Her eyes widened the moment the words were out of her mouth and she surged to her feet. "Maybe that’s why it happened. Maybe its fate! Maybe you weren’t supposed to die and it was a freak thing that threw me here to stop it … And I would’ve gone right back if you hadn’t dragged me off!"
Anger gleamed in his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement, as well. "Fate?"
Chloe shrugged. "Some people think everything happens for a reason, that it’s part of fate’s design. I’ve never believed in it myself, but maybe that’s just because I don’t like the idea of not having control of my own destiny. All I do know is that I was out minding my own business, collecting mushrooms for class, and the next thing I know I wake up here, stark naked, and you’re right beside me. Maybe it wasn’t the wish, or just a freak accident. Maybe it was something that was meant to happen."
"How do ya know it wasn’t fairies grantin’ your wish?" he asked, mock serious.
"Because I wished to find my soul mate! So unless the fairies have a thing about reversing wishes...."
Something flickered in his eyes, reflecting the thoughts and emotions that mirrored in his swiftly changing expressions. "Are ya so certain ya have nae?" he asked finally.
Chloe gaped at him, trying to remember what she’d just said and figure out what he meant. When it clicked together, she didn’t know whether she was more horrified or stunned. "Found my soul mate, you mean?" she asked blankly.
"Aye."
"No. I mean, yes, I’m sure."
He moved a little closer. "Yer that certain?"
Chloe, feeling an uneasy quiver in her belly, put a hand in the middle of his chest, but it had no appreciable effect. "Yes, I’m that certain."
"Because I mus’ confess I was taken with yer … charms."
Discovering at that moment that he’d backed her against the wall, Chloe gave him a look of reproach. "Lust and love are not the same thing!"
"Aye, they are, luv. I’d be happy to show ya if ya like."
A wave of dizziness and uncomfortable warmth washed over Chloe as he crowded closely against her. She hadn’t realized that her body had already quickened, humming with anticipation merely from his nearness, but the moment their lips touched, rapture budded inside of her, blossoming within the space of a few hundred frantic heartbeats into full blown passion. It was as if she was tinder, waiting only for the flame of his touch to produce a raging inferno that threatened to consume both of them.
It caught her off guard, demolished her defenses even before she fully realized she needed them. Her entire world narrowed to the focus of the taste and texture and scent of him as his mouth caressed her lips. His tongue, dancing over the tender inner surfaces of her mouth, touched off sensations that radiated through her body like a wandering caress.
His hands slipped beneath the shirt, cupping her buttocks and pulling her close so that she could feel his burgeoning erection undulating rhythmically against her belly with the movement of his hips, nudging teasingly against the tiny nub of her clit at the apex of her cleft. Without conscious deliberation, she felt her hands moving over his bare arms and shoulders, tangling in his long hair as she lifted upwards to meet him, surging closer to the source of heated pleasure like a flower reaching for the sun.
Within moments, the tentative exploration of their first kiss had blossomed from mutual interest to desperation and passion drugged, mindless need. Sean’s kiss became a hunger for conquest. They collided with the wall behind Chloe. He pressed tightly against her, then, frustrated by the difference in their heights that prevented intimate contact, pushed her up against the wall, pinning her there with his body, rubbing his erection along her damp cleft with increasing desperation.
Chloe groaned into his mouth, feeling her passion saturate her passage with moist warmth. Tightening her arms around his neck, she moved against him in counter to his own movements. Desire dampened the folds of her sex, her cleft, soaking through the shirt she wore and his own clothing, which they’d trapped between them.
Neither was in any frame of mind to solve their dilemma in their heated exchange. It frustrated them and at the same time heightened their passion, and their desperation to breach the barrier.
Chloe had no idea of how long someone had pounded at the door. As in a dream, it was absorbed by her mind but translated into something else entirely, the pounding of her heart, the throbbing of her clit.
Sean groaned, struggled to shut it out and finally broke the kiss, gasping against her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. He was shaking with the effort to regain control. Finally, reluctantly, he allowed her to slide to the floor until her feet touched the cold surface. When she’d steadied herself, he pulled away, strode furiously to the door and snatched it open. "What?" he growled at the individual on the other side.
"The messenger’s returned. Ya said ya was ta be told."
Sean hesitated. Finally, he nodded. Turning, he cast Chloe an enigmatic glance over his shoulder, studied her a long moment and finally left without a word, closing the door firmly behind him.
Chapter Seven
Chloe found that she was holding her breath. She let it out. Her thighs, shaking with weakness, buckled and she leaned weakly against the wall, slipping down it until she was sitting on the floor. Lifting a shaking hand, she touched her lips. They were swollen and tender. "Wow," she muttered hoarsely.
Her pussy was throbbing like an aching tooth, and she slipped her hand down between her legs. She found, however, that it was too sensitive even to the lightest touch for rubbing to be at all soothing. Snatching her hand back, she pushed her thighs together, looping her arms around her knees. Her nipples throbbed with need, as well, and he hadn’t even touched her there.
She glanced a little blankly around the room. Her mind seemed curiously empty, still fogged and disjoined, as if she’d taken some wild, mind bending drug. If anybody had ever asked her if she was capable of feeling something like she’d just felt, she would’ve disputed it. She hadn’t had a clue sex could be like that, let alone felt it herself.
And he hadn’t even gotten around to the actual sex yet.
It was downright scary.
The door opened abruptly and Chloe shot to her feet. She didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry to see it wasn’t Sean. The woman standing in the doorway looked her up and down contemptuously. "The laird said I was to bring ya something more fittin’ ta wear," she said finally, holding up what looked to be some sort of garment in an indescribable color.
Chloe looked at the garment, then looked at the woman, who’d stopped near the foot of the bed.
She was glad. She could smell the woman better than she wanted to from this distance. She had no desire to put on anything the woman had handled. She forced a smile. "Thanks. I’m fine with this, though."
The woman looked like she smelled something that stank. "Whore."
Chloe’s eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"
"The laird said ya was ta dress more befittin’ a lady. Yer not ta leave this room until yer decently dressed. Ya canna be paradin’ about the castle like the whore ya are, disgustin’ decent folk."
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. "If you call me a whore one more time, you skanky bitch, I’m going to snatch you bald," she snarled.
The woman looked taken aback. She seemed to take the promise to heart, however, for she said nothing else.
Deciding the woman was no particular threat, Chloe moved to the bed and picked the offering up between two fingers and sniffed in the general direction. When no foul aroma was immediately apparent, she moved the dress a little closer and carefully sniffed again.
"It’s clean if that’s what yer at," the woman said stiffly. "Relatively speakin’."
"How relative?" Chloe asked suspiciously.
The woman shrugged. "Ain’t been worn more’n once or twice since it was washed."
"By whom?" Chloe asked.
"Well, ain’t ya miss high’n mighty!" the woman sniffed. "It weren’t mine, if tha
t’s what yer askin’."
Somewhat relieved, Chloe caught the shoulder of the dress and brought it a little closer, testing it with her nose once more. Faintly, she smelled person on it, but it smelled far more like soap. Shrugging, she dropped the dress on the bed again and pulled Sean’s shirt off.
There was no difficulty putting the dress on. It was twice as wide as she was and about six inches too short … if she considered the fact that all the other women seemed to be wearing their dresses down to the floor. "Poor woman," she said, looking down at the dress as she hitched the wide neck line back up to her shoulder. It promptly slipped off the opposite shoulder and she pulled that side up.
"It needs a tuck here’n there, but I’m nae much with a needle."
Chloe studied the dress wryly. "I can sew, as long as the needle’s attached to a sewing machine, but this … thing is beyond help if you ask me."
"We weren’t expectin’ the laird ta bring home a naked woman."
Chloe chuckled. "I wasn’t expecting it either. Thanks."
The woman looked surprised. "My name’s Maggie."
"I’m Chloe."
The woman tilted her head curiously. "There’s talk that ye’re a Monroe."
Chloe studied her a long moment, but there didn’t seem much point in lying about it. "Does everybody around here hate the Monroes?"
The woman nodded. "Pretty much."
"Oh joy!"
Maggie looked her over. "I’m thinkin’ the dress ain’t much more decent than the laird’s shirt. Yer ankles’r showin’ an’ the neck’s too big, even with breasts like yers."
Chloe shrugged. "Actually, I prefer loose clothing. It isn’t nearly as … uh … uncomfortable as tight clothes." She glanced at Maggie and blushed. "Men gawk at me. I really don’t like being stared at, if you know what I mean."
Maggie’s brows rose. She shook her head. "It’s not somethin’ I’d be complain’ about myself.
Chloe sighed. "Gram said I should just be glad I wasn’t born with two heads," she said, chuckling.
Maggie nodded. "Wise woman. Better to have’em starin’ at you because yer beautiful than because they think yer ugly."
Chloe felt her face turning a bright red. She certainly wasn’t beautiful, not even close to it, but it was really nice of Maggie to say so. "Thanks," she said uncomfortably.
"I’m ta take ya down ta the hall."
"The hall?" Chloe asked a little doubtfully, hoping against hope that she didn’t mean that awful great room downstairs.
"Aye. Like as not there’ll not be so much as a crumb of bread by the time we get there."
"To eat?" Chloe’s stomach growled, but she really, really didn’t want to go downstairs and sit down with all those hairy, half naked men.
"Aye. Laird’s orders."
Reluctantly, Chloe followed the woman from the room. "What’s a laird?"
Maggie did a double take, her jaw sagging. "Sean’s the laird … of the castle, the lands."
Chloe frowned. "Kind of like a lord, you mean?"
"That’s what I said. The laird."
"Oh. Did he build it himself?" Chloe asked a little doubtfully, looking around at the lichen covered walls.
Maggie laughed. "The castle’s been here a while. It was started by the laird’s grandfather. His father did some buildin’ on it, as well."
"That explains it then--the dirt, I mean. It’s kind of dark and damp and creepy, don’t you think?"
"Ya talk strange. Yer sure yer a Scotswoman?"
Chloe looked at her self-consciously. "Sean told me not to talk about it." That wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either.
Maggie nodded and cautioned her to watch her step as they started down the stairs. Grasping the shirt to make sure she didn’t trip over the hem, Chloe placed one hand against the wall and made her way down the stairs carefully. The din from the dining hall, or great hall as they apparently called it, reached them even before they began to descend. By the time they reached the foot of the stairs, the noise was nearly deafening. Chloe would’ve hung back, but Maggie grasped her arm and led her to the head table. From the looks of things, Maggie had been right. They’d been at it for a while.
Sean, who was laughing at something one of the men had said, looked up when they stopped behind him. Giving the man next to him a shove, he made room for her on the bench beside him. Shrugging, Chloe lifted her skirts to her knees and climbed over.
An abrupt silence fell over the hall and Chloe looked around curiously to see what had caught everyone’s attention. That was when she discovered all eyes were trained on her. "What?"
Sean’s face was red, and, from his expression, she thought it was only partly from embarrassment. He leaned toward her. "Have ya not an ounce of modesty, lass? Ye’ve flashed yer limbs for half the men in the hall ta see," he said in a low, growling voice.
Chloe gaped at him. "My limbs?" she repeated blankly.
Sean gestured in the direction of her legs.
She gave him an indignant look. "Exactly how was I supposed to climb over the damned bench?" she snapped irritably.
He blinked at her in surprise. "Like a lady."
She gave him a look. "Well, they’ll have to show me how they do it, because I’m sure I don’t know how I’m supposed to climb over something—in a dress—without showing my … limbs."
Apparently, he couldn’t think of a response to that. Frowning, he returned his attention to his food.
A servant plopped a sloshing mug in front of her and a--well it looked like a plate, sort of, except made out of a piece of bread. A brownish, gluttonous mass filled the center. Chloe reached for the mug and sniffed it suspiciously. The fumes alone made her head swim. "What’s this?"
"Ale," Sean growled at her.
She pursed her lips and held a hand up, waving at the servant. When he returned, she smiled at him. "Could I have a glass of water instead, please?"
The boy gaped at her and then glanced at Sean. Sean nodded and the boy left again. A few minutes later, he plunked a mug of water on the table in front of her. Lifting it, Chloe was about to drink from it when she noticed the particles floating in it. "There are … things floating in my water," she announced to no one in particular.
Sean took the mug and studied it for several moments. "It looks clean enough to me, lass."
Chloe took the glass back, but she found she just could not drink water when she could see floaties. Sighing, she set the mug down. There were probably floaties in the ale, too, but at least she couldn’t see them.
It took her several moments to catch her breath after the first sip burned a trail across her tongue, down her esophagus, and settled in a burning pool on the bottom of her stomach. She coughed for a good five minutes. It probably wouldn’t have been that long except that Sean decided to help her by pounding her on the back. She fought him off weakly and finally caught her breath. "Don’t help," she managed hoarsely.
He shrugged. "Ye’ll be pissed if ya dinna get somethin’ in yer stomach ta soak up a bit o’ that ale," he said warningly.
Chloe glanced at him, frowning. Her head was swimming already. "Pissed? Why would I be mad?"
"Nae daft, lass, drunk."
"Oh. What’s daft have to do with … never mind. The slang around here is almost as confusing as the accent," she muttered, pulling a piece of bread off her plate with an effort. The brown stuff didn’t look quite as repulsive as it had to start with so she dipped her bread in it and shoved it in her mouth.
It tasted worse than it looked. With an effort, she managed to chew it up and swallow it. She looked at the water yearningly, but finally picked up the cup of ale again and took another sip.
There was cheese on the table. It looked pretty disgusting, but she thought it might not be as bad as the stew. "May I have some cheese?"
Sean stood up, grabbed the wheel of cheese and pulled his knife from the scabbard at his side. Slicing a chunk off, he handed it to her. She looked at the cheese, and then h
is knife, and then the cheese. After looking around several moments for a napkin, she finally picked up a fold of her skirt and wiped the cheese off with it. She didn’t know what he used that knife for, and she didn’t want to know. She suspected everything, but she wasn’t going to think about it. Resolutely, she took a small bite of the cheese, ignoring the look Sean had given her when she wiped it off on her dress.
It was strong, and dry, but it actually didn’t taste that bad—or she was really hungry.
The cheese and bread made her thirsty, though. She took another small sip of the ale. At the far end of the room, everybody, apparently, had finished eating. Someone started singing. She glanced at Sean. "I love celtic music. Enya’s my favorite, but I really like Clannad, too."
Sean drained his glass and shouted something to the singer. She hadn’t a clue of what he’d said. It didn’t even sound like English. It seemed he’d requested a song, though, because the singer began another tune. Apparently, it was funny. Every few minutes, everyone would start laughing. Chloe had no idea what he was saying, but she laughed, too. When he’d finished, she stood up. "I know a funny song," she said cheerfully. "Anybody here know Discovery Channel: The Bad Touch by the Bloodhound Gang?"
Sean frowned. "I nae heard that one, lass. Sing it for us, then."
Chloe beamed at him and took another sip from her ale. Jumping up on the bench, she started dancing to the tune in her head. "Sweat baby, sweat baby, sex is a Texas drought."
Three men at the next table over spewed ale all over the table. Sean choked.
"Can you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about? So put your hands down my pants and I bet you’ll feel nuts. Yes, I’m Siskel. Yes, I’m Ebert and you’re gettin’ two thumbs up."
Catching his breath at last, Sean stood up, stepped over the bench and grabbed her around the waist.
"You and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals, so let’s do it like they do it on the Discovery Channel. Do, do, do, de, do, do, do, do … ugh." She grunted as she landed hard on Sean’s shoulder. She glanced at him curiously, then at the swimming faces in the crowd as he strode from the room with her. They were laughing, pounding their mugs on the wooden table tops in time to the tune.
The Fairy Ring Page 5