My Highlander Cover Model (8 page)

Two days passed, and in that short span of time, Skye could not believe how they’d slipped into a comfortable domesticity she’d not thought she’d find with any man.

She pushed away the nagging doubts that this connubial-type bliss wouldn’t last. All she knew she’d never been this happy. Making love every night and every morning, sleeping wrapped in the masculine embrace of the man she loved, exceeded every thrill she’d ever experienced. She felt giddy, flying high above the clouds. Insanely contented. It won’t last, an insistent voice hissed in her ear. She refused to listen.

The glow from their early morning sex still shimmered on her skin. As she scrambled the eggs in the bowl, she heard the water running in the shower, and a magnificent male voice rose in song. Words floated in from the hallway: ale, heather, and something about the moors. She wasn’t the only one feeling happy.

Pouring the egg mixture into the frying pan, she picked up the spatula and stirred them as they cooked. A muscular arm encircled her waist and pulled her back against a decidedly masculine body.
Cailin
. He kissed her neck and whispered naughty, Gaelic words in her ear. His erection pressed into her back and a moan slipped from her lips. The man was insatiable.

His hand removed the pan from the stove, and as he kissed and nibbled her ear, he slid her along the counter. Skye wore only an oversize T-shirt, her nightwear of choice. Cailin leaned her over, and his hand slipped between her ass cheeks. Yes, wet. She instinctively spread her legs and Cailin, sheathed and ready to go, deftly slid his cock into her folds and pumped.

“I canna get enough of you, lass. I want my cock inside you every minute, every hour.”

The pounding was frantic and wild. Her hands spread out over the granite countertop to anchor her body.

“I want to come inside you. I want you to let me fill your womb, make you truly mine. Perhaps soon, Skye?” His words branded her soul. Oh, how that appealed. She had never let a man come inside her, not just because of unwanted pregnancy or sexual diseases—though they were very good reasons—but it spoke to a permanence she hadn’t felt with any other man. She felt it with Cailin. She cried out, her orgasm powerful and blinding. It spurred Cailin on to a faster pace, his arm around her waist, his lips still nibbling and kissing her neck.

“Mine,
mo eudail
. Forever.”

He growled and pumped inside her until he stilled and groaned. Oh Jesus, how could this feel any better? But it did. Each time they made love, it was more intense. Forever. Oh, if only. He slipped out, and Skye turned to face him. Droplets of water still sparkled on his nude, flawless skin.

“I dinna mean to disturb your cooking.” He smiled sexily.

“They’re ready. Take a seat.”

Cailin left the kitchen briefly, and returned wearing a pair of gray sweats. Sitting at the table, he gave her a devastating smile as she scooped the eggs onto his plate. After pouring their coffee, Skye sat opposite and began to eat her own breakfast.

“Skye, I would like to learn to drive the auto car.”

What
? That request came out of left field.

“Why?”

Cailin shrugged. “I’ve watched you. It doona look that difficult. One pedal goes forward, one stops, and the wheel turns the tires. Simple.”

Skye took a sip of her coffee. “There’s more to it than that. Rules of the road, watching for other drivers, the traffic lights….”

“Oh, aye. Red for stop, green for go, yellow for go real quick before it turns again.”

She laughed. “That’s about it. Tell you what, after we eat, we’ll go to a field I know of and you can drive around there.”

“As I said before, I am a fast learner, Skye. I’ll be driving to the supermarket in a few days.”

She didn’t doubt his firm declaration at all.

***

An hour later, Skye climbed out of the shower, her long, wet hair hanging in her eyes. As she blindly reached for a towel, masculine hands turned her to face the full-length mirror against the wall. The only sound in the black-and-white tiled bathroom was the exhaust fan overhead, busily clearing the humid air from the room.

“Let me dry you, lass,” Cailin whispered in her ear.

His gentle touch started at her shoulders. He moved the hair out of his way and with slow, purposeful strokes, dried her damp skin. As the towel moved down her arms, his teeth nibbled on her shoulders.

“Your skin, ’tis soft as the finest silk and as tasty as the most sinful pastry.” His deep voice seduced her where she stood. He’d just taken her in the kitchen not an hour ago, and still it wasn’t enough for either of them.

Skye leaned her head back until it rested on his shoulder. His hands continued their task, only the towel had disappeared. He lifted her breasts and caressed them. He flicked her hardened nipples. With one hand still teasing her breast, the other trailed over her stomach.

“Your lovely curves, Skye, are as lush as I knew they would be.”

Well, she wasn’t skinny, that was for sure. The men she’d been with also seemed to like her curves, but all their hollow compliments put together meant nothing. Cailin’s soft, seductive words meant everything.

His fingers teased her curls, and she instinctively spread her legs enough for him to touch her. His teeth nibbled and bit her earlobe, he squeezed her nipple, and his hot words blazed through her.

“Come for me, lass. I want you so wet you drench me.”

He plunged two fingers deep into her pussy. She was wet, and not from the shower. He plunged in and out of her, his thumb working her clit while his mouth continued to fondle her earlobe and place kisses down her neck and back again. She thrust her breast into his hand, and he squeezed and pulled, causing her to moan and beg for more. He moved faster, every touch and breath ramping up her coming release. It was going to be massive. Colors swirled in her vision. Her eyes closed in anticipation.

“Luscious, sweet cunny. I canna wait to plunge my tongue into your wetness, lick and taste you….”

She screamed, so loud and so shrill it was a shock the mirror didn’t shatter. All while he did this, his hard cock rubbed against her back in total possession. She leaned against him, weak and spent. He pulled out his fingers.

“Watch me, lass, in the mirror.”

Her eyes cracked open. He was standing straight behind her, one hand still possessively caressing her breast. He lifted the fingers to his mouth and slowly licked her dew off each one with languid strokes. God, that was hot.

“Like a decadent pot of honey. Now that I have tasted paradise, I want more.”

Cailin leaned down and picked up the towel from the floor and continued drying her off. He moved in slow and methodical strokes, and when he was finished, he kissed her hot and hard. Tossing the wet towel into the shower, he strode from the room.

Holy. Shit.

***

Cailin did learn quickly. After an hour, he drove around the barren field with a good deal of skill. He wanted to drive back to the house, but Skye refused. When he showed her the license in the wallet he carried, she laughed nervously, but let him behind the wheel. The experience of controlling such a piece of machinery spoke to his warrior soul. A battle won, an obstacle overcome. He wanted to feel control over something, mayhap. He tried to be resolute in front of Skye, but deep inside he was torn.

The lass loved him. God’s stones, had not counted on that development. His own feelings were rather muddled. Honor and duty compelled him to try and return to his time. Leaving Skye, however, would be the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

As the days passed, he grew more comfortable in this skin, for it was not entirely unlike his own body in many ways. The fact remained it was not his body, not his life. Every chance he could manage, when away from Skye, he held the sword tight, and murmured his family’s motto in his own tongue. Nothing happened. Who the bluidy hell knew what druid magic could be at work, or mayhap could be a curse?

The only time his mind felt at peace was when he made love to Skye. Facing his own emotions was not something he wanted to do. For every hour that passed, the prospect of leaving her became more difficult to bear.

The next day was Thursday, and the photo session in the city of New York. He had so much to remember. He was to pose as fierce highland warrior, not speak, and do as he was told. They would use the excuse of a sore throat again. How long could they keep that ruse up? Couldn’t he be like the movie actor Sean Connery and talk in his own voice? He supposed not. How to explain why Roderick all of a sudden spoke with a brogue?

Cailin stood on the back deck and gazed at the blanket of stars in the evening sky. Night peepers and crickets sang in unison from the tall grass. This was not Scotland. Not his home. The twinge in his heart told that tale true enough. The sights and smells of this era were nothing like he remembered and ached for. Adjusting to 2013, with its hot and cold running water and electrical conveniences, would not be a hardship. They made life more tolerable and left time to reflect. Even so, in his heart, he longed for the smell of the heather, the sounds of cattle lowing in the fields below, of his younger brothers arguing over who would hunt for the meat for supper. ’Twas a simple life that quieted the soul. How to explain all this to Skye? He did not want to hurt her, not for the world.

What of poor Roderick? The lad must find the uncomplicated life in 1814 difficult to be sure—if he were there. Where else would he be? It wasn’t fair of him to usurp the lad’s life. Skye informed him Roderick had told his mother of his interest in her, and had planned to ask her on what they called “a date”. A sharp shaft of jealousy speared him with that knowledge. He and Roderick had the same taste in women, it seemed. The fact he’d made love to Skye with the lad’s body did not sit well.

A few gray clouds covered the half-moon briefly before continuing on their nocturnal journey. Life was closing in on them both. Skye had to return to work, and Roderick received calls for modeling jobs. Roderick’s family wanted to talk to him. There were those things called “e-mails” on the computer contraption that needed answering.

He wanted to go home.

The sliding glass door opened, and Skye stepped out onto the deck. Curling her arm about his waist, she leaned her head on his chest. Cailin’s heart stuttered and skipped at her nearness. Who was he bluidy kidding? He loved the lass, to the depths of his bones, wherever they may be. He couldn’t tell her, not until he knew for sure he would be staying. Something deep inside his soul told him he wasn’t.

“Beautiful night,” she whispered.

“Aye, ’tis that.”

“What were you thinking about?”

He sighed. He did not want to lie. “Home, Skye. Besides you, ’tis all I think about.”

“You’re really not happy here, are you?”

“Nay, but when you’re near, aye. I am content. ’Tis hard to explain. I will manage, lass.” He hugged her tighter, and then lightened his voice. “What have you planned for tonight?”

“I think we should lay off the highlander movies. You haven’t asked much about history the last two hundred years. Not interested?”

“’Tis no’ that I’m no’ interested, just thought it wise to know as little as possible….”

“In case you return to your time. The less you know about the future, the better.” She completed his thought perfectly.

“Aye, I suppose.”

Skye stepped back and took his hand, pulling him toward the door.

“Let’s see what movies Roderick owns.”

Cailin let himself be lead into the living room. Skye let go of his hand and strode to the shelving cupboard.

“Oh, look.
300
. That’s before your time, it’s about the Spartans. Interested? He has
Gladiator
, too.”

“
Gladiator
. ’Tis fine.”

He would try to concentrate and escape into the picture.

Anything to forget.

Chapter Eleven

It was the day of the photo shoot, and Skye couldn’t be more nervous. They drove to the city in the MKS, and didn’t talk much on the way down. Her thoughts were filled of sensual images of Cailin making love to her the night before and again that morning. As she stood in the studio waiting for Cailin to appear in costume, erotic memories of him licking and sucking between her legs sent a blast of heat through her entire body. Then he made gentle, soul-stirring love to her as they lay on their sides. She shook the recollections from her mind.

The doctor from the clinic had called that morning before they left. The CAT scan showed no abnormalities. He’d instructed Skye to make an appointment with a psychiatrist about Roderick’s highlander delusions. Skye lied through her teeth and told the doctor he no longer suffered from such fantasies. He took her at her word and they’d ended the call. One less thing to worry about.

Skye had a job to do. Putting Cailin on a “model’s regimen” took top priority. Exploring Roderick’s cabinets turned up protein drinks, nutritional supplements, vitamins, and grape-seed extract. The man took his occupation seriously. A person might be born with a handsome face and a great body, but it took a hell of a lot of hard work to keep it in prime condition. Roderick must have exercised at a nearby gym, as he’d no equipment in his home except for a fold-up treadmill, which looked as if it’d seen better days.

Her breath caught in her throat as Cailin strode into the room wearing nothing but a kilt and a frown.

He leaned in and whispered, “They put powder on my face and lips and cream under my eyes! I look like one of those fops from court!”

Skye bit back a smile. “The powder will keep your face from sweating and becoming oily. Those lights can be hot. This is the life of a model.”

“’Tis foolish. But aye, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Skye squeezed his arm in encouragement. “Just do as Peter the photographer asks you to do, answer yes and no. I’ll be right here the whole time.”

Skye stepped back and watched as Peter, who at the best times looked perennially bored, snapped into action. His directions were concise and as with everything else, Cailin caught on quickly.