PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (12 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dragonbreath was an impressive horse. He’d been decked out with a tasseled blanket beneath a leather-tooled saddle with silver smelted to the edges. His entire equipage was trimmed with silver. Such accoutrements made him a fit mount for the Duke of Straithcairn. The horse was a Clydesdale and one of the largest in the Straithcairn stable. But he was also the most docile. He’d been groomed to perfection. Dressed for show. He was definitely muscled and wide at the withers. Near eighteen hands in height so they’d told Neal, which was supposedly an immense size.

Oh, yeah?
 

Well, right now, Dragonbreath wasn’t large enough.

The stallion was certainly docile, however. He’d stood patiently while Neal handed Ainslee to Iain’s care, shoved a boot into a stirrup and mounted, shimmied about, tucking loose ends of material beneath his thighs and butt. The horse hadn’t even shifted when Ainslee had been handed up to Neal. Good thing. She wasn’t in a position to control a wild horse. She was bundled up in two lengths of Straith clan plaid. She was so small, she didn’t even make a large, unwieldy bundle.

It wasn’t just sprinkling, either. The sky was pouring rain on them, stealing breath and saturating wool to the point of heft and weightiness. Water ran in rivulets off every surface, including each bit of Neal’s attire, the blankets atop Ainslee, and the one beneath the saddle. Neal’s hands and legs were wet and cold. His feet were resting in the equivalent of small ponds within his boots. The deluge turned the road into a muck-filled trail that sucked at Dragonbreath’s hooves. It obscured the path and blurred the elements. This sort of rainfall should be enough to keep a man’s attention fully on the journey he was undertaking, and off the woman in his arms.

It wasn’t.

Ainslee should be soaked as well. She had to be. Her wrapping was so dark and wet at the moment, the pattern and color couldn’t be deciphered. Neal had earlier tried to keep some of the water off her by lifting the hank of plaid that had previously covered his shoulder up over his head and beyond his forehead. It made an overhang of sorts. That chivalrous offering got him hunched forward with his arms fully about her, in order to provide even more shelter. That sort of position should have been uncomfortable and awkward.

It was neither.

It sent primal commands he had to thwart, basic needs and hungers he couldn’t seem to stop, and a deep-rooted sensation he didn’t dare pursue. Nothing he tried seemed to work against them. The reactions firing through his loins were bothersome. Completely unacceptable. Irritating. And thoroughly exasperating. He acted like an unfledged youth facing his first woman.

Mason had informed him of his age. Niall was twenty-six. That was young for accomplishing a distinguished career in His Majesty’s Navy. He’d had earned his first medal at twenty-one, and the second just before being forced to give up his commission with this inheritance. Twenty-six was young. It was especially youthful to be carrying the title and responsibility of a dukedom.

Then again, in almost two hundred years from now, Neal had already parlayed his inheritance into a small fortune and assumed control of his first company at twenty-six. By thirty, he’d made his first million. Didn’t change the perspective here, however. Twenty-six was still young.
But, damn everything!
His body might be that age, but his mind sure as hell wasn’t. He’d been approaching the half-century mark. He was old enough to be Ainslee’s father. That fact should be enough to keep his mind strictly where he wanted it.

It should, but it didn’t.

Ainslee snuggled into his belly; her head at his shoulder, her nose directly atop his heart. Each breath she exhaled sent tingles through his chest. The experience sent waves of hormone-fueled reaction right against his efforts at containment. She had a lot in her arsenal. And he was a failure at defense.   

Focus, Neal.

Market takeover and save the planet.

That had to be the reason he’d been zapped into this exact period in time. Thus far, he accomplished a little side-trip to stop an evil bastard from influencing things in a tiny corner of Scotland, and managed to gain a wife rather than a fiancée. Fair enough. What had happened was actually providential. The steward couldn’t possibly inherit now. Not for some time anyway. The estate had a duke, and now it had a duchess. She was young. Healthy. In possession of her mental faculties. Garrick was a fly in the ointment, but there was probably a procedure for firing the man. Neal wondered what it was. If gut instinct was any indicator, Mason Millbourne would make a great steward. Ainslee would have an advisor she could trust, Iain Straithmore and the rest of the Honor Guard to protect her back, and full authority to manage things.

Situation handled.

All Neal needed to do was get her ensconced at Straith Castle and he’d be on his way to New York. And destiny.

Too bad his body wasn’t in agreement.

His dick continually jumped into alertness, thickening and straining with an amazing degree of consistency against first the linen of his shirt, then the woolen kilt, and when it reached the pommel of the saddle, his member smashed the sporran upward, into the bundle he held in his arm. He only hoped she wouldn’t know what it meant as it happened yet again.

Damn it.

Mind over matter, buddy.

Market takeover...

Neal subconsciously thrust toward Ainslee, before yanking his ass backward with a motion that was fairly obscene. And undeniable. He didn’t have any control over this?
What the hell?
He was acting like a stud in mating season. It couldn’t just be the gift he’d received of a young man’s body. Neal had been this exact age once. It hadn’t been that long ago. He’d been physically fit. Maintained a full social calendar. Dated women who’d reacted favorably to his company. He’d had sexual urges. He’d acted on them if necessary. He remembered most of the encounters.

Okay.

Maybe he only remembered
some
of them.

But he’d swear he’d never dealt with this level of testosterone-fueled desire. It was unfathomable. Rain fell as if heaven had turned showerheads on to full blasting level. It was dark. He was out in the open. Had all kinds of company around him. He was wet. Shiver-inducing cold.

Well...parts of him were.

And there went another twinge from his dick.  

The horse did an extra large sway to one side, as if in accompaniment. Neal instinctively tightened his legs about the horse, grabbed Ainslee tighter to him with one arm, and held onto the reins. The horse caught the stumble with some shuffled steps. The world gradually re-righted. Neal let out a trembled breath he hadn’t known he’d held.

That had been close.

Good thing the horse knew what to do. Ainslee could hardly control Dragonbreath in her current position. She’d have to be astride it. Her legs spread over a lot of horse. Right in front of him...

Argh!

That had been really stupid. He hadn’t needed that bit of imagery. Longing already hammered at him. Yearning thumped through him with every heartbeat. Craving filled every breath. This ride was filled with the lowest, basest sensations, in a combination that was difficult to stifle, and he had to envision Ainslee in that position?          

Neal stifled a groan, lifted his head, and scanned the darkness beyond Dragonbreath’s head. There wasn’t much to see. It was probably past midnight. Rainfall obliterated the path, and obscured everything except the closest of his Honor Guard. No one had noticed his horse’s near-disaster, or maybe, they’d assumed he’d just handle it.

Neal relaxed his thighs gradually and settled back down into the saddle. He didn’t loosen his grip on Ainslee. This hold kept her above his groin. He needed a bit of space, and distance, and gap between them. His arm started burning. He had to loosen the muscles. Ainslee’s bulk settled right back into his lap. And then she wriggled.

This time the groan was audible. And loud. Ainslee parted the plaid about her, stuck her face out, and spoke.

“’Tis faster if you go through Huntsman’s Dale.”

“Right. Whatever that is.” 

His voice sounded like a rock shale slide tumbling down a hillside. She seemed to consider it for several moments. He didn’t dare glance down to see what expression she might have on her face. Or even if he’d be able to see it in the gloom. Wouldn’t have mattered. He already saw her in his mind.

“It’s the valley that connects your property with the MacAffrey land. ’Twas where you rode this morn. And where...we met.”

He grunted.

“You were riding Thundercloud. He...wasn’t harmed?”

“The horse?”

“He’s your newest stud. Arabian. I’d never seen him afore. He’s quite impressive.”

He made a noncommittal grunting noise. If he put any sound to it, it might come out as a whine. Or – heaven forbid – a plea. It was better to act dense. Or tired. That was a thought. He could try portraying abject exhaustion.

Neal eased his shoulders back, tipped his head, and forced a yawn, making a great show of it.

“Oh. It is late. And you’ve been injured. We’ve some time yet, but you could sleep. You did well bringing Dragonbreath. He’s an impressive stallion. Perfectly proportioned. His gait, even and settled. ’Tis akin to being rocked to sleep. That wouldn’t be possible if he had to pick his way through Huntsman’s Dale and the pass. Is that why you took the road?”

“No.” 

The word came from between his set teeth. She must’ve inferred something, though, because she scooted a bit, mashing parts of her right against him. Feminine parts. Soft. Delicately-rounded parts. He could swear he felt exactly that, and everything about his nether region made certain he was aware of it. Primed for it. Readied. Eager. Even with all that material about her.

Neal looked out at the rain-filled night, and started putting little breaths into the air. He was panting.
Good Lord
. And she just kept speaking, sounding blissfully unaware of what she was doing to him.   

“This road adds miles to the journey. You ken it follows the boundary wall? I’ve often wondered if it was built by a past duke to designate his property, or if it was here long afore then, and the boundary was just set there. It’s a grand structure, that wall. I’ve walked it on occasion. Every section. Some of them are wide. And some are really thin. I’ve fallen from it more than once.”

And then she giggled.

Neal’s entire frame reacted, his arms gripping her to him as every muscle moved in tandem, lifting them both up from the saddle. He had to consciously force his body back down. And then he sat there, holding her up against his belly, vibrating to a curse of sensation only his new wife seemed to wield. One more feminine affectation like that giggle, and he was going to have to get drastic.

Falling off the horse even sounded like a viable option.

He was eyeing the slime of the roadbed when a man loomed out into the road.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Neal started slightly. Dragonbreath didn’t react. The horse lumbered several more steps before Neal remembered to pull up on the reins. And it was foolish. He’d known about this. They’d obviously reached the meadow where the entourage had left the horses. That was the reason they’d taken the road. If Neal had possessed wits that worked he’d have told her. Ainslee twisted, using him as a propping post in order to look about.

“Oh. Of course. We took the road because you left the bulk of horses at the standing stones. I should’ve guessed. Look. They’ve even built a shelter. Oh, Hello, Sam. Henry. And look. Even Will is here.”

She was right. Light was denting the elements, coming in spurts from a fire built between two of the megalithic stones. It was being kept alive by a length of heavy plaid spread across the area. There was just enough shelter for three clansmen, all looking miserably sodden, and thoroughly confused.

One of them stepped out at her greeting and doffed his tam. He approached the side of Dragonbreath. The fire lit one side of his face. He had a puzzled expression on it.

“Uh…Miss Ainslee? Be that…you?” 

“The lady you address is now Her Grace, the Duchess of Straithcairn! She was lawfully wedded to His Grace, the Fifth Duke of Straithcairn, Niall Alexander Straith –by proclamation afore witnesses. Let it be known throughout the Highlands! That this union took place on this day! The thirteenth of June! In the year of our Lord, 1803!”

The clan bard may be advanced in years, but the man possessed a grand voice. He knew how to use it, even after a rain-soaking and a hike of over three miles. He only stopped twice for breath. The man’s intonation was proof of why he held the position. It was also proof that Neal had been right earlier. Their wedding was notorious enough to be orated.

“The…
Duchess
? Holy Je—! I mean—uh. Your grace!”

The man sputtered and then he went down onto his knee. Right into the muck beside them. Neal took the lead, and answered, using his own orator voice.  

“Rise, man! We’re rain-soaked and tired...with a fair bit of ride ahead of us still. And mount up – all of you! Oh! And someone fetch a horse for my wife!” 

“Niall?”

Oh hell.

She’d said his name.

The whiff of sound she made was barely audible, but viciously effective. Neal’s heart constricted, missing a beat. He waited another moment and then tipped his head down. He’d been wrong about the amount of light cast by their bonfire. It was shedding way too much of it at the moment. Everything about his new wife’s almost unearthly beauty was highlighted and caressed by fire-glow. The raindrops just made her glisten.  

“Are there…enough horses?” she asked.

“Some...can ride double.” 

Oh, good
. His voice worked. His reply was gruff, but audible.

“Um. I…am na’ dressed for it.”

His eyebrows rose. “None can tell what you wear.”

She looked down for a moment and then back at him. There was a glimmer of moisture atop her eyes, now. He didn’t guess at the stutter his heart gave him this time. It was massive and had a catch to it that was near pain. He was still examining the affliction when she spoke again, in a whisper that was barely audible.

“It’s different now. Somehow. A-a-after that announcement. Did na’ you hear? I’m a
duchess
.”

Neal’s lips twitched at how awed she sounded. He held the amusement back with an act of will. That was odd. He didn’t think he had any willpower left. “True,” he finally replied.

“Do na’ you see?” 

She moved her glance to somewhere between Dragonbreath’s ears. There wasn’t much to see there. He knew. He had the spot about memorized.

“Not really. But...I did suffer a head injury?”  He posed it as a question, in the event it helped.

“The wedding that happened...just makes it all
worse
.”

“Worse?” 

That was a bombshell. His voice reflected it. Marriage to him - when she’d practically orchestrated it - was worse?

Than what?

Wasn’t this what she wanted? Hadn’t she begged him? What had he done to make it so horrid? He’d been a perfect gentleman.

Neal quickly amended that.

He’d
tried
to be a perfect gentleman. He thought he’d hidden the lust. He must have failed. Why else would she slur a union with him? It was a conundrum. If his mind was the prime portion of his anatomy in control at the moment, he might be able to figure it out.

No. Wait.

He was trying to alter thousands of years of gender relationships. He was a male. Woman might as well be another frickin’ species. No male had ever figured them out. It was a useless endeavor.

“I mean…I ken why you wed me. It’s our…secret. It’s just—”

She sucked in on her bottom lip, and since they hadn’t tamped the bonfire yet, the light was assisting in showing the blossom of a blush at her cheeks. All of it combined to not just make her ethereal-looking, but massively so.

“What?”

“Forgive…me. I’ll ride my own mount.”

She looked small, and young, and unsure, and incapable of sitting atop a horse, let alone controlling one. Neal put a finger beneath her chin and lifted it so she had to face him. He had to ignore a roar of sound that went through his ears with every pulse beat and then he had to concentrate in order to hear around it. His own voice sounded strange.

“Ainslee. I’m...at odds here. I don’t know how women think. Can’t you just tell me?”

His gaze was hooked. Deep sapphire-colored eyes locked with his.

Shit.

Times two, Neal
.

He shouldn’t have touched her. He shouldn’t be gazing into her eyes. He should have had the sense to dismount. Move. Say he needed to take a leak or something. He should be doing a thousand different things.

“These men. Some were in the library. They…
heard
.”

The last word was spoken so softly, he had to guess at it.

“So?” he asked. Or thought he asked. Now, he couldn’t even hear himself over the pulse in his ear.

“Could you just—? I mean, I ken it would be hard…but, please? Could you pretend...a little longer? Please?”

“Pretend?”

She had tears skimming her eyes. That made deep pools of mystery out of the blue. Someone did something with the blanket atop the shelter, sluicing the water onto the fire. Their actions sent sizzling sounds and smoke smell into the air. It also dimmed the light.

“That you…want me?”

She had her eyes squeezed shut, as if afraid of what might be on his face. She wasn’t the lone one. He was afraid of what expression he wore.

“You are…so young,” he replied.

“Full grown.”

“That what you call it?” Neal bent his head and whispered the words against her nose.

“I’m...nineteen.”

“Barely hatched.” 

His words hovered atop her lips. His breath mingled with hers. Each moment sent a charge with it. Neal groaned, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to hers.

Neal had experienced near-death in his lifetime. Car wrecks. A skiing accident. An explosion of a plant he’d been touring. With resultant fire. And hearing loss. And then, there had been the Bermuda Triangle incident this morning. That had been the epitome of mind-blowing experiences.

And yet, what happened the instant he kissed Ainslee annihilated even that.

Brightness flooded his vision, granting him flight. Sweetness plowed his veins, gifting him with a sense of wonder. Excitement grabbed his heart, sending awareness with each beat. Thrill after thrill coursed his veins. He vibrated with a sensation of immeasurable bliss. Delight. Pleasure.

He didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. He’d been in another realm. There was just this one glorious span of time, this woman, and an incredible sense of wonder. And then someone cleared their throat.   

~ ~ ~

“Uh. Y-yes? What...is it?”

The duke lifted his head and turned to ask it. His voice warbled momentarily. Ainslee gasped and hid her face in the space below his chin. Shivers alternated with blushes, and those succumbed to such an ecstatic sensation, it took long moments before she again felt the velvet of his jacket that she’d gripped in each hand, the feeling of muscled thighs she sat atop, the moistness in the air, and the chill of a rain-filled night.

The duke had kissed her!

She hadn’t just accepted it, either. She’d kissed him back! It wasn’t possible to face anyone at the moment. Especially him. So, Ainslee held onto him and vibrated with waves of reaction she didn’t know how to control. She’d call it shock, but it couldn’t be. What had happened had been too beautiful. Too amazing. Too unbelievable.

She’d received her first kiss!

Sweet heaven!

And it was everything Lileth had eulogized about to her little sister, using awestruck tones. A kiss was all of that.

And more.

Ainslee still quivered with how much more the kiss had contained. The tremors subsided slowly, pushed aside by what had to be embarrassment. The duke must think her unbelievably brazen! Desperate.

She was fully capable of riding her own horse. She just wanted to stay right where she was, held within his embrace as though she was treasured. Wanted. Safe. It was a bubble of fantasy, but she hadn’t wanted it burst. Not yet. Time enough for everyone to know the marriage was a sham. That he’d wed her because she’d begged him to. And that he’d done it by proclamation this eve - without one hint of warning – because he pitied her.

What she’d done was unbelievably forward. And ungrateful. She’d been asking for the moon, when he’d already delivered the stars. But, in his arms, for the first time she could recall, she’d felt protected, secure...and something more. She’d been cocooned in a hum of something exciting.

She trembled anew at the recollection. One of his arms tightened about her.

This was terrible.

Wonderfully, magnificently terrible.

She’d also asked for some sign from him so the note of respect that had been in Sam’s voice wouldn’t disappear, turning him back into a stable-hand who treated her like one of them. But she hadn’t asked for a kiss! She’d never meant for the duke to do something so drastic.

Oh…dear
.

It really had been terrible. And wonderful. And it was especially terrible because it had been so wonderful.

“Begging your pardon, but we’ve brought a mount for Ainslee—uh. I mean, her grace.”

“Oh. Very good. Ainslee?”

Her nose tingled with the vibration of sound as the duke said it. She shook her head. He inhaled deeply, moving her with it, and then blew a sigh out over her head.

“The duchess has changed her mind. She’ll continue the journey with me.” 

Ainslee gasped again. The duke cleared his throat. And when he spoke he was using the amazingly deep, broad voice he’d used before. In the library. When he’d pronounced them wed.

Ainslee trembled at the memory. Sighed softly.

“So? What are we standing about for? Mount up! Cease wasting time! I mean. Gents. Come on. I am a newlywed! I would truly like to reach my castle sometime tonight!”

There were answers given, amidst a lot of laughter. Ainslee didn’t pay attention. She was too aware of what it felt like to have her heart sing. Her entire body tingled. The sensation reached every bit of her. The tips of her fingers. Edges of her toes. She’d thought him a wonderful sight when she’d first seen him - over a decade ago, riding hard through the grass. Now, she knew he was truly wonderful.

Even if it was a sham to be wed to him, she was thrilled by it.

“Ainslee.”

He turned and lowered his head in order to speak just to her, his chest rising, while the move dislodged her. She shook her head again. She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t look at him. Even if it was raining and dark. It was still too soon.

“You need to release me a bit, love.”

Love?

Oh, my stars
. He’d just called her love.

Her ears heard it, but it took a moment for the rest of her to grasp it. Surprise lifted her head and she peered at him. It wasn’t raining as hard, or they hadn’t extinguished the fire enough. He was easy to see. He was looking at her with a stern expression on his face, almost a frown.

“I cannot continue to ride this way.”

“What…way?”

“With you…uh. Clinging to me. We truly might fall from the horse. They’ll think—. Well. I won’t even go into what everyone might think. I daren’t.”

Ainslee moved her gaze to his ruffled shirtfront.

Oh, dear.

She’d been embracing him. Before an audience. Her entire face was hot with the reaction.

She consciously loosened her fingers, releasing his jacket from where she’d gripped it. She moved her hands back beneath the double layer of plaid covering her, laced her fingers together, and placed them against her legs, near her knees. It only took a few seconds, but it felt too long.