“Not if ye keep distracting me,” he said.
“Distracting you?”
Toren looked pointedly toward Kat’s ample display. The deep well of her cleavage begged for his exploration. Toren noticed the flush along the creamy white tops of her breasts, as it feathered upwards along Kat’s collarbone and neck, and into her cheeks.
Toren’s gaze moved back to her face. Despite the flush, she smiled. She dipped her fingers into the well. Toren made a half-groan, half-growl sound. Kat squealed, yanked the gown higher, and turned back around. “I will endeavor not to distract you.” She laughed, but then tilted her head back. “At least not while on horseback.”
They slept in an abandoned cabin that night. After a full day of riding, the lass was plain wore out. Toren cradled Kat against him after she fell into an instant sleep. He inhaled her fresh scent and listened to her gentle breaths. Every once in awhile she whistled on an exhale. Toren smiled into the darkness. He’d never tire of hearing Kat’s sounds, soft and loud, very loud. He closed his eyes and settled in for a very uncomfortable night.
The next day Kat continued to rattle on about the details of Elizabeth’s win over the Spanish general whom Philip had placed in charge after Santa Cruz died. “His name is Medina Sidonia. He’s a duke and he’s never even been on a ship before.” She shook her head. “The man even gets seasick.”
“Aye, I’ve heard of the general.”
“And there are these ships, eight of them, that were packed with dry wood that the English light on fire and sent into the Spanish crescent. I guess I should say send since it should be happening soon.” She looked back at Toren. “They call it a crescent because that is how the ships sail, the whole navy in a crescent shape which is impenetrable.” Toren was well versed in Spanish attack positions. Anyone would be after an evening listening to talk at court in the last year. But he just nodded, too entranced by the spark dancing in Kat’s blue eyes to say anything. It was the same spark he’d seen when she’d playfully thrown a handful of blackberries at him the previous morning before they left the magic glade. He smiled, even though he was thinking more about the surprised squeal she’d made when he’d stalked her in full retaliation.
“Hell Burners,” she said.
“What?”
“The ships that they lit, I mean light, on fire and maneuver out into the Spanish fleet,” she said. “They are called Hell Burners.”
He grunted. “Sounds appropriate.”
“I can’t believe I’ll be here to witness it.” Kat turned around and relaxed into his chest.
Toren let the comment sit for a long moment and then very softly replied. “Ye could witness firsthand the next sixty odd years of history, Kat.”
Birds sang overhead in the summer breeze. Small animals fled Dubh’s feet. The hot sun filtered down through a thick canopy of oak leaves. It was as if the whole world continued, uncaring what her answer would be. He hadn’t even asked the question, just laid out the issue.
Tightness entered Toren’s chest, a panicky flutter in his torso, and his breath sucked in rapidly. What malady was this? This ache through his body, pooling into the pit of his stomach? It was similar to the dread he’d felt as a child, scared, torn, alone. And it was coming from his connection with Kat. Toren closed his eyes and let the feeling roll around inside. He sensed the war within as she rode silently in his arms. He pulled her body into him and rubbed her arm with one hand. He felt her pain, the pain of guilt of wanting to see history but also needing to go home to her children. They depended on her. And the pain of missing them filled her heart, heavy with stones.
“I’m sorry, lass,” he breathed into soft, wavy hair that she twisted over one shoulder. He kissed the side of her face. “I doona wish to bring on yer pain, but we need to decide what we will do once we return the necklace to the witch.”
“If she gives us a choice,” Kat whispered.
Was there some small hope that they wouldn’t be given a choice? Aye. “No matter what, we stay together,” he said, and practically held his breath.
Kat reached down and squeezed his hand and the nauseous tight grip on his stomach abated. That was agreement. She wanted to stay with him. Now he just had to convince her that his century was the wisest choice. He frowned as his mind twisted, looking for hard reasons to stay.
They reached Tilbury on August eighth. Toren commissioned a court gown to be made from a partially stitched costume. He replaced his rugged shirt and kilt with court hose and doublet. Most of Elizabeth’s navy was stationed in tents dotting the hills near the shore, leaving the inns for the commanders. Toren found one room and secured it for the two of them as a wedded couple.
“Elizabeth has planned plays and a masquerade for tomorrow night after she addresses her troops,” Toren said to Kat where she sat cross-legged on the small mattress in her kirtle. He tossed his jacket on the one rickety chair in the room and sat to pry off his boots.
“There are so many people moving in and around that I think it would be best for us to blend in, pretend we’ve been near the whole time. We need to get close to Elizabeth to see if she still wears the dragonfly.”
Kat nodded and nibbled at the wedge of white cheese Toren had brought up with bread and wine.
“Perhaps there will be news of what’s happening at Craignish,” Kat said, her eyes serious.
Toren nodded. “I must tell Elizabeth about Margaret withdrawing her claim that I am Sara’s sire.”
“You won’t tell her the truth.” Kat shook her head.
“Nay, not out right, but Elizabeth has a way of finding out every truth in her realm if she has a heart to.”
Toren watched Kat yawn over her hand. The lass was still tired from the ordeal and the constant moving. And there were also their late nights together. “Ye should sleep.”
“You should, too.”
He nodded and eyed the small mattress. “Either we take turns or I sleep under ye.” His eyebrows shot up. “Or on top of ye.”
Kat laughed and scooted over, patting the gray tick. “If we hold tight to each other we shouldn’t roll off.” She brushed at the bedding. “I’m trying to ignore what is probably living in these blankets.”
Toren laughed and yanked off the top cover. Kat jumped up and he stripped the linens, replacing them with the blankets they’d been using on their journey.
“They might be road dusty but they doona bite.”
“This inn would definitely not make Frommer’s,” Kat said. Toren didn’t know what Frommer’s was, but her twenty-first-century North American cleanliness preferences wouldn’t be found near Tilbury or anywhere on any continent. She leaned way over the edge of the bed and smiled. “There’s plenty of room.”
Toren tossed the rest of his clothes over the rickety chair, momentarily wondering if the brittle contraption would crumble under the weight. Kat’s gaze moved leisurely over his naked chest, torso and below as he secured the door and laid out his short sword and long sword within reach of the bed. He climbed under the rough blanket and up against Kat’s softness. Catching the end of her smock, he lifted and tugged it up over her head.
“There just isn’t room for this,” he said and tossed it with his clothes on the chair. Kat laughed softly and wiggled her backside into his groin as he spooned up against her. Toren ran one arm under her head and the other over her middle, reaching up to casually cup her wonderfully ample breast.
“Mmmmm,” she sighed as he kneaded her warm flesh.
Toren growled low and inhaled Kat’s hair. She scrunched her shoulder as if it tickled but he persisted. His thumb strummed against her nipple as he feathered kisses along her hairline. “Och, ye are soft and warm everywhere.”
Kat pushed back, grinding into him. “I’m hotter and softer in certain places, MacCallum,” she breathed. The edge of impatience in her tone made him chuckle.
“No longer the timid virgin,” he said.
Kat turned so that she looked up at him. “No longer the virgin perhap
s, but I was never timid.”
He had to nod and his smile turned lusty, reflecting the thoughts of their last two days together. Indeed, timid Kat was not. Kat’s hand snaked along her bare hip to duck below the globe of her perfect ass. Her fingers were cool against his heat as she wrapped around him, stroking.
“Nay, lass, never timid,” he murmured as he pushed her back flat on the bed. Her wee hand tugged out and found him once again.
Toren leaned in, his weight and power all around her slender frame. Shielding, protecting, exuding strength but never overpowering. His lips descended, hot, fierce, consuming. Her luscious mouth slanted naturally against his, her hands brushing a path back up across his chest and over his shoulders. She tried to push him over but he didn’t move. His tongue mated with hers as his fingers found that hot spot. She groaned against his mouth and panted as he scissored them rapidly.
He paused and she pressed against one shoulder. “Over.” The word came out in a rush. “I want to be on top.” Toren raised an eyebrow. “I may have been a virgin just two days ago, but I’ve read extensively.” She smirked.
No further explanation needed. In one fluid movement, Toren tucked Kat against him and lifted her so that her soft curves lay across and over the hard planes of his heated body. Her breasts pushed against him and she wiggled to sit upright, straddling his hips. He groaned as he felt her wet heat, her two glorious globes hung before his face. Toren bent up, feasting on one swell as his hand found her pleasure below. Kat moaned and wrapped her hand around him, rubbing until Toren thought he’d lose all control. He lifted at the hips and slowly placed her down over him.
Kat cried out, passion flooding her eyes. She held herself over his face as he sucked in one nipple and then the other. Kat began to move on her own, building fast, grinding her pelvis against him. She slowed and circled, eliciting a groan. Her hands splayed across his solid chest as she found her rhythm. Faster the tempest built between their hot bodies. Toren’s hand played along her spine and sweet flexing ass until he felt her squeeze around him. She cried out against his lips as she came, sending him into a crashing climax. He filled her as she shuddered.
Toren pulled her to him, their arms and legs intertwined. He cradled her and flung one of the blankets across Kat’s cooling back minutes later when he felt her shiver.
Her exhale tickled against his chest with a sigh. “If demons didn’t hunt me to destroy the world. If I didn’t miss my children so much it physically hurt.” Toren could hear the waver in Kat’s voice but didn’t interrupt. He caressed along her back, rubbing, soothing. “If we didn’t have to steal a cursed artifact from the most powerful queen in history and give it to a floating, dragonfly witch.” She huffed softly and her voice grew soft. “If we didn’t need to choose whose life to forfeit in order to stay together.”
Kat pushed up on her elbows and looked into his face. “If we were just any old girl and boy.” A sad laugh broke from her lips and Toren reached up to run his thumb over her chin. “Just Toren and Kat.” She sighed heavily, and cuddled into his hand. “Now, how wonderful would that be.”
Toren pulled her back down to lay across his heart. “Aye, how wonderful,” he agreed and stroked her hair until soft even breathing proved she’d fallen asleep.
Toren continued to stroke along the side of her head as he stared up at the dim ceiling, lit only by a splash of moonlight from the window. His thoughts moved to Craignish. What had happened in the four months he’d been gone? With Maxwell dead, would history change? Or would Fergus Campbell still destroy his clan? Toren forced himself to close his eyes. They’d be meeting with Elizabeth the next day and he surely needed to have a clear, rested head when dealing with the cunning monarch. Kat nuzzled and he hugged her close. Sleep, he must sleep. Hours later, sleep finally claimed him.
****
Kat held her arms high while the maid lowered the damask rose hued gown down over canvas stays and a drum farthingale. An embroidered petticoat could be seen from under the gown’s parted slash in front. A soft ruffle of lace from a new smock peeked out of the top to tickle across Kat’s bosom. A large, flat belt wrapped around the middle of Kat’s narrow waist. Gold thread danced along the belt in the form of butterflies. Toren had given Kat several small bobbles to hang from the belt as was the fashion. A gold cross, a sweet smelling pomander filled with cloves, a blue butterfly and a gold heart which opened, hung along the belt. Kat held the heavy heart in her palm. Inside was a scrap of MacCallum plaid. No explanation, just a kiss, was all Toren had given her when she’d asked.
“You look lovely, milady,” the maid said, after securing the deep rose-colored French hood. She steered Kat to the thin polished glass near the window. The warm glow of the morning sun lit Kat as she stood before the glass. Her hair flowed in ringlets and waves under the thin veil of cobweb lawn that fell from the headdress pinned far back on Kat’s head.
Kat wiggled her toes in the satin pumps and smiled at the thrill of dress-up. She ran her hand down the fabrics, fingers sliding along the gold thread and pearls sewn into braids and hems. Exquisite. Toren had certainly outdone himself when he’d convinced a local dress maker to fit the nearly finished gown to Kat instead of the most likely irate woman for whom it had been intended. But there had been no time to build Kat a court costume from the ground up and since she couldn’t use her magic, she had to have the real thing. The real thing! Kat breathed past the wild thumping in her heart. Oh, it really was lovely.
“Thank you, Beatrice,” she said to the maid. “I couldn’t have donned it without you.” Kat passed her a silver threepenny.
“Thank you, milady.” The beaming maid smiled as she descended into a deep curtsey before leaving Kat alone in the small room.
Kat turned back to the polished glass mirror. She did look lovely. Even her skin seemed smoother. Kat stepped up to the glass and ran cool fingers over the right side of her cheek and jaw. The skin seemed less puckered, less red and angry. And she wasn’t using any magic to hide the scars. Were they fading? Kat studied her face a long while. “No,” she said to herself in the mirror. “They just aren’t as bad as I remember,” she whispered as she rubbed a spot on her upper arm. When was the last time she’d really looked at her true face? Years perhaps. In her mind she’d always seen them at their worst, but now they didn’t seem quite as noticeable. Especially when she was decked in genuine Elizabethan elegance.
“I’m glad to see you aren’t using your glamour,” Drakkina’s voice made Kat jump inside the heavy frame of the gown.
Kat whirled, hand to her chest.
“You could use some make-up on those scars,” the witch continued. “Until we get you away from my dragonfly.” The misty figure of the crone glanced around. “I don’t suppose my dragonfly is here.” Her dragonflies buzzed about the room as if searching.
“No,” Kat said, “but Toren is working on a plan to get it. It’s here in this town, with Queen Elizabeth.”
“Humph!” Drakkina snorted. “Stupid to give it to her in the first place.”
“He didn’t have another choice since you stuck us in her castle ready to walk in to gift her with something. He didn’t have anything else.”
Drakkina’s frown mellowed into something of a grin. Her icy blue eyes twinkled. “Defending the Highlander? That’s good.” She peered closer at Kat and tapped her bottom lip with one finger. “I’d say you two have bonded then.”
“What?”
“Married or mated or given your hearts to one another.” She shrugged. “Or all three. Doesn’t matter. I can spot love.”
“You can spot love? He’s not even here. How—”
“I just can,” Drakkina said. “You look like a loved woman. I have experience in this area, with your sisters,” she said smugly.
Her sisters? Drakkina knew more than one. “How many sisters do I have? Can I meet them?”
“Three other sisters and yes, after this mess,” she waved her hands around. “You can meet them. You almost met Mer
ewin if you hadn’t gotten yourself abducted. Then your face would be smooth and Toren would love you even more.”
Her casual statement about Toren caught Kat’s breath. She held it for a moment and slowly exhaled. Could Toren love her? She’d felt it in his touch, seen it when he watched her cry out in passion, heard it in the way he spoke her name. But he hadn’t said the words. She turned back to the mirror. Would he say the words if her skin was smooth and perfect? The scars were not nearly as bad as they had been as a child, back when the other children had thought her a monster. Kat touched the dimpled skin once more. “I think he likes them,” she murmured.
“Likes what?” Drakkina asked.
“The scars,” Kat said and smiled at the mask of confusion on Drakkina’s face. “He doesn’t seem to mind them.” Kat’s voice grew in confidence. “They show I’m strong, that I survived.”
“Nonsense,” Drakkina mumbled. “Men like luscious bodies, silky hair, and perfect skin. You have lovely hair and enough curves,” she assessed. “But the scars should go.”
“You don’t know much about relationships or love, do you?” Kat asked Drakkina. Kat didn’t know much about love either, but she knew enough that perfection was not necessary.
“I know about a lot of things, things you couldn’t even comprehend, uppity girl,” Drakkina answered in a huff.
“About love?”
“I know love works at its own pace and that it’s best to just leave two people who are destined to be together alone so they can find one another.”
“Unless they are in different centuries,” Kat finished sarcastically.
Drakkina seemed to ignore the tone and nodded. “Yes, of course. And I know that love heals hurt hearts and broken souls. But it doesn’t heal scalding oil scars.”
Kat pursed her lips together and turned back to the mirror. “I think they look better.”
“They haven’t changed since you were a teenager.”
“Hmmm,” Kat said to her reflection and then turned back to Drakkina. “So you’ve been watching me since I was a child? Where do you live, anyway?” Kat moved her hand in the air. “Up there in the ether or something?”
Masquerade (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 3) Page 24