“No. Helen came down to tell me.”
Ian sunk into his chair and lowered his head. “Thank, God.”
Just watching Ian melt into his seat brought to light how grave Amber’s health had been. Simon kicked himself for not paying more attention. He knew when the Keep filled with people her gift plagued her unless she kept above stairs where she could put some barrier between her and all the emotions swimming below.
Still, he didn’t realize the impact on Ian. The man held the weight of a huge family, a village, and a crush of knights on his shoulders, but concern for his youngest daughter brought him down. Simon knew if Amber were married, settled, Ian wouldn’t have all those parental emotions tearing at his heart. But Amber’s gift had become her curse.
When she and Simon were younger, after the fall of Grainna, she started to feel the changes in her abilities. At that time, Simon spent many hours with her, talking, contemplating life. As the years took their toll on Amber, she became more distant. Suitors offered their attention, but she couldn’t stand their touch.
There was nothing the family could do. They’d tried to block her gifts. They’d asked the Ancients to show pity and take back some of her empathic abilities—all of them, if they could—to offer her peace.
Nothing happened.
Now, with Helen’s suggestion, a different tactic was taken, and Amber was afforded some relief.
The Ancients had a plan. Who knows, perhaps the Ancients were Angels of God working with him to keep his precious world from falling apart because of human nature.
“This can wait, Papa.” Simon used his childhood title for Ian, a title the older man adored when Simon used it. “Let’s visit Amber while the powers hold.”
Ian’s glossy eyes met Simon’s. “Aye. You’re right, lad. Winning a war means little if I can’t help my own child.”
Simon knew Ian didn’t completely believe that. He’d fight to the death for the villagers, their children.
Todd rolled up the map and placed it under his arm before following them out the door.
By the time they’d made it to Amber’s room, Duncan, Fin, and Lora had arrived. Helen sat beside Amber and barely acknowledged Simon’s presence in the room.
“Da!” she said and held out her arms.
The room stilled as Ian embraced his daughter for the first time in years. The room went silent. Tears flowed down several cheeks, some of the men blinked watery eyes.
Simon choked on a breath and swallowed hard.
“’Tis better. So much better.”
“She’s been dizzy, Ian. Let her sit,” Lora told her husband.
Ian shot a concerned glance at his wife and helped his daughter back to her chair. “Dizzy?”
“A little,” she confessed.
“Even that is easing,” Myra told him.
“Is the gift gone?”
Amber shook her head. “Not gone. Darkened. When I touch you,” she placed a hand aside her father’s cheek. “I know you’re concerned, relieved, but the emotion doesn’t choke me. I don’t feel everyone in the room at once, and nothing below.”
Tara kissed her husband on the cheek. “I’ll talk to the children, let them know they can visit later.”
Duncan placed a hand around her waist. “I’ll go with you.”
“We should leave, too,” Todd announced. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Amber.”
“Thank you.”
Everyone but Simon, Helen, Ian, and Lora left Amber’s side. Lora sat holding her daughter’s hand, and Helen flanked her other side.
“There is light behind your smile again,” Lora said.
“I fear I’ll have to bathe in this cloak. Still, ’tis better than the weight of everyone’s emotions.”
Simon knelt beside Amber. “It might be possible to find other suitable clothing to help.”
“This will work for now.” She snuggled into the garment as if it were a blanket on the coldest day of the year. Amber hid a yawn behind her hand. “I could sleep for days.”
Ian nodded in Simon’s direction. “Then we’ll leave you to it. Simon, you should find your rest now, too. You’ve a long night ahead of you.”
“What is happening?” Amber had been kept from most of the activities of the Keep in an effort to help her condition.
“Nothing for you to worry about. Simon will scout again tonight is all.”
“Didn’t you just get back?” Helen asked.
“A few hours ago. I’m fine.” But he was tired and knew a few hours sleep would help him later.
Helen narrowed her eyes, unconvinced.
“Go, sleep. I’ll have food sent to your chamber,” Lora directed. “And you, my husband, when was the last time food met your lips?”
Ian winked at his wife. “I could eat.”
“Out with both of you. Helen, would you mind staying with Amber a while?”
“I’m not a child,” Amber told Lora.
“I know, but you’re my child and I worry. We’ve no idea what to expect with this.” Lora fingered the edges of the cloak. “Until we do, you should have company.”
Amber lowered her head and accepted her mother’s sound advice.
Simon left the room with his adopted grandparents, all the while feeling the weight of Helen’s stare on his back.
* * * *
Perched mid branch with nothing but the moon as light, Simon listened to the murmurs of the men below. Most, like any war party, spoke of their conquests, their desire to see the enemy fall. What puzzled Simon was the disdain these men had for the MacCoinnich family. From what Simon could tell, none of them had ever had any contact with Ian’s family or with Simon’s family. Still, they talked of capturing them to abuse and torture. That too was odd. Why?
“We remove all obstacles and take the women.”
“Aye, they’re a prize to hold.”
Helen.
They were after the women?
There was a leader somewhere in the throng of these men, and Simon was determined to find out the man’s name. The name McNeil hadn’t been used once.
Something wasn’t adding up. A siege didn’t often result in hostages.
Simon flew through the trees, keeping his falcon self hidden from any eyes below. The word prize and phrase take the women were echoed throughout. The flat tone of their voices bothered Simon even more than their words.
He waited for over an hour, watching, listening. No clear leader manifested. However, one name was uttered. Malcolm.
Simon didn’t know the name, nor the man behind it.
Men shifted into comfortable positions under the stars to sleep while others took watch. Simon soared into the night breeze for the long journey home.
God’s teeth, he was tired. He’d spent more time in falcon form than human. He was half-tempted to hunt for a wild rabbit, something he avoided when he shifted. But shifting always made him famished. Not to mention tired. And since Helen had entered his life, horny.
Helen. Just thinking her name sped up the beat of his heart. Human or bird. He supposed he owed her an apology for embarrassing her in front of the men. But with him away from the Keep as much as he was, he didn’t like the thought of the others hitting on her. Simon wasn’t a Viking, wasn’t about to toss her over his shoulder and claim her as his, but being a warrior in the Highlands had a few advantages over being a mere man of the twenty-first century.
He knew she watched him in the courtyard when he sparred with the other men. Felt her eyes as he walked across the room. And her taste, sweet lord he could live with it forever. Under all her spirit there was an innocence he didn’t expect. She’d lived the exact opposite of his life. Alone and without a family to bring her up when she was low, or take her down when she needed to learn a lesson. The MacCoinnichs had been a blessing to him and his mother. Fin and Lizzy’s love and commitment to each other was something Simon wanted for himself.
Was Helen for him? So what if she lived in the future. He had too at one point in h
is life. Who knew, maybe she’d choose to stay in the past? Or maybe a higher power intended a different plan for them altogether.
If there was one thing in life Simon knew, it was that tomorrow could hold his unexpected future. A future with magic, family, even death. He remembered his days in Mr. Price’s algebra class wondering if he’d ever use the crap they taught him. Wondering if he’d ever make it through junior high school without getting his ass kicked or kissing a girl. And then his Aunt Tara disappeared, and his mom lost it.
Okay, maybe lost it wasn’t quite the way it all happened. But she poured every minute she wasn’t working into searching for Tara. Then Myra appeared from nowhere talking about time travel and magic. Simon reflected back on how he thought his mom had hooked up with a bunch of quacks. In amongst the craziness that followed, Simon found one resounding theme.
Family.
How he’d craved a normal family as a child. How he wanted a father who gave a rat’s-ass about his well-being. Fin fell into his mother’s arms, and Simon’s entire life changed.
So yeah, tomorrow might be the first day of the rest of his life. He was a living testament to that cliché.
Simon caught the first flickering light of the Keep just as a few drops of rain started falling from the sky. He bent his beaked-head toward the fresh scent and willed his massive wings to hold on a little longer.
Dawn broke and from the distance he could see the activity of Ian’s men beginning their day’s preparations. A crow announced the end of the night or the beginning of the day, however you looked at it.
The closer to the Keep he flew, the more tired he became. Simon was ready for bed. Needed a few hours sleep before reporting to Ian. He was beyond taxed.
On the highest turret, he found the open shutter and aimed directly home.
As his falcon talons reached for the floor, Simon pictured human feet touching the cold, stone surface. His entire body reached toward his human form with one long, electrifying snap. Every muscle stretched, every bone crushed and elongated into a man.
It hurt like hell.
Before his feet touched the floor, he knew this morph would be like none other. He’d pushed himself too far and his body was going to let him know how pissed it was. When this had happened one time before, he’d fallen into a deep sleep and lost hours of his life.
Simon willed the shift to complete, knowing it would be better to be found as a naked man in the Keep than a wounded falcon.
His last viable thought as he hit the ground was Who left the blankets on the floor?
* * * *
Helen no sooner lifted her head from the pillow before Simon, in all his naked splendor, fell into a heap at her feet. His elbow met with her cheek with a sound crack. She reached her hands out and barely managed to keep his head from splitting open on the stone below.
“Simon?”
Nothing. She didn’t hear a thing.
Her heart leaped inside the small cavity of her chest, and she scrambled onto the balls of her feet. She ran her hands over his arms and chest. “Simon?” her voice rose in a rushed whisper. “Please, answer me.”
Still he didn’t move, didn’t utter a sound. Helen pushed her ear to his chest and held her breath.
His heart beat in a rapid tattoo, slowing with every deep even breath he managed. Unable to stop herself, she collapsed on him. Alive. He’s alive.
Once she caught her breath, she moved far enough away to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was exhausted. On some level, she knew being tired was his only illness. She grasped onto the pillow and bedding she’d dragged up to the turret while waiting for his return. After placing his head on the padding, she tucked one of the two blankets under and over his body. Unable to stop herself, she took her time making sure he wasn’t injured. His body was lean, strong, and completely lethal. Even asleep, his masculine vitality that ruled her brain and her libido since she met him, shone through. She wanted to run her hand over his six-pack abs and narrow waist, but to do so while he slept felt like a violation, even though she doubted he’d mind.
She diverted her gaze away from his sex and covered him completely. Glancing at the door, Helen pushed away the thought of leaving to find him clothes.
When he awoke would be soon enough. She decided to lay beside him. After closing the shutters and some of the draft coming from the Scotland dawn, Helen lifted the second blanket and covered them both. She made use of his arm to lay her head on and curled up into his warmth.
She took in a deep breath, inhaling his rain-scented skin, and tasted a strong dose of pine. His scent changed constantly, she decided. This cologne was born of the falcon.
How did it feel to fly? To soar above the treetops and see what no man has ever witnessed?
And what of the wolf? The form he took that very first day? She remembered a wildness about his scent then. A fierceness hiding behind his eyes. Did he ever lose himself to the animal?
How would it feel to be pursued and cornered by the beast and then made love to by the man?
Helen shifted next to him as warmth flooded her belly and her nipples hardened beneath the long sleeping gown she’d been given to wear.
With a will of their own, her fingers fanned over the expanse of his chest and rested above his heart.
Simon moaned in his sleep, his hand moved to hers and held it there. He didn’t wake, but managed to pull her closer to his side.
Forcing her mind to clear, Helen touched her lips to his chest and closed her eyes. Safe. Even with a war raging, warriors fighting, she felt safe in his arms.
Chapter Seventeen
Warm mist caught him as he flew into the pristinely white clouds. The wind kept him afloat with little to no effort. The cloud caught him and smelled of strawberries as it held him close and brought him slowly down to earth.
It felt good to sleep, to awake feeling rested and whole.
And warm.
And not alone.
Even before he opened his eyes, Simon knew Helen was curled up beside him, one of her legs resting intimately over his. Deep, even breaths blew hot air over his exposed chest and his eager body responded.
A lock of her shiny brown hair drifted over her eyes, her heart shaped lips were opened enough to breathe. She was beautiful, and the way she wrapped around his body in sleep gave her an endearing look of vulnerability. Simon would bet his sword she wouldn’t enjoy the title of ‘vulnerable’. She worked so hard to prove she wasn’t, but he’d seen her at her weakest. Each tear he had witnessed her shed was one too many. As always, the overwhelming need to protect her gave him reason to wake every morning.
He draped the arm she slept on around her shoulders and melded his body more firmly against hers. Helen sighed in her sleep, her knee lifted, and brushed against his expanding erection.
Simon bit back a moan and failed miserably. He growled. A sound from deep within his soul escaped.
Helen tilted her chin up, even in her sleep, inviting.
A better man would have let her open her eyes.
Simon didn’t. He bent his head and captured her lips, soft and warm and sweet like the nectar of an overripe fruit. Helen nestled closer and let out a tiny moan of her own. The mewling cat-like noise drifted from her lips and inflamed Simon even more. When her lips started to move over his, and her breathing sped up, he knew she woke.
She hesitated briefly, making him wonder if the innocent woman he’d known when they first met would appear. Instead, Helen climbed up further on his chest until her tongue met with his. The nerves in his body gave off tiny sparks of joy with every touch of her hand, every noise of pleasure she uttered. Whatever demons she’d combated before, Simon had obviously managed to vanquish them. The woman kissing him was a confident woman who knew what she wanted.
His woman.
Simon ran a hand down her waist and captured her backside in his palm. She squirmed over him, her hips dancing with his. “Good morning,” he managed in a hoarse whisper.
&nb
sp; Her breath hitched as he hiked her leg over his and let his cock rub the damp fabric between her legs. “I-I’m not dreaming?”
He chuckled. “With dreams like this, I’d never leave bed.”
Bright blue eyes met his, her lids heavy with desire. “We’re not in a bed.”
“Do you want to be?” He realized a cold floor wasn’t ideal, but the thought of moving before having her, before showing her the stars, was painful.
A shy smile met her lips, and she leaned forward and kissed one of his nipples. She swiped her tongue over its taut edge, and he knew she didn’t want to retreat from their private haven any more than he.
Simon filled his palm with her breast and teased the tip through the fabric of her nightgown. Helen bit his nipple in a playful response.
“Vixen.”
She bit him again. “I was sleeping. Minding my own business,” she laughed.
“If this is how you mind your own business, I’d like to see you tending to mine.”
Helen walked her fingers up his chest and wove them into his hair.
Simon had a strong desire to push her onto her back, but knew the cold floor would leave marks on her skin by the time they were done. No, he’d watch her above him. Watch her do whatever she pleased. He’d bring her pleasure any way she wanted. God’s blood he prayed she’d gift him with a release buried deep inside of her.
Instinctively, Simon knew not to push her. Something about the way she’d pushed him away hinted of past pain. He’d never be that to her.
“Would you like me to tend to yours?”
Aye. “Only if I can tend to yours.”
The silly grin on her lips tilted slightly and her eyes grew serious. Without another word, she lifted the hem of her nightclothes above her knees while straddling his chest. He could feel her heat and smell her desire. His eyes threatened to roll in the back of his head but he kept them on her. Simon’s hands rested on her thighs as she crossed her arms over her body and removed her clothing.
Her skin was satin, smooth, and silky. Simon watched his hands as they traveled up her shapely thighs. He dipped his thumb over the crest of her hips and scented the glistening patch of hair covering her womanhood. Without touching her there, he skimmed his callused fingers over her stomach and up her trim waist until he held her perfectly luscious breasts in his hands. “I could touch you for years.”
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