CHAPTER NINE #4
MacNeil’s eyes widened with mock innocence. “Have we ever fought over a woman?”
Malcolm stared. He finally said, with warning, “I will never fight ye. But she is mine.”
MacNeil sighed, but his eyes twinkled. “Yer young an’ hot, an’ I barely recall such days. What kind o’ power do ye think I have?”
“The power t’ take my powers, just fer a day an’ a night. Find a spell.”
MacNeil grinned. “Not too greedy, are ye, lad?” He laughed. “Canna ye not ask me nicely? And canna ye manage with an hour?”
Malcolm was in disbelief. MacNeil would only suspend his powers to take life for a single hour? Was he mad? That was worse than not taking them away at all. He’d be better off avoiding her entirely than spending a single hour with her. “Do ye wish fer me to grovel?”
MacNeil became serious. “Malcolm. I can see yer as frustrated as a green lad. I can suspend the power. But for a day an’ a night?
Are ye mad? Has she stolen yer reason? You’d be defenseless against the likes of Sibylla, much less Moray, for far too long.
He’ll sense your weakness if ye go for so long without powers. ”
“An hour is not enough. And my patience be gone.”
He had never meant anything more. He had to get her beneath him.
He wanted to taste her lips, her skin, her sex, to push deep inside hot, wet, tight flesh and sheathe himself there all night.
He wanted her to come a hundred times. He could see them together in his mind’s eye.
She would match him in lust, aye, stroke for stroke, climax for climax. He somehow knew it.
“I need the spell now,” Malcolm said, flushing.
After they were finally sated, he was going to hold her in his arms until dawn broke.
Maybe she would tell him more about her world.
Maybe they could speak lightly about unimportant matters, as if the real world and all the burdens he carried did not exist. Maybe she could explain why the fashion in her time was rags and strings. He smiled.
“If yer beginning to care fer the lass, ye had better think carefully about what that means,” MacNeil said softly, cutting into his thoughts.
He had lurked. Malcolm was not a gentleman. His interest in women was basic. He provided for those under his protection, and those he lusted for, he seduced. Warm embraces and casual conversations were not a part of any relationship he had ever had.
“Dinna become fond o’ the woman. She’ll be used against ye. She’ll make ye weak.”
“I be nay fond o’ her.” Malcolm was uneasy. “Did ye tell Claire she’ll go back to her time?” He kept his mind closed now, so MacNeil could not lurk. He shouldn’t care, but he did.
“Aye,” MacNeil said, staring closely. “Mayhap ye should avoid that road.”
“An’ which road is that?” Malcolm said, fists clenched. MacNeil had the power of sight. At times it refused to come to him, but when it came, he was never wrong. No matter how Malcolm protected her, and no matter how well he pleased her in bed, she was going to leave him in the end.
He could barely believe it.
“Forget what’s betwixt yer legs.” But MacNeil choked on laughter, as no Master was going to forget his needs.
Malcolm debated using his fist to erase all of MacNeil’s amusement.
“Ye be so intent!” MacNeil exclaimed. “How can I nay be amused? She’s only a woman, Calum—pretty enough, but there be thousands more.”
“Will ye give me the spell?”
“Aye, I will, because I feel how much yer hurtin’.” He grinned again.
Then he became utterly serious. He placed both hands on Malcolm and murmured in such an ancient tongue that Malcolm did not understand it. When he had finished, he released him, smiling. “Ye can begin yer lovemaking at moonrise, but the spell won’t last once ye can see the sun.”
Malcolm nodded, a savage excitement beginning. “I’ll be owin’ ye.”
“An’ I will collect.” MacNeil’s gaze moved past him. He followed his gaze and saw Claire as she entered the courtyard beyond the orchard. His pulse leaped. In a few hours, he would be allowed to make love to her as passionately as he wished.
He saw that she was accompanied by Ironheart. While Malcolm did not know the enigmatic man well, his reputation preceded him and Malcolm respected him greatly. Very pleased, he left the orchard with MacNeil, seeking out her thoughts as he did so. Malcolm instantly recognized Claire’s unease.
“He be a friend, lass,” he said when they had approached.
Claire sent him a slight smile back. I want to talk to you, alone.
Then, I saw the Cathach!
Reading her thoughts was a good thing, not a bad thing, and he didn’t understand why it always annoyed her when he did so. Her excitement made him soften somewhere in his chest. He faced Ironheart. “Hallo a Alasdair.”
“Hallo a Chaluim,” Ironheart returned.
He reverted to English. “We go t’ Awe as soon as me affairs here be finished.”
Ironheart was clearly interested. “Since when do you visit the Wolf? I didna ken ye be comrades.”
“We’re nay friends,” Malcolm replied softly, thinking about the page Aidan surely had. If Ironheart could be convinced to go with them, he would be a useful ally if Aidan was unwilling to part with the holy page.
Ironheart absorbed that. “Mayhap I’ll return to Lachlan in a more leisurely manner.”
Malcolm smiled. “I had hoped ye would say as much.”
Ironheart nodded at Claire and he and MacNeil walked into the chapter house, leaving them standing alone outside.
Claire stared after the pair, distressed. “I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it does.”
“Aye, lass, he will come with us t’ Awe.” Seeing her grim expression, he brushed her shoulder, well aware that what he really wanted to do was pull her close. “I can use his help if I must fight Aidan.”
Claire’s expression paled. “Aidan is at Awe?”
“Aye.” He instantly read her thoughts. “He’s nay a Deamhan, lass. He be a Master, too.”
Her eyes widened. “But the two of you tried to kill one another!”
“He be a rogue. He dinna obey the Code. He dinna have any conscience, any heart. I dinna trust him with the page. He’d as likely give it t’ Moray as us.”
“Great! A Master who is turning!” she cried. She rubbed her temples. Malcolm could feel them throbbing. She was scared and worried about him, and not just because he might fight Aidan. She was afraid of Moray—which was as it should be.
But her concern pleased him greatly. Maybe MacNeil was wrong about the future, this one time. “Lass, I be pleased when ye care fer me, even a little,” he said softly, giving in and pulling her close. He bumped her hip and wanted to moan. He did not.
But she had felt his arousal, too. She gasped, her gaze seeking his.
He was proud of his virile erection. “Aye, I be needin’ ye, lass,” he murmured, sliding his hands down her strong back.
He pulled her closer, throbbing with growing urgency against her belly.
He wished they were back at Dunroch and the hours had passed.
He knew she was ready for him—he could feel her desire expanding at an uncontrollable rate.
And he also felt her mind racing in circles, debating whether she should give in to him and join him in bed or not. And as his control was still fragile, he released her. “I willna hurt ye, Claire.”
She was breathing hard. “It’s not that.”
She hesitated, and he felt her thinking, not about the fact that he’d spent many nights in a lover’s bed without losing control, but about her inability to guard her heart from him if she shared his bed.
She was afraid to love him. But he had told her, he didn’t mind.
He would like it if she did. He was never going to genuinely understand her fear of loving him, because he was a powerful lord and other women happily fell in love with him.
Other women did not mind having his favors just for a short time.
And he would never understand her absurd need to love a man in order to have sex with him. “Ye willna be sorry,” he tried, smiling into her eyes. They mirrored her conflict. “I intend to please ye greatly. However ye choose, lass.”
Her eyes widened and he felt her body flame. There was so much desire in her he could not stand it.
He leaned closer, touched her face. “Ye like it when I talk about it, do ye not? Dinna refuse me, lass. MacNeil has suspended my powers for the night. We mayna have other nights so soon. I need t’ come inside ye, an’ye need to have me there.
I need t’ see ye takin’ yer pleasure, Claire, an’ I need to hear an’ feel ye comin’, too. ”
She nodded, and he felt her hollow hugely, enough so that he could fill the space, right then, right there.
“We’ll leave fer Dunroch as soon as the galley returns,” he murmured. He reached out, reeled her in. Like an adolescent boy, he could no longer think straight.
She gasped and reached for his shoulders. “Malcolm. Okay.”
Triumphant, he kissed her, deep.