told you to reconstruct. Do you think you can help him?"
Reaching for the door, Sticky Fingers wobbled, then drew the door wide, and fell against the doorjamb's dark wood.
The jerk is delaying on purpose. "Come on, John. I need the keys."
"That isn't all you need," he muttered, shoving off, glaring at me.
What did that mean? Only a fool would ask.
He staggered across the hallway.
Leaving me uncharacteristically alone. I followed him to his doorway.
He crashed against that doorframe too.
Hopefully, he cracked some ribs. "Feeling good?"
He stepped over his still-terrified blue jeans and reached for the nightstand. The pile of keys glinted from a bit of stray hallway light. He swung the jingling keys toward me. "How bad do you want them?"
Bad enough to rip off his nuts and cram them down his throat. Maybe he'd bleed to death. Thrusting out a hand, I fought a laugh. "Don't make me kick your ass. You know I can with the state you're in."
"I don't like your tone, Katie Innis." He threw the jangling keys at me.
Excellent. I spun to leave with keys in hand.
"Don't crash it, woman," Sticky Fingers yelled.
Like people plan to have automobile accidents. I'd have one to spite him if the feeling moved me. The front door was steps away. But Murdo's sword needed to go. I veered toward the garage.
The door was still open. Murdo foraged through Uncle John's five-foot-tall tool chest and glanced at the movement I made in the doorway.
His squared jaw could have made a statue breathe life-giving air. I walked to his sawing elbow and stopped beside his all-consuming presence. "What are you looking for?"
"Just finding a tool or two."
"I've got the keys." I shook the clanging bits of metal for effect. "All I need is your sword."
****
Murdo tried to think of some excuse to keep his sword. To protect who and what I am. Naught came to me. The lass won't have luck straightening the piece without the fey's assistance or some learned knowledge.
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