Love Across Time (27 page)

The temptation of her sweet body proved too strong for him to resist. His blood had heated, and pooled in his groin. He’d stripped off his clothing and climbed into the water. No sooner had he splashed into the tub than he’d stood, Margaret in his arms. He hadn’t even made it to the bed but had taken her on the floor in a desperate frenzy.

He shifted to glance at the woman at his side and his gaze leisurely rove over her naked body, searching for any bruises caused by his rough lovemaking. At the sight of her slim waist and the flair of her hips, his cock stirred to life. He extracted himself from her clinging limbs, gently scooped her into his arms, and stood. She burrowed her face into the hollow of his shoulder. Soft lips nipped their way up the column of his neck. Her tongue flicked out, and she sucked the lobe of his ear into her hot mouth.

“That be ye, Liam?” she murmured. Her warm breath fanned his skin dry where she’d moistened it with her kisses.

“Who do ye think it be?” he growled, arousal nearly making it impossible to speak.

“Och, a lass cannae be too careful when it comes to bonny lads that carry them off to bed.”

“Ye think I be bonny?” His breath hitched, and he welcomed the new surge of passion ripping through him.

“Aye, very bonny.” Her voice, barely above a whisper, was seductive, bewitching.

Her hand cupped his unblemished cheek as she sprinkled tiny kisses over his scarred flesh. At her tender gesture, his heart expanded almost to the point of rupture. She would never understand how her acceptance of his disfigurement affected him. Where other lasses shrieked in horror, she kissed him and told him he was bonny.

Flipping the covers back with one hand, he laid her on the bed then crawled in beside her. Bare flesh, chilled by the night air, warmed as he stroked, petted, and licked his way over her breast and down the plane of her smooth taut stomach. At the sweet taste of her skin against his mouth, his staff pulsated.

He’d never had the freedom to enjoy the pleasures of a lasses body, before. In the past, he’d paid his coin, slaked his lust, and left the lass to her next customer. But with Margaret, he had the right to taste all her treasures, enjoy each moan, each quiver, each shudder of fulfillment.

Tonight he’d explore her flesh with the expertise of a commander planning the tactical moves of a battle he had every confidence of winning. By morning, he’d have his seed planted firmly in her belly, and the bond binding them secured tightly around her heart. She’d be so completely enthralled with their lovemaking that she’d realize they shared a connection that time nor centuries could alter. Passion, he thought, as her fingers tangled in his hair and her lips captured his, would bind them together. Then she’d be content to grow old together, and to raise his bairns.

His last thought before he joined his body to hers was that he hoped the Duke vacated his home soon. He had to find the brooch before Margaret did.

Liam scooted out from under softly snoring Margaret, rolled out of bed, and dressed. He smiled when she snuggled into the warmth on his side. The woman’s continuous use of him as a pillow made him wonder how either of them slept. Not that he didn’t like the way she wrapped herself around him. He enjoyed waking up with her soft body pressed against him, the smell of her hair tucked under his chin and cold feet wedged between his legs.

Careful not to wake her, he searched for a quill and paper. He hated to leave her alone for even an hour, but he had business to tend to, and he didn’t want her to leave the safety of their room before he returned. After laying the note where she could find it, he slipped out the door.

Rory, Dugan, and Conner waited for him at the bottom of the stairs. What he was about to do was dangerous, but he refused to allow anyone who fought at Culloden to seek refuge at Menzies Castle. He had to warn them to avoid this area.

“Did ye tell the lass what ye be about?” Rory asked.

“Nae. I dinnae want her to worry. It shouldnae take long to send men to alert any travelers of Cumberland’s presence at Menzies Castle and warn the merchants to still their tongues if soldiers come to town for supplies.”

“Aye. The men be gathered in the stable, horses at the ready.”

“Good.”

With one last glance up the stairs to be sure Margaret hadn’t awakened and followed him, he stepped outside. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, and a chill lingered in the morning air. He tugged his plaid closer around his neck and strode down the eerily, quiet street. Smoke, from morning fires, hovered over the town like a fog-enshrouded graveyard.

He entered the stable, and the pungent smell of horse dung assailed his nostrils. He glanced at the eight men dressed in dark cloaks instead of the Menzies’ plaid and realized they knew the danger into which they rode.

“Rory explained what I ask of ye?”

Some nodded, others answered, “Aye.”

“Good. Pick among yerselves a man to ride with and split up, each pair taking a different direction. Warn any who travel this way that Cumberland holds Menzies Castle and that his army is camped nearby. If they have reason to avoid the Duke they willnae savor the idea of riding blindly into the midst of English soldiers without warning.”

The men murmured their agreement.

He gazed at each man. “Be safe me friends.”

With determination etched in their faces, they mounted and exited the stable. When the last man had disappeared from sight, his uncle came to stand beside him.

“Ye did the right thing, laddie. Now go back to yer wife an make the lass happy. Something has troubled her since she woke from her accident.” He slapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “There be only one way to take a sweet lassies mind off her worries, and if ye hurry she’ll still be abed.”

Teasing male laughter followed him out the stable door. Aye, he knew exactly how to make Margaret happy. And he would too, as soon as he entered their bedchamber and fastened the latch.

Liam closed the door and slid the bolt home as quietly as possible. Margaret still lay as he’d left her; head snuggled into his pillow, the corner clutched in her fist.

Fully aroused, he toed off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head.

She stirred.

He stilled.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Margaret’s gaze flicked over his bare chest, and her eyes devoured him. It flattered his manly pride for her to look at him with such heat. The desire that glittered in the blue depths of her eyes aroused him to the point of insanity.

With long purposeful strides, he crossed the room to the bed and swooped down to capture her mouth in a hungry kiss. Her small hand crept up over his shoulder and tangled her fingers in his hair. Their tongues met and danced to a lovers tune as old as time.

Nipping his way down her throat, he tugged the blanket down to her waist. He outlined the tip of her breast with his fingertip then sucked the crested peak into his mouth. A soft mewling sound broke through his haze of desire.

He broke away and flipped back the covers. His gazed skimmed over her lithe body. Full breasts, tipped with coral nipples, set high and firm. Her tiny waist flared into the smooth curve of shapely hips. Blond hair covered her woman’s mound at the apex of her long slender legs. He longed to bury his face in her nest of curls. But he’d wait until she felt more comfortable with their love play before he introduced her to the other delights they could enjoy together. He reached up, cupped both breasts, and buried his face in the valley between. He inhaled the sweet smell of warm woman.

Lustful hunger gnawed at him as he rose, striped off his trousers, and stretched out beside her. When flesh touched flesh, he groaned at the exquisite pleasure. His gaze held hers as his lips slowly descended. His tongue flicked out to caress the seam of her mouth until she opened, and then he possessed her mouth in a heated kiss. His hand slid down over her taut stomach to cup the mound of her sex. He grew hard to the point of pain. His fingers separated the soft folds between her thighs, and she moaned when he inserted one finger to test her readiness and found her damp. As he massaged her nubbin, she grew wet.

Impatient, he moved on top of her, and she separated her legs to accommodate him. His throbbing cock found her entrance. Delicate hands roamed over his shoulders, down his sides, and gripped his hips. Her searching fingers excited him beyond anything he’d experienced. His movement became frantic as he drove into her, faster, harder. Hearing her gasp of pleasure he gave one last thrust, groaned, and collapsed, his face buried in the hollow of her neck.

Hot liquid warmed the side of his face. Braced on his forearms he lifted his weight from her. Tears seeped from her eyes.

“Did I hurt ye, me
gaol
?” He brushed back strands of hair that clung to her damp cheeks.

“Nae.”

“Then what be wrong?” Rolling to the side, he tucked her against his side.

“I lo.... ’Twas beautiful. I never dreamed I....” She snuggled closer and laid her head on his chest. ’Twas beautiful. Ye make me feel special, like I be truly loved.”

“Ye be special, gaol. Tha gaol agam ort.”

Her heavy sigh wisped across his nipple, and it hardened. His manhood stirred. Ready to resume their love play he looked down at his wee wife. Her breathing was steady, shallow. She had fallen asleep, once again using him for a pillow. He placed one hand behind his head and enjoyed her warm breath, soft body, and silken hair as it brushed against his skin.

They had nothing urgent to do until they could take up residence in their home once again. What better way to spend the time than making love to his wife.

The rumble of wagons and the click of horse’s hooves against cobblestone brought Maggie instantly awake. Jumping from bed, she raced to the window. She pulled the curtain aside and wiped a spot clean on the dirty glass.

The Duke of Cumberland led a long column of red uniformed troops down the main thoroughfare. People lingered on each side of the road. Hatred twisted the townsmen’s solemn faces; news of the butcher’s treatment of the Scottish clans had reached the village days ago.

Now they could go home. For her, time at the inn had passed slowly. The men had found relief in drinking and playing dice. She’d felt like a prisoner. Being confined to her room
except for when Liam accompanied her on a stroll
she’d become restless.

The only memorable part of her stay was that each night she and Liam made love until the wee hours of the morning. Overcome with exhaustion, she slept late most mornings, which is why she was abed at this late hour.

When the last of the army disappeared, she raced for the door to call for Ursula to gather their belongings. As she reached for the handle, the door jerked open. Liam stood there, his wide shoulders filling the doorway.

“Liam, the butcher is gone.” The words bubbled out. Excited, she felt like dancing, but was positive that ladies of the manor didn’t dance jigs in their nightgowns.

“Aye,
gaol.
The castle folk sent word that Cumberland had packed everything he thought valuable and left. It be good we ken to hide most of the Menzies’ treasures,” he said with an odd infliction.

His assessing gaze stole a tiny proportion of her joy. His continuous skepticism pinched at her heart. He refused to believe she was anyone but the woman he’d married, the woman he loved.

Lately, it had become harder to accept the fact she needed to go back to the twenty-first century to search for her family and.... Then what? Locate a family that hadn’t bothered to report her missing. Live a life without Liam, without love.

She reached out and placed her hand over his heart. The beat was steady, strong. Here was what had meaning, what gave her life purpose, what she’d come to love. The thought of leaving him to discover an unknown life, an unconcerned family, in an unfamiliar world tore her heart into pieces. Did the twentieth century hold more allure than what beat beneath her palm? Was there any reason to return? Her breath hitched, her heart skidded to a halt then thumped heavily in her chest. Why couldn’t she stay here, with Liam?

“Nae look so pained,
gaol
. The castle cannae be in such disrepair that it cannae be fixed.”

“Aye, me
gaol
.”

Liam’s eyes flared hot at her words. He stepped inside, and the click of the door closing appeared to loosen the tight hold he had on his emotions. Strong fingers curled around her arms and tugged her forward. Their bodies touched. She tingled at the contact and arched her back to mold her body closer to his. The spark that flamed between them, ignited, burned. Their gazes met, held, sexual tension mounted. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him, but his mouth covered hers in a hungry, searching kiss. Coaxing her lips apart, his tongue delved inside to mate with hers. The hardness straining against her belly grew stronger, bolder.

He swung her into his arms, as if she weighed no more than a baby, and stalked toward the bed in his long easy strides. The bed sagged under their combined weight, and he tumbled backwards, carrying her with him. Hands seared a path down her back, cupped her backside to press her to his swollen manhood. Desire throbbed deep inside her and echoed his growl of pleasure.

Slowly he hitched up the back of her gown then rolled over to pen her beneath him. His mouth left hers only long enough to whisk her nightdress over her head and give it a toss. Her fingers fumbled with the lacing of his trousers and impatiently shoved them down over his lean hips. Palms stroked his hair-roughened thighs.