"Tha' was...wha'?...a century and a half ago?"
She nodded.
"When was this other place supposed to have existed?"
Again she was silent for a time, a longer time than before, and Winston knew she was trying to convince herself that he didn't need to know.
"Deliah?" he whispered against her left ear then brushed his lips against her temple. "Why are you afraid to tell me?"
"No' afraid. Just...."
"Just wha'?"
"Twas a painful time, Winston. I dinna think I can talk abou' it right now."
"You can if you try."
This time when she fell silent, he fully scanned everything but her mind, which he felt would be pushing the invasion a bit too far. Her body temperature was 97.3. Lower than standard, but he sensed it was normal for her. Her pulse rate was high. His psychic audio could hear her heart and it reminded him of a jackhammer pounding into pavement. Her breathing was somewhat unsteady.
“Fine, Winston, I’ll tell ye.
"During the twelfth century, there was a monastery built exactly where this house now stands. The monks were teachers from lands near and far, and they worked hard day and night to farm the acres surroundin’ their home. For centuries they co-existed wi' ma clan, learnin’ all they could from us, respectin’ us and our ways, and we them and theirs. They survived wars and plagues, and as their numbers grew, the monastery was made larger. We were grateful for them, we were, for they were kind to one anither and honored nature above all else.
"Then...in 1690, an unnatural night fell across the land. It lasted a fortnight and, when it passed, all the monks were dead. There was naught ma clan could do for them, and we were ordered no' to approach the structure for fear wha' had taken the monks could somehow spread among ma clan. So ma clan could do but naught again but watch the monks' precious home fall to ruin...stone by stone.
"No one even crossed the land till 1696. Lord Sutherland and his wife, Lady Lindsay, came and took over the remains o' the monastery. They brought many workers wi' them, and soon a castle replaced the monks' home."
Her voice hollow, she continued, "Back then, maist o' this area was pine and grand oaks, some o' which Lord Sutherland had cleared afore the castle was finished. I remember thinkin’ how bare the land looked when maist o' the trees were gone. The pines I didna mind gone so much, but the oaks...such grand, grand oaks...were left but a few. Within a few shorts months, this land barely resembled our home, but there was naught we could do to stop him.
"You see, Winston, he was no ordinary mon. He and his wife were witches, and practiced their black art they did. Ma parents forbade all the clan contact wi' them, but ma brither had a powerful need to know mair abou' them. Some o' ma clan already feared he was bewitched when he started meetin’ wi' Lord Sutherland's wife. Lady Lindsay encouraged him to lie wi' her. Ma brither was always stubborn and had a mind 'o his own, but this joinin’ wi' her consumed him.
"The end o' ma parents' reign grew near and they decided it was time ma brither took a bride. They chose Blue."
Winston interrupted, "That's an odd name."
"No' really," she said wistfully. "It suited her. She had always loved ma brither, she did, and married him, knowin’ full weel he would be cruel to her. And cruel he was. He wasna happy unless she was miserable, and miserable she was from dusk till dawn, especially knowin’ he was wi' Lady Lindsay at every chance he could.
"One night, he went to Lady Lindsay and Blue followed him. The clan waited and...I remember we were all afeared o' wha' was happenin’ at the castle. We heard arguin’ and a struggle. Then came such heinous sounds filling the air, we thought our world would shatter from the vibrations. Everyone started to run for cover, but I had to know wha' had happened to ma brither and Blue. I went to the castle and saw Blue, ma brither and Lady Lindsay dead by a gazebo. And I saw this craiture—"
She gulped and shuddered. "Twas no' human, wha' I saw. Twas no' anythin’ I will ever forget. I was too afeard to return to ma clan, so I hid in an oak close to the castle. Even when this craiture went inside it, I couldna move. I couldna do aught but hide in shame and fear.
"Just afore dawn, a red cloud emerged from the castle. It seeped ou' from the stone walls and spread across the land like a giant, foul-smellin’ mist. Men and women ran from the castle and began cuttin’ down every tree and uprootin’ every plant. They worked so quickly, Winston, like warrior ants convergin’ on everythin’ in their path. Then they were haulin’ the felled oaks into the castle, and the castle...the castle...began to fade away."
"Vanish?"
"Aye, vanish, it did. Wi' every mon and womon, includin’ ma brither and the rest o' ma clan. The ground turned as black as a starless sky, and I found maself trapped, and soon fallin’ into a deep sleep."
"Like Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty?"
After a moment, Deliah wormed out of Winston's embrace and turned on her bottom to face him. Her expression was blank, her eyes devoid of their usual sparkle.
"I know no' this person," she said flatly.
"She's a character from a fairy tale."
Her eyebrows shot up and she fell into ruminative silence. It amused Winston to watch her and a grin remained on his handsome face until the ponderous glaze left her eyes and she soberly regarded him as one might regard a problem to be solved.
"Do ye now believe Blue be ma brither’s wife?"
The question took him aback and he laughed a bit nervously. "It's no' important."
"It be to me."
Winston sighed. "I believe you, but there's a few dozen questions I need to ask you."
She nodded.
"Okay, Deliah, where have you been all this time?"
"Been?"
"Been," he parroted. "You said you hid in one o’ the oaks, and fell into a deep sleep."
"I did."
"Are you a ghost?"
A dubious smile curved up the corners of her lovely mouth. "I be as alive as ye, Winston."
"So...." He faltered as he vied to collect his thoughts. "Magic kept you here?"
"Where else would I go?"
Winston sighed with a hint of annoyance. "You're evading direct answers."
"No. Ye ask strange questions."
"No' so strange from ma point o' reference.
"Let me ask ye one."
He arched his right eyebrow and considered denying her request, then shrugged that she should go ahead and ask him anything.
'Wha' are ye afraid o', Winston Ian Connery?"
"Failure."
"And?"
"Failure," he repeated in the same dull tone.
"And?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
"Ah." She sighed, and it bespoke of her fatigue and discouragement. "I know ye're afraid o' me. O' wha' I make ye feel."
"Deliah—"
"If ye would be honest wi' yerself, ye would know wha' I say be true. Ye are verra unlike Lachlan and Roan. When they were nervous, I urged them to speak poetry. Especially works by Robert Burns. He was a fine poet. But I can no mair bring the urge upon ye, as I can wipe away yer past. Even when I gave ye the rose—"
"Wha'?"
"The rose," she murmured. "Twas symbolic. Ma way o' tellin’ ye she would come to know peace."
"She died."
"Aye, and I can see her daith still bothers ye. But why, I wonder? Naught can hurt her now."
"You performed the Christmas Eve miracle?"
She shrugged noncommittally. "Some o' it was ma doin’. Some, Lachlan's. The rose was meant to ease yer soul, Winston, and return ye to me. Ye returned, but no' in the way I'd hoped. Ye came here to die, ye did, and I resented ye at first for wantin’ to deny me yer company."
A shadow of hostility passed across his face. "Who are you?"
"No' a ghost or spirit. No' a witch or gypsy wench, or aught else yer mind could chose to call me. I be Deliah. I be someone who fell in love wi' ye the instant ye first came upon Baird ground. And I be someone who can love y
e despite yer abilities, despite yer past, and despite yer unwillingness to trust wha's in yer heart."
Suddenly, Winston felt as if the room were closing in around him. His body temperature rose and panic robbed him of breath. Getting to his feet and patting his sweating brow with the back of a hand, he walked to the bed and kept his back to her.
"It's time you left. Change into some warm clothes and get something in your stomach."
"Winston."
Her name fell on his ears like a whisper both caressing and startling him at the same time.
"Winston," she repeated, but this time her hands came to rest on his shoulders. "I love ye, and I be no' ashamed to admit it."
"You don't know me!" he growled, glaring at nothingness.
"I know everythin’ abou' ye, and I glory in every detail, even in wha' ye call yer darker side. Winston, I have seen evil and suffered from its backlash. I have known loneliness, but always knew someone would come to free me. And ye did. Now, Winston, tis time to put everythin’ else aside and bond, ye and I."
He whirled around, an incredulous look on his face. "Bond?"
"Aye. As in bed me."
"You're insane!"
She shook her head. "Share the intimacies wi' me, Winston."
"Back off!"
"Winston...make love to me."
"No!" But even as the word tore from his throat, he knew he was lost.
Chapter 9
In an attempt to resist to her enticingly pouty lips, the desire glowing in her eyes, and the maddening thrill of her fingertips tracing his jawline, Winston lifted his protective mental shields and tried to probe her mind. Deep in his subconscious, he knew there was a reason why he should avoid her, why he shouldn't give in to his body's treacherous need of what she offered. But her own shields were stronger. He couldn't penetrate even the thinnest layer of her mind. It was as if her mind belonged to infinity in its vastness. A vastness so great, to glimpse a thought or an image would only be by sheer luck. His inability to read her, to touch upon anything that would aide him in turning off his libido, left him feeling as helpless as a baby.
The soft pads of her thumbs trailed beneath his eyebrows. When he closed his eyes, she repeated the gesture over the lids. Delicious chills swept through him and he sucked in a breath. For but a second, he thought he could see sprinkles of golden, glittering dust falling on the insides of his eyelids. With the illusion, he felt himself relax. Felt oddly serene and at peace with himself.
"I love ye, Winston Ian Connery," she whispered. "Only ye can fill this ache in ma heart. Only I can fill yers."
His opened his eyes and stared into hers. It struck him that he'd been looking for her—waiting just for her—his whole life. Every botched relationship, every thought he'd ever given to settling down, had merely been ways to bide his time until he found her. He wondered why he'd dreaded coming to this point in his life. What was more natural than falling in love with someone as delicate and as beautiful as was Deliah? More natural than wanting to share the physical intimacies with such a vibrant life force as she possessed?
In her eyes, he could see a garden filled with flowers, their brilliant colors, shapes and sizes so real, he thought himself back in that dream realm, basking beneath the rays of the sun, insects buzzing with life all around him. She radiated eternal spring. Newness. Rebirth. As long as he was with her, the dark recesses of his soul held no power over him. There was no past. Only today. This moment.
His insecurities fled on wings of contentment as he bent his head and kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft and eager to please him. He kept his hands at his sides until she dropped the quilt, then he drew her nakedness against him and wrapped her within his tender embrace. His fingers explored the glorious silken strands of her hair, while he deepened the kiss, probed the sensual perimeter of her mouth. There was no sense of unfamiliarity in kissing or holding her. None of the awkwardness he thought about during the brief times he'd allowed himself to fantasize about a moment just like this.
Floral scents filled the air. Birds chirped. Bees buzzed. A gentle breeze rustled branches in the corners of his mind.
With a low moan, he slipped his hands through her hair and found the smooth, soft skin of her lower back and buttocks. He drew her against him more tightly, pressing her into the erection straining at the front of his slacks. Her arms slid around his waist as she stood on tiptoe, straining to mold herself against every part of him. An almost purring sound escape her when he abandoned her mouth and trailed kisses along her neck and nibbled at her left ear lobe. Desire chipped away at his resolve to go slowly, to savor each second as if it would be the last time he could see, hear, smell, touch and taste her.
"I canna wait," she whispered, her tone raspy with passion. Framing his face with her hands, her gaze adoringly flitted over his features. "May I undress ye?"
Her question caused a blush to stain his cheeks. Why her boldness took him aback, he didn't know, but a large measure of his male ego thrilled at the prospect.
Swallowing hard, he nodded. She didn't hesitate. Her hands slipped beneath his T-shirt and the fingertips trenched across his muscle-tight stomach. Then she was pulling the wool sweater over his head and tossing it aside, and next, the T-shirt. Her gaze never leaving his eyes, she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and Winston felt his heart racing at an almost painful pace. He held his breath when she planted her hands at his waist and slowly, sensually, lowered them, sliding both his pants and briefs down his hips.
Her hands continued to glide onto his outer thighs, her palms and fingers causing electrical sensations to burst along his sensitized nerve endings. He realized he was standing too taut, too inflexible, but he felt as if he would shatter or somehow burst apart the illusion that this was actually happening to him.
Again he gulped past the tightness in his throat when she lowered herself to her knees. She urged him to step out of the garments first with his right foot, then the left. At this point, he expected her to stand and fall back into his arms. Instead, her hands caressed the back of his thighs, she nestled her face against the black curls of his pubic hair, her cheek and hair brushing against the side of his erection. For a horrifying moment he thought she would take him into her mouth and, although he'd fantasized about it, he knew he would lose all control. But she didn't. Her hands cupping his rounded buttocks, she seemed deliriously content to brush her brow and cheek against the soft skin of his abdomen. It was maddeningly thrilling, hardening him until he thought he would burst, but he managed to hold tight to his control, although he trembled with the effort.
When he was sure he couldn't take much more, he rasped, "Deliah," like a man being tortured. He scooped her up into his arms and swung her onto what appeared to be a bed of white rose petals. Lowering himself atop her and positioning himself between the porcelain whiteness of her parted thighs, he hungrily kissed her. Warm, bright sunlight bathed his nakedness. He was barely conscious of her arms circling his neck. Of her urging him to enter her warmth. His outer and internal senses gloried beyond anything he had ever experienced. He was free of every emotional shackle. Free of mere human boundaries.
"I love ye," she whispered, her breathing labored, her fingers flexing in his hair. "I love ye so, I ache from wi’in the core o' ma existence, and tis an ache I honor above all else."
Winston's senses soared higher and higher. He kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her chin then luxuriously explored the graceful lines of her throat. The tip of his tongue grazed her collarbones then swept between her breasts. She groaned again, longer and with such passion, he quivered in anticipation of pleasuring her beyond anything she'd ever experienced. He sought first her left nipple, his lips and tongue paying homage to the rigid peak, then the right, where he suckled in sweet, lingering bliss, one hand kneading the firm mound. She arched against him, relaying her readiness, but he wanted to relish every moment, climb the vast mountain of pleasures with her before they triumphed atop the apex in absolute gratificati
on.
His hands roamed and explored her body. Twice, something disturbing tried to surface through the layers of his passion. Twice he ignored the warning from his subconscious. Instead, he looked into the vivid blue pools of her eyes and found himself gratefully drowning within the love she radiated. She was all he ever needed to fill his life, to fulfill the emotional emptiness he'd harbored for as long as he could remember.
His mouth sought her parted lips as he slowly entered her. Her breath filled his mouth and he kissed her more hungrily as he moved deeper inside her. An instinctual cadence gripped them. Thrust upon thrust, stroke after stroke, they carried each other into the heavens, where sensation became something so precious and yet so easily given, they became lost within its power.
For the first time in his life, Winston didn't need to rely on an outsider's influx of borrowed sensations to experience all the pleasure she awarded him. And he realized he was just as capable of giving her pleasure. He was conscious of perspiration coating their bodies, and how their slick skin enhanced their joining. The salty scent and taste of her was ambrosia. He was aware of their muscles straining to take them higher and higher, to fly them ever higher on an instinctual current of need to reach full gratification. They were a pair of perfect white doves, soaring toward a radiance of harmony and love so sublime, he could no more hope to analyze it than he could analyze the components of a miracle.
As one, their arms wrapped about each other, their bodies poetry in motion, they reached the pinnacle. Ecstasy filled the radiance now as shudder after shudder coursed through them. Their descent back to earth was deliciously gradual, like two united feathers loosed in the heavens and lazily making their way to the ground.
They clung to each other for a long time after, basking in the afterglow of residual sensations. But when the heat from their bodies began to cool to the chill in the room, Winston reluctantly rolled onto his side and drew Deliah against him, spooning the back length of her.
Exhausted, neither spoke.
Winston became wryly amused when he realized they were in his bedroom and not in the garden realm. They were atop the bed, exposed to the drafts. He noticed Deliah was dozing off. Gently easing his arm from beneath her, he rolled over and reached down for the quilt she'd dropped to the floor. He pulled it over them, wormed his left arm beneath her again, and smiled with sheer contentment when she snuggled close. Within seconds, they were both fast asleep.
Love Everlastin' Book 3 Page 16