Immortal Warriors 01 - Return of the Highlander

by Sara Mackenzie

  Bella made a little sound as he stroked her, his big fingers gentle but sure. He settled himself between her thighs and eased himself inside with a grateful sigh.

  "Och, Bella, this is heaven," he groaned.

  Afterward, he held her in his arms, half dozing again, until she thumped him on the shoulder to wake him up. "Wha'?" he demanded. "Are you never satisfied, woman?"

  Bella smiled. "Well, there wasn't much foreplay, but I have to admit I didn't mind."

  "Foreplay, is it? I'll give you foreplay—"

  With a shriek, she jumped up and ran to the door. Her hair was down, she was bare from the waist, only her long shirt protecting her modesty. She stood there, panting, laughing at him.

  "I can see you," she gasped. "You're more visible even than an hour ago, MacLean. The fuzzy edges are gone."

  "Are they?" He stood up, bumping his head on the sloping roof and rubbing the spot ruefully.

  "I can see the hairs on your chest, MacLean, and farther down, too. You're rather a hairy man, aren't you?"

  "Can you see my cock?"

  "MacLean!"

  He laughed, and she watched him through her lashes, clearly enjoying the sight. Her gaze ran over the contours of his body, the long lines of his back and legs, the curve of his buttocks. MacLean smiled. Bella liked the sight of him just as much as he liked the sight of her, though she was too coy to tell him so.

  He raised his arms above his head, palms flat on the ceiling with his elbows bent. He was too big for this cottage.

  "Who were you dreaming about?" she asked him quietly, and tucked her hair behind her ears.

  "A water-horse," he said dryly, reaching down to rub his leg.

  "Oh." She looked thoughtful. "There's been a pony around the loch. Gregor was teasing me, saying it might be an each-uisge. Some of his sheep have gone missing."

  He felt his chest tighten with anxiety, but somehow kept the smile on his face. "What have you been doing while I slept all this time?"

  If she noticed he'd changed the subject she didn't say. "Working on my book. I've been writing longhand—until my laptop is ready, I have no choice. Actually, I found something, that's what I came up to tell you. I borrowed two books about the Macleods from the library. The one on the local area and the other about the Macleods on Skye. It isn't a proper history, just a hodgepodge of stories told by different people. I've found a woman in it called Tamsin Macleod."

  He said nothing, watching her. He wanted to look at his leg, to see if Ishbel really had bitten him. Except he didn't intend to let Bella know what he was up to—no need to frighten her just yet.

  "Tamsin was ninety-three in 1830 when she told her life story to a visiting historian. He was traveling the Highlands recording people's memories, and he wrote down Tamsin's very carefully, because of course she was a living treasure by then."

  "Oh, aye." He sat down and glanced at his ankle. There was nothing there, no teeth marks. He felt himself relax a little as he realized the dream-Ishbel could not herself inflict physical damage—only cause others to do so.

  Bella took a breath, holding on to her patience with difficulty. "Yes, MacLean, but the exciting thing is her name was actually Tamsin MacLean. Unlike most Scottish women, she preferred to use her married name of Macleod and forget she had been born a MacLean."

  He finally felt a stirring of interest. "Tamsin MacLean?"

  "Yes, and according to the few pages she gets in the book, she was from Loch Fasail. That would make her nine years old at the time of the massacre."

  "But the book doesna say she was here at that time, only that she came from Loch Fasail?"

  "Yes, the book deals with her life on Skye, the traditions, the history, and so on. But"—she held up her finger—"there is reference to the original document written by the historian. It still exists, and it's in a private collection in Inverness. I can go there and look at it. It may tell me more."

  "Do you really think it will help?"

  "It's worth a try, don't you think?"

  "Aye."

  "You haven't remembered, have you? What happened here, to your people?"

  "I followed Ishbel and Iain Og," he sighed. Ishbel was right, he had sworn not to hurt her if they married, to wait until she was ready to receive him into her bed, but when she ran away he had forgotten his gentle promises. "I dinna remember how I died, not exactly," he said grimly. "And no, I dinna know how the English came to Fasail and killed my people. I dinna think I ever did, Bella."

  "Then I will go to Inverness and find out what I can."

  "Go?"

  "Just a night or two, not long."

  "I'll come with you," he said firmly.

  Bella opened her mouth as if to argue, then closed it again, but MacLean knew she hadn't given in. She didn't trust him to behave himself out in the world and she was just biding her time, hoping to convince him to her point of view later on. But MacLean had no intention of letting her go off alone to Inverness, not after what he had seen. The Tamsin Macleod thing might be a trap, to lure her away from him. Ishbel wanted to hurt him and she knew that the best way to do that was to take from him something he loved.

  Like Bella.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The water was hot and soapy, and after all their hard work in getting enough of it to half fill the bath, Bella and MacLean were determined to enjoy it.

  Earlier Bella had asked, "How long is it since you had a bath, MacLean?"

  "Two hundred and fifty years. Do you think I'm about due for one, then?"

  Bella smiled. "I think you are."

  "Will you share it with me?"

  "Is there room?" she asked dubiously.

  "Aye, there's room."

  The water splashed onto the floor more times than Bella could count. MacLean didn't care if he made a mess, and he got her into a state where she didn't care, either.

  As she clung to his soapy biceps, her thighs resting over his hips, slipping against him in the warm water, her body felt so attuned to his body that they might have been one. He reached up, stroking her breasts, tugging at the hard nipples, and she groaned, grinding herself down on him. He sat up, sloshing more water, and cupped her bottom, turning her over so that it was now she underneath and he on top.

  He pushed deep inside her and she felt her body coiling itself for another cataclysmic orgasm. His mouth closed on hers, and she was drowning in him, unable to think, only to feel. He stroked her again, inside, and she arched against him, clinging and moaning, as she came.

  After a long time she opened her eyes.

  MacLean was smiling at her, his hair wet and slicked back from his forehead, his body more out of the bath than in. There was sudsy water everywhere, probably dripping through the ceiling into the rooms downstairs. Bella cupped her hand to his cheek and shook her head at him.

  "You've spoiled me for any other man, MacLean."

  His face grew serious. "Good," he said. "I dinna want you to run away from me, Bella."

  "Ah, but you know I never would run away. Empty threats, MacLean."

  "My threats are ne'er empty," he retorted, but he was smiling.

  "Perhaps you will be the one who runs away. Once you've discovered what happened to your people and why you are here, you might leave me."

  "I might have no choice," he said softly.

  "Then we should make the most of the time we have?" Bella asked, forcing herself to smile.

  "Live every moment as if there will be no more."

  "Is that an old Gaelic saying, MacLean?"

  He chuckled. "No, I read it on the box from which you eat your muesli."

  She laughed, hugging him in the cooling water, and trying not to think sad thoughts. He was right, they should live every moment as if it were their last, no regrets, no worrying over things that may never happen. MacLean had helped her to understand just how important it was to squeeze as much as possible out of each day, and although Bella liked to think she would have learned this fo
r herself eventually, he had made it happen sooner.

  She was also learning to find peace in being herself, and that meant accepting her rocky childhood. She had made mistakes, her parents and Brian had made mistakes, but they mustn't be allowed to weigh her down and hold her back. Look what had happened to MacLean! His mistrust of women, his childhood pain, had caused him to make a fatally wrong decision, the price of which was still being paid two hundred and fifty years later.

  But at least he could see that now, and Bella knew she had played her part in helping him to do so.

  They worked well together.

  The acknowledgment was bittersweet.

  The telephone was ringing when they cleaned up and went downstairs at last. It was Elaine, wanting Bella to come to London as soon as possible so that she could arrange for her to make some appearances in the larger bookstores. Bella should have been elated, but instead her heart sank.

  "Oh. No, I can't make it now. I have to go down to Inverness to research something for the book I'm writing. You want me to make the deadline, don't you? I know I should make the most of the opportunity. I know you worked hard to… Look, I'll just have to pass. I'm very sorry. No, I can't let you speak to Brian, he's away. What has he got to do with this anyway, Elaine? I'm quite capable of making my own decisions."

  MacLean was watching her face. Bella was agitated and anxious enough without him reading her every emotion, and she turned her back and hunched over the phone, speaking in a lower tone. When she ended the call a short time later, she wiped her palms on her jeans.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "That was my agent. She wants me to go down to London and show myself, talk about my books."

  MacLean frowned. "Your book-writing is important to you, Bella. You should go. You need to go."

  "Not right now. I need to research your book, MacLean, I need to stay here."

  "But—"

  "I hate appearing in public. I always have. I still cringe when I remember when I was a child, being scrutinized by my father's friends. The looks they gave each other when they saw my mother in her Chanel suits, and me in old jeans and sweats. They laughed at me then and they'll laugh at me now—"

  She stopped abruptly, shocked at herself. After all her positive and affirming thoughts! But the words had just burst out of her. And they were the truth; they had been simmering below the surface for years. Maybe it was time to voice what she felt.

  MacLean smiled, and when he spoke there was nothing patronizing in his voice, only the honest truth as he saw it. "Och, Bella, they will fall in love with you. How could they help it?"

  She took a breath. How did he do that? Send her thoughts spinning. "I wish Brian could hear you. He'd be trying to bully me into doing all sorts of things I don't want to, dressing up like a literary princess. Turning me into someone else. That's why Elaine wanted to talk to him; she knew she could get him to do the persuading for her."

  "The bastard," he said mildly.

  This time Bella gave a startled laugh, and some of her nervous emotion dissipated.

  "There is no law that I know of that says you must go to London if you dinna want to. And if you do go, there is no law that says you must pretend to be someone else. You are Arabella Ryan, beautiful and clever, tranquil and gentle as Loch Fasail on a summer's day. But I see beneath your surface, and there's strength there, and fire, and a stubborn determination to get to the truth no matter how much it hurts. That takes courage, Bella, and when I look at you I am amazed, for I fear I am no' that strong. So, no, Bella, dinna play at being someone else. Be yoursel'."

  "MacLean…"

  She wanted him to come with her, but she would not say it because it was impossible. Besides, she would consider asking him a weakness, and she did not want him to think her weak.

  "Remember what I say," he said quietly, holding her gaze with his.

  "Of course."

  "Sometimes ye may be afeared, but fear is something to grasp on to. It quickens the blood and sharpens the wits. When a Highlander goes into battle he knows these things. Dinna let fear overwhelm you, though, Bella, and make you weak. Keep it chained, use it, and dinna let it use you."

  "Do you think the bookstore owners will mind if I arrive to sign my books swinging a broadsword?"

  He eyed her smiling lips with a frown.

  "I appreciate your help," she said quickly.

  He shrugged in a grumpy way that made her want to smile again. Not at him, not exactly, but because she was suddenly so happy.

  "Oh, I forgot... " Her smile faded. "I was thinking about your land, MacLean. After your people were gone, the land would have been seized by the Crown, and yet Gregor owns it now. His last name is Macleod."

  MacLean said nothing but he looked wretched.

  "It may mean nothing. Macleods are common enough around here, but I suppose there's a possibility Auchry bought the land, or was given it, after you died."

  His land, taken by his enemy. MacLean wanted to smash something, but he knew it would be pointless and his violence would frighten Bella. She was doing her best for him and he should be grateful, but some days he just did not want to hear any more awful news.

  "What about Ishbel?" Bella was not willing to let go. "Did she die that day with you? And if she didn't, then where did she go and what did she do?"

  MacLean knew where she was now. She had come through the door from the between-worlds, and she was watching and waiting for her chance to do him as much injury as she could. It was his fervent wish that Bella would never have to know what Ishbel had become, that he could deal with her without dragging Bella into it.

  "It'll help to have my laptop back," she was saying, and then she gave him a beautiful smile. "I forgot to tell you, there was a message on the phone to say that my laptop is fixed already. I want to go into Ardloch this afternoon to pick it up."

  MacLean considered her words. He would have liked to go with her, to watch over her, but there was something else he must do, something important, and it was best done while Bella was away from the cottage.

  "You will be home before dark, Arabella?" he said seriously.

  "I expect so."

  "Dinna linger."

  Bella stilled, trying to read his expression. "What is it?"

  "I have something I want you to do when you get home, that is all."

  She looked puzzled, but when he didn't answer she shrugged off his intensity. "While I'm in Ardloch I'll ask at the library about the private collection with Tamsin's manuscript in it. With luck I'll be able to ring the collector and we can drive down to Inverness as soon as possible and take a look. Are you sure you want to come?" she added. "If you thought Ardloch was busy, then you'll find Inverness in summer far, far worse."

  "Och, I'll be fine." He waved a hand as if it were the easiest thing in the world for an eighteenth century Scotsman to make his way in twenty-first century society.

  But Bella was no fool, and she gave him a considering look. "Okay, then, but I think we'll need to buy you some new clothes when we get there. I doubt anyone'll let you into their home looking so dangerous. A nice dark suit, MacLean, that should make you less threatening."

  Dangerous? Was that how she saw him?

  "I have no money."

  "I'll pay."

  MacLean opened his mouth to tell her no, she wouldn't, but her eyes narrowed. Saying no would give her a reason to go without him, and he couldn't have that.

  "Verra well," he grumbled. He just hoped she didn't turn him into one of those namby-pamby gentlemen he had seen in Edinburgh, with their high heels and floppy lace sleeves and long curling wigs. He'd rather go naked.

  "Dinna worry, MacLean," she said softly, swaying toward him, her eyes glowing with amused triumph. "I will no' let ye be made a fool of. You're far too handsome for tha'."

  He closed his own eyes as her hands stroked his face. "I dinna speak like that, if that is what ye are inferring," he said with cool haughtiness.

  "No, when you speak
you make my toes curl." Her breath was warm against his lips, and MacLean knew if he opened his eyes she would be close enough to kiss.

  He smiled. "I like the way you speak, too," he murmured.

  "Do you?" she asked, surprised. "My accent is a mixture. Too many places, too many schools, when I was young. I'm a cross-breed, MacLean. Londoner with a touch of French and German, and a hefty dollop of New York."

  "You make my toes curl, too, Bella."

  He opened his eyes and she was close. She blinked and smiled, and he realized she had been thinking sad thoughts and was trying to disguise it. She was remembering, probably, that he may not be here forever, and that one day she would be alone again. MacLean opened his mouth to tell her that it may never happen, or if it did, then at least they had these moments to remember, but she leaned forward and kissed him.

  And it didn't seem worth stopping her, when it was what he wanted, too.

  Bella looped the strap of her laptop case over her shoulder with a puzzled frown. The young man behind the repair counter in the electronics shop had been so shocked to see her standing in front of him when he looked up that his face had turned red and then white. As he swung his head jerkily from side to side, searching the area all around her, she thought for a moment he was going to faint.

  "You rang to say the laptop was fixed?" she reminded him coolly. Bella had been prepared to confront him if he tried the same tricks again, determined not to let him intimidate her this time. MacLean was right, he was nothing but a randy boy. She needed to let him know what she disliked about his behavior; she needed to speak up for herself.

  He stammered some sort of reply, and when he reached down and swung the laptop onto the counter before her, his hands were shaking. "I worked as fast as I could," he said, his eyes fixed on hers unblinkingly, as if he were afraid of looking any lower.

  "I'm sure you did." Damn it! Now she was being kind. Why couldn't she be tough and abrasive?

  He looked relieved, and brought out the worksheet to point out what he'd done and that it had been necessary to send for some parts. "We don't keep a large stock in the store," he said as she leaned over to read his writing. He glanced down, swallowed, and began to sweat. "I couldn't work any faster," he said. "Just tell him I did my best."