She tossed aside the covers and leaped to her feet as she began to shake, then to weep. Great wrenching sobs that were torn from her heart, wracking her body.
Without warning, strong hands took the phone and tossed it aside, ending the connection. But not the pain. The pain continued in waves.
Arms came around her, holding her while she wept bitter tears, and her poor heart shattered into millions of tiny pieces until her throat was raw and her eyes swollen.
At last, drained by such intense emotions, she gave a shuddering sigh and pushed free of the comforting embrace. She accepted a handkerchief and wiped her tears before looking up.
She gave a gasp of surprise. She’d thought, for just a moment . . .
“Jamie.”
“I know that I promised to give you your privacy tonight. But I heard you cry out, and wanted to help.”
“Thank you.” She crushed the handkerchief against her mouth to keep her lips from trembling.
She dropped to the edge of the mattress and glanced around in sudden knowledge. “There’s no telephone by the bed.”
“Nay.”
“It was all a dream?” The truth dawned. A horrible, hateful dream. So real, she could still feel the pain of it.
Jamie dropped to his knees before her, his eyes steady on hers. In the faint light cast by the glowing coals of the fire, he could read her anguish.
“I can’t believe how real it all seemed.” She took in a breath and shook her head, as though unable to accept the truth. “A . . . dream.”
“ A bad one, from the looks of you. How can I help?”
“You can’t.” She looked away, ashamed of such a display of emotion in the presence of this stranger. “Nobody can.”
“I’d like to try.” He took her hands in his. “You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
He crossed to the fireplace and stirred the coals before adding a fresh log and kindling. Within minutes a fire blazed.
He returned to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. “Is that better?”
She nodded. “Much. Thank you.”
“Would you like to talk?”
She shook her head. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“I understand.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, lending her his warmth as well as his support.
As they sat in companionable silence, Bree thought how comforting it was to have him here. A mortal would have expected some sort of explanation. Jamie was quite content to allow her to deal with her grief in her own way, in her own time.
Time.
“You told me that time often passed in the blink of an eye, though at other times it seemed to slow to the pace of a snail.”
“It’s true. I only knew time was passing by watching the wee ones who were born, and then grew old and died, while I remained here in this place.”
“How I wish I could stop time, and even reverse it. If only I could go back to those glorious days when all the possibilities had seemed endless. The entire world had been mine. I’d felt so alive. So filled with joy and hope and love.”
When Jamie remained silent, she gave a short laugh. “Listen to me. Love. The very word mocks me now.”
She sighed and Jamie’s arm tightened. Without thinking, she leaned into him and turned her face against his throat. “Oh, what a fool I’ve been.”
He gathered her close and pressed his mouth to a tangle of hair at her temple. “ As I recall, ’tis the way of mortals.”
“Maybe. But I’m the biggest fool of all.” One wet tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Jamie framed her face with his hands and, frowning, kissed the tear away. “No more tears, lass. No man is worth them.”
She glanced up at him and shivered at the intensity of his look. “I know. I’m afraid you’ll have to allow me my weakness. I’ve tried so hard to be strong, but this storm has been building for such a long time.”
“ A storm. Aye. I’d know a thing or two about them. A storm has been building inside me as well.”
For the longest moment he merely stared at her with a look she couldn’t fathom.
Then, ever so slowly, he lowered his face to hers and covered her mouth in a kiss that sent heat rushing through her veins.
He lingered over her lips, teasing, tasting, as though learning some long-forgotten pleasure.
When at last he lifted his head, he saw the look of surprise in her eyes. And something more. The warmth of desire his kiss had awakened.
“Ye can tell me to leave now.” His voice was thick with passion. “Or ye can let me know that ye want this, lass, as much as I.”
“What does it matter? It isn’t possible.” She sucked in a breath. “Is it?”
“I’ve no idea.” He captured her mouth again and kissed her, long and slow and deep. “For I’ve never before had the desire to explore such a possibility. But here, with you, I’m more than willing to find out.”
When he again lifted his head, she could feel his searching gaze, as though assessing whether she welcomed what he was offering.
In answer, she wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled her cheek to his. “It’s been so long since I was held like this. Kissed like this. I’ve missed it.”
“Aye.” That single word was a long-drawn-out sigh. “Oh aye, lass. I’ve missed this, too. The warmth of a woman’s touch. The thrill of a lover’s kiss.”
And then by mutual consent they came together in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it threatened to consume them.
The arms holding Bree were strong; the lips on hers warm and firm. The pulse that pounded against her palm was as wild as hers, and just as unsteady.
This was no formless spirit, teasing her, tempting her. Here was flesh and blood. Heat and need. And hers for the taking. All hers.
Without a thought to the consequences, she took with a need that bordered on madness, returning his kisses with a hunger that matched his.
He pressed her down against the pillows. His mouth moved down her body, igniting fires everywhere. With sighs of pleasure, she opened to him, welcoming the passion.
“My beautiful, wonderful Brianna.” He breathed her name against her throat, causing a sob to rise up in her.
“Oh, Jamie. Hold me.”
“I’ll not let you go, love.”
Love.
The endearment had tears stinging the backs of her eyes. But there was no time to weep. No time to think as he moved over her, his kisses, his intimate touches, lifting her higher, then higher still, until her breath was burning her lungs and her heartbeat was racing out of control.
She thought he would take her quickly and end this terrible need. Instead, he continued to lead her higher and higher, keeping release just out of reach, as he touched her now at will, until her body begged for release.
His voice was a low command. “Look at me, Brianna. I need to see you.”
Her lids snapped open and she found his gaze, hot and fierce, fixed on her with such intensity, as though he was seeing into her soul.
She knew in that instant that he could do so. With but a look he could read her very heart and know her most intimate secrets.
“I’ve waited so very long for this. For you. For someone as beautiful, both inside and out, as you, my beloved Brianna. Do you not see? ’Tis no accident that you’re here. We were destined through time, through eternity, to meet. To love.”
His words touched her heart in a way that nothing else ever had.
“Jamie. Jamie.” Her sultry plea was torn from her lips as he entered her.
At once she experienced the most unbelievable pleasure. Pleasure so deep, so intense, it bordered on pain.
They came together in a firestorm of passion, blood throbbing, pulses thundering, as they took each other on a heart-stopping ride to the heavens.
High they soared, and higher still, until they felt themselves flying among the stars.
For the space of a heartbeat they paused on the very edge of the universe, nea
rly blinded by a blaze of white-hot passion that consumed them. They were fire and ice. They were one with the moon and stars.
Their climax was shocking in intensity as they felt themselves hurtling weightlessly through space before shattering into millions of glittering fragments.
It was the most incredible journey of their lives.
SIX
Bree lay very still, waiting for her heartbeat to slow and her world to settle. Jamie’s face was nestled in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. His breath feathered her damp flesh, sending delicious curls of pleasure along her spine.
She touched a hand to the strand of dark hair that tickled her throat. The hair was real. The body pressed to hers was flesh and blood. As if to prove the fact, she moved her hand along the flat planes of his taut stomach, up and over the corded muscles of his chest and arms. Real. All of him.
The lovemaking they’d shared had left her spent and sated. In her life, she’d never felt so thoroughly loved.
How could this be?
She had no rational answer. But this much she knew: She wasn’t dreaming. She was wide-awake, and this man, who claimed to have died hundreds of years ago, was warm and real and here in her arms. And though she knew that none of this seemed possible, she no longer cared. After all that she’d been through. After all the pain and anguish of the past year, it was enough to be here, feeling safe in his arms, steeped in a warm glow like nothing she’d ever known before.
He stirred and touched a finger to the corner of her eye. “Tears, love?”
She sniffed, unaware until that moment that she’d been weeping. She wiped the back of her hand over her eye. “Crazy, I know. But I’m feeling . . . a little overwhelmed.” She looked away, ashamed to meet his eyes. “I like to think of myself as a sophisticated woman. I certainly don’t want to read too much into this. I know that lovemaking is different for a man, but this felt . . . special.”
He leaned up so that he could stare directly into her eyes. She felt a tiny thrill course along her spine as he touched his hand to her cheek in an achingly sweet gesture. “It was more than special to me, Brianna. In all the years I’ve remained here in this twilight world, this was the only time I’ve been driven to such madness. This wasn’t just about my needs, but rather my need for you alone. You’re like a potent drug. One I haven’t the strength to resist.”
He rolled to one side and drew her into the circle of his arms before gathering her close and kissing her long and slow and deep, until she sighed and returned his kisses with a need that bordered on desperation.
“My bonny, bonny Brianna.” Something about those whispered, sultry words alerted her moments before he took her down, down with him into a steamy, darker side of love. A side she’d never tasted before.
With Jamie’s clever hands and mouth and tongue leading the way, she followed eagerly on a fast, furious ride to paradise.
The sky was still dark outside. Rain splashed the windowpanes and pattered on the roof. Inside, a log burned on the hearth, casting a warm glow over the figures in the bed.
“Warm enough?” Jamie drew a blanket over Bree’s shoulder.
“I’m roasting. You’re like a furnace.”
“The heat you feel is a reflection of you. Most humans who encounter me feel only a cool dampness.”
“Why is it different with me?”
He shrugged. “I’ve asked myself that question since you first came here. Why are you different from all the others? My only thought is that you are part of some grand design.”
She sat up, hair tumbling around her shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Again that indifferent shrug. “I know not, lass. I know only that from the first, you’ve been unlike any other. You refused to be frightened away. You chose, instead, to stand and fight.” He shot her one of those heart-melting smiles. “There’s nothing I admire more than that.”
“You have an odd way of showing it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was too busy resenting you. And trying to fight this damnable attraction.” He drew her down into his arms. “But now, lass, it’s not fighting I have in mind.”
She sighed. “I’m glad of that.”
He ran slow, easy kisses over her face, brushing her eyebrow, her cheek, the curve of her jaw. “You make me forget my anger, lass.”
She relaxed in his arms, trusting him to take the lead.
“You make me forget everything except this. Just this.”
His mouth, his hands, began to weave their magic.
This time their lovemaking was as slow and easy as that of old lovers who had all the time in the world.
Sunlight trickled through the damp panes, burning off the last of the morning mist. The fire had long ago burned to embers.
Brianna stirred, feeling something heavy across her body. Jamie’s leg lay over hers, his arm thrown across her torso.
If he were truly a spirit, wouldn’t he be weightless?
As gently as possible she rolled aside, intent on slipping from bed without waking him. The minute she sat up, his hand closed around her wrist, holding her when she tried to stand.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep. I never sleep.” He shot her one of those heart-stopping grins. “Where are you going?”
“Up to the manor house. Gwynn needs me.”
“Not as much as I do.” He moved aside the covers and patted the mattress. “Come back to bed, love.”
“You know where that will lead.”
His smile was quick. “I didn’t hear you complaining through the night.”
She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and felt the rush of heat all the way to her toes. “I loved every minute of it. But now I have to get ready to work.”
“Work. What about me?”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to amuse yourself. Maybe you can walk up with me and try to frighten poor Gwynn and Duncan.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood to scare people?” With a laugh she touched a hand to his forehead. “Is it possible for you to have a fever?”
He surprised her by pulling her down on top of him.
“Woman,” he growled against her throat, “I’ve had one since you got here. You’re a raging fever in my blood. And I fear there’s no cure for it.”
All thought of resisting fled as she laughingly wrapped her arms around his waist and returned his kisses.
“I suppose I can spare a few . . .” The rest of what she’d been about to say died in her throat as he brought his clever mouth down her body, igniting little fires everywhere.
“You’re looking very smug.” Bree emerged from the shower to find Jamie lying in bed, hands under his head, his eyes watching her every move as she stepped into her dress.
“And you’re looking very tasty. Why don’t you come here and let me help you with that zipper.”
“Because I know where that will lead. And this time I intend to get to work.”
“Work.” He frowned. “Why would you want to work when we could spend the entire day at play?”
“One of us has to be sensible.”
“Just my luck to be stranded between heaven and earth with a beautiful, sensible mortal.”
She waved from the doorway, knowing that if she got too close, she might be tempted to remain for yet another round of lovemaking.
The manor house was teeming with people. As Gwynn had promised, at least a dozen women from the village were already hard at work cleaning, polishing, and stripping away years of dirt and dust that had settled over everything.
While one team of women removed the heavy draperies from the windows, another climbed ladders to polish the glass to a high shine, allowing sunlight to stream in, casting aside the shadows. Rugs were rolled up and carried into the fresh air while dull wood and marble floors were brought back to their original luster.
Bree moved through the rooms and was reminded of a hive of busy bees, and a
ll of them taking orders from their queen, Gwynn, who proved to be a harsh taskmaster.
“You there, Claire. Lend a hand washing that crystal. And you, Sarah. No time for woolgathering. The silver needs polishing.”
Bree climbed the stairs to the second floor and watched as closets were emptied of whatever clothing and bed linens remained, each of them carefully marked before being carted away by brawny lads who cheerfully tipped their caps as they passed her.
When Bree started up the stairs to the top floor, Gwynn stepped away from a group of villagers and followed.
Bree found herself in a narrow, open gallery. As she peered over the balcony railing, she could see down the ornate staircase past the second story to the main floor far below.
“Such a pretty place, Gwynn. What purpose did this serve?”
“It was once a spot reserved for the laird of the manor to observe his guests from above.” She pointed to the ornate frames that hung in an orderly fashion. “Now it is a gallery that holds the portraits of the Kerr ancestors.”
Bree moved from portrait to portrait, studying the faces of Barclay’s ancestors, from bare-chested warriors in the fifteen hundreds to the most recent formally clad lords and dukes in ruffled shirts and kilts. And all of them handsome enough to take her breath away.
When she suddenly let out an exclamation of surprise, Gwynn paused beside her.
Bree pointed to the portrait she had first seen hanging in the parlor. “Why was this moved?”
“One of the housemaids just returned it to this spot.” Gwynn sighed. “Not that it will remain here for very long.”
Bree turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“This is a portrait of Laird James Kerr. Each time we hang it here where it belongs, it mysteriously disappears and is found hanging over the mantel in the parlor.” She frowned. “Our old staff refused to come near it. But the young lasses from the village are new to such things. In time, I suppose they’ll learn to let him be.”
Bree studied the portrait. “Tell me about him.”
The Unquiet Page 30