Spirit of a Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Arch Through Time Book 7)

by Katy Baker

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “How dare you? You were the one who brought me here—against my will—and now you just expect me to follow your orders like a trained monkey!”

  “Nay, lass, I expect ye to show a bit of common sense! This town is crawling with mercenaries – dangerous men who will take what they want without a thought to the consequences. What I do, I do to protect ye!”

  “Protect me?” she cried. “Is that what you call handing me over to your cousin like I’m some piece of baggage? Is that what you call kidnapping me and bringing me to a strange town without so much as a by-your-leave?”

  “Ye gave me yer word that ye wouldnae try to leave. Or is yer word worth nothing now?”

  “I promised not to try and leave town!” she yelled. “I said nothing about staying in this god-damned room. What are you really afraid of, Logan? That I’ll discover something all on my own? That I might find a way out of this damned mess?”

  Logan crossed the space between them in two strides. He grabbed her shoulders. “Nay, lass, I’m afraid of losing ye! Dinna ye understand that yet? I see a future where ye aren’t a part of my life and that terrifies me!”

  She went very still and made no effort to break his grip. Something inside Logan snapped.

  He grabbed her, slammed her against the wall, and kissed her.

  Chapter 15

  Thea desperately tried to hold onto her anger but the words Logan had spoken doused it like water poured on a fire. I’m afraid of losing ye. Oh Lord, did he feel the same way after all? Could there be a future for them?

  She got her answer when he kissed her.

  As his lips touched hers, desire lit every nerve in her body. All thoughts of Kara, of Irene, of the coming war, flew right out of her head as goose bumps erupted across her skin and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A hot ache lit between her legs, a deeply burning core of warmth that grew stronger with every moment that Logan’s lips moved against hers.

  She yanked him roughly against her and she could feel the hard bulge between his legs that told how much he wanted her. She returned his kiss with a hot, hungry passion, wanting to taste every inch of him, feel every inch of him. He placed his hands under her buttocks and lifted her effortlessly, hiking her dress up around her hips. Thea wrapped her legs around his waist, tangling her fingers in his thick hair and breathing deeply of the scent of him. It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

  "If ye want this to stop, ye must say so now," he breathed against her ear, his breath hot on her neck. "I willnae be able to help myself if this goes any further."

  In answer she turned her head, met his mouth with hers, kissing him with an almost savage need, a need which he answered. His teeth nipped her lip and then traveled down her neck, tracing a line of fire across her skin. Thea threw her head back and moaned, her fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders.

  He shifted his weight and his manhood pressed against her, igniting the core of warmth between her legs to an almost unbearable ache. She reached down and gently stroked it. With a moan, Logan's eyes slid closed and he shuddered slightly. Then he pulled away from the wall and carried her to the large bed where he laid her down. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down after her, finding his mouth and slipping her tongue inside.

  His hands were suddenly on her body, sweeping across her belly and up to her breast which he squeezed until her nipple came painfully erect against the rough fabric. Thea plucked at his shirt and Logan obliged by rising onto his knees and yanking the shirt over his head and tossing it away. He was left in only the kilted part of his plaid and his bare chest gleamed a dull bronze in the sunlight flooding in through the window, the dark tattoo swirling across his chest. Thea drank him in, her eyes roving over the deep contours of his chest and arms.

  Logan flipped her onto her belly, his fingers working deftly at the laces that held her dress closed. It took only seconds for him to get them undone and to slip the dress from her shoulders and down her back. She shivered as she felt his lips against the skin of her back, traveling gently down the length of her spine and up again.

  He tugged the dress over her hips and Thea lifted herself slightly to allow the fabric to slip from under her. She was naked now and the cool air sent a chill across her skin. But only for a moment. The next moment Logan rolled her onto her back and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking and massaging until heat seared across her skin once more.

  His hands moved lower, his fingers trailing ever so lightly up her inner thigh to the sweet spot between her legs. Thea gasped, her back arching as he began to expertly massage her there, sending pulses of pure electricity through her body. It was too much. She couldn't stand it. She needed him within her.

  "Logan," she whispered. "Logan."

  When he looked up at her, a question in his eyes, she began tugging at his plaid. She wanted nothing between them. She wanted to feel every inch of his hot skin against hers. Sensing her need, Logan ripped off his kilt and tossed it onto the pile on the floor. Thea's eyes traveled to where his manhood jutted out, every swollen inch of it testifying to his desire for her. She reached out and gently stroked it, running her fingers along its hard length and then back again. Logan groaned, his breathing heavy.

  His eyes met hers and the raw lust in them almost knocked Thea flat. There was a primal, almost animal need in Logan's gaze as he pushed her down and positioned himself above her, nudging her knees apart with his own. Logan gazed down at her, his dark eyes locked with hers. Then he shifted, pushing his weight forward and driving himself into her with a hard, deep, thrust.

  Thea cried out as he filled her, sending a shudder of ecstasy through her body. Logan growled deep in his throat as he began to move, making love to her in deep, steady strokes. Thea kept time with him, moving her body to meet his thrusts, her hands feeling the muscles of his back bunch and relax as he moved.

  Thea had never felt anything like this. Her body was on fire. Every sense was heightened: from the tingling of her skin, to the scent of Logan filling her nostrils. She felt as though she was drowning in this man.

  Logan's movements became faster. He thrust into her harder and deeper, his breathing ragged, his breath hot on her neck. Thea began to come apart. The sensations rocketing through her were too much. She felt it begin to consume her body. It was as though she was carried up on a wave of ecstasy. Up, up, up, she went—and then she toppled over the edge into blinding oblivion.

  She arched her back and shuddered out her climax. He growled by her ear and then jerked as he reached his own peak. For a moment that could have lasted a lifetime, Thea lost all sense of time and place. Then slowly, as the pleasure began to ebb, she came back to herself. Logan's weight was on top of her, pinning her to the bed, his skin hot where it touched hers. Then he lifted his head and looked at her.

  The lust was fading from his eyes and they shone with something like joy. He smiled at her, and it was so full of delight that it made her heart ache.

  "Thea," he whispered.

  He levered himself up onto his hands so he could look down at her. His hair brushed Thea's face. Leaning down, he kissed her gently before rolling onto his back and pulling her into the crook of his arm. Thea pressed herself against his side, resting her head on his shoulder whilst his arm came around her protectively. He kissed the top of her head.

  A deep, heavy lassitude filled Thea's limbs. She felt more sated, more content than she could ever remember. She fought to clear her thoughts. There was something she had to do. Something she had to tell Logan. Ah, yes, her meeting with Kara Harris and what the woman had told her.

  But it could wait. Everything could wait. The only thing that mattered right now was the fact that Logan was hers. Oh, how she had longed for this! And when it came it had been every bit as good as she’d dreamed. Every bit of fear and doubt that had assailed her since they’d come to Dun Ringill melted away. Logan wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.

  And she wanted him again already.
Leaning over, she kissed him. Logan responded and arousal roared to life in her again.

  It was going to be a long night.

  ***

  Logan had no idea what time it was. He guessed it was almost dawn but he couldn't sleep. Lord above, he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to watch Thea. Her breathing. Her hair as it spilled across the pillow. He'd lost count of how many times they'd made love last night but he'd soon discovered that her passion matched his own and he could hardly contain his desire for her. Even now, watching her sleep, he felt his desire rise once more. Oh, how he longed to kiss her awake and make love to her again, to feel her body against his, the hot touch of her skin and her little cries of pleasure. Heaven help him, he would never stop wanting this woman. Not for as long as they lived.

  He reached out and gently brushed his thumb across her cheek. She shifted slightly but didn't wake. Logan's breath suddenly caught in his throat. He'd never seen anything so beautiful and an uncouth lout like him had no right to possess something so delicate.

  "I love ye," he whispered.

  He’d known it for a long time, deep down, but he’d been denying it, even to himself. Now, finally able to admit it, he felt something inside he’d not felt in a long, long time. Hope.

  Thea was not afraid of his curse. Twice now she’d slept by his side all through the night and not come to harm. Logan didn’t know what that meant. All he knew was that if Thea was willing to take the risk, then so was he. He would find a way to protect her, no matter what it took.

  Yesterday he’d had no luck in finding Irene. Today would be different. Today he would go to Eoin, enlist his aid in turning out the garrison, and they would scour every inch of Dun Ringill until they found the old woman. Then Logan would make a new bargain: he would do anything Irene asked in order for Thea to be safe. Then he would beg Thea to stay with him—forever.

  Hope. It was a rare thing, so alien to Logan, and yet it filled his heart with joy. He might have a future. A future with the woman he loved.

  Careful not to wake Thea, he climbed out of bed and gathered his clothes from where they lay scattered on the floor. Dressing quickly, he strode to the door and left, making his way through the familiar corridors of the castle until he came to his cousin’s rooms—rooms that had once been his. He knew it was early but Eoin had always been an early riser, getting up well before dawn.

  Logan knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer. He knocked again.

  “Eoin? It’s Logan. I need to speak to ye.”

  Still no answer. He turned the door handle and opened it a crack. “Eoin, I’m coming in so make sure ye are decent.”

  Poking his head around the door, Logan spied the large sitting room that had once been his. The curtains had been thrown open and dawn light filled the room. There was no sign of Eoin and the door to the large bedroom stood open, showing that was empty too. Logan strode inside and looked around. The suite of rooms were immaculately tidy, as was Eoin’s wont, and the bed had clearly not been slept in.

  Logan frowned. Where would Eoin be at this hour? Then he had it. When Logan had been laird Eoin had often spent all night in his study, poring over the old documents and maps he was so fond of. It was during one of these all night study sessions that Eoin had found the key to enacting their bargain with the Fae.

  Striding from the room, Logan made his way through the castle, avoiding the servants who were already up and about, and reached a quieter, less used part of the castle close to the servants’ quarters. He halted outside a plain wooden door. Sure enough, candlelight spilled from under it.

  “Eoin!” he called, knocking gently. “Are ye in there?” He pushed the door open and walked into Eoin’s study.

  He took a few steps and then halted in shock. Instead of a room crammed to the rafters with shelves of books and documents as it had been in Logan’s day, the room had been cleared entirely and the flagstone floor was taken up by a ring of four rounded stones about the size of Logan’s head that marked the cardinal points on a chalk circle that had been drawn on the floor. The sight of it set Logan’s hair on end.

  “Eoin?” he called. “Are ye in here?”

  He moved to the edge of the chalk circle and halted. Something warned him not to cross its threshold. Soft laughter echoed around him and suddenly the room changed, his surroundings melting away like candle wax.

  Logan found himself sitting at a small square table. Someone was seated opposite him but a hood covered the face. Then a voice spoke.

  "Do ye really think ye can cheat me?"

  The figure lifted the hood and Logan’s heart skipped a beat when he recognized the Fae with whom he'd made his bargain. The wizened old man was wearing the MacAuley plaid and had a copper torc around his neck.

  Fear surged in Logan's veins. "What is going on here? Where am I?”

  The old man waved a hand. “That doesnae matter. What matters is what ye will do next. I ask again: did ye really think ye could cheat me?”

  “Cheat ye?” Logan replied. “I have done my best to abide by our bargain! It is yer kind who willnae stop meddling in my life!"

  The old man shrugged. "It is in our nature. Just as we always call in our debts."

  He vanished and Logan saw that there was a bed at the far end of the room. Pushing back his chair he approached the bed. Anna was lying in it, her skin deathly white, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow. Rhodry and Ailsa sat by their child's bed. Rhodry's face was ashen and Ailsa was gently sobbing into her hands.

  Then the scene shifted and Logan found himself digging a hole in the ground. It was already waist-deep but Logan needed to make it deeper. He drove the shovel into the soft brown earth and dug until his shoulders burned. He didn't want to look at the shroud-wrapped figure lying by the graveside but his eyes were drawn to it nonetheless. The soft muslin that wrapped her wasn't thick enough to obscure her face and Logan stared in horror at Thea's closed eyelids and pallid skin. His punishment was only fitting: condemned to dig the grave of the woman he loved.

  The soft laughter came again and Logan found himself seated back at the table with the old man.

  Logan lunged across the table and grabbed him by the throat. “If ye hurt her I will kill ye!”

  A force slammed into him, pinning him against the chair. Something dangerous flashed in the Fae’s black eyes and a slow smile spread across his face. “How touching. And how naïve to think ye can harm me.”

  “What do ye want?” Logan growled. He strained to move but the invisible force held him pinned. “Why are ye here?”

  “I have always been here,” the old man replied. “In the background, weaving my webs. I am patient and it has taken many years for my plans to ripen. But now that ripening is here and ye willnae be allowed to disrupt them, Logan MacAuley. Irene and her protégé were foolish to think they could ever find a champion who could stop me. Ah, they had such hopes for ye. But ye stepped into my trap as blindly as a babe and gave me the means I needed to achieve my ends.”

  “What are ye talking about? What plans?”

  He leaned forward, grinning malevolently. “Chaos, of course. Bloodshed. The destruction of the balance. Soon the MacAuleys will ride against the MacKinnons and the whole Highlands will be engulfed in a war that will drench the pages of history in blood. Ah! Glorious anarchy!”

  Cold fear drenched Logan at the creature’s words. “What has the conflict with the MacKinnons got to do with ye?”

  His grin widened. “Everything. Ye can come out now!” he called behind him. “Yer cousin is suitably subdued.”

  Eoin stepped into the room. Another seat appeared at the table and he sat, smiling at Logan.

  “My, my, ye look surprised, cousin.”

  “What, by all that’s holy, is going on here, Eoin?” Logan growled. “Explain yerself!”

  Eoin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “There ye go again. Ordering me around. Ye canna help yerself, can ye? But ye aren’t the laird here anymore, Logan. I
am.”

  Logan stared at his cousin. There was a smirk on his face and a kind of malevolent glee Logan had never seen before.

  “Aye, ye are,” he agreed. “Because of the bargain I made with this creature.” He looked into his cousin’s eyes. “A bargain suggested by ye. Lord help me, Eoin, please tell me I’m wrong. Please tell me ye aren’t in league with this creature.”

  Eoin smiled. Then he reached into a knapsack he had hanging from one shoulder and pulled out an object made from iron. Logan’s skin prickled at the sight of it. He knew a branding iron when he saw one. Eoin laid it on the table between them.

  “Do ye recognize this?” he asked softly.

  The branding iron was shaped into an elegant swirling design of interlocking coils. When heated and pressed against skin it would leave a mark identical to one that Logan knew only too well.

  The tattoo across his chest suddenly flared with pain causing him to gasp.

  “Ah, ye do recognize it, I see,” Eoin said. “I would be surprised if ye didnae, seeing as this was once pressed into yer flesh to seal yer bargain with the Fae. Look closer, Logan. What else do ye see?”

  A lock of hair was wrapped around one of the coils. With cold certainty Logan knew it was one of his.

  “Damn ye, Eoin,” he breathed as everything suddenly became clear. “It was ye. Ye who suggested the bargain with the Fae, ye who arranged it. Ye were in league with the creature all along!”

  Eoin clapped sardonically. “Finally! I thought ye were never going to figure it out!”

  “Why?” Logan grated. “Why would ye do such a thing, Eoin? Why would ye betray me like this?”

  “Why?” Eoin spat, his face suddenly contorting with anger. “Why, ye arrogant sack of horse-shit? For my rightful place, that’s why! Ye think I was happy to play second fiddle to yer damn brothers all those years? Ye think I was content with the scraps ye left me? Me, Eoin MacAuley, who is far cleverer than any of ye! I would never get what was rightfully mine whilst ye and yer brothers were around.”