Highlander's Passion (The Matheson Brothers Book 2) (9 page)

“Arabel?” Julia gasped and shuffled farther away along the bench. “Look at your goblet. There are now indents in the brass, heated indents.”

“Is there heat emanating from me?”

“There is. You’ll need to visit the pool straight after you’ve eaten.”

“I’ve already been to the pool, only an hour afore dawn.” She’d visited the loch three times yesterday and each dunking had taken longer to cool her adequately. Mayhap she’d never regain her control and she would in fact perish during the battle. Oh well. Better to go out in a blaze of fury aiding her kin than to die for no use at all.

“Cool yourself now with a little water.” Julia seized the water jug on the table and set it on the bench seat between them. “Dunk your hands.”

She did then waved the steam away. “Is there less heat now?”

“Aye, there is less.” Julia’s eyes widened on the front door of the keep. “Oh dear. ’Tis Finlay. He shouldnae be done with his swim yet.”

Sheathing his sword in his side scabbard, Finlay strode in, his black hair lying damp and wildly unkempt. Snug rawhide trews of a soft tan encased his muscled legs and a brown leather vest flapped haphazardly over top of his wrinkled white tunic, the hem fluttering free. He slowed at one of the trestle tables several warriors had recently vacated and scanned the hall. She gasped at the sight of the dark circles rimming his eyes.

“Look away,” Julia urged her as she stood. “I’m sorry, but it isnae wise to test Isla’s compulsion.”

“Julia!” Finlay waved out to her sister then strode toward them.

Julia hurried across and grasped his arm and tried to turn him around.

“Is that your sister?” His deep voice sent a thrill racing through Arabel, and needy emotions roared back to insistent life. She drank in the sight of him, unable to do anything less.

“Ah, aye. Arabel is a fire-wielder and you must stay away from her.” Julia babbled a bit more then said, “Did you manage to meet the two lasses who returned with their kin from the Isle of Skye last eve?”

“Not as yet. Kenneth informed me they’re resting from their journey but should be down before too long. That’s why I’ve returned early from training.” His heart-stopping golden gaze traveled over Arabel and she nearly melted onto the floor. Then he marched past her sister toward her. He straddled the bench seat and sat with his knees touching her thigh. “It’s nice to meet you, Arabel.”

“Tis nice to meet you too, Finlay.”

“I’ve not seen you about the keep since my arrival although your sister has spoken of you.” He swept a lock of her hair behind her ear and the sweet gesture had her almost climbing into his lap.

“Finlay, you shouldnae touch Arabel so.” Julia pushed his hand away. “She is currently unable to control her skill. There is still heat emanating from her. Can you no’ feel it?”

“I can, but my shifter blood runs hotter than most. I can handle more heat than the usual person. Arabel?” He set his hand on her arm, slid his palm down and curled his fingers around her wrist. “Is there a reason why you can’t control your skill?”

“Your arrival caused the four elements to fall out of alignment. Fire, water, air and earth. I now await a realignment for all to return to order.”

“For some reason that sounds familiar.” He frowned, a glint of confusion in his gaze. “Certainly when we traveled through time, the vortex was strong and hauled us through within mere minutes.” His frown deepened. “Your skill must be rare. I’ve not heard of any other fire-wielders.”

“There have only been six born afore me who’ve held it.” Her hand twitched with the need to touch him, just as he touched her. She lifted her hand, cupped his cheek and sighed at the deliciously renewed touch of him. Warmth infused her and she stroked her fingers back and forth over his raspy bristles, her soul soaring. “You need to shave.”

“I’m terrible with a blade, always nicking myself.” He slid his hand around the back of her head, his fingers firm as he drew her closer. “You have the most glorious silken hair. The color glimmers like gold.”

“Arabel was just on her way out. Excuse us.” Julia hauled her to her feet. Goodness, her sister was such a pest. “You were going to cool down in the pool. You can talk to Finlay later.” She shooed her toward the door. “Go, now, and hurry.”

“You’ll need a guard, Arabel, even though only to the pool.” Finlay stood and tried to dart past Julia but her sister held him back. “It’s too dangerous to wander about unescorted, not with the MacKenzie’s attack only a few days away. If anything happened to you, I’d never—”

“She’ll be perfectly fine on her own.” Julia swung him to face her.

Pest or not, she should still do as Julia had said and leave. Grasping her thick red skirts, she backed away and dashed through the door.

Finlay shouted her name and she hastened her step. Too quickly she’d fallen back under his spell, right when she’d gone to such lengths to ensure his safety. She needed to keep a level head, only everything within her cried out for him.

Overhead, heavy gray clouds rumbled in as she hurried across the inner courtyard.

“Arabel, wait.” Finlay made chase, his gaze targeted on her.

“I’m sorry. I must leave.” She rushed through the gates and into the woods. The branches lining the thin forest trail caught the odd strand of her hair but she rushed on even though he continued to shout for her to halt. No stopping at the pool, or anywhere else he might know. She’d bathe in the pool deep within the underground cavern near the cove. Aye, the cavern was well out of sight and so few knew about it.

Hustling, she broke free of the winding forest path then grabbed a decent breath at the sight of the swampland ahead, a soggy terrain that could bog one down. Slippers kicked off and red skirts rucked high, she squelched across the wetland blooming with the odd marsh orchid, a brilliant burst of fuchsia-pink amongst a stunning array of everglade green. Mother had loved the marsh orchids and Father had always picked her one whenever he’d walked this way.

“I said to wait!” Hands on his hips, Finlay stood at the edge of the forest, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, his gaze on her.

Drat. She hadn’t lost him yet. His bear’s tracking senses must be strong. She’d have to try harder, move faster, and provided she could escape his sight and his mind, she could get away from him. “Turn back. I dinnae need your aid.”

“I can’t damn well go back unless you return with me!” He hauled off his boots, tossed them where she’d left her slippers then bounded across the marsh after her, his belted sword swaying at his side. “There’s a storm on the way. Can’t you see it’s closing in?”

Thunder rumbled out at sea and gray clouds above bubbled ominously. “I see the storm just fine.”

With her determination strong, she continued to splash through the muddy water, steam curling and rising into the air. He was so close behind, catching up quick.

The wind whistled and whipped her hair about her shoulders as she stumbled free of the marsh and raced along the pebbly stream bank. Thick grass swayed on the other side of the river, all green and lush. She scrambled over the slick boulders and standing on the highest one, breathed deep. This was no idle river, but white water rushing downstream through it from high in the forested hills above. The water flowed around thick gray rocks and streamed around the bend ahead, nature at its most chaotic, the water both a gift and a danger she respected.

She unlaced the front of her corseted gown, shoved the fabric down over her sark and tossed it back onto the dry river bank. She desired a swim, not a drowning, and this river ran for another furlong or two before it gushed into the cove. She’d ride the rapids downstream.

“Don’t you dare jump!” Finlay bounded out of the marsh and nabbed her rumpled gown. With the velvet in hand, he flapped it in the air. “Get back here now.”

“The water is cold and exactly what I need. You’re no’ to worry about me. I’m a competent swimmer, very competent.” She tucked her sark’s ivory hem between her legs and dove. The current shot her to the surface and a rush of water dumped over her head then swelled and sent her bobbing downstream.

A fierce roar echoed. A bear’s roar.

She kicked, speeding herself along. Over and over, she was volleyed about and she gulped air holding the heady promise of rain. Thunder boomed all around and lightning slashed the skies, the great spears of gold and white a form of fire she completely adored.

“Woman, when I get ahold of you, you’re going to be in the worst kind of trouble.” Finlay kicked strongly through the white water toward her.

Goodness. What would it take to get away from him? Ahead, the river twisted into a narrower stream as it met the swirling rush of the incoming tide at the edge of the cove. She grabbed a decent breath then got dumped into the sea. As quickly as she could, she swam toward the white sand beach that curved in a glorious sweep before a jagged rock wall. Exploring the hidden caverns within the cliffs had enthralled her as a child. She adored this place, and always would.

She dragged herself onto the sandy shore and crawled toward the cavern’s entrance. So close. Another few feet and she’d be out of his sight and safe again.

“Got you.” Finlay scooped her off the ground, water sluicing to his feet, his chest bare and his tan rawhide trews riding low on his hips. “What the hell was that all about? A mad dash through the forest and then deciding you had to risk your life and limb for a swim?”

“I risked naught and you didnae need to follow me. I told you so, repeatedly. You shouldnae be here.”

“Where you are is where I need to be.” Confusion lit his gaze before he tipped his head toward the entrance. Lightning crackled overhead and the waves pounded into shore. “At least we’ll be able to seek shelter out of the rage of the storm here. That tunnel must lead somewhere.”

“It leads to an underground cavern. There’s a cold pool within. That’s where I need to swim in order to cool my fire.”

“You’re already drenched, and you feel cold, not hot at all. I believe you’ve doused any fire that arose earlier just fine.” He strode through the opening as the wind rushed around them. With a purposeful step, he carried her down the darkened, precariously wet tunnel carved of stone, leapt from the end of the passageway and landed with a soft thump on the grainy white sand a few feet below. Water lapped onto a small curved beach surrounded by massive black rocks.

“This place is incredible. I had no idea this was here.” His stunned gaze moved upward to the craggy ceiling where a thin shaft vented skyward and allowed a trickle of light to beam through the tiny cavity and wash over the pool’s darkened surface.

“There’s another pool on the other side of that ledge, farther along the tunnel. It holds hot water while this one is cold. My parents and Julia always swam in the heated one while I favored the cold pool.”

“Where are your parents now?” He set her on her feet, kept one finger under her chin as he looked into her eyes.

“They were slaughtered by the MacKenzie a couple of years ago.” Her grief rose, as it always did when speaking of her parents.

“I’m so sorry.” He hauled her into his arms, brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “No one should have to lose their parents, particularly at another’s hand. Can you speak of it at all?”

The need to ensure he knew all about her again resounded strongly within her and the words burst forth. “My father wished to arrange Julia’s marriage. She was set to wed the Chief of MacKenzie’s third son and when the MacKenzie requested a meeting, we discovered ’twas naught but a ruse. As soon as they arrived at the MacKenzie’s stronghold, he had them tossed into his dungeon and then a demand sent to Gilleoin. My uncle was told to hand over his lands on the tip of Loch Alsh and in return the MacKenzie would release my parents.”

“He didn’t release them?” He stroked her back and she held onto him, slid her thumbs inside his waistband and curled her fingers around his trim waist.

“Nay. Demands volleyed back and forth until Gilleoin set out for the MacKenzie’s castle. He took an elite team of warriors with him, men who could move swiftly under the cover of darkness and they successfully slipped inside the keep. Only after they arrived, Gilleoin discovered my parents had already been slain several months afore, and at the MacKenzie’s own hand. He was furious and he attacked with great force then left a bloody trail in his wake. That is why the MacKenzie is so determined to have his retribution, to ensure he takes all Gilleoin holds dear.”

“And why he will soon strike at the very heart of clan Matheson.” Retribution blazed in his gaze. “My brothers and I will never allow the MacKenzie to take the fae village. Of that I give you my word.”

“I know. You and your brothers are the ‘power of three’ and your arrival means the world to us.” She needed to let him go, had taken more time with him than she should have. Stepping back, she wrapped her arms around her damp body. Her sark was still wet. Unusual. She usually dried it with barely a thought. She turned her hands palms up and focused on bringing heat to them, only not even a glimmer of her fire rose.

“What’s wrong?” Finlay followed her. “I don’t care for the distance you’re creating between us.”

“My fire. It’s gone.” She walked into the water and shoved her hands under the surface. No steam. She straightened and once again tried to find the well of heat deep inside her and bring it back to glorious life, but nothing happened. She couldn’t even raise a flicker of flame.

“Has this happened before?” He crowded her from behind, pressed his chest against her back, all solid heat and hard muscle.

“Never.”

“Is this a good thing or bad?” He slid one hand around her waist and with his other hand, swept her hair from her neck and exposed her neck. He nuzzled her flesh, his wet hair sliding across the top of her shoulders as he did. “I’m sorry, Arabel, but I can’t seem to control myself around you. The need to touch you is strong.”

“I love your touch.” No fire meant she couldn’t harm him. She reached back, cupped the back of his head and held his mouth against her neck. Heat curled low between her thighs, and not the heat of her skill. This was the heat of passion and she couldn’t help but embrace it.