Covering herself, Chloe gave him a narrow eyed look of accusation. He was twirling a dandelion stem between his fingers and she distinctly remembered something tickling the crack of her ass. "No I did na leave them somewhere! I had them on just a minute ago--before I fell down, anyway."
He sat up, propping an arm on one bent knee. Watching him suspiciously, Chloe followed the movement of his arm, blinked, then looked at him again. He was wearing a skirt! A plaid skirt--sort of. It looked like he’d wrapped a piece of cloth around his waist and then pulled the rest over one shoulder--bare shoulder. No shirt, just the thing around his waist. Except for some sort of weird knit socks, his legs were bare, too, and covered in blond hair, all the way up to his--Chloe didn’t realize that she’d actually leaned forward to get a better look until the thing wiggled at her. Her jaw sagged.
"I need to find my clothes," she said abruptly, getting to her feet with an effort and looking around, feeling awkward and ungainly as she tried to cover her thatch and the melon breasts at the same time. She jerked to a surprised halt when she looked around her, however. Frowning, forgetting all about her modesty, she turned in a full circle.
The pine trees were gone. Instead, huge trees she thought might be oaks, surrounded the small clearing where she stood--and she was in a clearing--no briars. The fairy ring was there, though.
She rubbed her head. Why did everything look so different? The last thing she could remember was being in the woods with Terrie--piney woods. Now Terrie was no where in sight and the woods didn’t even look the same … and this strange man in his strange clothes had appeared out of no where to ogle her like she was a tasty morsel or something.
And wasn’t it just like Terrie to hightail it at the first hint of trouble? She must have run back to the car, as she’d thought to begin with.
Had Terrie snatched her clothes as some sort of practical joke? That sounded a little wild even for Terrie, but if she hadn’t, where the hell were her clothes? "Where am I?" she asked when her mind simply refused to furnish her with the information of where she was and how she’d gotten there--minus something really important--her clothing.
The man, who’d risen as she did, cocked his head to one side. "Scotland, lass. Where’d ya think ya were?"
She turned to look at him when he spoke and felt another jolt run through her. He was one hell of a big man! He looked as if he was at least three feet across the shoulders … she figured she stood somewhere around arm pit height to him. "Jesus! I can see you’ve been eating your Wheaties. Are you a football player or something?"
"Ya’ve a right queer way of talking, lass. Yer nae from around here, are ya?"
"Me? I didn’t understand half of what you just said--Did you say Scotland?"
"Aye, lass--the lowlands. Yer nae one of them heathen Sassenach then?"
She looked at him blankly. "I’m from Georgia."
His brows rose. "Georgia? I canna say I’ve heard of it."
"In the U.S."
"I’ve na heard of that one neither."
Chloe gaped at him. He didn’t look like a moron, but he couldn’t be terribly bright if he didn’t even know where the U.S. was. "How could you not have heard of the United States? We’re in the United States."
He looked her over doubtfully. "Tha’s fine, lass. I’m thinkin’ ya must’ve got yerself a nasty bump."
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to insinuate that I’m crazy?"
"Easy, lass. I never said ya were daft. I’m only saying mayhap yer a bit confused. I dinna ken where this yew S is, but I’m thinkin’ it’s nae in Scotland or I’d’ve heard of it."
She was confused. She wondered if she’d gotten amnesia when she hit her head … and if it would cause hallucinations. She didn’t remember anything beyond turning in the fairy ring and making that silly … She frowned, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Resolutely, she dismissed the crazy thought. "I really do need to find my clothes," she said plaintively, feeling her chin wobble ominously.
"Ah, ya do at that. Ya look a bit chilled."
Chloe looked down and discovered her puckered nipples were peeking out over her arm. Covering them, she gave him a deadly look.
He grinned. "I’d offer ya me kilt, but I’m thinking yer bare arse is a sight better ta look at than mine. In fact, if ya dinna mind me sayin’ so, it’s a right comely arse."
Now that he’d brought it up, she had a thing or two to say about his presumption. "I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been trying to poke grass in yours," she said tartly.
He didn’t look the least repentant. "I was only checkin’ for signs of life, luv."
"That’s a little lower than my heart!"
"Well, yer back was ta me, lass," he said apologetically, his green eyes twinkling devilishly. "But, it has a lovely heart shape ta it, fer all that. I’m thinkin’ mayhap it was that that confused me."
She hated to admit it, but he was cute … annoying, but cute and so handsome her heart did a little flip flop when she looked at him. "I don’t suppose you have anything like maybe a jacket or a shirt in your car? I think Terrie must have taken ours and gone for help when I … uh … fainted."
He looked confused for a moment. "I’ve na cart with me, lass. But now ya mention it, I’ve got my best shirt in my pack. I’d be honored to offer it to ya, if ye’ll have it. I’d’ve offered it before, but I had my mind on other things."
"Oh! Yes, please!" Chloe exclaimed in relief, ignoring that last suggestive remark and the look that went with it.
"Come along then," he said, holding out his hand.
Chloe stared at his hand a moment and finally placed her own cold hand in his. He looked down at her hand a moment, and finally closed his hand around it. "Yer a bonny wee lass," he said gruffly, the teasing gone from his eyes. "Someone’s bound ta be out lookin’ for ya."
As innocent as the contact was, Chloe felt a tingling warmth spread through her, felt a little catch in her breath. Or maybe it was the look he’d given her when he’d glanced from their joined hands to her?
It occurred to her that she should have been scared shitless being led off by a complete stranger, particularly one as big as he was. Somehow, though, he didn’t seem at all threatening, despite his hulking size. He’d behaved surprisingly well, in fact, particularly considering she’d woke up without a stitch of clothes on. She’d caught him looking her over more than once, but he hadn’t gaped at her and gone all catatonic when she’d turned over and flashed her boobs at him--if it wasn’t for the very definite gleam of interest in his eyes, she’d have wondered if he might be gay.
She shrugged her doubts off. If he’d meant her any harm, surely he could’ve done anything he wanted even before she woke up?
Shock went through her when he led her down a narrow path and directly toward a lake. She stopped. He didn’t and apparently he also didn’t notice she’d stopped, until he nearly jerked her off her feet and she stumbled into him. He looked around at her curiously.
"How did that get here?" she demanded.
Frowning, he turned and looked around. "What?"
"The lake!"
"The loch? Yer lookin’ a bit peaked, lass. Yer nae gonna have a fit now, are ya?"
Chloe looked up at him, feeling tears fill her eyes. "I don’t think I understand any of this."
"Whist! None of that, now, lass!" he said, looking dismayed at her woebegone expression.
She sniffed, blinking back the tears with an effort. Guys really hated it when girls cried. All they could think of was getting away as fast as they could, and she didn’t want him to take off and leave her. "I think I’m really, really lost."
He stared at her a moment and finally pulled her a little closer and patted her back awkwardly. "There, now, lass. I’m nae gonna run off an’ leave ya. We’ll find yer folks. I gi’ ya me word on it."
Chloe sniffed again, tempted to huddle a little closer. He was so warm and … well, big. It made her feel a lot less scared. On the other hand, she
didn’t think it was a very good idea to cuddle too close. He might get the wrong idea, all things considered.
She nodded and he set her firmly away from him, looking almost relieved to put some distance between them.
"My horse is just here," he said cheerfully, moving away from her and striding across a stretch of ground to where a huge, brown horse stood grazing lazily.
Chloe stood where he’d left her, staring at the animal. He was horseback riding? In that skirt thing? What had he called it? A kilt? Jez--us! They must be way the hell out in the boonies. Otherwise he’d have been arrested for exposing himself.
She’d seen that one eyed monster. The skirt he was wearing was just barely long enough to cover it as it was. Hiked up on horseback….
Opening a pack tied to the saddle, he dragged a long, yellowish white piece of cloth from it and shook it several times. Frowning when he saw she was still standing where he’d left her, he strode back and held the shirt out to her. She stared at it uncomprehendingly. It looked as strange as the thing he was wearing--like no shirt she’d ever seen. It was woven fabric, not knit, and yet there wasn’t a sign of a button, just matching strings at the neck and the ends of the sleeves.
After a moment, he gathered it in his hands, dropped it over her head and thrust her arms into the sleeves as if she was a child--or a moron. She looked down at it as he tightened the lacing at the neck. The shirt hung well past her knees … the sleeves, too. The shoulder seams landed somewhere around her elbows.
Frowning, he grabbed an arm, fished her hand through the opening at the end and tied another string around her wrist. When he’d repeated the process with her other hand, he stepped back and looked her over.
Chloe looked down at herself. The shirt fit her like a small tent. It was stiff and scratchy--and it smelled a bit like the horse.
She must look lovely in it! But it beat the hell out of going around naked.
She smiled at him with an effort, tugging her hair out of the neck of the shirt. "Thanks … uh … you didn’t tell me what your name was."
"Sean … of the clan Frazier."
"Sean Frazier?"
"Aye."
"Thanks, Sean Frazier."
"Yer most welcome, Miss Chloe," he said. Grinning at her, he grasped her arm and led her to the horse.
Chloe looked up at the horse doubtfully. It was huge, but it seemed docile enough. She reached up to take hold of the pommel, but Sean forestalled her. Grasping her around the waist, he lifted her up and settled her at the front of the saddle--sideways. Before she could protest, he mounted behind her and pulled her back against him. "Ya dinna say what clan ye hail from … or do ya remember that?"
"Clan?"
"Yer family name, lass."
"Oh--Monroe."
He stiffened all over. Grasping her jaw, he tilted her head up so that she was looking at him. "I dinna think I heard ya right," he growled, his blond brows almost meeting over his nose, his green eyes suddenly deadly.
Chapter Three
Chloe gaped at him. Gone was the charming, smiling, roguish man who’d teased her, comforted her, dressed her as gently as if she was a child. In his place was a red faced, furious giant. "Uh … Monroe?" she repeated weakly.
Chloe’s heart stopped dead in her chest when he released her abruptly and pulled the biggest knife she’d ever seen in her life from a pouch thingy on the horse. The damned thing was nearly as long as she was tall. She thought for several moments that her eyes were going to pop right out of her head.
Fortunately, her heart kick started again on its own, but she came very close to fainting for the second time in her life--on the same day.
He glanced around the woods as if he expected someone to jump out at them any moment. That scared her almost as much as the expression on his face. She couldn’t imagine him being worried about anything--unless it was a herd of Sean Fraziers.
It took Chloe a few moments to realize the strange wheezing noises she could hear were coming from her throat. Apparently, it took him that long to figure it out, too, because as soon as he did, he reached over and clamped one ham of a hand over her face--covering her mouth, nose and eyes all at once.
It kept her from hyperventilating and passing out, but it also made breathing really difficult. She grabbed hold of his thumb with one hand and one of his fingers with the other and tried to pry him loose before she suffocated.
After several frantic moments, he finally released his grip on her face, crushed her against his chest and kicked the horse in the sides.
"Is it something I said?" Chloe asked after they’d been riding for maybe ten minutes.
He dragged back on the reins and caught her chin again. "What game are ya at, lass?"
"Game?" Chloe repeated blankly. Suddenly a knee weakening relief washed over her. "This is a game? Did Terrie put you up to this? You scared the shit out of me! And I don’t think it’s funny!"
His eyes narrowed. "Yer wastin’ yer time tryin’ to play daft now. Tell me what the plan was."
Chloe blinked at him, feeling uneasiness sink in again. "You think I … I thought you meant you…."
"Ya were layin’ in wait for me. I see that now, but ya need nae be congratulatin’ yerself over it."
"I was…." Chloe said faintly. "Now wait just a damned minute! I’m the victim here! How could I have been waiting for you when I didn’t even know who you were?"
His eyes narrowed. "Ya expect me ta believe ya dinna recognize the Frazier colors when we’ve been enemies of the Monroes for nigh twenty years?"
Chloe gulped. "Enemies? You mean not friends, right?"
"Ya had word I was ta meet with the Kincaids ta form an alliance between our clans, dinna ya?"
Chloe stared at him for several long moments, feeling faint all over again. "I think I’m going to puke," she muttered, clapping a hand to her mouth. He looked startled. The moment his grip slackened, Chloe slid off the horse and hit the ground at a run.
She thought for several moments that her unfettered boobs were going to dislocate a shoulder or knock her out. Grabbing one in each hand, she ran for all she was worth … which was about two cents.
She’d caught him off guard, but he had a horse, and even if he decided to give chase on foot, he had at least a foot more in stride than she did … and she had no where to go. There probably wasn’t another soul within twenty miles of them. "Help! Help! Help!" She screamed as she ran. Then she remembered the safety course she’d taken. People rarely came when you yelled help, but they couldn’t resist coming to see what was going on if you yelled fire. She hoped to God there weren’t any hunters in the woods! "Fire! Fire! Fi…!"
The air left her lungs as he hooked a tree trunk of an arm around her. Her forward momentum was enough to sling both of them in a semi-circle before Sean lost his balance. Unfortunately, he didn’t lose his grip. He hit the ground first. She landed on top of him hard enough it knocked breath out of both of them and butted her forehead on his chin so hard it rattled her brain in her skull. They rolled to the bottom of the small rise she’d just crested, with her on top, then bottom, then top … It was like having a tree roll over her. When she finally stopped rolling, she was face down in soft dirt. Sean was on top of her, and she really was nauseated. She lay perfectly still for several moments, trying to fight down the sickness threatening to well in her throat.
Slowly the threat of puking receded and she became aware of other things--the fact that the tent he’d given her to wear was up around her neck--the fact that the skirt he was wearing was up around his waist--the sticks jabbing her in her boobs and belly--the cock hardening in the crack of her ass.
Struggling, she managed to get her hands flat on the ground on either side of her shoulders and heaved upwards. It was like a resistance exercise--she stained her guts out and nothing happened. Grunting, she went limp again, gathering herself for another attempt. "Ge’ off me," she muttered, the words slurred by the fact that her face was squashed beneath his chest.
"The orderlies," she muttered.
"Who?"
"The guys in the mental ward that lost you."
He rolled off of her. Before she could actually feel any relief about it, he shoved her flat and straddled her. "Yer nae makin’ any sense, lass."
"Is there a hospital anywhere around here?"
He frowned. "Wha’ language are ya speakin’, lass?"
She put her hands over her face. "I’m sure I need a doctor. I’m probably bleeding to death internally, as we speak. I think you broke every tiny little bone in my body you asshole!"
He caught her wrists, pulling her hands from her face. He was frowning, suspicion warring with doubt. "Are ya truly hurt, lass?"
She gaped at him indignantly. "If your horse rolled over you, wouldn’t you hurt? It’ll be a freakin’ miracle if you didn’t break something when you rolled over me! I’m going to be black and blue all over, and it’s all your fault!"
His lips twitched. After a moment, he pulled her upright.
She groaned at the sudden movement, felt blackness swarm around her. Her head felt too heavy for her neck. As it fell back, she felt his hand cupping the back of her head. One arm slipped around her shoulders. She rested against the arm gratefully, relieved when the blackness began to recede. She opened her eyes when he shifted away from her and thrust his other arm under her knees, lifting her high against his chest. Unnerved, more than half expecting him to drop her, she locked her arms around his neck. He didn’t seem to be having any trouble holding her, though, and after a moment, she dropped her cheek to his shoulder. "Where are we going?"
He stiffened.
"Jez-us! Forget I asked."
"I’m thinkin’ there’s nae much point in goin’ ta the rendezvous now, but there’s no harm in checkin’ before we go back. Mayhap they were patient enough ta wait around while I chased ya all over the woods," he said grimly.
Chloe huffed out an indignant breath. "As if I wanted you to! Look, I don’t know what you’ve got against the Monroes and I don’t care. It’s got nothing to do with me. I’m not related to them. I don’t even know them! I don’t have any family. My mother died when I was born. My father ran off, before that. My grandma raised me and she died two years ago--so unless you know my father--which I don’t--then you’ve got none of my kin to be enemies with.
The Fairy Ring Page 2