by Mary Morgan
“Dried salmon?” Fiona’s mouth salivated instantly.
“The druids have a way of drying and smoking the salmon. Open your mouth, Fiona.”
She willingly opened her mouth and closed her eyes. When the salmon entered her mouth, she took her tongue and lapped at Alastair’s fingers. “Mmmm…so good. More please.”
With each portion, Fiona moaned in delight. When he popped a bit of sweetbread with dried apricots tasting of rum into her mouth, she let out a moan of pure pleasure.
Slowly opening her eyes, she noticed Alastair staring at her. “If ye continue to moan as I feed ye, I fear we will not finish our meal.”
Smiling, she fumbled for a piece of sweetbread. “Then I will just have to feed myself.”
He grasped her hand and devoured the bread, licking the sticky remnants from her fingers. His tongue grazed across her palm sending a shiver up her arm.
“What’s in the others?” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.
Alastair shifted and pulled forth a package. Untying it, he brought out what looked like pasties. Breaking it open, he scooped a small amount with his fingers, placing some in her mouth.
“This is delicious. Carrots, mushrooms, and onions?”
“Aye.”
Taking the other half, she did the same for him.
For the next hour, they tasted more dried salmon, sweetbread, nuts, and another pasty filled with cabbage and onions.
His eyes danced with mischief. “Would ye care for the last bite of sweetbread, my lady?”
Playing along, she replied, “Why yes, kind sir.”
As he placed the last piece into her mouth, his lips lightly brushed over hers. “I might as well catch the last bit of crumbs, aye?”
“Of course,” she whispered, grabbing for the skin of wine and taking a sip.
Flushed from food, wine, and kisses, Fiona leaned against the fallen log and gazed up at the stars. “Did you know that those clusters of stars form Leo the Lion? And further south is Cassiopeia? I believe my favorite will always be the Big and Little Dipper.” Pointing to another, she added, “That red star south of the moon is called Antares.”
“Is it now? And did ye ken that the dragon is located to the east?”
She snapped her gaze to his. “You follow the stars, too?”
“How could I not?” He kissed the tip of her nose and sighed. Leaning back, he looked up at the night sky. “We were taught at a young age that the many different patterns of the stars watched over us. With each passing season, we would listen and learn.”
“We?” asked Fiona.
“My brothers and sister,” he replied softly.
Driven by curiosity, she then asked, “What were they like?”
Hearing his intake of breath, Fiona feared she had stomped on emotions that had been buried deep for some time.
“They, myself included, were headstrong, stubborn, brave, and fiercely loyal. We challenged each other constantly, especially with our gifts. Angus would give us all fair warning should we go too far, but in the end, his anger would brush us with a taste of what he could do.”
“Which was?”
“Fire.”
“Fire…he can control fire?”
“Not only can he command it, he can conjure it from the air.”
“Amazing.”
Alastair snorted. “Ye would not want to be around him when he unleashes the element. Stephen interceded one day when he set the fields ablaze and my hair.”
“How? What is his power?”
He cocked a brow at her. “Water, thank the Gods.”
She pressed a hand over her mouth to stop the giggles.
“’Tis no laughing matter.”
Though Fiona could tell by the quiver of his lips, he was holding back the smile. “What about Duncan and Margaret?”
“Duncan controls the skies. He can bring forth a mighty storm when his anger is unleashed.”
“It would seem you all have issues with your tempers,” she chided.
Alastair barked out laughter. “Och, aye. We are not a sight to be around when the lion emerges. Even our bonny sister has…had a temper.”
His words trailed off, and Fiona reached for his hand, weaving her fingers through his rough ones. She let the silence wash over them and gazed back up at the twinkling stars.
His voice was somber when he added, “Margaret had the gift of healing. Odd that in the end there was no one to heal her.”
When Fiona looked into his eyes, she saw the pain of that night reflected within. He quickly averted his gaze, and her heart ached for him. “Whenever I stare at the night sky, I find comfort realizing that my grandmother is watching me from one of those stars. Now, I can add both my parents. Perhaps that is why I’m fascinated by the night sky, not only the vastness, but the sense that there are others out there.”
Alastair turned his sight up toward the sky again, and when he spoke, his tone was one of sadness. “I believe Meggie is watching over others, for she would not be fond of what I have become.”
Fiona had no words of comfort for him. She understood he had to find his own peace. Yet, glancing at the scarred man, both emotionally and physically, there was only one thought that kept running through her mind.
If I were a star, I would always watch over you.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“When the Knight attempted to carve out his heart, he found the Maiden had already claimed it for her own.”
Alastair did not have the heart to wake Fiona. He’d awakened after the sun began its dance with her still wrapped in his arms. He could not remember the last time he had slept so well.
They had talked into the wee hours of the morning with her falling asleep against his arm. He had been rambling about another story of one of his brothers when he heard her snoring softly. Gently maneuvering her body around, he tucked her against his chest. Soon, he, too, was fast asleep.
Glancing down at her face, he was captivated by her features. Skin as white as snow and lips so red they reminded him of strawberries on a warm summer’s day. His body stirred ready to seek her flesh, yet, for now, he was content to watch Fiona slumber.
What happened yesterday? What happened to him?
He should not need her. He should not crave her touch, her smile, or her sweet words of comfort. Her voice was akin to music to his ears that he should ignore.
There were too many shouldnas and not enough shoulds.
Alastair shook his head in an attempt to free his mind from his current thoughts. Nevertheless, his feelings betrayed him.
He needed Fiona.
The problem battling a war within was he wanted her as his own. Feeling her shift in his arms, he peered deep into blue eyes that beguiled his senses.
She smiled fully at him. “Good morning.”
“It is indeed.” He spoke before his lips devoured hers. His hand slipped under the tunic she had borrowed from him during the night, and found her soft breast, kneading gently. Moaning low, she wrapped her arms around his neck opening her legs for him.
His hand roamed downward until he found her folds, and she moved against his palm. A burning desire to bury himself deep and claim her swept over Alastair, but he wanted to take his time. Letting his fingers find her pleasure spot, he swept his thumb in lazy circles around the small nub.
She grazed her teeth along his earlobe. “In me, now.”
“Do ye not like this?” he asked as he applied more pressure.
She tossed her head back and forth, letting out gasps. “Yes, but want to feel you inside me.”
“In a moment,” he breathed into her ear.
Grasping his face, she slowly pulled on his lower lip with her mouth. “Pleasure me with your cock.” She wriggled back and pulled the tunic over her head presenting him with a glorious vision.
“Ye have become a brazen woman, my leannan.”
She froze in his arms. “Does that worry you?”
Taking his cock, he edged it toward he
r entrance. “Nae, sweet vixen. It stirs my blood.”
He didn’t give her time to respond as he plunged deep within her channel, and then ever so slowly, pulled back out. Over and over, he did the same until he thought he would lose his mind.
“Alastair, oh Alastair!” Her cries mingled with his as she took him over the edge soaring high above the ground—the hot tide of passion surging through both of them.
“Is it always like this?” she asked moments later, as they attempted to calm their breathing.
Alastair rolled over bringing her atop his chest. What could he say? He had never experienced such passion with another woman. Fiona had managed to slip past all his barriers, sitting squarely in his heart.
Stroking her back, he glanced up into the sky. “For some, aye.”
“Hmmm…”
He could see the frown marring her face, and he waited for the next question. “Are we the rare ones?” she asked.
Again, what could he say?
A part of him wanted to tell her everything. However, he was not ready, nor was she. So in the end, all he could do was shrug. “Perchance.”
“You’re right. Perhaps…” She snuggled back into his embrace and for some unknown reason, Alastair felt like a coward.
****
The day had turned warm with the sun’s rays beating down as they traveled. Each time he glanced back at Fiona, she was wiping curls away from her face, now flushed from the heat. With only three days separating them from Urquhart, he decided to slow their pace. As they made their way through a dense cluster of pines, the steep path narrowed and dipped. When he came through, Alastair thanked the Gods. He could hear the trickle of the water and smiled. Below flowed a small stream, partially hidden from view. While waiting for Fiona to catch up to him, he checked to make sure Merlin was not far behind.
“Would ye care to bathe, my lady?” he asked when Fiona arrived at his side.
She squinted up at him. “Are you jesting?”
“Och, Fiona, I never jest.” He rubbed a hand over several days growth of beard. “Well, at least not lately.”
She looked at him with what seemed to be amused wonder. “I believe you were quite the prankster in your youth.”
“I will never tell.”
“Humph! Then lead the way, Sir Knight.”
Giving her a curt nod, he dismounted from his horse and strode over to her. Reaching out for her, she greeted his gesture by falling into his arms. “We will have to lead the horses down. Do ye think ye can handle yours?”
Placing a kiss along his jaw, she replied, “Of course. I will just let Molly know what we are doing and show her the way.”
“Molly? ’Tis not the name of your horse.”
She waved him off, saying, “Oh I forgot to tell you. She didn’t like the name the druids gave her, so I gave her a new one.”
Alastair had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Then explain to Molly to be verra careful.” He then turned and started to lead his horse down toward the stream, still marveling at Fiona’s gift to speak to the animals.
Each day, during their journey, some critter would wander over to her. Inevitably, she would indulge them by giving them food and sitting in quiet solitude with them at her side.
His sister would have said she was touched by the Fae. And he would have agreed.
Nearing the stream, he released Gawain watching as the horse went to take a drink and then Alastair reached for Fiona. “Your bath awaits.”
“I cannot tell you how happy I am that you were not joking.” Placing a kiss on his lips, she turned around. “Will you help me undress?”
“Gladly,” he answered his voice undeniably hoarse.
Shrugging out of her gown, she draped it over a boulder. As she dipped a toe into the water, she grimaced. “Gosh, it’s freezing.” She peeked over her shoulder at him. “Are you not coming in?”
“The view from here is pleasing,” he responded, as his eyes roamed over her luscious curves with the light glistening off her skin and the ornament she wore on her wrist. She was his Goddess and no other.
“Get your arse in here, Alastair MacKay,” she teased, splashing water at him.
Wiping the water from his face, he stripped within seconds and stalked over to her. “I will show ye what happens when ye stir the beast, my vixen.”
Fiona let out a shriek when Alastair picked her up and walked into the middle of the stream. “Don’t you drop me, Alastair.”
Cupping her bottom firmly, he bent his head and savagely kissed her, silencing any further words. His tongue sought entrance into her warm mouth, and she surrendered freely to the passion of his kiss.
Still holding tightly to her, he submerged them both into the water. Returning to the surface, her eyes glazed over not from anger, but from lust.
“You tricked me.”
“Nae, distracted.”
“Do it again,” she said playfully.
“As ye wish.”
Taking her mouth once again, he descended into the water. When he brought them back up, she wiggled and wrapped her legs around his waist.
She pushed back the hair from his face. “So handsome,” she whispered.
Alastair’s heart stopped for a second. By no means did he consider himself handsome. Mayhap many moons ago when he did not carry the scar on his face. But now? Her words shattered the hard shell that he had built so carefully.
Walking out of the water, he looked about and found the perfect place. With each step he took, flowers bloomed. She rested her head against his shoulder as he knelt down under a large oak.
This time Alastair made slow, passionate love to Fiona. As he roused her passion, his own grew stronger. When he could no longer contain himself, he slid into her, swallowing her moans with his mouth. As her cry of release tore through, he emptied all that he had into her, releasing not only his raw passion but also the love he bore for her.
He held her quaking body for some time until she stirred in his arms. “Would ye care to have your hair washed?”
“Hmmm…hair,” she mumbled. “No soap.”
He chuckled softly. “Aye, we do.”
Lifting her head, her curls were a wild tangled mess. “The druids gave you some?”
He nodded, smiling.
She let out a long sigh. “I would love to wash my hair.”
Kissing her brow, Alastair stood and walked to Gawain. Retrieving the soap wrapped in cloth, he brought it to her where she sat on a boulder near the water’s edge.
He took his time in washing her hair, marveling at her short curls. “Do ye not like long hair?”
She had her eyes closed, but opened them at his question. “Yes, I do. But mine is so thick that one hot summer I decided to chop it off. Does it bother you? I mean…well…”
“Whist, leannan.” He cupped her face, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “It would not be right to hide such features. Ye are beautiful.”
They stared at each other for several moments, before Alastair gently laid her back on the boulder and rinsed the soap from her locks.
“Your turn,” she said quietly.
Placing the soap in her hand, he dunked his head in the water, and then sat on the boulder next to her. She unwove his braids and proceeded to massage his head. By the Gods, her hands felt good. Closing his eyes, he let his body relax.
“Interesting tattoo you have on your back. The dragon rises from the ground, not water?”
He could feel her fingers tracing over his dragon. “My power is from the land.”
“How old were you when you had this done?”
Sighing, he thought back to years past. A time when all was well in his world. “Sixteen winters.”
She went back to kneading her fingers against his scalp, and he closed the door on the memory.
“Rinse,” she murmured into his ear, nipping along his neck. “I’m hungry.”
“Aye, as am I,” he groaned.
“For food,” she said la
ughingly.
He grimaced in humor. “Your food first, then mine.”
Ambling away, she tossed out over her shoulder, “I think I’ll get dressed.”
“I like what ye are wearing.”
“I’m wearing nothing,” she protested.
“’Tis exactly my point.” His gaze never left her backside, and he watched as she slipped her gown back on, before turning around. When she arched a brow at him, he let out a sigh and got up from the boulder.
Slipping into his trews and tunic, he pulled the food satchel off of Gawain. Seeing Fiona under the oak sprawled out on his wrap, he instantly went hard again.
Will I ever get enough of ye, lass?
Sitting next to her, he let her spread out the food, content in watching her every movement. They ate in silence as the afternoon sun made its arc across the sky. After they were finished, she sat in his lap.
“Would you like me to put the braids back in?”
“If it pleases ye,” he replied hoarsely.
“It does.”
He watched her in quiet concentration as she wove her fingers through his hair. Alastair noted that when she was focused on something, she would chew on her bottom lip.
Instinctively, he brushed a hand over her breast causing her to shiver.
“You could at least let me finish.”
“Then hurry.” He bent to capture the pout on her lips.
His lips never made it to hers. A screech from above startled them both as a huge hawk darted from the tree. As he watched it circle around them, his warrior senses took over. Placing a finger over Fiona’s lips to silence her, he reached for the sgian dubh near an apple and placed it in her hand.
Thank the Gods that his sword was nearby. Removing Fiona from his lap, he drew it forth, standing. Keeping her at his back against the tree, he opened his Fae sight.
Slowly, the men emerged from the trees.
Their leader moved steadily toward them. “I would not have expected this. Look who we have here, men. Why ’tis Alastair MacKay, fallen Dragon Knight,” he spat out the last.
“Michael MacFhearguis,” growled Alastair in warning.
The man moved closer. “Is this your woman?”
Alastair shifted his stance. “None of your concern.”