Growing larger, his clothes shredded. The tearing of cloth brought him to his senses, and to a conclusion he’d fought far too long. He could no longer ignore the changes taking over his body, and his life.
“If I stop to ask questions, I might not arrive in time to save Skye.” The words—his voice—was guttural, and beastly. Forcing himself upright, he kicked off his boots. His bare feet curved into claws, raking the dirt of the trail. Closing his eyes, he stripped the remnants of his kilt from his prickling skin.
For the first time in his twenty-seven years, he refused to hold back the power. Its energy flowed through him like electrical current. When smoke trickled from his nostrils, the familiar odor was oddly soothing.
Jake’s eyes snapped open. Scales erupted along his flesh. The pain was tolerable, until his bones cracked and lengthened further. He threw back his head, and roared. His ears flattened against his head, but the rumble of crashing waves was louder and more distinct. Blood pumped, and his breathing slowed, but the smells of the sea grew more intense. His thighs enlarged, then curved oddly into a reptilian shape.
The truth has caught up to me. Dorcas knew. Did Skye?
His arms lengthened, turned leathery, and wobbled in the breeze. A scale-covered tail swished outward, toppling a scrub tree. The spindly branches and upended roots flew over the cliff and crashed onto the beach below. Power sped along every new muscle, bone, and scale as his blood came alive with the promise of success. He would save her, and she would love him. When a horrible thought rose, he tamped it down and roared again, because Skye would never turn away. Or, would she?
I am dragon.
CHAPTER 29
Jake opened his maw and roared. As exhilaration sped through him, he flapped his wings, and lifted off the ground. The edge of the cliff was close, then gone, and he was suddenly flying over the sea. When his new body dipped and rose, his stomach lurched. He didn’t want to, but he definitely needed to practice. He belched, spewing flames from his snout.
My snout? Hell’s fire!
He had discovered his talent for fire breathing five years ago. Presuming he could control that ability in this form, he concentrated on flying.
Though new muscles and tendons ached, he flapped his mighty leathery wings, clenched his talons, and flew toward Castle Ruadh. Would he arrive in time?
Face down in the dirt, bile rose in Skye’s throat. How could she keep the monster, rubbing her naked arse, from raping her? Her hands were useless, and her weapons were beneath her, unreachable.
Think!
She had fought him twice, and could do it again. Mumbling words of courage, she pulled in her knee, and kicked. Her boot collided with something hard. The bastard screamed.
Right on target.
As he rolled to the side, his icy hands released her hips. She rolled in the other direction, then scrambled to her feet. The sorcerer’s staff was where he must have laid it after blasting her, before attempting to have his way. Skye grabbed it.
Power vibrated along the shaft of blackthorn wood, and burned her palm. She dare not let go. Tightening her fingers around the staff, she felt certain its power was the only way to kill its owner. With him writhing on the ground, she steeled herself to the task. She gathered her thoughts, then pointed it at the evil bastard.
Nothing happened.
When Jake managed to snuff out the smoke trickling from his snout, Skye’s scent overwhelmed him. As the familiar fragrance of wildflowers filled his nostrils, his heart leapt beneath a chest of hardened scales. She was near, and alive, but the odor of fresh-turned earth and ozone concerned him. The sky was steel gray and dotted with dark clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but he hadn’t witnessed any lightning. Was the smell associated with the sorcerer’s magical powers?
Flying high above the clouds, Jake concentrated on finding her, and fast. Folding his wings, he dove toward the sea. Although awkward in his new body, he managed to skim the surface. Cocking his horned head, he stared at the creature reflected in the blue-green water.
Horned head?
Green scales covered his massive thighs, their tips gleaming like gold coins. His arms were gone, replaced by wings that looked molded out of translucent brown paper, but felt as strong as leather. Talons opened and closed where fingers once grew. A sudden craving to dive under the sea, and eat one of the glimmering fish, nearly pulled him beneath the surface.
When he bounced back into the sky, waves sprayed his scales. The salty tang of the North Sea bloomed skyward, but Skye’s fragrance urged him inland.
Jake forced aside the sudden longing. The clouds parted, and the battlements rose high above the cliffs. Jake slowed his descent, and grappled with unwieldy wings and a heavy spiked tail in order to control his approach.
If I don’t get a handle on this, I’ll be useless to Skye.
Thinking about the woman, who muddled his brain and hardened him to distraction, he turned his attention to the ground. Two figures circled each other. The air around them shimmered with magic, as if it was a tangible life-force.
Flames snapped along the small walled area he recognized as the kitchen garden. A tall figure wore a flowing, black cloak. Jake assumed he was the sorcerer. His fingers pointed toward his opponent, flicking what were probably magical spells.
Skye!
The smaller figure in a dirty apron could be anyone, but it was the long braid of black hair that made his breath catch. Skye Gunn fought the cloaked figure’s power with a long wooden stick. When she threw it at him, as if it was a spear, the sorcerer ducked. Faster than he could comprehend, she pulled something from her braid, and threw it. The sorcerer cursed, and whatever she hit him with, pushed him off balance. Before Jake could cry out a warning, the sorcerer closed in to finish her.
No!
Where were the guards? Why was Skye fighting him alone? Jake did the next thing that came to mind. He opened his mouth, and shot flames at the bastard in black.
Bull’s eye!
The cloaked figure’s scream echoed through the castle’s garden, drawing several guards from the battlements. Cries of terror and warning soon aimed at him. Bucking, and swooping, Jake had all he could do to escape the spears and arrows headed his way.
“ ‘Tis not enough that ye have wasted yer life hurting others for something not of their doing?” Dorcas said.
Andreas Borthwick spun to face her, his eyes black with hatred. Or, was he in pain? Had the dragon done some damage? His cloak was scorched and tattered, and his hands were black with soot. What was that black spike sticking into his shoulder?
Dorcas stepped closer. “The firebreather hurt ye. I believe dear Skye has shown her strength as well.”
“I doona’ need yer opinion, woman. ‘Tis nothing!”
“The dragon has also hurt yer pride.” The creature, whom Dorcas assumed was the handsome blacksmith in his true form, could have killed the sorcerer. She suspected Jake’s heart was good and pure.
“Andreas, ye hardened yer heart against Kirk, and his clan, for no good reason. ‘Tis time ye found yerself on another path.” Out of the corner of her eye, Dorcas saw Skye wipe blood from her mouth, breathing small gulps of air. If she could keep Andreas intent on her, Skye could recuperate, and the dragon might reappear.
“Curse the Gunns, the Keiths, and ye, old woman,” he said. He tore off the still smoking cloak, and threw it on the ground. Clad in a plain brown robe, he looked more like a common villager. His red eyes glared, and the wind tossed his ratty black hair around his shoulders.
“Old woman? Ye know me too well to know that be all I am. I chose this form, as ye have chosen to continue as ye are…a tired old goat. We hide behind these wrinkles, afraid to face the truth.”
“Truth? I lost my love, and revenge is all I know.”
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
“What? Strange words.”
“Aye, ‘tis something I heard in the future world, but I understand its meaning. Helen hurt ye when she
rejected ye, all those years ago. She was not destined for ye.”
“Hogwash. I loved her, but she refused me, even though I was talented in the art of making love, as ye verra’ well know,” he winked.
Skye padded forward, her right eyebrow raised. Dorcas waved her back.
“Helen was not destined to marry any man. She loved a woman, in secret.”
Andreas gasped. “ ‘Tis why she killed herself?”
Dorcas gazed into his eyes and sensed the tears forming behind them. “Aye. Ye must accept that she was not yer destiny.”
“Ye speak in riddles.”
“Answer this, then. Why did ye attack Skye Gunn?”
His cheeks reddened. He pulled his tattered robe closed. The long sleeves could not hide his bony wrists and hands, and his boots smudged with dirt and…carrots? Blood dripped from the wound where a spike protruded from his shoulder. Flicking her wrist, the sharp weapon flew into her hand.
“Arghhh! Warn a man.”
Dorcas peered down at the long, black iron…hair pick?
“ ‘Tis mine,” Skye whispered, “a gift from Haven, crafted by the dra…I mean, blacksmith.”
Dorcas nodded her approval, then glanced at Andreas. Sensing his remorse, Dorcas clapped her hands, and spoke the words she had memorized years ago. The time was right, and the answer clear as day.
Wrinkles gone, our youth reprieved,
Open our eyes, give us peace,
Our true forms rise, so mote it be.
When the old witch raised her arms to the sky Andreas fell to his knees. When she closed her eyes, he felt the magic wash over him. Andreas lifted his head and stared in awe at the woman he had known for centuries. Where once were deep wrinkles, her skin had tightened, and her cheeks had filled. Her back straightened until she no longer curved over her cane.
Her cloak whipped around her shapely legs. The amber amulet was nestled between her rounded breasts, on a bodice of deep blue wool. Gone were her straggly silver locks. She stood with arms outstretched, her golden hair rippling in the breeze.
“What devil’s brew is this magic? Ye look like my dear departed Helen! Ye canna’ be.”
“Nay, I am not Helen. I am still Dorcas Swann, and I am old as dirt, but I have great power, as ye see. Besides, Helen was a cousin, and people always said we looked alike. Ye never noticed. Rise.”
Against his better judgment, since he was never one to take orders, he pushed to his feet. He brushed dirt from his robe, and kicked bits of carrots from his boots. When his hands swept along clean, scarlet wool, he stared down at his chest. Muscles had replaced his sunken form, and the skin on the back of his hands was smooth and tanned.
Sliding his hands over his face, he felt only high cheekbones, and smooth skin edged by the barest stubble. His beard was gone, and his long hair trimmed. It curved below his ears, tickling the back of his neck. Power sped through him, but a different power than he had ever felt in all his centuries as a sorcerer.
“What magic is this? More important, will it last?”
“Ye approve?”
“Aye!” A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Darkness lifted from his heart. Sadness and anger had stripped him of the life he should have lived. Was this a second chance?
“Aye, everyone deserves a second chance, but ‘tis best to dare to live and love in the time ye have.”
“Fine words, witch. I fear ‘tis too late for me. I have done others harm and—”
“Let us not speak of bad things. What ‘tis done is long over, and ‘tis time to repent. Ye owe the Gunn clan yer allegiance.”
“Aye, the least I can do to make amends is use my powers for good.”
“ ‘Tis all I needed to hear. Let us request an audience with the Laird, and show him that from this day forward, his clan has not one, but two powerful allies.”
Skye had watched the scene unfold, and was confused. One moment, a dragon dropped from the sky. When it breathed fire, the sorcerer’s cloak burst into flames. Before Skye could confront the winged beast, the guards on the wall attacked. It flew away.
Then, Dorcas had appeared, and the bloody hair pick was suddenly in the old woman’s hands. She cast a spell, and changed before her eyes. The sorcerer changed as well. Two young, handsome people, of great power, stood near her.
She backed away, hoping they would forget she was in the garden with them. The guards had disappeared, probably chasing the dragon. Fear for its safety had her searching the skies. Since it had attacked the sorcerer and saved her, it was not something the sorcerer had conjured. She had a feeling, about that dragon, but she had no reason to stay. Dorcas, or the beautiful woman who stood in her place, had the sorcerer under her spell.
The urge to kill him is still strong.
“Fill yer heart with love, instead,” a voice commanded. Not hers, yet she wanted to obey.
Shouts from the castle proper roused her feet to move. The dragon had made an appearance, and she would do all she could to calm their fears. He had to return. She wanted him to come home.
Jake knocked on Skye’s bedroom door, and hoped he hadn’t injured her with the flames he’d meant for the sorcerer. No sooner had the ball of fire shot toward the man, the guards on the wall attacked him. He’d seen Kirk shouting orders. “Damn Kirk!”
“Kirk is back?” Skye rushed past him, and into the hall. When he didn’t answer, she stopped short, and faced him. His frown must have concerned her, because she returned to his side.
“What has brought such sorrow to yer handsome face? This is a time for happiness. Dorcas took care of the sorcerer.”
“Which got you off the hook.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I doona’ know what ye mean.”
She probably didn’t. He reworded his statement. “You no longer have to talk about killing him by yourself.”
“Aye, ‘tis true. I doona’ think I could have gone through with it, but I managed to hurt him.” Her smile brightened the dimly lit hallway. She turned on her heel, and ran toward the stairs. She had changed from her dirty work clothes into the curve-hugging blue gown.
“Who are you hoping to impress?”
She twirled, and he caught a glimpse of her delicate ankles. “Kirk might have Alec with him!”
Fingernails dug into Jake’s palms. Blood rushed in his ears. The mention of Skye’s lover’s name clawed at his chest, forcing him to march toward her. Her fragrance surrounded him, unhinging him, threatening to make him pull the sgian dubh from his boot and thrust it deep into the man’s heart.
I have never even met the guy, and I want him dead?
Closing his eyes, he sucked in several deep breaths. Skye’s hand circled his upper arm, then stroked up and down in a comforting measure.
Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.
He must have growled, because her hand dropped away. He immediately missed the heat of her touch, and was surprised he no longer feared her magic.
Jake wanted her, but the specter of Alec had come between them, too many times. The time to have it out was here.
Let her know how ye feel, a voice whispered.
He spun, and his kilt whipped around his hips. “Did you hear that?”
Skye glanced around. “Nay. Yer hearing things, now?”
Jake grabbed her arm, and pushed through the nearest door. The bedchamber was empty. A cool sea breeze filtered through the window slit, and a massive four-poster bed filled the room. Two huge wooden chairs, filled with thick, plush pillows, faced the fireplace. The flames had died down, but the room was still warm. An enormous broad sword hung above the rustic plank mantel.
“We must leave. Join the others below,” she said, tugging free.
“Nope. I nearly lost you, and I want to feel you, taste you, make love to you.”
Ignoring him, Skye picked up a swath of wool. What crossed her face, and made her eyes widen, looked like recognition. “Nay. ‘Tis Kirk’s bedchamber.”
“Kirk’s?” A grin pulled at his mouth
.
Skye slapped his chest. “ ‘Tis no’ funny. He could discover us—”
Jack pushed her onto the bed, and lifted her skirts. Still standing, while she lay prone, he grabbed her behind the knees, and dragged her to the edge. When his fingers skimmed her silky curls, then came back drenched, he looked at her. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open, but she kept still.
“You want me. No one else.” Whether he believed his statement, or not, he would prove how much she meant to him, starting with giving her the best orgasm she ever imagined. When he knelt, her head flew up.
“What—?”
“Trust me,” he said and, not waiting for any disparaging words, spread her, and licked her. Her hips rose so fast, he worried she’d break his nose.
“Easy, woman. You’ll love this.” He set his mouth against her and found the tiny bud hidden within the curls. Her body stiffened, and a little whimper escaped. Caressing her with his mouth and tongue, it wasn’t long until he sensed her close to reaching her peak.
Quickly standing, he positioned himself at her entrance, and eased himself inside. Though he had planned to take her gently, the thrill of battle and the newness of flying had stirred his body. He ached for release.
His heart hammered, as if trying to tear from his chest. With deep thrusts, he pounded her until she cried out. As he threw back his head and roared his release, her inner muscles milked him dry. Satisfaction gave way to love, and he knew he would never let her feelings for Alec tear them apart.
Jake pulled out, lowered her skirts, and sat her up on the edge of the bed. Kirk’s bed. Smiling, he leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on Skye’s forehead.
As he adjusted his kilt, the second plaid he’d had to borrow from a castle warrior, he locked his eyes on her face. “I hope your brother brought Alec, as well. Alec and I have some business to discuss.”
Highland Games Through Time Page 80