Everyone was twirling and chanting, dancing and crying out; the drums grew louder. Marie closed the circle she was dancing around him until she could touch him. She caressed him with her hands as she continued to draw the circle closer, finally pressing her body against his, emulating the sex act as the drums reached a frantic pace.
This ceremony was similar to other sorcerer’s rites, and he thrummed with excitement at the thought of his seed joining that of his ancestors in this form of a fertility ritual. On an unseen cue, the drums suddenly stilled and the night air reverberated in the silence.
Marie drew a dagger from the folds of her caftan and looking deep in his eyes approached his bare chest with the blade pointed at his heart. With the knife hovering, she used the fingers of her other hand to trace the symbols painted on his skin while she recited her sacred words. When she put the point to a symbol to scratch lightly against his skin, tiny droplets of blood appeared, marking the path of her blade.
An intense and primordial drive filled Liam, entering through those tiny scratches, and swelling within him, driving his desire even higher.
“More,” he growled at her, leaning into the blade, drawing more blood.
Marie cried out, her words foreign, exotic, intoxicating. The drums began again, pounding in time with his pulse. The circle of worshippers was shrouded in smoky tendrils, the scent of burning cypress lingering on the heavy air. Marie and Liam began a dance so old none alive had seen it, but the spirits that entered their bodies knew what to do. The magick in the bayou was ancient, primitive, and alive.
The snake slithered and twisted around the two of them, as they writhed around each other. Marie continued to draw the blade across his chest, and then his back, until blood dripped from him, staining the deck. Liam was lifted into a state of ecstasy. Marie pressed herself against Liam’s bloody body and pulled him into a deep soul-searing kiss, then she handed Liam the blade. In one swift stroke of the dagger, Liam cut her caftan from her body; then he began to mark her with the blade.
Both bloody, the spirits controlled their bodies completely now, and they began the mating. Those gathered turned their backs and began the ritual chanting, the drums beat a tempo, while Liam mounted Marie, there on the deck, under the stars, magick surrounding them.
As the drums once again reached their crescendo, Liam finally reached his peak, and the seed was ripped from his body with painful intensity, he threw his head back and cried into the night; Marie’s cries of passion joining his. She made one last plea to the spirits in a language he couldn’t understand, before they both lost consciousness. A deep magick settled over the bayou.
****
As they entered the courtyard, Gabhran walked Miranda to the bottom of her stairs, said goodnight, and went in his back door. He stood, trying to decide what to do next. He was too wound up to sleep, going for a walk didna seem such a good idea, and sitting in the courtyard was definitely out after last night.
Finally, he sat in a chair in his living room and put his head in his hands, trying to sort out all that had happened and all he was feeling. His time in New Orleans was always meant to be short-lived, he’d planned on learning what he could from Alysone and then looking for others with similar stories. Now that Alysone was missing, his reason for staying here was also missing. Unless you counted Miranda.
He felt sick when he thought about what he’d done to Miranda last night. Had he gone farther it would have been beyond forgiveness. Yet, she’d seemed willing to give him a second chance. The memory of holding her, of tasting her, was one he would cherish, as long as he could. He had enjoyed their evening together tonight until she’d spoken with her cousin. Then she’d shut him out, closed herself off from him. It left him feeling insubstantial, as if he were already gone.
He pulled out the letter he’d written to himself earlier and added his memories of Miranda, and hoped he would be able to carry it forward to his next life. He sealed the envelope, addressed it to his Edinburgh home and put it in the letterbox on the front porch. He locked up the front of the house, and was just returning to the living room, when he heard a soft knock at the back door.
Miranda was standing there in her open robe, but this time she was wearing a pair silk boxers and a camisole underneath. Single woman who lives alone, dressed for bed, not to seduce. She had a bowl of popcorn, a movie in her hands, and a sheepish look on her face. Gabhran fumbled with the lock and invited her in.
“Miranda, come in,” he ushered her in and locked the door behind her.
“Is it too late? I didn’t feel like being alone right now. I brought a movie if you want to watch.”
He looked at the title. “Braveheart. Really, lass?” His rich laughter seemed to roll over her as he watched a shiver of awareness ripple through her body.
Miranda flushed at his comment and a look passed quickly over her face that he didn’t quite understand. She was still keeping her emotions closed off from him, and he wondered why she was here. He led her to the living room where they sat on opposite sides of the room.
“Is this official business, Detective?” he asked, afraid she would say it was.
“Not really. Marie vouched for your story. I have a lot of questions, but I need a little time to accept it all first.”
He struggled with his conscience for a minute, but he knew he had to tell her all of it. She was already lost to him, and she needed to be. He was not the man for her. He propped his elbows on his knees and stared at his hands. “I do have a confession of sorts to make. Something I withheld from you this morning.” He refused to look at her. “When I arrived home this morning, there was blood on my hands. I doona know where it came from.”
He felt the weight of Miranda’s stare before he finally looked up and met her eyes.
“I didna hurt Alysone, I swear it, I wouldna have any reason to hurt her.”
“Were you fucking her?”
Shit. The cop was back. Well what did I expect.
“No, Miranda, there is only one woman I wish to take to my bed.” He smiled and tried for charming.
“Stop it.” No smile, all business. “Did you hurt her in any way?”
“I doona remember much of last night, lass, but she was my only connection to my changes; she is a nice lass. I was trying to help her, I have no reason to harm her.”
“Let me see your hands,” she demanded.
When he put his hands, palm up in hers, she looked at them carefully, then turned them over and examined the knuckles. There were abrasions and scrapes on the knuckles and palms. “It looks like you were fighting.”
She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her robe and made a call, asking for the Armstrong Park security tapes to be pulled from the previous night. She left a callback number and hung up.
“What else do you remember?”
“I thought this wasna an official visit.”
“Well, you were the one who decided to confess something,” she snapped.
“Miranda, look at me.” He took her hands in his. “The real confession I have to make is about my behavior toward you last night.” He brushed his knuckle lightly across her cheekbone, just below the bruised eye. He leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on the bruise.
“I am more sorry than I can ever say. I will walk you home, now. You had a long night, followed by an even longer day today.”
Miranda’s back stiffened. “Are you asking me to leave?”
“Och, no, lass, never.” Thinking of opportunities lost, he asked, “Miranda, ever since you spoke to Marie, something has changed, will you tell me what is going on with you?”
Miranda looked up at his face, then shook her head. “What’s it feel like, Gabhran, the dark? What does it do to you?” she whispered.
Gabhran turned his back to her. “It wants me to do dark things, to change who I am. Worthington, the Druid Master wants me to join him, he thinks the time for Druids to rule the world is here, and that I have some kind of power that will help him. I listened
to him, because I was looking for other answers, and I thought I could walk away whene’er I wanted.
“Marie somehow foretold I was coming here to New Orleans, and she led me to this house. Here I feel—less conflicted, it helps keep the dark at bay. The gris gris helps as well. For that matter, so does the music. I told you last night I forgot to wear the gris gris, I wasna planning on seeing anyone, just a quick trip, for my walk and dinner. By the time we got to Finn’s place, I was consumed with having you, at any cost.”
He turned and faced her then, regretting the disappointment he saw reflected in her eyes. “I canna take it back, lass, but know that I would, if it were possible.”
Their gazes locked for an impossibly long moment.
Miranda’s phone played a jazzy little number, releasing them both from the moment.
“Detective Close.” she turned her back to him and listened for a long time.
“No, thanks, that’s good work. I appreciate the rush.” She listened a while longer, nodding her head in silent agreement with the person on the other end of the conversation.
“No really, that’s all for now, but ask the video geeks to clip it to a DVD for me and put it on my desk. Make some stills, too. Yeah, thanks again,” she said before flipping her phone closed.
Gabhran was getting better at reading her emotions he mused. Just for a minute there, he had sensed a flash of grim satisfaction; the cop was still the one in the room with him. Then she walled herself off again, keeping her thoughts and feelings tightly in check. He didna want to know the source of the cop’s satisfaction. She gave a little nod, then blew out a breath.
“Do you mind if we just sit and watch the movie for a while?” she asked.
“Nay, lass, I doona mind.” He picked up her bowl of popcorn and led the way upstairs to the room with the television. It was furnished with a couch and two recliners, and Gabhran busied himself with starting the movie and lowering the lights, giving Miranda time to choose her seat first. Since she had plopped herself in the middle of the couch, he made for one of the recliners.
Gabhran’s darkness was well under control tonight, so much so he could barely sense its oily presence. He knew that Miranda would be safe from it were he to hold her, that wasna the problem. The problem was the feelings she evoked in him, and his sure knowledge he was leaving New Orleans sooner rather than later. He had always been selective with women, choosing to enter sparingly into casual relationships, or in the modern parlance, having friends with benefits.
If he let himself, he could feel much more for Miranda, and it was not a pain he was willing to inflict on either of them. Pardon me lass, do you mind if I make love to you, and oh by the way, you might wake tomorrow to find me gone. No, they were not destined for each other, despite the feeling of inevitability that had swept over him last night at Preservation Hall.
“Oh,” Miranda said, a little breathlessly. “I thought you might sit next to me. Come on, come share my popcorn.” She patted the cushion next to her on the couch.
Rolling an inner eye at the inexorable pull he felt, he came to sit next to her. “Aye, lass, but you must know, I doona share very well,” he said teasingly. He snatched the bowl from her hand, and some of the popcorn went flying.
“Shame on you. Didn’t anyone tell you you’re supposed to share?” She smacked his hand playfully, laughing up into his face. She caught her breath at whatever she saw there.
“Watch the movie, lass, and I’ll try not to tell you all the parts they got wrong.” His voice was rough, and he had to force himself to look away from her gaze.
They both watched the movie then, eating their popcorn and studiously ignoring the growing heat between them. When the snack was gone, Miranda kicked off her sandals, tucked her feet up under her legs, and leaned against his side. With a sigh, Gabhran draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.
He kept his word, and refrained from mentioning the historical errors in the movie, but the scenery tugged at his heart. Christ, I miss Scotland. Soon he promised himself, soon he would walk her soil again. And what of this woman, his conscience asked. Och, there would be naught between them, not unless he could solve this mystery that caused him to be pulled through time, living his life in small chunks.
Then, as if sensing his thoughts Miranda turned her head to gaze up at him, the long column of her neck exposed, lips lush. Her breasts were gentle swells above the top of her camisole, and she reached one hand up to stroke his face. He should have the strength to pull away, but God help him, sitting here so close to her, the feel of her pressed against him, the smell of her. His common sense melted away.
With excruciating slowness, giving her every opportunity to turn away, he lowered his mouth toward hers, his gaze locked on her face. The instant his lips met hers, he knew he could deny this woman nothing. Not if it was in his power to give. He kissed her long and slow, savoring the taste of her. He trailed his fingertips across the lace that edged her top, then cupped his hand around the back of her neck, running the pad of his thumb along her jaw, and deepening his kiss. He kissed her as though they had all the time in the world.
Chapter Twelve
Making her decision, Randi lifted her arms and tangled her fingers into his silky blue-black hair, and in one motion, pulled back from his kiss, arched her back, and pulled his head down to nestle between her breasts. A whispered moan, that might have been his name, escaped her lips. She felt every muscle in his body become taut with desire; his erection was rock hard beneath her.
Gav pulled back from the kiss, and held her close. He pressed quick kisses to the top of her head lifted her onto his lap when she tried to turn her face up for more kisses. He surrounded her with his arms and held her close while he covered her mouth with his kiss, his tongue sweeping, plunging, taking. He stole her breath, pushing her back with the force of his kiss until she was lying back against the armrest, cradled in his arms.
Randi knew she was lost. With his free hand, he began to trace a path along her neck, across her collarbone, while his lips burned against hers. She could sense that the last measure of his control was unraveling, and she knew if she wanted him to stop, it had better be now. They were both on the precipice of no return. A raging flood of need flowed through her, drove right to her core. She clung to him, stunned by the depth of her desire—low in her belly and lower between her legs. All of her inner doubts and recriminations were swept away. It was time to let him know.
“Make love to me, Gabhran.”
****
“Och, lass.” He drew a deep shuddering breath, all of his earlier altruistic intentions wiped clear away. He wanted this woman with all his heart. He wanted to be the one to bring her body fully awake, to watch her lovely face as he was buried deep within her, and feel her spasm in ecstasy. He swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed.
Gav sat Miranda on the edge of the bed and helped her remove her robe. She pushed his shirt up, and he pulled it over his head and threw it to the floor. When she ran her fingers lightly over the hard ridges of his stomach, he pulled back; he needed to control the pace. This first time would be about her pleasure; there would be plenty of time later this night to seek his own gratification.
He knelt worshipfully before her, putting their faces on an even level, he held her face reverently in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. His kiss was slow and gentle, languorously exploring her mouth with his tongue. He wanted her to know that it was him, and not the darkness, that was in control. He would kiss her until she cried with need of him.
He slid a finger under the strap of her camisole, slipped it off her shoulder, and kissed his way along the collarbone to her neck, his mouth open and hot against her skin. He scraped his teeth lightly over her neck, biting her hard enough to make her suck in her breath. She groaned and stretched her neck to the side, exposing even more of the vulnerable skin to his bites and kisses. He bit her hard again before kissing the now tender spot, dragging his tongue up the col
umn of her neck.
He returned to her mouth, his tongue traced her lips. He put the pad of his thumb on the corner of her mouth, and her lips opened slightly. His tongue pressed in, parting them further, claiming her, kissing her deeply, insistently. Miranda moaned, leaned into him, and deepened the kiss. Gabhran started to gentle the kiss yet again, and she groaned in frustration. Gabhran smiled against her lips.
Her breasts felt full and tight, when he slid his hands under the camisole and slipped it over her head. Her nipples were dusky rose buds against her golden tanned skin. He licked and kissed every inch of her breasts, rubbing his roughened cheek against her sensitive nipple. He followed with his tongue, leaving a trail of dampness in its wake. He blew gently, causing her nipple to pucker into a hard bud. She gave a little hitch of her breath in the back of her throat as he pulled a nipple gently into his mouth.
Gabhran worked slowly, first on one breast, then the other. When he sucked the entire areola deeply into his mouth, she moaned, her back arched and she dropped her head back. “Please, Gav,” she practically whimpered. “I’m going to pass out if you don’t go faster.”
It was what he’d been waiting for. Lowering her to the bed, Gabhran pressed his face in the juncture between her legs, feeling the heat, before running his finger along the seam of the fabric of her shorts. Miranda’s entire body shuddered in anticipation.
“Och, lass, you are so verra beautiful.”
Gabhran joined her on the bed and slipped his fingers into the tangle of her golden hair and covered her body with his, his cock pressed between her legs, and he began to slowly rub against her. His kisses started with her mouth, then he licked, kissed, and nipped every inch of her until he reached the waistband of her shorts. He slipped them off her hips and dropped them to the floor.
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