Lord of the Highlands (30 page)

The tender flesh there, though wet, wasn’t slick, and water rocked over her breastbone as she adjusted, canting her knees, gingerly nestling within the delicate folds of skin.

She touched and explored, lazily waiting for nerves to awaken, wanting to feel some inner fire crackling to life. Patiently, she touched and waited, but her body wouldn’t rouse.

Already she belonged to Will, her whole body his and his alone. And she thought the loneliness of it would drown her more surely that any water could.

“May I help you with that?”

She gasped in surprise, sending water sloshing onto the floor with a dull slap. It was Rollo, she sensed him now behind her. Saw his shadow flickering low along the wall.

“How’d you get in?”

His laugh was low. “I’m a man driven.”

She didn’t turn to face him. Somehow she felt too nervous, and so Felicity stared forward, listening to him walk slowly to her.

The familiar click and shuffle of his gait kindled something deep within her that none of her own touches had been able to stir. “Deprivation makes a man clever.”

A little thrill rippled through her. “You’re feeling deprived?”

“Aye.” Will pulled a stool close to the tub. His movements were unhurried, deliberate. “And a man with needs knows no obstacles.” He sat facing her. Laid his cane at his feet. His eyes roved shamelessly over her naked body. “And I need
you
, Felicity.”

Her skin shivered tight at the sound of desire, husky in his voice.

“Wash yourself,” he commanded.

“What?”

A wicked look creased the corners of his eyes. “I want to see you wash yourself.”

The smile she gave him was low-key. She was sad, but she’d never turn Will away. “You think I’m dirty?”

“Och, woman, not dirty enough.” Raising his brows, he gestured to the soap. “But for now, I’d watch you in your bath.”

She rubbed and turned the soap between her palms. The scent of pine drifted to her, fresh and vaguely citric. Her melancholy muted into something more poignant, more languorous.

His stare was steady on her, brow furrowed with intensity. Felicity let the soap slip from her fingers and began to lather up each arm, holding Will’s gaze all the while.

She rubbed lazy circles along her collarbones, between her breasts, over her abdomen, and back up again. The suds were thick in her palms now, and her hands glided easily over her skin.

Will tensed, a barely perceptible movement recognizable only by a lover. She knew she was driving him mad, and her own desire speared her through. An aching swamped her, at her chest, between her legs. He was sending her back. The knowledge charged the moment.

Her eyes flicked to his kilt. She saw he was aroused and it gratified her.

Slowly, she brought her hands to her breasts. Cupping them, she circled her thumbs over her nipples. They were beaded tight. Her whole body, tight. Poised and open for him.

Her lips parted. Watching him watch her stoked Felicity’s desire. Will’s eyes were hooded, his expression veiled in the shadows. He was so tall and handsome, like a fallen angel come to take her, to bear her off to some dark paradise.

Her heart beat shallowly, the heat of her want, the heat of the water, making her light- headed. She felt suddenly desperate for him to hold her, to anchor her. But he just watched, still as granite, his eyes smoldering and dark in the candlelight.

She slipped her hands from her breasts. Skimmed her palms along her belly to her legs. Spreading her bent knees, she stroked her hands down the inside of her thighs. An inadvertent moan escaped her, so hungry was she for the touch of his skin on hers.

Will moved then. Sudden like a panther, he leapt for her. His mouth claimed hers. He tasted of whisky, and the ghost of a beard was rough on her chin. His hands were hot on her shoulders, her body chilled where the damp skin had been exposed to air.

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he rasped between kisses. “It’s unbearable.” His mouth moved to her neck, nibbled and kissed. “I can’t bear it.” His kisses trailed higher, and he whispered in her ear. “My body can’t bear to watch you. I have to touch you. So lovely, Felicity.”

“So . . .” she began tentatively, lifting her chin to urge his kisses lower. Will’s words awed and pleased her, and she recalled her conversation with Lily. “So, you really think I’m pretty?”

“Och,” he growled, pulling his face from hers. Bathwater rocked and spilled from the tub. “You speak of
pretty
?” His shirt had gotten soaked, and water dripped steadily from his arms back into the tub.

Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he said fiercely, “Aye, you’re pretty, and more than pretty. You’re exquisite. The fairest creature ever who lived. Pretty indeed, my Felicity,” he said, raining light kisses along her face. “My bonny, sweet love.”

He released her. Reached for the large linen square that was her towel.

“Come then,” he said. Will pulled her easily from the bath and situated her on his lap, tenderly drying and wrapping her in the towel as they sat on the stool.

How many more moments like this would they share? She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the sadness. She placed her hands over his where they tenderly cupped her cheeks. “I love you, you know. The fates sent me here, to you. I know you don’t believe that. But I’m here now, and I love you. And in the end, that’s all that matters. Being together is what’s right.
We’re
right. Back in my own time, I was so lost. But you’ve shown me so much. Like . . . like being with the horses. I’m actually good at that. For the first time, I’m good at something that also gives me such joy. My life is so much richer here. So much richer with you.”

“Aye, love. As mine is, with you.” His voice was hoarse with pain, with want. “Would that we’d both been born in some other time, some other place. Sometimes I think I’ll not survive your leaving. That the moment we part will be the moment I breathe my last.”

She shivered.

“Och, love, you’re cold.” He kissed her gently on each cheek, on her mouth, and then swept his hands along the thin towel to dry her.

She sensed an infinitesimal change in his breathing. Gradually his movements slowed, became more focused. A hand that had patted her dry, chafed now, rubbing teasing circles over the points of her breasts under the coarse fabric.

“I think I’m dry,” she whispered weakly, standing and letting the towel fall to the ground. “And this is way too scratchy,” she added, tugging at the thick layers of wool he wore. Unknotting the thong at his shoulder, she pulled his plaid from him. Peeled off his wet shirt.

“Come back.” His words sounded pained, giving voice to something more far-reaching than what they were sharing in that moment. He pulled her down to straddle his legs. Will didn’t enter her, and she felt the heavy weight of him brush against her leg.

“Don’t go to the King,” she whispered, stroking her palm over his broad, smooth chest. “Stay with me. We can run away.”

“You know I would.” He shut his eyes, breathing in deep. “But you know I cannot.”

They were together now. He was by her side, right then, and she’d regret wasting a minute of their remaining time together.

Felicity hitched her hips closer, seeking him out. “Be with me, Will. I want you.”

He kissed slowly along her neck, traced his finger and his tongue along her collarbone as if he’d memorize her.

“I want you, Felicity. I’ve always wanted you.” He kissed his way down her throat, took a breast in his mouth, sucked and teased with teeth and tongue. She felt empty and needful, wanting only for him to fill her.

Tracing his hands along her thighs, Will brought his fingers to her, stroking where water still dampened the hair between her legs.

“Now,” she moaned. “I need you. Now.”

“Aye,” he said between gritted teeth. He lifted Felicity onto him and glided into her. “Now.”

She planted her feet on the ground and began to move, tilting and rocking, bringing him in and out. But Will stopped her. Gripping her hips, he drove himself into her and held Felicity tight to him.

Holding her hips immobile, Will ground her pelvis against his. A pleasure so acute swamped her, she dropped her head to his shoulder, letting him rub and grind her against his body.

“Yes,” she whispered. Felicity trembled, barely holding on. He kept her there, in a place just beyond fulfillment, shifting inside, yet not moving from her.

Will raked a hand through her hair and cupped her head, tilting it to face him. He brought his mouth to hers for a fierce kiss.

And then neither could hold on, and he kept her clutched hard and close through their climax.

Felicity, rooted to her Will.

Chapter 30

“And you’re certain this woman is trustworthy?” Will asked, leaning on his cane as if it were a stake he’d planted defiantly in the ground. They stood outside the low cave, and Felicity was finding the stare-off between him and Ewen fascinating.

Will’s face was furrowed, and it made her love him all the more. She knew it was partly wariness she saw mapped there. But physical pain was there too. She recognized it, bracketing his mouth. They’d had to tie off their ponies, and the tightly winding path they’d taken the rest of the way couldn’t have been easy for him.

“Och, Rollo.” Ewen raked a hand through his hair. “Trust me when I tell you, the witch Gormshuil is the only way. Though, as long as I live, I’ll find the whole business difficult to fathom.”

“You and me both,” Felicity chimed in. That other women had traveled back in time? So strange—and kind of annoying. She’d wanted to think she was special.

Her eyes went to Will. He was watching her, an unreadable look on his face. Her Viking. She’d wished for her one and only love, and she’d been sent straight to this man.

No, she decided. She
was
special. What they shared was special. It was a relationship decreed by the fates.

She thought of those other women and frowned. They all got to stay in the past, regardless of the dangers. Why not her?

“How can we be certain Felicity will be safe?” Will asked, not taking his eyes from her.

“It seems like you’re unsure,” she said, realizing her opportunity. “So we’d best just head back. Who knows
who
this witch might be?” she mused dramatically. “Better to be safe than sorry. And,” she added, turning her attention to Ewen, “we should probably go soon. Lily is looking pretty far along. You must hate to leave her when the baby could come, like, any minute now.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “Nice try, love.”

“Indeed,” Ewen added. “And to answer your question,
I
know who this woman might be. Gormshuil is trustworthy, and she will help.”

The Cameron laird led them into the cave. It took a minute for Felicity’s eyes to adjust to the darkness and to the cloud of pipe smoke that drifted languidly through the air like incense.

“Come, come,” someone called from the shadows. The voice cracked, the timbre that of an old woman, yet something stronger ran through the sound, something tensile, as if girded by fiber or tendon.

Felicity stepped closer and the woman came into view. Gormshuil was smaller than the sound of her voice. She was wizened, with paper-thin skin and a watery gaze, and yet Felicity saw at once the ghost of the young woman she’d been. Petite, with wide, round eyes. She somehow knew at once that a man had loved this woman.

Gormshuil cackled. “I see you too, girl.”

A shiver ran up her spine.

Felicity felt her legs moving, drawn to her. She walked to Gormshuil, sat by her side. Patting Felicity’s leg, the witch tittered again, and for a moment she sounded almost youthful.

Some deep-rooted tension unclenched, and Felicity sighed. The woman’s touch made her feel tingly and at ease. She inhaled deeply, and the sensation spread. She wondered distantly just what it might be the woman was smoking.

“You know,” Felicity blurted out, “I’m kind of like a witch too.” She felt warm, and a little buzzed.

“Are you now?” she heard someone ask. It was Ewen, chuckling.

“You have such a deep voice,” Felicity marveled, turning to the laird.

“You’re no witch.” There was steel in Will’s tone, and it stung her. She’d only ever heard him use that voice with other people. “Do not share such thoughts again,” he commanded. “Ever, with anyone.”

His words were like a gust of cold air in her muzzy brain. “Don’t get testy,” she said. She felt more alert, wakened from her haze.

“You make a mistake,” the witch warned.

“I know.” Felicity scowled in Will’s direction. “Tell him, not me.”

“You’ll regret leaving your man. And,” Gormshuil said with a nod to Will, “you’ll regret letting her go. Mark me. ’Tis a grave error you make.” Her eyes flashed to Felicity’s belly. “Especially with the child.”

“I knew it!” Felicity exclaimed. She’d noticed her belly had grown thicker.
Pregnant
, she thought, beaming. A baby. Of course. They had been doing it like a couple of bunnies, after all.

“Now I
can’t
leave,” she told him triumphantly.

“Now more than ever you must,” he replied quietly.

“This is”—Ewen hesitated—“better discussed later, I think.” He turned to Gormshuil. “Will requires not your judgment, but your instruction. You helped me once, saw fit to let me make my own decision. I ask that you do no less for my friend.”

Gormshuil sucked on her pipe. The stem clacked dully between her teeth, sending up a fresh plume of gray smoke. “So it shall be,” the old woman said in a voice suddenly thin with age. “I shall help your friend.”

She tugged a small pouch from her belt. A leather thong tied it shut, and Gormshuil bit the strip between her teeth, pulling it open. A small mound of dried, crumbled leaves spilled into her palm.

A low droning began to reverberate off the cave walls. Felicity realized it was Gormshuil. She’d begun to chant. Foreign words, sounding strange and thick, as if from the back of her tongue.