by Gimpel, Ann
Those words had haunted her this morning. Sam knew she could be interested in Angus. Interested enough she hadn’t even bothered to begin thinking of a way out of her dilemma, but he… Well, she knew how to tell if a man found her attractive. And he certainly didn’t seem to.
She’d dressed with care for dinner each night, letting her hair hang loose over her shoulders in a welter of coppery curls. Moira’s wardrobe, apparently untouched since her death, offered many possibilities. Sam had tried demure. She’d tried provocative. Though she’d seen his gaze dip to her cleavage one night when she’d worn a particularly revealing dress, he’d taken care to keep a certain distance between them. When she thought how forward she’d been, she blushed. Was she ruining her chances by not waiting for him to make the first move?
“Siobhan!”
She turned at the welcome sound of Angus’ voice. She actually liked her real name when he said it. Her thoughts returned to where they’d been before he called to her. She’d only seen him at dinner over the time she’d been his guest. Always charming and proper while they ate, he never invited her to wherever he took himself after the evening meal ended. She’d hinted. And rather broadly at that by telling him she wasn’t the least bit tired. Either he’d not understood, or… And then she remembered his gaze on her breasts. Heat crept up her neck. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, hoping…
“Lass?” He’d walked up next to her while she’d been ruminating. “Did ye not hear me?”
Look sharp. Maybe the tide is turning.
“Angus. What a treat to see you during the day.” Sam felt her face split into a grin. Erotic fantasies aside, she really was glad to see him. After all, he knew about her and wasn’t afraid to talk to her. Since Missus Cleary had decided she was devil’s spawn, the other servants had been avoiding her and it was beginning to feel decidedly lonely. She held out both hands, catching his in a firm grasp.
Though the light in the corridor was dim, she could have sworn she saw color rise in his face. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Uh, lass. I came to see if ye might like to come riding with me. ’Tis a fair day. Ye must long for a bit of diversion.”
“I would love to come riding.” Sam looked down at her skirts. “Do you suppose you could convince Missus Cleary to turn loose of my trousers?”
He smiled. “We needna’ bother her. I ken where they might be. Wait here.”
Sam couldn’t stop smiling. She felt foolish and giddy. Get a grip. Just because he’s invited me to go riding it doesn’t mean a thing. What I really need to do is figure out if there’s some way I can get back to my own time—
“Here you are then, lass.” He thrust her pants at her.
“Thanks. Give me five minutes?” She quirked a brow at him.
“Of course. Meet me at the main door.”
Sam hiked up her skirts and raced down the stone hall toward the stairs that led to her chamber on the third floor. She thought she heard a snort. Drawing up short, she turned toward Angus. “What?”
“Ye looked like a wee young lass with your skirts in your hands, ’tis all. I am unused—” A wistful note ran beneath in his voice. He turned away. “No matter. Put on your breeks. I shall have the horses readied for us.”
She met him just outside the main doors of the castle. She’d looked at them in awe when he’d let her through that portal with her clammy clothes and bedraggled hair a few days before. If anything, they looked even more magnificent now that she was rested. The oak doors with their hammered metal hinges had to be at least twelve feet high. Intricate carving covered both the inside and outside in a combination of writing and drawings. Some had been colored in with dyes. The words looked like Latin. She ran a finger over one particularly complex set of symbols. “What are these?”
“Just decoration.” His voice was brusque, almost as if he were hiding something. “Here, let me help.” Holding out a hand, he boosted her onto the same mare she’d ridden the other day. He’d found a saddle, but it was such a strange-looking affair—with a high pommel and back—she considered telling him she preferred bareback.
Sam let her mare follow his black stallion out the castle gates. He’d lied to her about the markings on the front door. They were obviously far more than just decoration. There was symmetry to them, reminiscent of ancient markings she’d seen in petroglyphs and Egypt’s pyramids. She could tell by the way he’d answered he was trying to hide something. But why? She didn’t want to spoil being with him, though, so she held her tongue. After all, what could she say other than I don’t think you were telling me the truth back there. Accusing him of lying was probably not going to get her any answers.
They rode in silence for about fifteen minutes, climbing a steep, rough track. Angus pulled his horse to a stop in front of a stone ruin high on a hill. She could see Castle MacTavish below them. “What is this place?”
“The site of the old castle. I think ’tis safe to talk here. Would ye like help to dismount?”
Sam shook her head. Tossing her leg over the mare’s back, she slid to the ground.
Angus barked a word to the two horses. They moved toward the ruins and, bending their graceful necks, cropped grasses that grew up between the rocks.
“It’s scarcely the end of the world if we have to walk back. But don’t you think we need to tie them?” Sam asked.
He shook his head. “Nay. I told them to remain here. They will.”
Her brows drew together. “Gee, I’ve never had a horse that obeyed directions nearly so well as that—”
He waved her to silence. “We’ve important matters to discuss, lass. Dinna waste time.”
Something about his demeanor brought her up short. His lips were set in a determined line and he looked solemn. It certainly didn’t appear he was about to play a willing role in her ongoing fantasies about him. Sam reined in disappointment. “Okay.” She spread her hands in front of her. “I’m waiting. What was so all-fired important, and secret, that you needed to drag me away from the castle?”
“The servants ken that ye are,” he hesitated before adding, “odd. I dinna wish to make that any worse. Ye asked about the door. The symbols are runes. I am a Druid. They are markings of my order. And my powers.”
She opened her mouth to ask a question, but the look on his face made her close it.
“I have held discussion with others like me. ’Tis where I have been these past few evenings. Though I was unaware of it afore, ye’re not the first from another time who has come here. We think we could return you to your proper place come Lithia. The walls betwixt the worlds are thinner then.” He eyed her, his expression unreadable.
“When exactly is that? If I remember a class I took in, ah, paganism,” she glanced sidelong at him, but he didn’t flinch, “I think it’s associated with the summer solstice.” Sam did some quick mental calculations. It had been somewhere around the fourth or fifth of June when she’d first met Angus in the Highlands. If a week had passed since then, that would mean Lithia would occur in just a few more days. “What day is it now?”
“The eleventh of the month.”
“So the solstice is in ten days.”
He nodded. The sun, partially covered by clouds, but at least out today, was behind him. It made his dark hair glow with subtle red shadings. The plaid around his torso did little to disguise hard lines of muscle heading south past his flat stomach. Sam drew in a breath. It was possible he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
That’s ten days we’d have. It’s better than nothing.
And only ten days to live with the humiliation if he turns me down.
Tired of the two-way conversations her mind liked to hold, Sam licked her suddenly dry lips. “That’s wonderful news,” she said. “You and I could, ah, see a whole lot of one another in the next ten days.” Because she couldn’t read the look on his face, she hurried on, aware of heat rising in her cheeks—and her crotch. “If it didn’t, ah, you know, work out, well, I’d be gone soon enou
gh, anyway.” Because she was nervous, Sam threw up her hands. “And, hey, if it did work out, maybe I could wait until next Lithia to go back.”
Wow! That was worse than telling him I’m from the future.
She waited. Other than the color that stained his strong-boned face, she had no clues as to what he might be thinking. Maybe women from this era weren’t sexually forward, but it sure hadn’t seemed that way when Moira had been telling her how to stroke him just the way he liked.
The silence became oppressive. She shook her head, feeling like a fool. “It’s all right, Angus. You don’t have to like me. In fact, you don’t have to do anything. I guess I was just—”
He was by her side so quickly she didn’t see how he could have covered the few feet between them so fast. He gripped her shoulders so hard they hurt. “Och ay, lass. Ye dinna understand. If I … if we … ye see, ye wouldna be able to return. The loving would bind you here.” He hurried on, voice low, not looking at her but at some spot beyond one of her shoulders. “I ken ye’ve wanted me to sit with you in the evenings. And I have wanted to, more than life itself. Ye’re such a lovely thing. So full of life. Ye’re like Moira, yet not like her at all. Fierce and strong. Sure of what ye want. Just like a man would.”
He did meet her gaze then. What she found in his green-eyed depths shook her. Everything she’d ever wanted was there, desire flamed hot and unmistakable, but it was tempered with bottomless tenderness. She’d never seen that level of intensity in any man’s eyes before. Not even when they were atop her, cocks buried deep in her body.
Never one to shrink from being direct, Sam squared her shoulders still clasped in his hands. “What you just said is if we make love, I won’t be able to go back.” She looked at him, seeking confirmation. Seeing him nod, she went on. “That’s why you’ve kept your distance?” Another nod.
She felt the heat from his body across the few inches separating them. It was all she could do not to close that distance, just like she did every night in her dreams. She wanted to feel him against her. Feel his arms cradling her. Feel the bulge she saw lifting his kilt pressing into her…
Sam wrenched her body away. “I have to think. I can’t do that when you’re this near me.”
He laughed. “Aye, lass. I ken exactly what ye mean. Why do ye think I have kept the distance ye mentioned?” He hesitated. “It doesna help when Moira comes to me every night urging me to take you to wife.”
“Oh, so she does that to you too?”
He nodded, smiling sheepishly.
Wife! He said wife. That means he’d marry me!
Whoa there, sweetie. He didn’t exactly say that. What he said was—
Sam shoved her internal mavens aside. “Do you want to?” She stared hard at him across the distance she’d put between them.
“Want to, what?”
She inhaled sharply. “Marry me, like Moira wants.”
He chuckled. “Have things changed so much then in two centuries? Is it the women who do the asking now?”
She huffed, aware her face must be aflame, outlining every freckle. “I was merely clarifying things. Seems I have a decision to make here and—”
He pulled her hard against him, cutting off the rest of her words. She swam in the intoxicating scent of him; exotic spices and musky, aroused man smell.
“Aye, I would wed you, lass. I’ve wanted nothing more than to drag you off to my bed since first I laid eyes on you. I dinna ken what was happenin’ at the time. It felt as if I’d been ensnared in one of the Old One’s spells. That whole first night when ye were but one thin wall away from me, it took all my strength not to come through your door and take you then.”
Chapter 5
“But it was locked,” she protested.
“’Tis the same key that unlocks all the doors, lass.”
“Oh.” For a moment, she thought about electronic hotel keycards and security, and then she knew none of that mattered. The only important thing was the man holding her. She tilted her head back to look at him, drinking him in. When she lifted a hand to touch his silky black hair and smooth it away from his face, it was shaking.
He ran his hands down her back, cupped her ass, and pulled her against his erection. It felt huge, jutting into the junction between her stomach and thigh. His lips trailed down the side of her neck, leaving a path that felt like liquid fire. Sam’s breath caught in her throat. Her blood, already hot, rose to boiling. Nipples pebbling into hard points, she felt arousal slick her thighs.
“Wait.” Reluctantly, she pulled away. The place where he’d been warm and alive against her felt lost and bereft. Because she couldn’t stand still, Sam paced, hands behind her back, all too aware of the swollen nub pulsing between her legs. “How would this work?” she demanded. “The servants don’t like me. There’s nothing here for me to do—”
“Dinna concern yourself about the help. They’ll come round.” He looked curiously at her. “And as for what to do, what were ye doing in the year twenty twelve?”
Thank God he interrupted me. I was rambling. Sam looked at her feet. Well, what was I doing? Not very fucking much. Making excuses why I couldn’t work for Dad and husband hunting. She thought about her days split between Starbucks, the gym, and chatting with girlfriends about their man problems. She didn’t think she’d missed a restaurant in Seattle, or a bar or nightclub. She’d taken trips to every exotic locale imaginable—mostly to soak up the time she had way too much of.
“Lass?” He looked at her strangely. Almost like he had during the few hours when he’d thought her fey. “If ’tis commerce ye need, I am certain I can—”
She held up both hands. “No. Truth was I did very little in my own time.” A corner of her mouth turned downward. “It was one of the bad parts about being born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”
“I dinna ken your meanin’—”
“It’s not like I think it is here,” she interrupted. “In my time, everyone has to work. Women too. But my parents always had so much money I never worried about succeeding at anything. Because I didn’t have to. They were always there to bail me out.”
He watched her closely. She saw him trying out some of her words, which must be unfamiliar to him. Repeating them softly as he puzzled their meaning.
“Do you need me to translate anything?”
“Nay, lass. The context is clear enough.”
She paced again, avoiding looking at him. Sam was afraid if she locked on to those green eyes, she’d simply throw herself into his arms and that would be that. If he really wanted to marry her, he ought to know about her first. All about her. “I went to college, mostly because I felt like I had to do something. Even finished an advanced degree, but the truth is I never planned to do anything with it. I had an older brother. He was supposed to run the family business. But he was killed—”
“Lass, I am truly sorry. I too had a brother who died an untimely death.”
When she glanced at him, compassion was etched into his features. He seemed to want to say more. “I think I ken,” he said, half smiling. “If ye’re thinkin’ ye’ll turn me from you by telling all ye see as your faults, dinna bother. One of the Druid gifts is clear-seein’. I ken your soul, Siobhan. And ’tis beautiful. If ye’re wantin’ to stay in this time, I would gladly wed you. But if ye need to return to your life and your home, ’twould make me sad, but I would understand that as well. Things here must feel more than passing strange to you.”
She just stood there, staring at him. When Sam realized her mouth had fallen open, she shut it with a clack. Here was this perfectly beautiful man telling her he wanted her, but would abide by whatever choice she made.
Her eternal internal dialogue raged out of control. Finally, she raised her gaze to his. “Are you certain I won’t be able to go back if we make love?”
“As certain as I am of any magic, lass. Which is to say, not certain at all. Ye must assume, though, that your chances of return will be greatly diminished at best.”
> The sun, which had hidden itself behind some clouds, flared outward then, casting Angus in a blaze of gold. Dark hair drifted about him in the slight breeze, looking silky soft. His green-eyed gaze never left hers. Light reflected off the planes of his face and the muscles in his arms and chest.
Moira’s voice sounded deep in her mind. “Take him within thy body, lass. Make him yourn. He’ll be happy, an’ ye’ll be blessed the rest of yer days. For I’ll see’t done. ’Tis a sacred promise. I would be losin’ my life everlastin’ if I were tae break my word.”
“You brought me here.”
“Aye, lass, that I did.”
“You should listen to her,” Angus’ deep voice held a serious note. “For she is of the Sidhe, the Old Ones who dwell in the hills and barrows of the Highlands. When I fell in love with her, I kent she was part fairy, yet I didna care. On t’other side of her human death, she has returned to her kin.”
“Did you hear what she said to me?”
He nodded, “Aye, that I did.” His words mirrored Moira’s.
Something shifted in Sam. Her mind felt sharp and clear for the first time since the thunderstorm in the Highlands. “Both of you,” Sam breathed in understanding that rocked her to her core, “are letting me figure this out for myself.”
She heard two ayes, one in her mind and one from where Angus stood.
“I wouldna let her bind you with witchcraft any further,” he said. “I told her that this night just past when she came to me again. Ye must want me of your own will. ’Twill be hard enough for you here. The choice must be freely given.”
Why is this so difficult? I know what I want. For once in my life, my path feels clear. Finally, I’m not trying to make a relationship something it’s not.
But my home. My friends. Mom and Dad…
Ssssh.
Feeling a bit foolish, but determined nonetheless, Sam walked to Angus and stood facing him. “I’ve made my choice,” she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. “I choose you. If it means I can never go back, I can live with that.”