Chapter Twenty-Three
Joey
Rachel gazes at me with pure love in her eyes. How can she behave that way? As if I told her wasn't horrific? I injured an innocent man---by accident, but still. I don't deserve the love she's given me, yet I can't walk away from her. I need Rachel. That's not a good enough reason to stick around. We might have chased the MacLeods away, but the dark forces aligning against us won't be so easy to get rid of.
"Joey," she whispers, her lilting accent softening the edges of my name. "Ye canna blame yerself for what happened. 'Twas an accident, pure and simple."
I shake my head, unable to look her in the eye. The weight of guilt presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. "But Rachel, you don't understand. Where I come from, injuring someone like that...it's not just brushed off. I should've gone to jail for that."
She glides her fingers over my cheek. The touch affects me like a shock of static electricity, a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind.
Rachel clasps my hands. "Aye, 'tis not something to brush off, but ye don't live in that world any longer, do ye? Yer here, in the Highlands, where a man's worth is measured by his intentions, not only his actions."
I finally glance up to gaze into those striking blue eyes. They're filled with fierce determination that both comforts and unsettles me.
"What about An Bodach," I ask, "and whatever other dark forces might be gathering against us? We can't keep ignoring them, Rachel. They're coming for us, and I don't know if I'm strong enough to face them."
Rachel's lips curve into a smile that's equal parts impishness and steely resolve. "Bloody hell, ye must stop underestimating yerself, Joey Finnegan. And ye forget that ye've got me by yer side." She slides closer, her breath warm against my ear. "We've got magic in our blood, you and I. The old ways, the power of the Highlands---it's all around us."
A faint shiver passes over me at her fervent words, and I feel a crackle of energy in the air. It's like the very earth beneath our feet is alive with ancient power. But I struggle to sense it the way Rachel seems to. For a second, I do feel...something. A faint pulse, like a heartbeat thrumming through the stones and soil.
"Holy cow, I think I can sense it," I confirm, opening my eyes to find Rachel beaming at me.
"Aye, that's it. Ye've got the gift, Joey. It simply needs a wee bit of coaxing."
I shake my head, still skeptical. "But how can this magic help us fight against whatever's coming? I'm not exactly Merlin, Rachel."
"Ye dinnae need to be a sorcerer, ye daft man." She kisses my cheek. "Ye just need to be willing to accept that you have dormant powers within you and that I can teach you how to access them."
I rub my eyes, feeling a headache trying to blossom. "I don't know, Rach. Not sure I have it in me to wield supernatural powers. I'm a thief, not a hero. Besides, I'm more concerned with what An Bodach has up his sleeve. If other dark forces are working with him...we're royally screwed."
Rachel sets her hands on her hips, defiantly lifting her chin. "Ye listen to me, Joey Finnegan. Ye may have been a thief in your past life, but here, now, yer so much more. As for An Bodach and whomever else he brings with him, they'll ne'er know what hit them when we're through."
I can't help but smile at her fiery spirit, even as doubt gnaws at me. "And how exactly are we going to take on a centuries-old evil sorcerer? With your second sight and my ability to pick pockets?"
"Mayhap." She kisses me again, harder than before. "But ye've got more than that up your sleeve, Joey. Ye just havenae discovered it yet." She claims my hand. "Come with me. I want to show ye something."
Rachel tugs on my hand until I give in and let her lead me away.
She guides me through the winding stone corridors of Dùndubhan, her steps sure and purposeful. I shuffle after her, too consumed by my own thoughts to pay much attention to anything else. As we descend a narrow staircase, the air grows cooler and damper and warmer with every step.
"Where are we going?" I whisper, but Rachel just shakes her head, holding a finger to her lips.
Up ahead, I see a wooden door.
Rachel halts there, her hand resting on the doorknob. "You've earned wee bit of relaxation, or as my mother would say, a mini spa vacation."
"What are you talking about? This isn't the garderobe, so I'm totally confused."
Her smile is enigmatic. "Close your eyes, m'eudail . I have a wonderful surprise for you."And to prevent confusion, m'eudail is the Gaelic version of 'my dear.'"
At last, she pulls the door open---and a wave of steamy air washes over me.
I gape at the room she's revealed. "Is this a steam room?"
"Aye, that's what my mother calls it. She swears that spending time in the steam room will cure all your ills and revitalize you in body and soul." She winks. "And it will, most likely, make us both very aroused."
"Steam room sex? Hell yeah, I'm on board for that."
The little sanctuary is composed of darker stones than the ones that make up the walls of the castle and the other buildings within the complex. Here, I find an oblong wooden tub and a chair as well as, of course, a hearth with a brass pot hanging above it that keeps the water steamy.
"This is incredible," I say, watching as Rachel latches the door behind us.
The stones beneath my feet radiate just enough heat that our feet won't get cold. I realize they must be connected somehow to the hearth. The air is thick with moisture and fragrant herbs---rosemary, lavender, and something else I can't quite place.
"My great-aunts created this chamber not long after I was born," Rachel explains, her fingers already working at the laces of her bodice. "The stones are from the sacred circle atop the mountain called Beinn Mhòr . They hold memories, Joey, and the wisdom of the MacTaggart witches who came before us."
I stand transfixed as she sheds her clothing with practiced ease, her hair cascading down her back. Steam curls around her naked body, lending her the appearance of a mythical creature---half woman, half mist. "How can the floor be so warm?"
She wags her eyebrows. "A bit of ceò-draoidh conjured by the daoine maithe , mayhap."
"You're claiming invisible faires were involved?" I lift my brows. "That other phrase you spoke is Greek to me."
"No, it's Gaelic. Ceò-draoidh means ' magic mist .'"
"You don't need magic, baby. I've been entranced by you since the moment we met, no spells required."
"Are you simply going to stand there staring like a wee bairn?" she teases, stepping forward to help me with the fastenings of my own clothing. "The magic works better when we're both bare beneath the mist."
I let her undress me, her fingers deftly working the unfamiliar clasps and ties of my medieval garb. I hiss in a breath as her knuckles brush against my skin. Then we both climb into the tub.
"I still don't understand how this is supposed to help us fight against An Bodach ," I say, but I'm already distracted by the sight of her naked body and those gorgeous tits, glowing in the light from the hearth.
"The steam room isn't just for pleasure, Joey," she explains, though the gleam in her eye suggests that pleasure is definitely on the agenda. "The sacred stones amplify our connection to the old magic. In here, the veil between worlds grows thin. The heat and the herbs open our senses to what lies beyond ordinary sight."
As she speaks, she moves behind me, her hands sliding up my back to my shoulders. Her touch sends ripples of awareness through my body. I can feel the warmth of her breasts against my back, the softness of her belly against my spine.
"Relax," she demands, her breath tickling my ear. "Let the steam enter your lungs. Feel it coursing through your blood."
I let my lids drift shut and try to follow her instructions. The scented mist envelops us and infiltrates our senses. For a moment, I feel ridiculous---a modern man participating in some ancient ritual. But then something shifts.
It begins as a tingling at the base of my spine, spreading outward like ripples in a pond. The sensation climbs upward, vertebra by vertebra, until it reaches the nape of my neck and explodes into a thousand pinpricks of light behind my eyelids.
"What the hell?" I gasp, my eyes flying open.
Rachel's hands continue their steady rhythm on my shoulders. "That's it. Ye feel it now, aye? The old magic."
The steam around us seems to thicken, taking on shapes that dance at the edges of my vision. When I turn my head to follow them, they slip away like ghosts. But I can feel something stirring within me, a power I've never known before.
"I feel...different," I admit, my voice barely audible over the soft hiss of steam.
Rachel moves around to face me, water rippling around her waist as she straddles my lap in the wooden tub. Her blue eyes are luminous in the dim light, holding mine with a sensual intensity.
"The MacTaggart witches have used this chamber for centuries to awaken dormant powers," she explains, tracing the contours of my face with her fingertips. "Some call it da-shealladh ---the second sight. But it's more than just seeing visions, Joey. It's about connecting with the very essence of the Highlands."
I want to dismiss it as superstition, but the energy humming through my veins tells a different story. The sensation is alien to me, unlike anything I've experienced before. It's as if my body is a tuning fork that's been struck against the bedrock of Scotland itself.
"And this will help us against An Bodach ?" I ask. "It sounds too good to be true."
"But it is true, mo chridhe ." Her wet hair clings to her shoulders, but beads of the warm dampness drizzle down my chest.
"The Old Man is powerful, aye, but his power comes from darkness---from taking, not giving. Our magic flows from the land itself, from centuries of MacTaggart witches who've loved and protected these hills."
She rolls her hips slightly, adjusting her position, but the movement wakes up my dick.
"Jesus," I whisper as my hands find her waist beneath the water.
"The old ones believed that pleasure and power were two sides of the same coin," she explains, leaning closer until her lips brush against mine. "That in moments of ecstasy, our spirits are most open to the magic that surrounds us."
Her kiss deepens, and I feel myself responding with an intensity that startles me. The steam swirls around us like a living thing, caressing our skin, heightening every sensation. When we break apart, I'm breathing hard, and not just from the heat of the room.
"So, this is part of my training?" I ask. "Getting naked in a medieval hot tub with the most beautiful woman in Scotland?"
Rachel laughs, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Aye, though I'd call it a ritual rather than training. The joining of our bodies creates a channel for the power to flow between us."
Her fingers trace the contour of my collarbone, leaving behind remnants of heat that have nothing to do with the steam. My arousal grows by the second, and I feel a kind of lust that I've never known before, something deeper mere lust.
Rachel abruptly becomes serious. " An Bodach knows that together, we are a threat to him. That's why he's tried to separate us ever since the day you arrived."