“Perhaps so.” Trust and love shone in his dark eyes. She prayed both would always remain. Life and love seemed hard enough back in the future, with every known convenience. How could a relationship survive here? “Can we stay here a while?” She wasn’t ready to go back to the keep and face all the questions. All the looks that would pick her apart. She needed to stoke her determination to face them eventually, but not yet.
“We can stay here as long as ye wish, m’lady.” He settled them back against the tree root that curled around them. “However,” he murmured as he bent his head and nibbled at the tender flesh behind her earlobe. “If we tarry here past sundown, we shall have to fetch Fenn and bring him here. Either that or walk back to the keep whenever we’re ready. He willna stay into the night unless he’s within sight of us. That’s how Dugan found us at the waterfall. Fenn returned to the keep, then led Dugan back to me.” The stubble of his beard tickled more than it scratched, sending shivers through her.
“Fenn,” she repeated, finding it difficult to concentrate and sort out everything he had said. His mouth on her throat shifted to her collarbone, making it impossible to think. She must have failed at lacing the front of her kirtle properly since he had already slipped both the dress and her shift partway off her shoulder. “What was that you said about Fenn?”
His rumbling laughter vibrated against her. “It nay matters. All that matters is the two of us. Here. Now.”
She agreed wholeheartedly, closing her eyes and arching into his touch as the gentle breeze kissed the part of her revealed by skirts shoved up to her waist. This era’s disbelief in undergarments simplified things. She agreed with that, too.
Passion overpowered any semblance of patience as she tugged on the front flap of his trews that insisted on remaining securely buttoned. Kilts would be so much easier. When the devil did kilts come to the Highlands? Apparently, not in 1296. “You have me at a disadvantage,” she informed him with another frustrated yank.
He laughed again as he took her hand and guided her. “Like so.” The barrier of the flap fell away, revealing the treasure she sought. With an impatient push, she rolled him to his back and mounted in a single satisfying move.
“Yes. This.” Flashes of all they had shared last night returned, then dimmed, outshone by the moment at hand. When it came to this, the century didn’t matter, nor who might be from which year. She rode hard and fast, neither able nor inclined to pace herself in returning to the blissful release found with Quinn.
He bucked beneath her, lifting her up as he roared her name and shuddered.
She raked her nails down his chest, clutching, crying out as wave after wave of the most delicious sensations washed across her. Once the delightfulness ebbed, she collapsed atop his chest, content to melt into him ’til the end of time itself. Yes. She loved this man. Heaven help them both.
He tightened his arms around her. “A perfect way to start anew.”
“I agree.” She nestled in closer and kissed his throat, licking her lips to revel in the salty sweetness of his skin. Without realizing it, she pulled in a deep breath and released a heavy sigh.
Quinn tensed beneath her, every fiber of his muscular body hardened. “What is it, m’love? Pray tell me yer fears. I would have no other misunderstandings between us.”
“I dread going back to the keep,” she confessed, voicing her worries. “I’ve never survived rumor mills well. I always come out on the bottom.”
“A keep always swarms with rumors.” He slowly rubbed her back, his rhythmic caress lulling her into a warm, fuzzy daze. “When ye shelter so many inside the walls, ’tis impossible to stop it.” He kissed the top of her head. “But remember, ye are the lady of the castle. Ye answer to no one.”
“Not even you?” she teased.
“Most especially not even me.”
“You impress me.”
“How so, m’love?” He paired the rubbing of her back with an occasional squeezing of her rump.
“I would have thought your clan a strong patriarchal society.”
His palming of her rear paused. “A what?”
“A patriarchal society. Male-dominated. Men, especially yourself as chieftain, make all the decisions. A woman’s opinion counts for naught.” She countered his gentle cupping of her buttocks with an idle twisting of his chest hairs. “A poor society, but the norm in this time just the same.”
He shifted beneath her with a sigh as heavy as hers, then caught hold of her hand and stilled her twirling of his chest hairs. “Aye, ye described Clan MacTaggart aptly. Not the poorly part, but the part regarding a man’s place versus a woman’s.” He kissed her fingers then nudged a kiss to her forehead. “But that was before.”
“Before?”
“Before I loved ye.” With his cheek resting against her forehead, he slid his hand to her waist and pulled her closer as if to place proper emphasis on his explanation. “I was a pompous arse before I met ye. Considered myself the only man fit to lead my clan. Fit to decide the fate of my people. I listened to no one—even when I should have.”
“Considered yourself a legend, did you?”
He chuckled. “Perhaps—but that was before yer wisdom, yer kindness, all that makes ye such a rare woman came into my life and opened my eyes. I would be a damned fool not to consider yer counsel as important as my own.”
Humbled and amazed, she propped herself up on an elbow and stared down at him. “Truly?”
“Truly.” Not a hint of guile came from him.
“I’m not too sure if I don’t find that frightening.” She climbed off him and shook down her skirts, needing to think, needing to pee, and needing a drink of water. None of which could she do while lolling about in his arms. “I know little about this century.”
