Toren walked away. “Don’t leave me,” Kat called, standing alone in the dark. She swallowed. “I mean, don’t go out of the circle.”
Toren looked at her in the darkness. Lightning slapped jagged shards of white across his features. Rain streamed down, running off the rugged lines of his brow and nose. “I go nowhere without ye, lass.” The hint of a frown played against his lips with the second flash.
Guilt, twisted and heavy, pooled in the pit of Kat’s stomach. Even though things had worked out, or at least Brianag was home, months by now, Kat’s foolish ride earlier had started this catastrophic domino effect.
Kat watched Toren pace the perimeter.
He dragged large branches that had dropped into the clearing, some of them nearly trees.
Kat leaned into the warm side of Toren’s horse. She patted the animal. “Thank you,” she said to the beast while her gaze followed Toren. “Thank you,” she whispered at the hulking warrior who easily pulled branch after branch toward the center of the clearing. He jogged back through the slanting sheets of rain and grabbed rope tied in loops to the back of the horse.
Kat watched in fascination as he strapped the branches together in some type of framework similar to an arched teepee. Better than any Eagle Scout.
“The blanket,” he said and pulled its weight from her shoulders. “It’s wet so I can use it on the shelter. I have another that’s dry.”
The wind died down. Toren pulled Kat toward the small arched fort, pushed her between the bent limbs, and tossed the blanket over them. Toren poked his head under. “I’ll throw in the dry blanket. Strip out of yer wet clothes and wrap up in it.” He vanished before she could answer. A dry blanket flew under the wet tarp, hitting Kat’s legs.
She shivered. “Just strip and wrap up,” she murmured. “How the hell am I supposed to get out of this get up?” Ah hell, she’d said hell. Her language was becoming more colorful the longer she hung around Toren. What would Sister Mary say? At the thought of the warm woman’s hugs, Kat’s eyes teared up. She yanked at the ties that the rain had welded shut. “Hell!” she cursed again and pushed up her skirts to take off the mud soaked petticoat beneath.
Long minutes later, Kat gave up and pulled her knees up to her half undone bodice. She heard Toren’s footfalls. The wind had calmed to a breeze and the thunder had moved on. Apparently they were safe. The anxiety of the day shuddered through Kat along with the damp cold.
Toren pushed into the small enclosure, nearly sitting on Kat.
“Ye’re still dressed,” Toren admonished.
Kat kept her eyes pushed into her knees. “I can’t get it off.”
“What off?”
“The damn dress.” She huffed. Hell, now she was saying damn. A fresh pouring of tears stung. She pushed her eyes into the damp, dirty fabric to wipe the tears away without Toren noticing.
Toren’s large body crowded next to her. His fingers worked at the ties at the back of the gown for several minutes, their soft tickle sensation comforting.
“See,” Kat said when he grunted in frustration.
“Hold still.” His words made Kat look up. He slid his dirk from his boot and under the ties.
“You’re cutting them?”
“The costume is irreparable.” He sliced each tie, releasing the tight hold around Kat’s middle. “No dry cleaners in my world.” Was that a joke, maybe a quip? Kat would take even a hint of humor right now.
Kat pulled the bodice away from her clammy skin. “What I wouldn’t do for a hot shower,” she said and shimmied the once lovely gown down the under kirtle, leaving her in only the thin white gown. The kirtle was transparent when wet, but Toren covered her shivering form with the wool plaid.
“Ye should take off that wet kirtle under the blanket,” he said. “No hot showers here to warm ye,” he added, the slight tinge of humor gone.
Kat stared at his large shape in the flickering darkness. What must he be thinking? She’d left Craignish without a word to him, had endangered his sister, and had brought back the demons with her desperate need to use magic.
“Toren,” she started. I’m—”
“Very tired,” he cut in, words tight. “The storm seems to be moving off and ye need sleep.”
“But I—”
Toren crawled out of their hut. “I’ll keep watch for awhile to make certain everything is safe.”
“I’m sorry,” Kat whispered to the muted sound of his footfalls on the moss. She scrunched the kirtle up and off, then curled into a tight ball under the heavy blanket. She even covered her head like she used to when she was little and alone in the darkest part of the night. Kat ran cold fingers along the puckered skin of her face. Tears stung as guilt twisted in her stomach. She’d been so close to losing her scars forever, but look what the risk had cost. Kat breathed deeply as the heaviness of exhaustion pulled her down into blissful oblivion where right and wrong didn’t matter.
Kat woke from a dream where she tried continuously to empty her bladder but it kept feeling full again. She turned toward the warmth next to her and blinked, trying to remember where she was. As she woke fully, the urgency of her bladder made her sit up. Toren’s bare back lay against her with a blanket rolled up in between. Even with the wool wall, Toren’s heat filled the small space.
Kat wrapped the blanket around her and crept out into the predawn mist. All lay quiet, muted, only a few bird calls breaking the morning stillness. Kat stepped well away from the hut but remained in the circle and peed. Much better. She hurried back to the hut and its warm cocoon of Highlander heat.
Toren stood outside the hut, legs braced apart, arms crossed over his bare muscled chest. A kilt lay hastily wrapped around his narrow hips.
Kat stopped before him. “I had to pee,” she said and ducked back inside.
Toren followed and they both laid back down, the wool wall still in place. Kat rolled first on one side and then the other but she couldn’t get comfortable again. The chill she’d brought back wouldn’t surrender its hold on her body and she shivered. Suddenly the wool wall disappeared and Kat felt the heaviness of the blanket placed over her. She rolled closer to Toren. They lay against each other with only the blanket wrapped around Kat preventing her nakedness from touching his body. Just the thought of the proximity of Toren made Kat’s blood thrum. She rubbed a hand down her sensitive skin wishing she could wipe away the passion building in all the right places. She sighed.
Toren pushed up on an elbow to look over her face.
Kat could just make out the faint lines of his features in the deep shadows.
He studied her in the stillness.
“Ye just left.” His voice was low, but strong. There was vulnerability in the words yet he didn’t allow any pain to seep into his tone. “Without a word of goodbye, ye just left.”
Kat stared up at him, feeling the pain through their connection that he would never admit. It caught at her breath and brought out a full press of tears she could not stop. All the remorse, all the fear, all the conflict that warred inside poured out with the tears, wetting her cheeks in silent agony.
“I was coming back,” she said and tried to breathe.
His stare felt almost smothering. “Ye were going to the stones to meet the witch,” he guessed.
“Yes, but”—she shook her head where it still lay on the soft bed he’d made—“not to leave. I wouldn’t leave without…without telling you.” Yet the thought of telling him goodbye twisted in her stomach so hard it felt like she was being torn in two. “Toren, I am so sorry that Brianag went with me. I am so sorry I left.”
“Why were ye going to the stones then, if not to convince the witch to send ye home?”
What excuse could she give him? None but the truth came to mind and she wouldn’t insult him with lies. “Drakkina said that if I came to the stone circle it would be safe enough there for her to bring one of my sisters to meet me.” True, that was true.
“And ye raced off when we kent Maxwell and Fergus Cam
pbell were on their way? To meet yer sister? For what reason?”
Damn, he had to ask more questions. The sun rose above the horizon and light brightened the inside of the hut.
Kat could see the creases in Toren’s brow, the hardness of his jaw, the distrust in his eyes. Kat pulled her hair absently over the right side of her face and glanced down at the muscles of his chest. “My sister is a healer. Apparently a very talented one.” Kat let her statement lie flat between them as silence roared. She twisted the ragged end of the plaid between her fingers.
Kat nearly jumped back when she felt Toren’s warm fingers push back her hair, but she remained still. His thumb gently traced the puckered skin along her jaw line. Kat barely breathed.
“Ye went to smooth these away,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the close space. “Ye risked so much for so little.”
Kat looked up. “So little? How could you know?” She pulled back and threw her hand out indicating his face and body. “What do you know of suffering through stares and whispers when you have a gorgeous face and scars you can hide?”
He stared into her smoldering gaze, hot with a new wave of unshed tears. “I do not hide my scars,” he said simply. “They are a part of me, make me who I am.”
“So I am an ugly, stupid girl.”
“Nay. Ye were a curious little girl who learned that life is full of challenges.”
Kat looked to her lap. “I learned to hide,” she whispered.
Toren leaned forward and brushed her hair back from where it had fallen once again. He edged closer so he could easily cup her face.
Kat held her breath at the gentle touch.
His hands were huge, rough from swordplay, warm and powerful, just like the rest of him. Kat looked back up, unable to hide the tears blurring her vision.
Toren’s lips touched hers. “Ye do not have to hide from me.” His hot breath, broken by the gentle graze of his lips, moved along her right cheek and down the scars to her collar bone. “Every sweet part of ye, lass, is perfection.” His hand slid across the dragonfly mark on Kat’s upper arm and Kat felt a sizzle jump between them. Passion flooded her, languid, hot, sinking passion. It could be from Toren or from her, but it didn’t matter. Its building strength was the same in them both.
Kat let the blanket fall around her hips. Her ample breasts pushed forward, nipples hard. “It’s time to finish what we started,” she breathed, as his head came back up to her face. He kissed her then, a deep, languid kiss, full of sensual power. His hand molded around a pale, heavy breast.
Kat moaned softly against his mouth, losing herself in the sweep of sensation. Wet heat drenched at the juncture of her legs and she let Toren lower her down into the blankets.
Toren’s flat palm swept down her stomach, brushing along the curves of her waist and hips. It rested on her hip bone and squeezed. “Mine,” he said and stared down into Kat’s eyes. His mouth descended, sucking in a taut nipple with such exquisite pressure that Kat arched off the soft moss-cushioned bed. Her toes literally curled into the blankets. She gasped as his hand moved to the other breast while his tongue swirled around and his teeth nibbled the erect bud on its twin. Kat threaded fingers through Toren’s thick wavy hair.
More, she wanted more. Kat pushed upward with her hips, grinding her pelvis against Toren’s stomach. He broke free and looked at her face. The dark passion in his storm-blue eyes turned his grin into a promise and a chill of desire shivered through Kat’s flushed body.
“I can feel yer need, lass.”
And she could feel his. Kat pulled the blanket completely off and felt his gaze devour her body. The desire made her bold. Without the effort to conceal her scars or any other part of her, Kat’s body revved with anticipation. Yes, she felt him, too. She parted her legs, fingers brushing down through her curls to the slick folds below.
“I can feel your desire too,” she whispered. Kat dipped her fingers into the heat below, her other hand wrapping around one breast to squeeze and pinch.
Toren growled low and ripped away the plaid that had been draped around his narrow hips. Kat’s gaze traveled down his muscled torso to his large male length and her breath hitched in her throat. A new surge of anticipation rushed and she reached for him, touched him. It was Toren’s turn to choke on an inhale as Kat worked her hand along his shaft.
Toren leaned forward and captured Kat’s lips in a kiss that sent her spiraling away from all thoughts save one. She must feel him in her or she’d likely die from the throbbing ache. Toren’s fingers replaced her own and he pushed inside. Kat moaned against his lips and ground into his hand. He pushed his palm back against the bundle of nerves, setting off another string of electric tingles.
“Ye’re so tight, lass,” he said as he moved his fingers in her flesh. “As if ye were-”
“I need you in me,” Kat cut off the words with a wail, dripping with desire. “Now!”
Kat opened her legs wide and Toren shifted. He poised over her, watching. She felt him at her entrance. “Please,” she breathed.
Toren sank inside, filling her, breaking through. Pain pierced Kat as he buried himself completely and she gasped, stilling. A tear trickled out of her eye, but she smiled. Finally.
Toren froze and brushed the hair from her face. Confusion warred with passion in his eyes. “Ye’re a virgin?”
The tenderness below ebbed as he waited. Kat nodded.
“But…ye’re from the twenty-first century.”
Kat smiled as another tear squeezed out. “I was waiting for my sixteenth century soulmate.”
A slow grin spread across Toren’s lips and he kissed her. His other hand moved to her curls, easily finding the sensitive bundle. He rubbed and trailed hot kisses down Kat’s neck and ear. “Mine,” he whispered huskily, sending goosebumps along her skin. “Ye are mine, now and forever.”
The words sizzled through Kat like the hum of magic. Was he binding her to him? Kat didn’t care. She was his, no matter where or when they were. Kat pushed upward.
“Time to move, Highlander,” she said drawing a chuckle from him.
“By yer command, Lady Wednesday.”
Kat’s laugh cut off into a moan as he moved within her walls. His hands scored her skin, raking, tickling, finding all the pleasure spots. He worked, building her higher with his hands, fingers, and mouth as he continued to slide in and out of her heat.
“Toren!” she moaned as their tempo increased and his thumb strummed against her sensitive flesh. “Oh God! Toren!”
Toren planted his forearms on either side of Kat’s head. “Open yer eyes, lass.”
Kat opened her eyes and stared into his blue orbs just as she crashed into an orgasm. She cried out while focusing on Toren’s all-consuming gaze as he roared his own pleasure, filling her.
Toren rolled them to their side, still joined, legs intertwined. Kat’s hot body began to cool and she nuzzled closer to Toren. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled the blanket back over them. Dawn blazed warm sunlight onto the hut. Kat caught the chirps of birds and the faint gurgle of the rain-fed creek nearby. Her right cheek lay contentedly against Toren’s chest where she heard the deep glub dup of his heart. She sighed and he hugged her closer.
“Mmmm, ye smell wonderful,” Toren said into her hair.
Kat huffed. “Right, no shower in days, sleeping on the ground. I must smell quite ripe.”
Toren nuzzled against her ear. “Ye smell warm and like sex.” He pulled in an exaggerated inhale. “And ye smell like me.”
Kat laughed into his chest. “You’ve marked me, now haven’t you?”
Toren kissed her. “Completely, inside and out.”
Kat yawned and breathed deep. Was marking like binding? She sighed into his warmth and relaxed. Either this was the beginning of trust or utter exhaustion. She smiled. Hmmm…what exactly would it be like to totally trust another human being? The thought wrapped her in a warm haze of contentment until she fell asleep.
Chapter 11
&nbs
p; Toren kept to the shade as much as possible along the winding southeast road. The sun beat down with full summertime strength. Sweat beaded against his brow and he reached for the flask of cold creek water. He took a gulp and handed the flask to Kat who rode with her skirts pulled up to her knees.
Quite unseemly for the sixteenth century gentlewoman. He smiled as his eyes traveled along one shapely calf, remembering how his mouth had followed the same trail just that morning. Once Kat had reawakened, they’d feasted on roast hare and blackberries in the magical glade. And then they’d feasted on one another.
“I can’t believe we are traveling to Tilbury in August 1588,” Kat said with open enthusiasm. She twisted in the seat, which pushed her breasts almost out of the hastily obtained dress. “Elizabeth will be there waiting for the Armada! The gosh darn bloody Spanish Armada!” She breathed deep and Toren nearly steered Dubh into a tree. The horse whinnied and side stepped back to the center of the road. Toren refocused his eyes on the path ahead and nodded.
“The merchant said it was August seventh, right?” Kat asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Elizabeth will give her famous speech to boost her navy on the ninth.”
Toren smiled at the exuberance in Kat’s voice. “Yer love of history is showing, lass. Best not give it away to anyone else or ye’ll be accused of witchery.”
Kat glanced around. “No one’s around now that we’ve left the village.” They had stopped in the small village near the glade to find Kat a clean uncut dress and information. The witch hadn’t lied this time. She sent them four months into the future. Toren frowned over Kat’s head at the thought of his family. Was all well at Craignish? He breathed deep, remembering Eadan’s strength. His brother thought he was taking Kat home. Would Brianag’s rescue, Maxwell’s death, and Fergus Campbell’s retreat be enough to change his clan’s history?
“Will we make it to Tilbury in two days?” she asked, twisting, which spread a feast of smooth flesh before Toren’s eyes.
Masquerade (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 3) Page 23