Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

  Mac huffed.

  “The lady and I need to talk. You understand?” Rory said to Mac. The man glanced furtively her way then toddled back behind the bar.

  “I am sorry, sir,” she whispered. Other guests stared at her and she felt her cheeks heat once more. Her fingers tangled in a loose apron string and she stared into her lap.

  “Wow! Sounds like that hurt to say.”

  Nessía’s head flew up and she stared into the eyes that had caused her to trip in the first place. “I apologized for my clumsiness. A gentleman would accept my apology and let me return to my duties.”

  Rory leaned forward and clasped her hands in his. The warmth that radiated from his fingertips and meaty palms sped through her, and she leaned closer, thirsty for more.

  Much more.

  His face appeared suddenly inches from hers, and she inhaled his musky scent, mixed with spilt ale. His breath, with the peaty scent of the Scotch he drank, mixed with the ale’s heady aroma, tickled her nose. Her mouth dropped opened with a consuming desire to taste his lips. She desperately needed to tangle her tongue with his.

  Laughter, behind her, broke the mood.

  “Back to work, Nessía,” Mac called from the far end of the bar. The front doors swung open and several fishermen marched inside, amid cries of welcome, as they shook the sand from their boots.

  “What time do you get off, Nessía?” Rory whispered, as she stood. His hands still held hers in his.

  “Off? From work? Um, why?”

  His low, gentle laugh curled her toes inside her shoes. Nessía gazed into his eyes. The emerald orbs sparkled in the firelight. Her breasts tightened and her nipples pebbled, stretching against the coarse linen of her blouse. Breathing grew uneasy as if all the air had disappeared out the door, or up the chimney.

  “Why do you think?” he answered.

  When he licked his lips, her jumbled mind understood.

  “None of your business.” She pulled her hands from his, jumped up, and scurried away. Nessía refused to look at him a minute longer. His gaze had the power to make her melt into a puddle of goo.

  So unladylike, even for a dragon.

  ***

  A small group of locals joined Rory at his table. As one man passed him a tankard of ale, he realized they were as shocked by Nessía’s actions as he.

  “She never trips,” one man said.

  “She never blushes, even when ole’ Sven asked her point-blank for a tumble in the hay loft,” another offered.

  “I’ve never seen her with a man, unless she’s serving him a pint, or tossing him out the door.”

  The entire group roared with laughter and landed good-natured slaps on his back. Again, Rory forced a smile. He stared into his empty tankard and thought up a plan. He’d return to the inn, while he took great care to stay under Kendra and Suzie’s radar. A quick shower, a change of clothes, and then a return trip to the pub sounded like a great idea. When Nessía left for home, he’d be there, waiting. Their discussion was not yet over.

  CHAPTER 4

  Wiping a clean rag across her brow, Nessía sighed and leaned against the doorway that led to the kitchen from the bar. “I’m off, Mac.”

  Mac, his hands deep in suds as he cleaned some last minute pots, glanced over and winked. “Stay safe, Nessie.”

  Too weary to chastise him again, for calling her something she had learned to hate, ever since Monty spouted the nickname, Nessía gathered her meager belongings and locked the front doors. She closed her eyes, leaned back against the weathered planks, and inhaled the night air. It wafted over the new spring grass that nudged the shore of Loch Ness. At times like this, weary from hard labor and itchy with unrequited desire, a late night swim sounded like her only salvation.

  She glanced up and down the street, then traipsed across the road, and skipped through the damp grass. Her dress reeked of filth, including Rory’s misdirected dinner. The time to wash her dress, her hair, and her aching nether region was now.

  Then I shall sleep until noon.

  Reaching the water’s edge, she walked along the beach until she came to a jumbled rocky outcropping south of the fishing pier. Untying the laces between her breasts, Nessía removed her girdle. She pulled the shirt off over her head. She shimmied out of her dress and kicked the dirty, sweaty clothes aside.

  The cool water made goose bumps pebble up and down her arms. Reaching up, she undid her tethered braid. She tunneled her fingers through her hair as a gentle breeze tickled her breasts. She gathered her dirty clothes, and walked into the loch with an eagerness centuries in the making. Life under the surface would always be a part of her, even as her heart yearned for a family, children, and a mate to love.

  She bent her knees until the water lapped at her chin. One at a time, she scrubbed each piece of clothing. She threw the sodden jumble onto a large rock in the shallows then strode deeper and rinsed her hair. The fresh scent of the mountain lake sunk into her pores, and she breathed deep. “I deserve a little happiness.”

  “Indeed. And I offer my services.”

  Nessía spun around and faced the man who caused the need for a cold swim.

  ***

  Rory swallowed. Moonbeams turned her brown hair gold and reflected off the water’s surface into her icy blue eyes. He’d surprised her, evident in her open mouth and crossed arms. They barely covered her breasts as she slowly stood. Water cascaded down her shoulders, dripping onto the calm surface of the loch. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited to see what she’d do. He hadn’t meant to sneak up on her and had no idea she planned to go skinny-dipping. When he’d spoken a few words in answer to her vocal plea, shock froze his steps when he recognized her naked state.

  “ ‘Tis ye again, Mr. Hawthorn. Ye do seem to excel in ungentlemanly actions.”

  “Please accept my apologies. I had no idea—”

  “Be off, then, and let me complete my bath. ‘Tis rather chilly.”

  “Then why are you…never mind. You must have your reasons for such torture.”

  “Don’t be silly. ‘Tis refreshing.”

  “You forget. I had a little dip in the loch myself.”

  “I have little choice. My home has no…”

  Rory felt a smile tug at the right corner of his mouth. Could he salvage this little faux pas? “No shower at your place?”

  She shook her head, which made moonlight shimmer like an angelic halo in the flying water droplets around her. His erection strained at the front of his black jeans, and he hoped the night hid the bulge from view. Even from this distance, he spied the shivers that wracked her shoulders.

  “My room at the inn has a deluxe bathroom with claw foot tub and separate tiled shower.”

  Nessía’s chin perked up. He could almost hear the cogs grinding inside her head as she weighed the pros and cons of his offer. She should.

  “Throw me my shirt,” Nessía demanded.

  Rory did as she bid and turned his back, until her footsteps echoed to his right. The whisper of clothing, as she gathered up the rest of her personal attire, made him smile. If she took him up on his open-ended suggestion, the chance to get to know the woman beneath the beautiful curves might be in the cards tonight.

  “I am ready.”

  Rory started. She’d come up behind him, close enough that her breath tickled his neck like the gentle breeze he’d felt, while standing inside the crumbling tower of Urquhart Castle. Her fragrance surrounded him, a seductive combination of feminine musk and fresh water.

  “Umm, this way,” he said, pointing a shaky finger toward the nearby inn. As they walked, a quick glance showed him that she was now discreetly covered. Even so, her soggy dress hugged breasts that bounced in time with each bare-footed step. Nessía’s damp hair tossed in the breeze, and his fingers itched to gather up a fistful of strands. She smelled like an incredibly alluring mixture of beach sand, pond water, and female.

  They climbed the stone steps, side by side. Rory ushered her through the door and
slowly closed it. Only a few low lights burned in the front rooms. With no sign of either the innkeepers or the American women, he grabbed Nessía’s hand and pulled her up the staircase. Padding softly for fear of letting on that he’d brought a woman home, Rory reached his room. He unlocked his door, opened it, and pulled his guest inside.

  Instead of flying by him as he gently closed the door, soft, chilled flesh suddenly filled his arms. While her hands circled his neck, Nessía’s luscious lips pressed against his mouth. As their bodies entwined, they fell together on his bed. Pillows tumbled to the floor. His heart slammed against his ribs while his erection swelled and lengthened, pressing against the front of his jeans. Again.

  “Nessía, please…” What the heck am I saying? Isn’t this exactly what I planned the minute I walked toward the pub tonight?

  “Too many words. Talk later.”

  Rory, obedient for the first time in his adult life, rolled her beneath him and clung to her as if she might fade away. Her damp fabric of her dress soaked the front of his shirt. The chilly reminder knocked some sense into his head. Her skin was frigid and he was keeping her from a hot shower. He rolled onto his back, and disconnected from the plush bounty of her breasts and the warmth of her thighs. When she purred and reached for him, he accidentally rolled off the side of the bed.

  Thump.

  “Owww.” Rory sat up and rubbed his aching temple. His jeans pinched his groin and he wanted nothing more than to strip off the offending material. Cooler heads prevailed.

  “Where did ye go?” Nessía asked, staring at him from the bed.

  My bed.

  She looked rumpled, flummoxed, and innocent. Her hair fluttered around her shoulders in disarray and her dress hung off one shoulder. When she chewed on her lower lip, he hesitated.

  “We don’t have to go any further.” It killed him to offer her a way out, but his feelings for her had him flummoxed.

  “Rory, I want this. I think.”

  Rory stared at the flushed skin that outlined her delicate collarbone. If the dress and shirt slipped any lower, he’d be able to suckle her naked breasts.

  Not a bad idea.

  No, take it slow.

  Rory didn’t want to scare her off, so he pushed up to his knees and rubbed a sore hip. “I fell. The bed is too small. Back home, I have a king.”

  Her brows arched and her beautiful blue eyes opened wide. She scurried to a kneeling position, her back ramrod straight, and her mouth in a frown. “Ye keep royalty in your bedroom?”

  His booming laugh echoed off the flower-papered walls, and filled the room. Nessía’s cheeks turned a brilliant red. She shuffled off the bed and headed for the door. On his feet in an instant, Rory gathered her in his arms before she left his life forever. “I’m sorry.”

  “Ye should be.”

  She struggled for moments then melted into his embrace. When she lifted her head, tears glistened in her eyes. His stomach clenched with guilt. Slowly, he lowered his head, and gave her ample opportunity to pull back. When she did not move, he crushed her mouth with his lips. Drinking in her deliciousness, Rory inhaled her essence and smelled the loch’s mist. Working his fingers across her soggy clothing, he massaged her back.

  She purred like a kitten.

  Backing her against the door to the hall, he pressed a knee between her legs, and opened her. A moan filled his mouth.

  Mine or hers?

  Heat and pure pleasure threatened to buckle his knees, until a distinctive rap, rap, rap reverberated from the door.

  Mr. Neeps!

  “Just a second,” Rory said. He pulled Nessía across the room, and pushed her inside the bathroom. He pressed a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise, then closed the door. Returning to the unwelcome visitor in the hallway, he pulled his door open and forced a smile.

  “Mr. Hawthorn,” the innkeeper said, gruffly, “ye be making enough noise to wake the dead.”

  “Oh? I’m sorry. I…fell out of bed.”

  Mr. Neeps looked around without entering, huffed, and retreated back down the hall. Rory watched him go, then locked and bolted the door. Gathering the pillows, he tossed them back on the bed then knocked on the bathroom door.

  He heard the shower running.

  “Come in.”

  He walked in, then stopped. Nessía’s silhouette swayed behind the frosted glass of the shower door.

  How can my mouth go bone dry in the presence of all that water?

  Splashes and giggles filled the air, as if Nessía had never used an indoor shower before. An increasingly strange young lady, his confused mind thought, until he spotted her clothing lay along the side of the empty tub and remembered she was naked.

  In my shower.

  “Here is some shampoo,” he said as he passed a complimentary bottle beyond the glass partition.

  “Shampoo?”

  “I presume you want to wash your hair.” He’d rather not have the clean tang of the loch mar the simple fragrance he had come to know as Nessía.

  Her hand slid from behind the glass and as she wrapped her wet fingers around the tiny bottle, she splashed his hand and arm with icy spray.

  “Isn’t there any hot water left?”

  A damp head popped out. “Hot water? Where? Show me!”

  Is she for real?

  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he stripped and stepped inside the large, tiled shower. She huddled against the back wall, her arms crossed over her ample chest, the bottle of shampoo clutched in one hand. He smiled while urging his flaccid member to stay still, then adjusted the spray. Hot water mixed with the icy shower and turned more palatable. Nessía handed him the bottle as if not knowing what to do with it, then joined him beneath the pulse. Squealing with glee, she jumped and giggled.

  Rory shampooed his hair and tossed her the bottle. She sniffed the bottle’s contents and mimicked his actions. While he rinsed the soap from his face and head, a shriek threw him back against the tile wall. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, his gaze filled with Nessía slapping at her eyes.

  “Soap. Rinse it off,” he said. He shoved her head under the spray, then reached for a towel. While the water flushed the last of the suds from her eyes, he pulled her face into the terrycloth.

  Rory tried not to laugh. Why did she act as if she’d never before taken a shower nor washed her hair with bottled shampoo?

  “Thank ye,” she whispered.

  He grabbed the offered towel and tossed it out the door. She stared up at him, eyes rimmed in red, with wet strands of hair hanging limp on her shoulders. Rory stared down at her, a woman who appeared small and vulnerable, when earlier, she’d dumped an entire tray of food and drink in his lap.

  Unable to speak, he leaned down. Rory kissed her, while he kept his hands on the walls. Not wanting to pressure her, he gently brushed his lips over her mouth, while his tongue licked drops of water from her chin.

  Hell, she’s standing naked in my shower. I can wait.

  She pulled back and blinked up at him.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she teased.

  Rory wanted to respond, but the innocent sparkle in her eyes and the teasing tone of her Scottish burr captivated him. His arms, legs, and throat went numb.

  When the water grew cold again, he reached past her, turned off the water, then stepped from the shower. Gathering two more fluffy towels, he quickly wrapped one around his waist then held one up to Nessía. She stepped into it, then allowed him to circle it around her, cocooning her within his arms. Her hair smelled fresh from his shampoo, and her skin dripped with moisture. Rory leaned forward and ran his tongue along her protruding collarbone.

  Nessía sighed. Her head bent to the side, and exposed her neck to his mouth. Rory nipped along the succulent flesh, planted tiny kisses up to her earlobe, then down again, and stopped just above breasts swathed in a towel.

  “Rory…”

  He smiled at her whispered plea, stood straight, and kissed her forehead. Her smile’s b
rilliance lit up the room, and his chest swelled with a yearning he’d kept bound and hidden deep inside too long.

  Mine.

  CHAPTER 5

  Mine. The simple one-word thought coaxed him to cling to her, then guide her back into the bedroom. When she neared the bed, he tugged at the towel and it dropped to the floor. He backed away for a better view, and to give her space. Would she make the next move, or disappear out the door?

  He stood silent, semi-aroused, several feet from her. He sucked in his breath when she crawled across the bedspread on her elbows. When she reached the headboard and smiled, his balls tightened. She laid back in a seductive pose, then fanned out her hair into a golden-brown halo against the pillows.

  “You are so beautiful, you take my breath away.”

  Nessía smiled wider in response, and his erection jerked to attention. Her gaze drifted lower, and he prayed she liked what she saw.

  “Ye are quite large.”

  Though he appreciated her observation, the way she said it sounded as if…

  “Are you a virgin?” God, I hope not.

  Shaking her head, she blushed. “No, but I have only been with one man.”

  Rory wanted to kill the bastard, whatever his name. An odd reaction. Still, curiosity got the better of him as he padded closer. He crawled on the bed and moved slowly forward until he planted his knees on either side of her thighs. He stared into her shadowed eyes. Child-like wonder stared back.

  “And how long did this relationship last?” If she still saw the man, Rory needed an excuse to take her home. He refused to poach in someone else’s pond.

  “One very quick…in and out.” She giggled.

  Rory glared, then laughed. She really is an innocent. She acted interested in making love tonight, with him. Would she change her mind any minute? He grew painfully hard, so he let his words as well as his physical reaction let her know how much he desired her. Could she understand how deep he’d fallen? “I want you.”

  “I am here, am I not?”

  “I want to make love to you.” He reached out with his hand and, with gentle pressure, turned her head toward the bedside lamp. He stared at her profile, and the gentle curve of her chin. She cupped the hand on her cheek with her tiny hand and turned to face him. He followed the straight sweep of her nose up to blue eyes that sparkled with desire. He suddenly didn’t want to move.