by Erin Grace
"Dear child, you doubt me? The first time I'd glimpsed the magical box I hid in my home for a week. I feared some power had shrunk folk and trapped them inside. I was terrified."
"I can imagine." She swallowed, feeling more than a little contrite at the woman’s earnest response. If Margot was trying to con her, then that would mean Ewan was too. No.
"You can? Then why do you find it so hard to believe me now? I wouldn't lie to you, Elspeth, and my son wouldn't lie to you either."
Cripes, her head was dizzy. Ellie pinched her own arm and yelped. "Sorry, was just making sure I was wide awake."
Margot smiled, revealing a small dimple in the same place Ewan had one. "I don't know if Ewan has told you, but when he was but a child, my husband caught me with my fellow travelers. Most times we'd managed to sneak away undetected to perform the ancient ritual, but that night my husband returned home early and thought I'd been kidnapped. He came to rescue me. Each one of my friends carried a similar ability to mine. We seemed to have been drawn to each other, to a sacred place on MacKinnon land. Most of them were more powerful than me, yet I was the first the first to be able to travel through time."
"I'm sorry, Margot, but I just can't . . . none of this makes any sense." The woman met her doubting gaze and held her there.
"Tell me how you found Ewan?" Margot asked.
"What?"
"It was during a violent storm, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but I don't see . . . ."
"Then you must have the amulet."
Her breath caught. "How do you know about that?"
"The amulet was an ancient relic, even in my time. It is the key to time travelling. Jonathon, the eldest of our group, was the one who used his powers to help me connect with the key." A sigh escaped the woman, her eyes moist with fresh tears. "He was also the only one who could bring me back home."
"So, you've never been able to return?" The whisper of realization trickled from her lips.
"No. I have never been back. You see, we were performing the ritual, and just before the lightning struck me, I recall seeing my husband and his men rushing into the clearing. But I knew Jonathon couldn't stop. He'd risk killing me if he didn't complete his task."
"You must have been so frightened."
"Terrified." Margot dabbed at the corner of her eyes then cleared her throat. "After arriving here, I managed to find shelter. I waited two days to return, and then I feared my friends had been killed."
"Aye. They were." A deep voice made her jump. Ewan. He must have been listening. "Da made sure those heathens were made to pay for killing you."
Margot's expression was solemn as she faced her son's wrath. "I never meant for you to be hurt, Ewan."
"You betrayed us!" Ewan bellowed.
Shivers ran along Ellie's body. Hurt, pain, anguish gushed from the giant before her. How her heart ached for him.
Margot reached her hand out to her son, but he just glared at it as though it was poison.
"I could never tell your father that I belonged to them. He never would have understood." Margot lowered her arm and clutched at her skirt, as though she longed to reach out to her boy. "Oh, my son, I meant to return to you. It wasn't supposed to end the way it did. You must believe me."
Ellie stood between the feuding pair like some sort of referee hoping to keep the peace, but she could only watch in sadness as years of pent-up anger raged all around her.
"Every day I remember seeing you die. I was only eight years old! Now I discover ma mother is nothing but a witch."
"I am not a witch!" Margot took a step toward Ewan.
Ellie trembled as his face went dark, storm clouds brewing in his eyes.
"The Hell, you’re not! Da cried for you. And he never cried for anyone. He was nothing but a husk of a man after you died."
Margot's shoulders sagged, her defiant gaze dropped to the ground. "I loved your father, Ewan. And I loved you. I still do. I never meant for any of this."
Like the lion he reminded Ellie of, Ewan began pacing before his mother as if trying to decide if the woman would be his next kill.
A chill ran along Ellie’s spine.
"And what of the lands—the people?" His rage seemed to know no boundaries as he roared at his mother. "Ever since that day, the clans have been at war with one another. The others blamed Da for killing the priests and bringing a curse upon us all. Not one year since have we had successful crops. Our cattle and sheep die for no reason. Food is scarce and people fight like pathetic animals over what there is."
Margot faced him, her chin firm. "I'm so sorry, Ewan. I can’t say more than I have."
"Da is dying. Hell. For all I know he could be already dead, and here I am trapped in this purgatory when I should be with ma men."
He grasped his sword from its sheath, sending a rush of fear hurtling through Ellie's body. Then he stopped himself, turned around, and stormed off toward the woods.
In the wake of his typhoon, Ellie stood there shaking, stunned.
Her thoughts were such a blur.
Despite everything she'd ever known to be scientific truth and fact, her own latent instincts told her Margot wasn't lying. But time travel? It's just wasn't possible.
Memories of visiting remote villages with her parents came hurtling back to her. So many of those indigenous cultures had demonstrated their own wild beliefs in teleportation and spiritualism. She'd never taken much notice of odd rituals, except on one occasion when she was young, maybe five or six. Still, she always remembered the event.
They had been helping a village somewhere in Africa. She wandered away from her parents and came across an old tribal site. The bones, statues, and carvings there fascinated her—until the medicine man found her. At first he seemed angry with her, but then he stopped and smiled. Maybe it was the way she sat in the midst of it all—as if she belonged. She can only guess. Apparently she'd been chatting to thin air. The old man applied a dab of color to her forehead then gave her a tiny charm to hang around her neck. She still wore the dark, shiny stone. It had become her good luck charm.
Reaching up, she clutched at the precious memento.
She must find Ewan.
Margot sighed and turned away.
"Please don't go, Margot. Ewan will calm down. I'll talk to him."
The woman shook her head, cleared her throat. "Nae. I won't stay any longer today. Please don't be angry with him, Elspeth, he needs you."
"Then come back in the morning. I have something I need to show you. Now, I'm not saying I believe everything I've just heard, but if what you're saying is true, then we must find a way to send Ewan back home. And perhaps you as well."
For over an hour she'd tried in vain to find Ewan. The night air had settled upon the land and a sharp chill gripped her, biting at her hands and feet. Bloody cold. Always cold.
God. Where was he?
She walked inside the cottage, closed the door, and took off her jacket.
Damn the stubborn man.
She hadn't been this worried since . . . since her parents had gone missing during a flight over Papua, New Guinea. For two days she'd slept on a cane bench in the office of the local police chief, waiting for some news of their whereabouts. Being monsoon season, the heat was near unbearable, with mosquito's becoming fat and happy on her blood. No matter what repellent she used, she was a walking buffet for the little vampires.
Then, on the morning of the third day, she'd received the news.
Her parents' plane had been sighted in a very remote part of the country. It would take days to reach them, if they could. Though from the state of the wreckage it was immediately assumed that both of her parents, the pilot, and a care worker had perished in the accident.
At the horrible memory, a hollow, sickly sensation cramped her stomach, made her dry wretch.
Never again did she want to go through that kind of pain and heartache.
Angry, she paced the room, determined to give the ungrateful sod a piece of her mind w
hen he got back. People can't run from their problems, they have to face them.
Hell. She should talk.
That's exactly what she had been doing for years. Running from Michael—from the embarrassing truth—burying her head in the sand of any remote dig to escape the gossip and innuendo about her career. It seemed everyone had heard about her liaison with Michael.
But he'd only boasted half the truth.
And she'd never done anything to stop him.
Idiot.
No. No, this time she would handle this project alone and prove to everyone she didn't live in Michael's shadow or need his favor to get by.
And Ewan?
Christ. Okay. Assuming they weren't mad or playing a prank on her, she had to help him and his mother get home.
She glanced at the small chest next to her bed and sighed. The amulet. It had to be the same Margot talked about. Somehow, by bringing the pieces back together she'd accidently tripped some sort of switch, bringing Ewan here.
There must be a way to get him back.
The door burst open, Ewan stood in the threshold.
Her heart leapt with relief. She wanted to kill him. "Where have you been? Damn you! You had me sick with worry." She strode up to him, thumped him on his chest. "Don't ever do that again, do you hear me?"
Misery and anguish gushed from her past, took the opportunity and crashed through her weakened defenses. She hit him again, then again. Tears flowed down her face.
He reached around her, pulled her close against him. "Hush now, Ellie."
She broke down as he kissed the top of her head and kept hold of her. His warmth seeped into her, his scent surrounded her, subdued her angst. She clutched onto his plaid, closed her eyes. Other than her father, he was the only man she'd ever felt safe with.
And she was going to send him away.
Chapter 9
"Kiss me."
The brazen words left her lips before she could stop them. The last time she'd offered herself to a man, it had ended in disaster.
In Peru, Michael had been drunk and fawned over her with little care or grace. In fact, the entire night had been worth forgetting, though her pride had made her lie to Michael the next morning.
As far as he was concerned, he'd performed to her every romantic expectation, and had the nerve to boast about his ‘conquest’. For her to deny his claims would be to admit she'd fabricated the fantasy.
Not only was the lie embarrassing, but who would believe the truth?
Michael had been promiscuous with many young interns at the time, only she'd chosen to turn a blind eye and dare think she was special—that he'd cared enough about her to stop his philandering ways.
She'd never been more wrong.
Ewan wiped the tears from her cheek and gazed down at her. His eyes had turned into molten gold and smoldered with a heat that made the room suddenly very warm.
"Aye, lass. You wish me to kiss you...to take you?"
He cupped her chin, raised her mouth to meet his, then brushed his lips softly across hers.
Her heart pounded, her limbs turned to jelly, and a small sigh escaped her. God, how she wanted him. At that moment, she didn't care what he thought of her, she just wanted to lose herself within his heat. To feel desired, if not loved.
"Yes." The whispered admission caused relief to wash over her like a warm tide.
No more hiding from her emotions. No more lies.
A part of her had been left unfulfilled for so long she was determined to satisfy the anxious longing that was to taking her over. And it was all his doing.
He kindled a wild fire within her, and if he wouldn't make a move now, hell, she would.
She reached up and linked her arms around his neck, forcing her lips against his in an awkward motion. Any notion she had about him not wanting her disappeared as he grabbed her buttocks and hoisted her up against his hot, hardened body, taking her mouth completely and drinking in her gasps.
He wanted her.
His tongue invaded her mouth and demanded her capitulation. She complied with a fervor that made him groan.
Captured by his scent and his heat, her head began to spin, dizzy with such intoxication that it made the whiskey seem weak by comparison. Love, lust, longing, whatever it could be called, raged through her like hurricane.
After releasing her mouth, his lips brushed along her jaw, then his teeth nipped along her earlobe, sending ripples of unabashed pleasure dancing across her skin.
With his every touch, her hips arched against his, kicking her adrenaline into overdrive. A hot, sensual smile slid across his face. If he was thinking he had her where he wanted her—he was damn right.
Her hands roamed along the scarred plains of his back, exploring his every curve and muscle, down to where his plaid hung upon his firm hips.
Her breathing hitched with growing anticipation, as her shaking fingertips trailed along the course leather belt holding the rough kilt in place. Locating the heavy metal buckle, she fumbled with the clasp, the twisted iron cool beneath her burning fingers.
Damn it if she couldn’t undo the bloody thing.
As if reading her thoughts, his hand crept over hers and deftly did away with the troublesome buckle; all the while his mouth steadily devoured her neck inch by devastating inch.
Oh, God.
As he kissed the sensitive pulse at the base of her throat, she gasped and clutched at his plaid, only to have to heavy weave fall away from him and crumple to the floor.
He raised his head, a willful gleam in his eye.
"From this night." His ragged whisper echoed into the room. "You are mine, Ellie."
The passionate exclamations made her tremble, leaving her unable to do anything but nod in reply. She wanted to tell him how she was feeling, but she could find no words to describe the web of bliss in which she'd become hopelessly entangled. Or maybe she was too frightened to speak—fearful she would shatter the incredible moment.
His hand moved along her hip to the small of her back, and she felt weightless in his embrace as he began to gently lower to her to the floor. Crushed beneath her, the rugs bristly fur cocooned her in a sea of instant warmth.
Her gaze, timid at first, flickered over his magnificent naked form as he lay down beside her. The flames of the nearby fire were nothing compared to the heat radiating from his taught body, his touch scorching the cool flesh of her belly.
Running his hand down along her hip, he seemed mesmerized by her fair skin. She caught his hungry gaze, and closed her eyes as his mouth took hers; his tongue, hot and forceful, taking command and guiding her to a heightened state of pleasure.
And—oh!—how she loved the taste of him. Earthy, masculine, every bit the powerful man she remembered from their first brief kiss.
He pulled away from her, then straddled her hips, placing one muscular thigh either side of her. She clearly wasn’t going anywhere—even if she wanted to.
"Look at me, Ellie."
Her breath caught at the sight of the simmering liquid amber in his heated gaze. His expression was so full of desire, passion, it made her heart melt. So damn gorgeous.
Her pulse raced. Oh, God. She couldn't fall for him.
No. She mustn't . . . .
But all rational thought dissolved as he slowly unfastened every tiny button down the front of her blouse, delivering a searing kiss upon each portion of exposed skin in turn.
Her heart beat wildly against her ribs, and a lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Once the last button was released, he pushed back the soft cotton fabric over her shoulders, revealing her lace covered breasts in the soft firelight.
He lifted the elastic straps and lowered them onto her arms, then ran his fingertips along the edge of the silk band, following it to where it clipped behind her back.
She caught his curious expression and mused for a moment about what he may have thought of the feminine contraption. He would have never seen such undergarments before. As a smil
e met her lips at the thought of him wrestling with the clasp, she was shocked by the presence of his hand under her bare breast. Her bra lay next to her on the floor. How on earth? A girlish giggle escaped her throat. Her incredible Highland warrior had managed a feat yet to be mastered by modern man.
He'd singlehandedly unclipped a bra.
She gasped as he took a nipple within his mouth, then bit gently between his teeth. Her heart pounded, every beat sending bursts of pleasure pulsating through her veins, sizzling every nerve with anticipation.
His tongue flickered and swept across the hardened bud, then blazed a trail down to the valley between her breasts, leaving a ripple of goose bumps in its wake.
Looking up at her through dark lashes, a mischievous smile parted his lips.
“I think I prefer you in skirts, lass.” His strong hands grasped the top of her jeans and tugged, sending the small metal button flying across the room. The zipper parted with a short, sharp squeal before the denim was swiftly removed from her legs. “Although, having you wear nothing at all has it attractions too.”
Flames of embarrassment leaped up along her body and licked at her burning cheeks as she lay there in her rather sensible full-brief underwear. Yet, as he carefully examined them, he appeared rather enamored by the cream cotton undies. Maybe it was the closest thing he’d ever seen to lingerie?
A low growl rumbled from his throat, and she suddenly found herself bereft of cover, her body swiftly tucked beneath his.
Taking her mouth, his tongue swept inside and explored the moist warmth within. He seemed to taste her, savor her, as though she was something delicious he hungered for. Perhaps she was.
He heart swelled with joy at the notion, and she smiled to herself—Michael had never touched her this way.
But then, Michael had never claimed her.
But Ewan didn’t know that.
Panting, she swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Ewan, I must tell . . . ."
The words died on her lips, as his fingers found the sensitive folds of her sex and worked their sensual magic. Oh, God. All coherent thought dissolved into the blissful chaos consuming her. Spasms of pent up passion unleashed within her as she writhed beneath the delicious weight of his body.