Perfect Timing 2: Highland Fling Page 5

  “And have you ever met one?”

  “I did last night.” The hair stood on the nape of his neck and heat collided through him. He glanced toward the solar window. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her. She was there, watching him. He knew it as clearly as if she’d called to him by name. He glanced at the storm gathering in the distance, across the moor. “There’s a storm coming.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “I’m going up there now. She is up and awake.”

  “And you know this how?”

  Was he going to announce to Hamish that he could feel her looking at him? That he seemed to have a connection…a sense…about this woman he’d never experienced with anyone else. He didn’t think he’d divulge that bit of vulnerability to Hamish.

  Not only did he dislike the feeling of vulnerability, it wasn’t safe for Katie either. Those close to men in his position, lairds who inherited the care of the clan, were often used as pawns.

  Power could be a dangerous thing. Those that didn’t have it wanted it. And he’d much rather be the one in power than the one without, but often those that coveted it, didn’t realize the price extracted and the responsibilities that came hand in hand with it.

  But he’d felt her fear, her apprehension last night. Just the way he felt her watching him now. “I’m just guessing she’s up now. And I don’t trust her to stay put. I have no idea how long this is going to take but I’m going to do my best to send her home. Allow no one to disturb me.”

  “And what shall I tell anyone who asks?”

  His people were a curious lot, for sure. And he couldna blame them. Curiosity was the mark of a MacTavish. And he was curious enough as to how she tasted, what her scent would be like with his mark on her, what she’d feel like, look like, with him deep inside her, the way she’d sound when he brought her to satisfaction. He fair burned with the need to sate his curiosity. “Tell them I have a fever.”

  5

  KATE STOOD AT THE WINDOW and buried her face in the soft wool that bore the scent she’d come to associate with sexual arousal, the scent that she’d first known from a painting. Darach MacTavish’s. It was still a fantastical concept that her practical mind found difficult to embrace but—she glanced around her at the turret room complete with stone walls and a definite lack of twenty-first century amenities—this definitely wasn’t Atlanta, Georgia.

  Of course that had been painfully apparent when she’d woken with a full bladder and finally found a chamber pot in the other corner. There was a lot to be said for flush toilets. She’d popped a piece of spearmint gum from her purse in her mouth in lieu of a toothbrush.

  Dark clouds scudded across the dark sky, unrelieved by even a glimmer of sunlight. She had no clue what time it was and it was harder still to gauge the time with the heavy cloud cover.

  Far below, people moved about. Men, women, children and an assortment of animals. Sheep, chickens, duck, was that an oxen? She made sure to stay back, out of sight. If she didn’t need to go traipsing about on her own—she took his warning of stoning and rape as real, he didn’t seem the type given to exaggeration—she’d surmise she didn’t need to advertise her presence by hanging out of a window.

  Even with the mix of people below, she immediately spotted Darach. Some of the other men were as tall and their shoulders equally as wide, but he wore an unmistakable air of command. As if he possessed some sixth sense, he glanced up at the window where she stood. He was far below her but she could feel the heat of his gaze, the connection between them even at that distance. He looked away and said something to the man beside him, who she thought must be Hamish but it was difficult to tell at this distance, and then strode toward the castle.

  She flushed and anticipation hummed through her, pebbling her nipples against the brush of the plaid.

  She had forgotten it until this moment, but she’d dreamed of him last night. Her body felt full and ripe as she recalled the way he’d kissed her. The feel of his mouth against her lips, her breasts, the fullness of him between her thighs. She’d woken and realized it was only a dream because the man had been next to her, but not on her or in her and she’d fallen back to sleep, knowing a vague discontent and a definite ache.

  She knew with a certainty that he was on his way up to her. And she knew what he was coming for. Last night he’d said wait until the morning. Morning appeared to be here. He was a stranger and she didn’t know him any better than she had last night but she wasn’t nearly as reluctant now.

  Okay, she wasn’t into self-delusion. One, she did know him better than she had last night because she’d learned quite a bit about the man who’d sensed her hesitation and then given and kept his word throughout the night. It also told her something about the laird of Glenagan that he’d left her to sleep this morning when he could’ve so easily awakened her and done the deed.

  And this morning she seemed to have lost her trepidation about intimacy with a sort-of stranger. She wanted to go back to Atlanta and her century in a desperate kind of way and honestly, it had been a long, long time since she’d had sex. She wasn’t into casual sex and she wasn’t much into relationships because they were messy and potentially devastating and she was busy and well…it just hadn’t happened in a long time.

  But, if she thought about it rationally, this could be a beautiful thing. He turned her on. She seemed to turn him on. A little togetherness then she’d go back to her century and he’d stay in his and that would take care of any post-coital awkwardness. There wouldn’t be any fear that she’d run into him in the hall at the hospital or bump into him at a restaurant.

  All things considered, this could be the perfect solution. She discarded her gum into the wrapper and put it back in her purse. She finger combed her hair and was decidedly glad she didn’t have a mirror. She really didn’t want to know what she looked like without fresh make-up and hair gel. She stood in front of the glowing embers in the grate and waited.

  WITHIN MINUTES MACTAVISH entered the room carrying a bowl. He closed the door behind him with a dull thud.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, proffering the dish.

  He didn’t just enter a room, he commanded it, filled it with his sheer size and force of presence. Kate’s heart beat like a tom-tom in her chest. And she realized that she was in fact hungry.

  She took the bowl of what looked like oatmeal and thanked him. She was somewhere this side of ravenous. Taking a bite, she found it surprisingly good. She hadn’t expected to like it. She proceeded to finish it in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

  She placed the empty bowl on the table to the left of the fire. “Thank you, again.”

  MacTavish refueled the fire and it blazed to life. Outside, a fury of wind, rain, thunder and lightning lashed at the castle that stood undaunted by the elements. The fire warmed the room and burnished his skin to a golden glow.

  He reached out and Kate felt his touch almost before his fingers brushed her flesh. It was as if every nerve ending craved his touch. An ache unlike anything she’d known before welled inside her and she curved her cheek into his hand.

  “Your skin is like the finest fabric. You are a woman who was meant to be touched.”

  She’d never given it any thought. In fact, until now she would’ve disagreed, but the mere drag of his fingers against her cheek resonated through her. She traced the back of his hand. It was like learning a new terrain—the length of his fingers, the sinewy ridges, the leashed power. The desire burning in his dark eyes came through in his touch.

  “I’ve a terrible hunger for one of your kisses.” He said, lowering his head, blocking the light of the fire.

  Kate trembled. She’d wanted the man in the picture for weeks. She’d dreamt of him. Now he stood before her, flesh and blood.

  Often she felt like an observer. That’s what she did at her job. She stood back and directed. That’s what she’d done with the picture. She’d wanted him but she’d wanted him as an observer. Now she was no lon
ger standing outside watching. Now she was in the picture and by God if she wasn’t standing outside watching, she’d participate to the fullest. She knew she was a bit of an overachiever and this situation was no exception.

  This time tomorrow, she’d be waking up in her own bedroom, in her own bed—heck, if this went well, she’d be back home within the hour. There was no need to squander opportunity. And as long as he kept saying stuff like he hungered for her kiss and didn’t mention any of that wench stuff, then he didn’t necessarily need to keep his mouth shut.

  “You fed me when I was hungry. Let me return the favor.” She pulled his head down to hers, but it was MacTavish who took control of the kiss. His mouth whispered against hers, the merest brush, a litmus test, and then returned to claim hers. Kate curled her fingers in his dark hair and absorbed the feel of his lips, the warmth of his breath. Like the unfurling of a tight bud, the kiss grew and deepened until Kate was caught up in the sensation of his mouth on hers, the heat of his big hands on her shoulders.

  Instead of satisfying their hunger, the kiss intensified it. His tongue swept the recesses of her mouth.

  He raised his head. “A man could feast on your mouth all day, Katie-love.”

  Kate stood there, her mouth still tingling from his kisses. Men didn’t say things like this to her on a regular basis, well, okay, they never said anything like this to her and she didn’t know how to respond.

  “Uh, thank you.” She stepped back from him. It was much easier to think that way. “I think we have to have a bit more of a plan than we’re working with now.” She pointed toward the painting on the wall. “That was the painting I came through to get here. As you recall, that’s where I was when I got here. I think we should pick it up from there.”

  His wicked smile set her pulse hammering. “Aye. Then I suppose I can’t make love to you on that sheepskin rug before the fireplace.”

  Kate hadn’t exactly known what to expect from Darach MacTavish, but if he did the rest the way he kissed…. “I have to be home in time for work on Monday, but I’m really not in any big rush. Um…maybe we should work in a practice, you know, just to make sure we get it right.” She had the day off. This beat the heck out of doing laundry. “Unless you have something else to do.”

  “I’ve left instructions that I am not to be disturbed.”

  “For how long?”

  “I’ve instructed Hamish to bring our meals. Otherwise, until I leave this room, no one will dare approach it.”

  “What would have to be happening for someone to come up here?”

  “The castle could be overrun with Sassenach—”

  “Who? What?”

  “The bluidy English. My men would station themselves at the stairs below, but none would come up here. I have spoken and so it is.” He teased his tongue along the line of her lower lip. “We’ve got naught to do today but get it right. And I’m going to try very hard to get it right for you.”

  There was something about him, a confidence that translated to arrogance, perhaps the innate certainty of a man who operated daily in the role of protector, but Kate found herself letting go of the underlying concern that she might not return home. Never, ever in her life had she done something so decadent with her time as spending the afternoon devoted to carnal pleasure. And now, apparently, she had nothing else to do with her time. She knew she was an overachiever, but she brought the same single-minded determination to this that she brought to everything else. She might not have a lot of experience, but determination and enthusiasm went a long way. And she was feeling very…enthusiastic.

  Of course, it was rather mind-boggling that of all the women in the past, present, and future to choose from, this man, who really was rather gorgeous, had apparently zoomed in on her in the cosmic scheme of things. Which was weird, but something of a mega self-confidence booster in the womanly wiles department.

  It was as if some unseen force had cut through all the noise in her life and reduced her to her essence—a woman intent on finding her pleasure and bringing pleasure to her man in return.

  She caught MacTavish by the hand and led him to the sheepskin on the stone floor before the fireplace. “This looks like a good place to start.”

  GOOD AND BLUIDY RIGHT he wanted this done thoroughly. He’d ne’er ached for a woman before. Never felt as if he’d trade his soul to the devil for another taste of her lips. Katie Wexford had cast a spell on him and the sooner she was gone, the better. And that definitely meant getting it right, so that no vestige of this hunger remained, extinguishing the lust that coursed through him when she was near. He’d make sure they were both sated before he sent her back to ensure she’d be well and truly gone.

  He sank to the sheepskin and drew her down between him and the fire. He was a big man and he didn’t want to block the heat and he also wanted to see all of her. There was no shame in admitting she was a mystery to him, so unlike any woman he’d known before.

  He lay on his side and admired the play of the flickering fire over her skin, the contrast between pale flesh and shadow. Her shorn hair hugged the line of her scalp and curled about her head. Gold studs adorned her small delicate ears. He noted a prickle of gooseflesh along her arm.

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “I might have a slight chill.” Her eyes gleamed with a teasing light.

  She was more relaxed—a good sign. “Ah, could I do something to warm you?”

  Was that a blush staining her neck and face or merely a trick of the lighting? “Maybe a few more kisses would work nicely.”

  Darach didn’t think Kate a virgin, she was a bit long in the tooth to have not lain with a man, but he’d wager not many had been before him. Not that she wasn’t comely and not that her kisses didn’t stir a man to the edge of reason. Nay, there was a distance to Kate Wexford. And now there was a charming awkwardness to her flirtation, as if it wasn’t a role she’d worn very often.

  “Ah, then ’tis my pleasure to warm you, m’lady.” And truly, he could think of nothing he’d like better than to kiss her again, except perhaps bury himself between her sweet thighs…but all in good time.

  Bearing his weight on one arm, he leaned over and kissed her. Just as before, heat winnowed through him. With a small moan, she opened her mouth and invited him in with a tentative sweep of her tongue against his lips. She linked her arms around his neck and her touch shivered through him. He kissed her harder, deeper, longer, and still it wasn’t enough. He scattered kisses along her jaw, down the length of her neck. With each taste of her, his want grew and pooled thick and heavy between his thighs.

  Beneath his lips, her heart raced, the pace matching his own. He traced the upper swell of her breasts and she arched her back with a small moan. He fondled her breast through the material and his rod grew harder still at the press of her nipple against his palm. He eased the material down, baring one full breast with its ripe pouting point. He suckled the tender flesh, relishing the taste of her against his tongue, the brush of her warm woman’s softness, her scent. He flicked his tongue against her nipple and she arched up into him.

  “MacTavish.” She uttered his name in a half moan, half pant. Swirling his tongue around the distended point, he drew her into his mouth and suckled. She made a mewling sound in the back of her throat that threatened to send him up in flames. With an impatient tug at the plaid, she freed her other breast.

  “Ah, Katie-love, you have a bonnie set of tits.” He lent his attention to the newly freed one, lavishing it with the same care and attention.

  Beneath him, Kate laughed, a breathy sound that caught in her throat. “And you’ve got a bonnie mouth, MacTavish.”

  “The better to pleasure you.”

  Her eyes dark with desire, she reached between them and loosened the knot that held the plaid in place. She unwrapped the fabric, leaving herself naked before him, like a gift at Michaelmas.

  She fair took his breath. She was even lovelier than the first time he’d seen her naked, mayhap becau
se this time she’d taken her clothes off for him instead of just winding up in his bed. She’d made a conscious decision.

  He drank in the sight of her—full, round breasts tipped with pink crests, plump womanly hips to cradle him, soft curls several shades darker than her hair between her thighs, shapely legs to wrap about his waist.

  “Aye, you’re a most bonnie lass, Katie-love.”

  “Thank you, MacTavish. That’s a good thing to say to a naked woman.”

  “’Tis naught but the truth.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to join me in being naked.”

  Darach smiled. She’d not need to ask twice.

  WHILE MACTAVISH DIVESTED himself of his kilt, Kate reached into her purse and pulled out a condom—not that they were hard to find since Torri had shoved a handful her way. She opened the package and took it out, leaving it on the wrapper between them.

  She’d seen him naked before and he was just as impressive now. Thick muscles sculpted his shoulders, arms, and thighs. Dark hair sprinkled his chest and his legs. His penis stood proud among a thatch of equally dark hair. He was primitive power and masculinity and anticipation shivered through her.

  He dropped to the sheepskin and reached for her.

  “What the bluidy hell is that?” he asked, eyeing the condom.

  “It’s a condom. Birth control.” She recalled the limerick on the bathhouse wall the summer she’d camped with her best friend’s family. Feeling faintly ridiculous and a bit juvenile, she recited it now. It was one way to make a point. “In days of old, when knights were bold and rubbers weren’t invented, he placed a sock upon his cock and babies were prevented.” She dangled the prophylactic between her thumb and index finger. “I think it’s a vast improvement over a sock.”