Chapter Six
Rachel
I roll my eyes at Joey. "Och, ye daft man. If I wanted to harm ye, I'd have left ye to drown in the moat. Now drink up before ye fade away entirely."
"And if I don't swallow your witch's brew?"
"Then ye might find yourself slipping back through time, perhaps to somewhere in the middle of a Viking raid---or worse. Is that what ye prefer?"
I cannae hold back my exasperation. Joey is behaving in a quite uncooperative and ungrateful manner.
He scrunches up his face. "Uh...no, I guess?"
I release my frustration with a blustering sigh. Joey Finnegan is the most obstinate man I have ever met. Well, after Alisdair MacLeod, that is. But I dinnae want to think about that cacan right now. Aye, Alisdair is a wee shit, despite being quite large.
Joey folds his arms over his chest. "About that MacTaggart book of magic...has anyone tried to find it?"
I roll my eyes and huff. "Do ye think MacTaggarts are stupid? Aye, every generation has hunted for the book, but it's gone. Or mayhap hidden by a cloaking spell at the bottom of a well. An evil witch stole it, according to the legend. But who knows what the truth might be?"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Just thought I might be able to help."
He gives up on conversation and instead picks at the blanket on the bed.
I've just bent over to sniff my potion, inhaling deeply and smiling as the steam washes over me, when I notice Joey staring at my bodice.
"What's the bother now, Mr. Finnegan?"
He winces and scratches his cheek. "Your bodice is...awfully tight. And, uh..." He makes a cupping gesture with his hands. "Your mounds might be on the verge of spilling out."
Mounds? What in the world is he talking about?
But then he swerves his gaze away from me, seeming to force himself to focus on the task at hand. He groans miserably and grabs the mortar. "Bottom's up, I guess."
"Drink every bit of it, please."
He glowers at me but at last finishes off the potion.
"There's a good laddie," I say, patting his shoulder. "Now, let's see if that does the trick."
"Will I sprout wings or turn into a frog?"
I can't help laughing. "No, ye daft man."
"So, uh, did it work?" he asks, handing the empty mortar back to me.
"Aye, I believe it has. You're looking more...solid now."
He wipes a hand across his brow in a sarcastic gesture. "Okay. At least I won't need to keep rocks in my pockets to anchor me." He sticks his tongue out repeatedly while his lip curls. "Are you sure that shit wasn't excrement from a cow? I might start mooing."
"Dinnae be ridiculous. You'll need different clothes, though."
"Please don't dress me up in a kilt. Skirts aren't my thing."
I burst out laughing. "Skirts?"
"What the hell is so damn funny?" Joey demands in a growly tone, his expression rather petulant and not all what I expected from a pirate who emerged from the depths of the moat. Aye, when I first saw Joey, I wondered if he were a pirate and hoped he might whisk me away on a swashbuckling adventure. "Don't you have any clothes that won't make me look like a douche?"
"A doosh?" I ask. "Mayhap you can explain that word to me."
He scrunches up his face and averts his gaze. "Never mind."
"As you wish. But you need proper clothing." I scrutinize his body, feeling his arms and thighs---strictly to gauge his clothing sizes, of course. "We need to get ye proper attire. Can't have ye wandering about the castle in those strange clothes. Then, we could perhaps introduce you to the family."
He looks down at his strange blue trews and leather jacket. "What's wrong with my clothes?"
Cannae help laughing again. "Nothing, if ye want to be mistaken for a witch or worse. Come now, I have some old clothes that might fit ye."
"No way will I wear a dress."
"But gowns are quite comfortable."
He twists his mouth into a wry smile. "You're teasing me, aren't you? I don't mind that."
I lead Joey to a trunk in the corner and begin rummaging through it. He watches me with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
"Here we are," I pronounce triumphantly, pulling out a bundle of clothes. "These belonged to my grandfather, Uilleam, who died before I was born. They should fit ye well enough."
"Hand-me-downs?" he says, his lips pursed. "I had my fill of those when I was a kid. My parents, and later my foster moms, never cared if I was wearing threadbare junk. But I'm in a different century now, so I'll need to adjust."
He accepts the clothes, feeling the texture of the homespun wool. "Uh, thanks. Where can I change?"
I point to a folding screen in the corner. "Behind there. And be quick about it. We dinnae want anyone stumbling upon ye in those strange garments."
Joey returns a moment later, now properly dressed. But he fusses with his clothing while making odd faces, then sighs heavily. "Guess I'm doomed to look like a court jester."
"Nay, you look nothing like that. You're quite handsome, actually."
He smirks. "Thanks. I appreciate the compliment. You are absolutely beautiful, by the way."
The way his voice deepened inspires my loins to grow...warm and slick in an unseemly manner. I find myself squirming, though not from discomfort, not precisely. Once, I saw my parents kissing in the garden, and I did not understand the strange fervor that I witnessed on that day. But I began to get an inkling when I happened upon an indecent book that someone had left in the cellar---centuries ago, based on the amount of yellowing. The pages of the dusty tome had faded somewhat, but I could figure out what the deliciously craven images depicted. And ever since, I've been, um...pleasuring myself inside my secret chamber.
And sometimes, I employ magics to do that.
Joey's annoyance evaporates. He tips his head to the side, studying me with renewed interest. "Have you ever been kissed, Rachel?"
There's something about the way his whisky-brown eyes explore every detail of my face, shivering a thrill down my spine that leaves me feeling as if I'm standing on the edge of a precipice. "Ye've got a smoldering fire in your eyes, Joey Finnegan."
The words had spilled out before I could catch them. How foolish did I sound? Very, I'm fair certain.
He quirks an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth lifting in a maddening half-smile. "And you, Rachel MacTaggart, have an innocent way of behaving, but there's a glint in your eye that says otherwise."
A blush warms my cheeks---partly from his words, partly from the fact that my body is humming with a wicked desire that, until now, I've known only in my dreams or in the privacy of my secret chamber. I've never been kissed before. The very thought sets my heart to racing like a deer escaping from a bear, rushing through the heather, only to be devoured in the most delicious manner. And Joey, with his dark hair tousled just so and that rogue's jacket that tells tales of city life I can only imagine, is every bit the man I'd dreamt would steal that first kiss.
"Have you ever been kissed before, Joey?" The words had slipped out bold as brass, and for a moment, I worry I've gone too far. But then his gaze darkens with something that resembles hunger. And suddenly, the slickness in my loins is dribbling down my inner thighs. An unusual scent wafts from down there too.
"Of course I've been kissed. I'm an expert on that topic---and on popping cherries."
My brows wrinkle. "What do cherries have to do with anything?"
Before I can take another breath, Joey closes the distance between us, his hands framing my face with a tenderness that belies the fierce need in his gaze. He crushes his lips to mine, igniting a fire that coils a slow, slithering fire low in my belly. My toes curl into the worn rug beneath us as I clung to him, lost in the sensation of his mouth moving against mine, the stubble of his jaw grazing my skin.
Pressed against him, I feel a hard, insistent lump bulging against my belly. Somehow that lump arouses me even more. A gasp escapes me, the sound smothered by the heat of our kiss. What would making love be like? The question flashes through my mind, leaving a trail of warmth and a tingling between my thighs that I've never experienced before.
" Tha mi ag iarraidh barrachd ," I whisper as he moves his lips a touch, just enough that I could say those words. It was the Gaelic phrase for 'I want more' slipping out instinctively.
Something wild and fierce that rises within me, spurred on by the taste of him, the smell of leather and man, and the rush of emotions that made my head spin. Our breaths mingle, fast and ragged, as we navigate this unfamiliar territory together. Every brush of his lips fans the flames of my curiosity, kindling something deeper within us both. Breathing hard, with our kiss still simmering on my lips, I take a step back from Joey. His chest heaves in the dim light of my secret room, his gaze as piercing as a hawk's.
"What am I to do with ye, Joseph Finnegan?" I muse aloud, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
"Hmm, what would you like to do, Rachel MacTaggart?" he asks, a half-grin lifting the corner of his mouth. His gaze flicks down to my chest where my nipples are visible beneath the fabric.
"What if I fancy keeping ye all to myself?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, revealing more than I intended. I like having this man from another world hidden away in a secret place where no one will ever see or hear what we might do in this room. 'Tis a secret thrill that sets my heart to racing.
"Your family will start wondering where you've gone," Joey says, leaning against the bedpost, his arms folded so that the muscles and sinews beneath his shirt flex with every movement. "Are you going to keep me here forever?"
Bod an Donais , I do want that. And when I glance up at Joey, I can think only one word: mèinn . Aye, I want this craven man for my own, if only for tonight. I bite my lip, releasing it slowly. "Forever is a long while, Joey."
He takes a step toward me.
But I back away, clucking my tongue. "Nay, I shall be the one in control of you tonight."
"What exactly do you have in mind?"
A thrill runs through me at his words, at the way his gaze rakes over every inch of me. I've never felt so bold, so wanton. It's as if his presence has awakened something primal within me.
"First," I say, my tone calmer than I feel, "You will remove your clothing. Slowly."
He quirks an eyebrow but complies, shrugging off the clothing I'd found for him with a fluid grace that makes my mouth water. The thin fabric of his undershirt clings to his muscled chest, and I find myself transfixed by the roughhewn beauty of him. A few small scars on his chest only serve to make him even more fascinating. How did he acquire the scars? I'll ask him later. Once I'm done with him. But it's the bulge in his trews that leaves me speechless and tingly in my nether regions.
Oh, aye, he is a large man in every way.
"Like what you see?" he teases, his cocky grin causing wetness to slicken my thighs even more and to create a sucking sound whenever I move.
I swallow hard, willing my voice not to waver. " Bod an Donais , I dinnae like it. I love it. Now get rid of the rest, please, immediately."
"Mind explaining that phrase you just spoke first?"
"Oh, aye. It literally means 'the devil's penis.' However, it's used as curse word."
Joey's hands move to the waistband of his trews, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly unlaces them. The tension in the room is palpable, crackling like lightning before a storm. As the fabric slides down his legs, revealing more of his tanned skin, I feel a rush of heat flood my cheeks. I've never seen a man fully unclothed before, and the sight of Joey standing before me, bare as the day he was born, sends a shiver of excitement through me. He's all lean muscle and sharp angles, a stark contrast to the softness of my own form.
The thickness of his cock makes my mouth water, and I drag my tongue over my lips---three times. The tip of his arousal is rosy red, with a drop of clear liquid poised on the tip.
"Your turn," he declares, his voice low and gravelly, his chest rising and falling heavily.
I hesitate for a moment, then I begin fumbling with the laces of my bodice.
Joey steps forward, his breaths warm against my ear. "Let me do that."
With deft fingers, Joey delicately unlaces my bodice, his knuckles grazing my skin with every movement. As the fabric falls away, exposing my breasts to the cool air, I fight the urge to cover myself. My nipples have pearled, and the tightness of them gives me a shivery sensation. My own juices dribble down my thighs.
Joey groans deeply as he roams his gaze over my body. "You are so fucking beautiful. And the scent of your lust is making my dick stiffen even more."
His words embolden me. I let my skirts pool at my feet, standing before him as naked as he is. The vulnerability of the moment is both thrilling and terrifying, and I can't believe I'm doing this with a stranger. Yet oddly, he doesn't feel like a stranger to me.
"Now what?" Joey asks.
"Lie down on the bed."
His lips stretch into a sensual smile as he follows my command, stretching out on the narrow bed. The candlelight flickers across his sculpted body, casting enticing shadows. I hesitate for a moment, overcome by the sight of him. With trembling fingers, I reach out to trace the hard planes of his chest. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and I marvel at the way his muscles tense and relax. Joey's breath hitches as I explore lower, following the trail of dark hair that leads to his impressive manhood.
"Rachel," he groans, his hips lifting slightly off the bed.
"Oh, Joey," I breathe, my fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest. "I...I'm not sure what to do next."
His eyes soften as he gently grasps my hand. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. Just lie down beside me."
I slide onto the narrow bed, keenly aware of every point where our skin touches. Joey wraps an arm around me, drawing me close against his warm body. The feeling of his bare skin against mine sends tingles racing across my flesh. Joey's hand traces lazy circles on my back as we lie here, our breathing slowly syncing. The initial urgency fades into a comfortable intimacy.
"Tell me more about where ye come from," I say, nestling closer to Joey's warmth. His scent envelops me, a heady mix of leather, spice, and something uniquely him.
His hand stills on my back for a moment before resuming its gentle caress. "It's...different from here. Louder. Faster. There are machines that can take you anywhere in the world in a matter of hours. Buildings that reach so high they seem to touch the sky."
I try to imagine such wonders, but my mind struggles to comprehend them. "It sounds magical."
He chuckles, the rumble vibrating through his chest. "Some might say that. But it has its downsides too. People are always in a rush, always connected to their devices---little machines that can show you destinations beyond the reach of the human eye. Sometimes I think technology has made us lose touch with what's really important."
"And what do ye think is important?"
Joey remains quiet for a moment. "Connection. Real, human connection. The kind where you can look into someone's eyes and see their soul. The kind we're sharing right now."
His words send a shiver through me, and I tilt my head up to meet his gaze. The intensity I find there takes my breath away. Without thinking, I lean in and press my lips to his. Our kiss is different from the first one---slower, deeper, filled with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. But for now, I'm content to bask in his warmth and the quiet intimacy that surrounds us.
Abruptly, he peels his mouth away from mine. "You should be in charge, Rachel. Do whatever wicked things you want to me, and I guarantee I'll love every minute of it. When you're ready, I'll fuck you until the sun comes up."
Oh my, I cannae wait for that.