Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (9 page)

“I’d like that very much. Though first, a question. How do
you suppose I was able to strike those men when I found it difficult to hit the
target on a tree? Was it fae magic? You said the knife tips were coated in
faerie dust.” Jillian drew wee circles on his chest with the tip of a finger.

Her touch was distracting. Stephen would prefer to think
about pleasure. He hesitated in answering wishing her thoughts hadn’t travelled
back to the attack. He didn’t want her upset. And if he admitted what he
believed to be true—he didn’t want her to think he disparaged her marksmanship.

“You won’t insult me.”

“Ach, well, magic may have played a wee role.”

Jillian smiled. “You are a diplomat, Stephen MacEwen. I like
you very much.”

She kissed him. Not a soft, gentle kiss, but an
all-consuming, shocking kiss. Her tongue slid between his lips, and she tasted
of the sweet ale they’d shared. Gaze locked on his, she grasped his shoulders
and pushed him back against the bedding, straddling his hips, continuing with
the kissing, tongues entwined and dueling.

He stiffened, ready to roll her over and become the
aggressor. Her tongue grazed his teeth, and he nearly bucked. What was she
doing to him? His erection throbbed. His heart beat as if he’d run a long
distance without rest. He’d never had such an adamant lover. Felt good. Very
good. He growled deep in his throat and responded in kind.

She broke the kiss and tugged his
leine
up over his
chest. “You have way too much on.”

He raised his arms and allowed the cloth to be dragged over
his head and tossed aside. “As do you.”

She giggled, and he reached for the hem of her plain wool
gown. Shortly thereafter, divested of clothing, they tumbled on the bedding in
a snarl of arms and legs, stroking and kissing. Each caress heightening desire.
Stephen didn’t think he could hold out much longer, but he wanted this one time
with Jillian to last in his memory for a lifetime.

Using fingers to stoke the flame, he brought her to a
fevered pitch. She arched, gripped the
plaide
beneath them in tight
fists, and screamed his name with her release. Her joy echoed within the cave.

Her eyes glossy with satiation, his chest expanded with the
knowledge he’d brought her such pleasure. His own need could no longer be
denied. He slid between her legs, leaned his forehead against hers and
struggled for control, struggled in search of gentleness.

His lass wanted none of that. In a quick move, she rolled
them over and mounted him. For the love of… Her tight sheath slid over his
cock, then withdrew, causing aching need. Exquisite pain. Blinding pleasure.
Drawing him in, stroke after stroke, she moved with a rhythm that possessed,
took him higher than he’d ever been before. Urgency drove him to the edge.
Sweat broke out over his forehead. Almost. Almost there. He fisted the cloth
beneath them. With Jillian’s name on his lips, he exploded with a rush that
burned through his chest, bled his cock, made him come and come and come.

They stayed entwined in a loving embrace for the longest of
time, Jillian’s breath teasing over his moist skin. Stephen hated to shatter
the moment, but guilt nagged at him. He needed to explain the situation with
Calyn. It wasn’t fair to keep the handfasting secret.

He rolled away and sat up, feeling horribly unworthy.
Jillian deserved so much more than he could offer. And what made him think she
wanted anything more from him? “Jillian, I need to tell you—”

“We are back!” Keita ran into the chamber, arms full of
clothing, and lunged onto the bedroll, landing between Jillian and Stephen.
Duff also carried a pile of clothes.

“What’s all this?” Jillian sat up while pulling the
plaide
up to the neck. She swiped snarled hair from her eyes and gave Stephen an
amused sideways glance. He tugged a
plaide
over his privates. His chest
constricted. She looked thoroughly bedded and utterly beautiful.

“’Tis getting colder, and you need warmer garments for the
remainder of our journey,” Keita said, sounding very grown up for a wee lass.

Duff rolled his eyes.

“Well, that
is
what the man said.”

Jillian ignored them and rummaged through the pile. There
were woolen undergarments, wool-lined boots and gloves, and a high-necked
velvet gown. The deep green gown was of the finest quality and perfect for
Jillian, as was the matching hooded, wool cloak lined with red fox. Expensive
garments indeed.

She caught his eye and raised a questioning brow.

He rubbed his chin. “Duff, who gave you these things?”

Dugaid stared at the compromised hidey-hole, a snarl curling
his lip. How dare his mother remove her protection from the lost
bairns
?
Oonagh was a beautiful woman, sought after by many a man, both fae and mortal,
but she lacked even an iota of motherly tendencies. Had the Fae Queen put the
bairns
in harm’s way?

His pointed ears perked at a commotion deeper in the wood. A
lad cried out as if in pain. Cloaked in the glamour of invisibility, Dugaid
followed the scuffling sounds.

Two of the woodland
bairns
huddled together on the
ground, faces battered and bruised. Dugaid fisted his hands. No one had the
right to hurt children.

An explosive outburst of nature heralded his anger to the
world. Lightning sliced the darkening sky. Thunder reverberated over mountains,
hills, and glens. Hail pounded the earth. The pungent smell of ozone sharpened
the air, making his nostrils flare.

Maclay’s gaze shot to the ominous sky, and the man frowned.
Returning attention to the third
bairn
, the one he held by the shoulders,
he shook the battered lad. “Tell me!”

When the
bairn
didn’t answer, Maclay knuckle-slapped
him hard across the face.

The lad cried out. Blood spewed from a broken nose.

Red also wept through a rag wrapped around Maclay’s wrist,
but didn’t hinder the man from inflicting pain on those weaker. “Tell me what
you ken of the lass traveling with MacEwen, unless you wish for more of a
thrashing.”

“Nae. Dinnae hurt me anymore,” the lad pleaded. “She is from
the future. ’Tis all I ken.”

Maclay thrust the lad away, grabbed the backpack from the
ground, and strode away from the whimpering
bairns
. Dugaid’s rage
boiled. The storm intensified. One especially jagged streak of vertical
lightning pierced the ground at Maclay’s feet.

The villain leapt back, tossing weight from leg to leg,
attempting to find balance as the ground rolled and splintered around him.
Spider cracks spread from long narrow slits. Trees and rocks tumbled into deep
crevasses. The backpack Jillian had brought through the time gate slipped from Maclay’s
nerveless fingers. It tumbled into a fissure, got caught by the strap on a
branch, and dangled just within reach.

He dove to retrieve it, but the earth pitched with a violent
shudder. The pack dropped into the hole while the vibration joggled Maclay
precariously close to the edge. He crabbed backward scarcely in time. One more
quake closed the opening.

In a flash, Dugaid placed a vanishing blanket over the
bairns
,
making them invisible.

Maclay stood, paced in a small circle, and punched a fist in
the air. “Where are those cursed changelings?”

Unable to release his frustration on the
bairns
, the
nasty devil strode away from the scene of destruction, muttering obscenities.
Dugaid hated allowing the man to leave, but there were certain covenants to which
he must adhere. As much as he so desired, he mustn’t kill a human.

Dugaid waited until the man had traveled a great distance
before uncloaking himself and the lads. “Can you all walk?”

“Aye.” The lad with the mismatched eyes helped the older,
pudgy fellow, who’d taken the worst beating, rise to his feet.

“Hie tail to the Caves of the Gray Women and use the pool to
heal your injuries.”

“Many thanks for coming to our aid,” said the lad with a
head too large for his child-sized body.

“You are verra welcome. Now run along and forget you saw
me.” Dugaid watched them leave, chanting a spell of protection to keep them
safe.

Then he, too, vanished, traveling through the nether in
search of Caitrina. She would never win the challenge if she didn’t keep her
mind on the task at hand. He was more than ready to give her a lengthy
scolding.

* * *

Outside the smaller caves where Stephen, Jillian, and the
children had taken refuge, fingers of fog wove through the trees. Jillian
swirled the wool cloak over her shoulders and secured it at the throat with a
large emerald brooch found in one of the deep pockets. Someone had seen to her
every fashion need.

“You look like a queen,” Stephen said.

She felt beautiful for the first time in her life, but
thought it had more to do with the time spent with Stephen than anything else.
Dressed in the layers of fancy clothing given to the children by a mysterious
dark-haired man, Jillian brushed a palm over the growth of beard covering
Stephen’s face. “Thank you. You’re sweet.”

His smile made her insides go liquid. She stood on tiptoe,
placed a kiss on his velvety lips, and sighed. What a marvelous two days they’d
spent in the caves.

The children raced around them, restless for more adventure.

“Must we leave?” After making love with Stephen, Jillian
wasn’t so sure she wanted to return to the future. “Perhaps…”

“We must and since the weather has turned cold, we will need
to take shelter instead of sleeping in the greenwood.” Stephen stepped away.
“We are about a day’s ride from Dunoon Castle, a royal stronghold under
Campbell control as the hereditary keepers. One of their ilk, still friendly to
the MacLachlans even after the debacle over Elspeth’s handfasting to Finn
MacIntyre, is in residence there and surely will allow us safe haven for a night.
Actually, Sir Robert is Elspeth’s grandfather.”

Jillian’s thoughts flashed to Elspeth and Finn. She’d been
so jealous of Patrick’s younger sister when the woman arrived in Anderson Creek
with Finn and they announced their upcoming wedding. At the time, Jillian
fancied herself in love with Finn. Now, she knew it had only been infatuation.
She wouldn’t be developing such strong feelings for Stephen had she truly loved
Finn.

Melancholy swept over her. She’d never see Stephen again
after she returned to the future. Did she really want to go after falling in
love with him? She couldn’t seem to drum up the nerve to tell him of her
feelings, fearing he didn’t share the same deep affection. If she managed to
tell him she loved him, might she convince him to travel through the time gate
with her? He claimed to have tried passing through but failed. Perhaps that
nasty man Maclay had inadvertently come up with the trick of it. Might
she
be the key? Maybe if Stephen were with her when she attempted to return home, they’d
both travel through to the future.

He seemed to like her. Maybe even love her. She needed to
get over her sense of inadequacy and trust in her instincts.

Yet there was a chance all these mental gymnastics were a
waste of time. Who knew if either of them would be able to travel through the
gate?

“Jillian?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I zoned for a moment. What were you saying?”

He creased his brow and pursed his lips.

“Oops. Future talk.”

“You will need to be careful what you say in front of others
while we are at Dunoon. We dinnae want to draw unwanted interest.”

“How will we explain my sudden appearance in Scotland?”

“I will introduce you as Lady Jillian O'Donnell of Ireland.
You were visiting with Patrick and Lady Laurie in France and they suggested a
visit to Castle Lachlan before returning home to Ireland. Your guards took ill
on the crossing and when we met by chance, I suggested my escort.”

“My hero. You really know how to spin a story.”

Stephen blushed. He looked so darn cute, she wanted to kiss
him again, but then she’d drag him back to bed and there was no time for that.

“Dinnae look at me that way.” The desire reflected in his
eyes turned her to mush. He grasped her elbow. “Shall we be on our way, my
lady?”

She giggled then tried to recover dignity by inclining her
head in a queenly fashion.

As they walked to the horses, she brushed fingertips over
the velvet gown. “I feel as if I’m going to a swanky New York hotel’s
masquerade ball. All I need is a bejeweled mask.”

He raised a brow.

“I know. No more future talk.”

They helped both children onto Duff’s horse, then Stephen
assisted her onto the roan, careful of her fine gown. He mounted his stallion
and sidled alongside.

“We will stay to the main trail to make better time.”

She raised the hood of the cloak over her head and followed
him, the children trailing behind. They rode for about an hour when the sound
of galloping horses carried to them on the moist air.

Stephen signaled a halt. “Into the wood. Hurry!”

Jillian’s stomach clenched as they guided the three horses
off the trail and walked them deep into the trees. She prayed the approaching
riders didn’t notice hoof prints in the dirt, or broken branches from their
passing.

Stephen held a finger to his lips for quiet. She turned to
check on the children, but they had melded with the forest, becoming invisible.
They had an amazing knack for going into hiding. The thought of what brutality
had taught them such wariness tore at her heart.

The thunder of hooves pounding the ground grew louder. The
riders were getting closer. Jillian held her breath. The moment of fear
stretched into infinity, panic ratcheting up her heartbeat.

The riders stopped at the spot where they’d entered the
woods.
Cripes
. Her worst fear come true. Her horse skittered to the
side, tossed its head, tugging against the reins Jillian clutched in a tight
fist. She rubbed the mare’s neck with trembling fingers, trying to calm the
animal, hush it to silence.

Branches snapped. Someone must have entered the woods in
search of them. Her wide-eyed gaze jerked to Stephen.

“Come.” His sharp whisper set her into motion and she
followed him deeper into the trees, farther away from the main trail.

They’d only gone a hundred yards or so when a rider appeared
directly in front of them like an impenetrable wall. The very large,
ginger-haired man wore a huge grin.

Jillian squeaked.

Stephen grabbed the reins from her hand before she bolted to
the left. “’Tis a friend.”

“And mighty glad to have found you,” the man said.

Friend
. Jillian felt flushed with relief.

“Do you ride with the others, Duncan?”

“Aye. We have been searching for you for days. Brought you
horses. From the look of things, you are not in need of the beasts.” The man’s
curious gaze swept over her. His cheeks reddened before he looked away to
Stephen. “Your mounts are mighty fine.”

Stephen whistled three high notes. Within a few moments,
Duff and Keita rode into sight.

The man Stephen addressed as Duncan raised several fingers
to his mouth and let go a warble of a birdcall. A series of similar notes came
from the direction of the main trail they had left. Not quite a cell phone or
walkie-talkie, but it seemed to work for them. They made way through the trees
to where a group of men draped in woodland-hued plaids waited. Relieved smiles
greeted them as they emerged, easing the tension knotting Jillian’s stomach.
There were about fifteen men plus the annoying little man they called Munn. The
one who’d stolen her space blanket what seemed like an eternity ago.

Déjà vu made Jillian shiver. The man striding toward them
looked exactly like Patrick, her partner Laurie’s husband; Jillian did a double
take. Although this man’s eyes were more gray than blue. Still, must be
Patrick’s twin, Archibald, current chief of Clan MacLachlan.

Stephen slid from his horse, and the two men grasped
forearms. The man dragged Stephen into a masculine hug. Then the bear of a man
who’d found them leapt from his horse and embraced Stephen. A lot of
backslapping came next, along with manly grunts.

Stephen broke away and helped her dismount. He stood at her
side, arm wrapped around her back, hand resting on a velvet-covered hip. She
could feel his heat through the layers of fabric. It almost seemed as if he
communicated possession. Her face flushed with the intensity of the other men’s
knowing stares.

Archibald’s eyes narrowed, and he frowned. “Is that the way
of it?”

Stephen stiffened then gave an abrupt nod.

“A fine mess.” Archibald paced away from the others.

Stephen winked at her before following the other man.
Mess
.
Why? Did he think poorly of her? Quiet words passed between them. Archibald
looked in her direction a couple of times while the two men continued to speak
in hushed tones. It appeared Stephen was doing a lot of explaining. At one
point, he dragged a palm over his face. Then Archibald slapped a fist against
his thigh, and Jillian thought she heard the name Maclay growled.

Several more minutes passed before they returned to the
group.

Archibald approached her and bowed. “Excuse my lack of
manners, my lady. I understand you are, Lady Jillian O'Donnell from Ireland, a
friend of my twin brother and his lady-wife.”

She nodded, unsure how else to respond. For the first time,
Jillian really felt lost in a world not her own. As if sensing her unease,
Stephen stepped to her side, lending moral support.

“Stephen tells me you have had quite a trial of it. You are
welcome to spend as long as you wish at Castle Lachlan. My sweet lady-wife,
Isobell, will be delighted to make your acquaintance and hear news of our niece
and nephews. Unfortunately, I must bid you farewell as my men and I pursue the
fugitive Maclay.”

He abruptly turned, signaled to his men with a raised hand,
and they all mounted with exception of four. Munn, the ginger bear, and two
others remained.

“They will provide added security for the remainder of the
journey to Castle Lachlan,” Stephen answered her questioning glance before
lifting her onto the roan horse.

With an uneasy frown, Stephen mounted his horse, as did the
other men. Archibald had voiced displeasure with the turn of events. The chief
didn’t want trouble with Calyn’s kin.