He stood in a private bedroom with a woman in his arms. She had her soft, delicious lips pressed against his. A bed was near, and he had barred the door.
Temptation lay before him, and the pull on his conscience was a fierce competitor. This was not a simple Highland game. He no longer stood studying the field of battle where amateur swordsmen pitted their dull blades against others while crowds cheered. There were no gay dancing lassies or vendors scenting the air with their sugary wares.
The Highland Games where they had met were in the future; over four-hundred years from now. Women flirted and men strutted like peacocks. They covered their bodies with over-bright wool they claimed were kilts. Their shiny shoes stomped and their out-of-tune voices cheered while musicians filled the air with outrageous tunes. In a quirky way he almost missed the festive venue. Would Iona have danced with him beneath the ceilidh tent? Might they have shared a leisurely meal, then retired to her tent in the historical village?
A different time, a different place.
Cameron wanted no restrictions. He wanted to make love with whomever he desired. All thoughts of Haven MacKay had drifted away. His goals had slowly changed, and he was not sure why. Cameron hated what Kirk had done to him, but he realized he did not hate the man.
With no home, no belongings except the weapons Dorcas lent him and the clothing borrowed from Jake and Marcus, he had nothing; nothing to offer either woman.
Iona’s natural fragrance wafted up and filled him with a longing to lay her down and fill her. His body hardened against her, and the urge to tunnel inside Iona’s velvet-lined channel stole his breath.
“Are you okay, Cammie? You’re trembling.”
Iona stared up at him. Her brow, creased by tiny lines, prompted a laugh he did not mean to share. When she looked unhappy, he sat her on the bed and stepped away. At the window, he stared out at the sky and thought of better days.
“I will leave ye to yer bed, lass. If we are to find the sorcerer, the plans must be in place by morning.” When she fussed with her nightdress and the bed covers, as if to throw them from her, he stayed her hands. “Lass, ye were injured and must sleep.”
Ignoring his remark, Iona slipped from bed and stood beside him. She brushed her loose curls behind her shoulders, glanced toward the door, then back to him. “What if he comes back?”
Cameron lifted the amulet over his head and slipped it over hers. It settled in the ‘v’ between her perfect breasts. “This will keep ye safe.”
“And, I’m supposed to believe you, why?”
He chuckled. The woman had a stubborn streak. “Dorcas Swann gifted it with a protection spell. Did ye really think I could hold my own against a wild cat?”
“I did wonder about that. I figured you were combat-trained, but a mountain lion? When you wrestled with it, I couldn’t breathe. You mean a lot to me, and—”
“Lass, ‘tis infatuation.”
Her eyes widened. The tight lips, together with the fists clenched at her sides, spoke of a line he might have crossed.
“How dare you—”
Cameron quieted her with his mouth. Her whimper fueled him forward, and he tunneled his fingers in her silky curls while clutching her body tightly to his. Soft curves pillowed his chest. The fabric of her nightdress did little to insulate him from her warmth.
He nipped her bottom lip, forcing her mouth open. His tongue dipped inside and playfully tangled with hers. The desire flowing through him was deeper than lust; more primal than the urge to mate. He loved her.
He pushed back.
Dragon’s teeth, this cannot be happening!
Iona’s breath hitched, and she stepped backward until she reached the bed. Her eyes were darkened slits, her mouth open with surprise, and her lips swollen from his kiss. Her expression proved she had sensed his indecisiveness. He had meant to ravage her before leaving to meet with Marcus and Kirk, yet had pushed her away.
As she dragged a pillow from the bed, his first thought was that she planned to strike him with it. Instead, she dropped it at his feet and knelt. Her eyes never left his face while her hands slowly lifted his kilt.
Frozen where he stood, his mind went blank. What was she doing on her knees? When her warm fingers circled his rigid length and she leaned forward and kissed the tip, heat slashed across his cheeks. Her intentions became clear. He yearned to roar.
“Lass?” The one word was all his mouth could form. Blood pounded in his chest. He shifted his weight on his heels in a stupid attempt to back away. She refused to release him.
“You made love to me with your mouth. Let me do the same?”
Cameron could barely hear the words for the roaring in his ears. Her innocence was a gift he had consumed with gusto. Her body was a banquet he never wished to finish. Her fingers had circled his swollen length in a way that was more than a means to bring him physical pleasure. She had feelings for him as well. What would she do next, and why was he not demanding that she stop?
When her tongue reached out and licked him from base to tip, Cameron groaned. He grabbed his bunched up kilt with one hand, giving her the means to put her other hand to better use. She cupped his sac and gently squeezed. He drove his other hand though her hair, the silkiness a perfect match to the warm, wet caress of her lips.
Iona suckled him until a hot ball of intense pleasure shook him to the core. Pleasure and pain wrapped into one, hot, pulsing urge to come. The sensations made him lightheaded. Her hand gripped him tighter and rubbed him while her lips and tongue feasted on his rigid member. A brilliant white light, brighter than the moonlight spilling over her beautiful face, welcomed him as he released inside her mouth.
He had kept the noise to a minimum, but she moaned and pressed his still heavy member between her silky breasts. While he returned to his right mind, her actions made him pause. She was a virgin when they met. Her knowledge of such an intimate act unleashed the madness that made him step back and stare down at the beautiful female on her knees before him.
“How be it ye know how to do this?”
CHAPTER 24
Iona relaxed her shoulders, and draped the top blanket over her as she melted into the mattress. Satisfaction spread across her lips, but Cameron didn’t return her smile. Had the intimacy she’d eagerly performed not agreed with him? Cameron was easy to read, and his body was as attuned to her ministrations as she had reacted to his. He’d reached his point of no return inside her mouth within minutes.
I guess I did it right.
Was it prudent that they’d shared such intimacy? He acted like a prude when he pushed away, paced back and forth, then returned to the window. When he tripped over the pillow at his feet, she laughed. She raised the blanket to muffle her reaction.
Too late. By the ruddy color on his cheeks, he’d seen her indiscretion. His heated gaze bore into her, but she suspected that anger mixed with desire. He wanted her naked and writhing beneath him.
Men always wanted more than she was comfortable to give. Her dad kept her busy at the antique store and always had an excuse whenever she mentioned moving out of her childhood home. After her mother had left, her father wallowed in currents he had refused to circumvent alone.
When she returned home she’d find a new job possibly in a museum in another state. A home and a life free of obstinate men sounded like Heaven. Would she miss Cameron?
Until the day came for her to return to the New England Highland Games, she would show him her appreciation in helping track down Haven.
She prayed to God Haven was well and, until the kidnapper was caught and her safety was assured, she would keep Cameron’s mind off their problems. Then, why did she feel so guilty? Iona threw back the covers, then swung her feet to rest on the cool floor.
Guilt was a funny concept. She sat on the edge of her friend’s empty bed and peeled her friend’s nightgown off her body while the other woman could be stuck in a dark, dank cell. Did Cameron feel the guilt? Had guilt kept him from joining her in bed? Possibly,
but she was determined to change his attitude.
She spread her knees with a slow, sexy motion she’d seen in a movie, while watching his face. His glare was a steely mix of incredulousness and desire. She liked it. She really liked making him think she was more than a virgin in the woods. His amber eyes widened. When she felt his stare all the way to her toes, she pounced.
He met her half way, tripped on the pillow, and tumbled into her. Crushing her backwards onto the bed, she shivered beneath the weight. The laces of his shirt tickled her skin. Coarse chest hair rubbed the sensitive tips of her nipples. Grabbing her by a handful of hair, he pulled her head back. When he lowered his face to hers, her mouth met his in a violent meeting of two people with guilt on their minds, and desire in their hearts.
He suddenly pulled away. “We should not do this, lass. I have to go see—”
“Cammie, five minutes won’t hurt. Your war plan can wait.”
“Five minutes? Ye pain me, lass.” He chuckled, and her cheeks heated.
They’d spent an entire night in each other’s arms. The man was not into quickies. “I meant that Haven is a strong young woman. Without clues, you’ll have to wait for the sorcerer to make another attempt to get back his amulet.”
“Lass! Yer brilliant! That be exactly how we plan to catch the blackheart.” Cameron leaped from the bed, straightened his kilt, and unlatched the door. Pausing, he walked back to the window, and bent over. When his kilt dipped forward, he treated her to an excellent view of naked thighs. While she stared, he turned and flicked the pillow at her head.
Iona caught it. He headed out the door and left her hot and bothered, and alone.
“Dragon’s teeth.”
* * *
“Do ye think the plan has merit?” Marcus scratched his beard as he scanned the map, “If the man can appear in a puff of smoke, what will keep him from grabbing his gem and escaping?”
Cameron leaned against the wall, with his arms across his chest. The map was unreadable to him, so he made sure he was far enough away that neither Marcus nor Kirk could ask a question.
Kirk pounded the table with his fist. “Not acceptable. What about Haven? He has no reason to release her until he has the amulet.”
“We give it to him,” Jake said.
Cameron pushed off the wall and circled the table that held the map. “The man is right. We make a trade. The amulet for the lady. Until then, I shall wear it around my neck.”
Marcus had given him the fake pendant after he admitted he had given Iona the real one. Dorcas smiled when she heard. Dorcas also wore a pendant, and keeping the three separate made his head ache.
Marcus and Kirk glared at him. Why should they trust him? Kirk thought of him as a traitor to their people. Marcus knew it was all true since he had been a part of the treachery. Kirk forgave Marcus, so why not him?
“Ye will need to change the man’s mind before he shall agree to new terms,” Dorcas said. The old woman walked with tentative steps across the room then cracked her crooked cane against the tabletop. The map fluttered around the edges, and the air sparkled.
“Tell us what to do,” Cameron said. He trusted his employer ever since the woman had taken pity on him at his trial. His banishment from a clan meant nothing to her, evident by how she had stepped forward and given him a home.
“Wait a minute, Robeson. Why listen to—”
“Dorcas Swann is a powerful…woman, and I trust her with my life.”
She cackled, and gave Cameron’s wide waist a partial hug. “The boy feels a need to protect me, but I am a powerful witch. I will help ye find the lady. Andreas Borthwick might be a powerful practitioner of the dark arts, but I have light, love, and honor on my side.”
When she gazed into Cameron’s eyes, heat flared across his jaw. Was she chastising him for his betrayal of his laird and clan? Or, was she insinuating this was his chance to atone for his actions?
“Cammie? Do ye want my help?”
He nodded, then helped her to a stool near the table. When he made eye contact with the three men, they stifled laughs. “I suggest we get back to the plan.”
“Fine. We can set up guards here, here, and there.”
“I see your reasoning,” Jake said, “with these walls laid-out just so, and the base around the battlements guarded here and here, we can capture him no matter where he sneaks in.”
Marcus pointed to a corner near the stables. “If we can get him to arrive in this section, guards can be on him in a heartbeat. Do ye agree, Robeson?”
Cameron’s heart raced and his mouth went bone-dry. The map was squiggly lines that could be an outline of the castle, but the words melted together. Why he never learned to read, he had no idea. He had kept his secret from everyone. He suspected Dorcas knew. No matter. His world consisted of weapons, horses, and bedding women.
No need to read words to do those.
“Cameron?” Jake shook his shoulder.
He growled and strode from the room. Interrogation by one of Haven’s friends turned his stomach. Unlike him, Jake could read.
No sense giving the blacksmith knowledge of my shortcomings.
Cameron smiled. He made up for it in other areas, if the women he had bedded spoke the truth. Iona’s creamy skin and sweet fragrance filled him, and he slammed his back against the hallway wall near the bottom of the stairs to the upper floors.
“Why the smirk? Something funny about all this?” Jake stood in the doorway, glanced back at the war room, then walked past him.
Was the lad thinking of Iona as well?
Jake paused at the bottom of the stairway and looked up. Cameron followed his gaze to where Skye Gunn stood on the middle stair. Her eyes, so similar to her brother’s, flared.
Flicking his gaze from Skye to Jake, Cameron laughed out loud. His young cousin was mad at Jake for some reason.
Jake whirled around. His eyes reflected something akin to embarrassment. A deep frown and his frozen stance was telling. Cameron could read him clearly. Jake Jamison wanted Skye. Then why was he here helping to find Haven?
“What is it, Skye?” Cameron asked, joining Jake.
“I want to help.”
Jake laughed so hard, he doubled over.
Skye’s cheeks reddened. “What ‘tis so verra funny?”
Jake caught his breath and stepped closer to the bottom step. Skye had not moved, except to stand straight and proud.
“Haven’t you done enough damage? I didn’t appreciate you tricking me into…” Jake paused, and glanced at Cameron.
What is that about?
His cousin suddenly raised her hand and aimed her palm at Jake. Cameron took three steps sideways. Jake noticed and was about to ask why when a brilliant light filled the shadowy hallway. Cameron threw his arm up to protect his face and recently injured nose.
When Cameron uncovered his eyes, the odor of brimstone tickled his broken nose. Skye raised her dress’s hem and walked to the bottom of the stairs. There was no sign of the blacksmith.
“Skye? What did ye do?”
“Stay out of my affairs, Cameron.”
“Ha! A lass like ye are not destined for affairs.” He assumed Kirk had not heard of her friendly relationship with Jake Jamison.
She paused, then whipped around. “What do ye mean, ‘a lass like me?’”
“Ye be the sister of a laird. Yer future is in his hands. Are ye smitten with the blacksmith?”
Her cheeks turned beet red. “I care not for a laborer. He is dirty, sweaty, and ‘twas like pulling teeth to get him here.”
“So ye say. Kirk will not approve.”
Worry sparked in Skye’s eyes for a brief moment, then vanished like the flash of her growing power. “I care not for his thoughts on the subject.”
“Then, where be Jake? He could have been of use. As bait, mayhaps.”
Skye smiled then pointed a finger at Cameron’s face. Before he could move out of her way, a bolt of lightning hit him, and sent him backwards several steps.<
br />
“That hurt!” Cameron rubbed his nose. The bones had knit, and all pain quickly dispersed.
“Yer welcome, cousin. As for that lowly blacksmith, I sent him home. Good riddance,” Skye said and raised her nose in the air.
* * *
“That crazy witch sent me home?” Jake stared out over the familiar athletic fields filled with kilted warriors amid colorful tents and banners. Meat pies scented the air. A long line snaked around the beer tent, and a bagpiper tuned his instrument somewhere off to the right.
Seething, after what she’d done to force him to help her, he clamped his teeth and headed for the historical village. A few good swings with his hammer against steel would go far to remove all thoughts of the conniving little…
Oof! A little boy bounced off his left knee. When he tumbled to the ground, Jake reached down to help him to his feet. A woman in matching yellow and black plaid snatched him out of his grasp.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No harm done, I’m fi—”
As the two hurried away he realized the woman spoke only to her son, and hadn’t cared about Jake. Haven had shared a similar story that happened the other day when she watched his furnace. Had it only been a few days since he’d last seen Haven at the Highland Games?
He rubbed his bruised knee and continued up the hill toward the village. When his stomach growled he made a detour to the nearest food tent.
After he filled his stomach he’d contemplate his luck in having returned to the New England Highland Games, and the present. He was confident Marcus, Cameron, Iona, and Dorcas would find Haven unharmed.
What little he’d experienced in the past left a bad taste in his mouth, and he was happy he’d seen the last of it. Skye had used his secrets to blackmail him into helping, though he would have helped if she’d asked nicely.
“Nice? Her?” He laughed, then washed the bitterness down with a bottle of Scottish ale.
* * *
Cameron strode the highest battlement alone and peered through the parapet’s cutout. The sun had set on another day, and still no sign of the sorcerer. Had he heard of their plans? Had he deemed the amulet he had dropped—the one the sorcerer had stolen from Dorcas—a fake? If he no longer needed to acquire the supposedly magical pendant, Haven’s life might be forfeit.
Highland Games Through Time Page 51