CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #3
He looked at her, having heard the very sultry note in her tone, his cock so stiff now it truly hurt him. “Very much,” he said softly, answering her smile with one of his own. And it felt good to smile after the anguish of the past weeks.
She sent more warmth into his shoulder, and he was aware of her blood pounding with stunning force inside her small, beautiful body.
He allowed himself the pure enjoyment of being attended by her, of having her purity heal him, and of sexual anticipation.
It must happen sooner rather than later.
He needed her—and he was not a patient man.
In fact, he wasn’t sure he had ever been so hot.
She began working on his flayed arm. He looked at his shoulder and saw only the bloody leine, in scraps there. He pulled at the linen and saw his flesh knitted together, the scar vivid and red. The skin on his arm was pink and new.
She had dropped her hands. “I had better go,” she said thickly. “It’s forbidden to change the past.”
He caught her and reeled her in. “How can ye go when yer body is hot an’ wet, achin’ fer mine?”
She inhaled. “This is so hard. But what I feel for you now is half of what I feel for you in the fifteenth century. Ruari, you need me in that time. I won’t let Moffat murder you! And…you don’t love me yet.”
He stared, perplexed, his gaze searching hers. “Ye have said twice that I love ye in yer time. I ken ye believe it. Did I say so? Because this day I have decided to never allow myself affection again.”
She was dismayed. “I am getting the feeling that the past won’t change—and you are going to beat yourself up with guilt for the next eight hundred years, no matter what!”
He tensed, displeased. Did she read his mind?
How else would she know he was consumed with guilt?
“I’m tired o’ talk,” he warned. “An’ I willna wait eight hundred years to take ye to my bed.
I want one night. Surely ye can give that to me?
” And he let his new power of enchantment free, seducing her with his eyes and his will.
He felt an urgency arise in her. He smiled, leaning close, stroking her back, her hip. “Can ye really resist me? I want to pleasure ye till ye beg me to stop.”
She inhaled and he felt how close to capitulation she was.
“I don’t know what would happen if we slept together.
I’m afraid it would change everything that’s happened in the fifteenth century—and I might not want to leave you, Ruari.
” She clasped her temples, pulling away.
“Right now, you don’t love me and you don’t need me—you want a night of fun.
I have to go back. We belong together in the fifteenth century.
You have no idea what we’ve been through in a few days!
And you are in danger, not as you stand here before me, but as your eight-hundred-year-old self! ”
He sobered. He had never imagined being cared about and loved this way.
What kind of man would he become in the next eight hundred years, to earn such a woman?
A terrible internal battle began. Could he wait so long to seduce her to his will and take her to bed?
Was she speaking the truth? Did he need her in the future?
Because she was right—he wanted her insanely, but he did not need her.
He thought about his vows. The day he’d made them, they had become his life. He was only just studying the Code, and it was long and complex, but one rule was clear. Changing the past or the future was forbidden. And in the future, he was being hunted by Moffat with this woman at his side.
He must not detain her. “Do ye love me even now, when we’re strangers?”
She smiled. “Yes, I do.”
His heart leapt with an excitement he could not recognize. Oddly he wanted this woman’s love and loyalty. “An’ ye’ll go to me now, in the future?” he asked. He had to make certain.
She nodded and touched his cheek. Her hand lingered; she did not speak.
She was so beautiful, her light so bright, a beacon of hope and joy. His manhood raged, hardly heeding his will. But he had no time for joy and she had her duty to his future self. “I’ll let ye go, Ailios, but with terms.”
She started, smiling. “With terms?”
“I want ye in my bed more than ye ken, but I’ll settle for a kiss.”
She went still. “Yes,” she breathed.
And it was the one word he needed. He crushed her in his arms, hard, and opened her mouth with his lips.
Instantly his head swam with desire, passion and lust, but the joy tried to rise up, too.
She was an angel of light and hope. He plied her mouth and used his tongue there, while rubbing her mound with his shaft, so she would be sure to know what she missed.
She kissed him back and in unison, their pulses soared.
He wasn’t sure who pulled away first.
Panting, he stared. He was senseless. He had never wanted any woman this way. And that was the best reason to send her back to her time.
“Don’t worry. I’m your destiny.”
He remained too stunned—and too inflamed—to speak.
She smiled at him, then turned and walked outside.
He went to the window to watch her. And his eyes widened.
A man was coming down the ridge. It was himself, but hardened by centuries of war.
Ailios cried out and began running to him.