Ciara’s eyes sparkled in the sun as it dappled down through the pines of the steep hillside around them. Her breath fogged in the frosty air as her gaze danced over the rugged landscape ahead. It was clear the woman was thrilled with their trek through the Highlands. She reveled in being outside.
Faolan frowned as he noticed Alec’s long pink tail peeping out from under the scarf. The mouse nestled against the curve of Ciara’s throat to escape the nearly freezing temperatures. Faolan snorted to himself. He had forgotten about Alec last night with the onset of Ciara’s seductive attack. But Faolan hadn’t forgotten Ciara’s introduction regarding Alec and his ability to assume the shape of different animals. This wasn’t over. Faolan would find out the truth about both Alec and Ciara, no matter how tempting the distractions.
She’d never given him an answer last night regarding who or what she was. He was now certain she wasn’t Dierdra Sinclair. But if she wasn’t Dierdra Sinclair, then who or what was she? And why had Gordon Sinclair paid such a high bride price for the MacKays to take her off the Sinclair clan’s hands?
Faolan inhaled a rib-cracking breath and swallowed hard. The damn woman festered under his skin. He’d never had this problem before and it wasn’t just her body, it was everything about her. Faolan adjusted himself beneath his kilt, as unbidden memories of last night’s pleasures demanded his complete attention. Never in his life had he been with such a woman, one who would wage such glorious battle with him in the bed. She’d been so different from the first time they’d been together when he’d presumed to have claimed her maidenhead.
With a derisive snort, Faolan felt certain Ciara had feigned that meek love-play as well. There was no possible way a woman new to the sport of love could become so aggressive and demanding after just one night. Ciara was a warrior when it came to claiming her pleasures. One who didn’t consider the possibility of defeat.
As he shifted in the saddle, Faolan urged his horse to a faster trot. He took great gulps of the brisk morning air in a vain attempt to cool his blood. What the hell was he going to do with this woman? He’d be damned if he’d go back on his word again. He’d already slipped back into the ways of mysticism. The sword meditation and spiritual travels to other realities were the only relief he’d been able to find from her constant presence in his thoughts. He’d be damned if he broke his second oath and allowed himself to become enamored with this woman who’d somehow landed into his life.
As Faolan took the lead, Ciara coaxed her mount to a faster trot as well. Once more, she brought her horse to an obedient canter even with her husband’s sullen side. He wasn’t going to escape her as easy as that; they were in her territory now.
The rugged beauty of the Highland wilderness strengthened and renewed Ciara’s spirit. Lush green trees, dusky blue mountains, all encircling playful crystal springs gurgling through the nearby open gorges. Ciara connected with the energy of Scotland. Its magic fed her very essence.
The dirt road upon which they traveled wound its way through the jagged hillside. The crunch of the horse’s hooves in the frosty dirt echoed all around them. Ciara loved being out in the open. She inhaled the wintry air in greedy swallows as though she feared it was in short supply. While wreaking vengeance in the world of the over-crowded future, she’d become tense and overly despairing. Her being had become poisoned by being cut off from the land. She had missed her beloved, mysterious Alba and the magic that flowed through its soil.
With a glance over at Faolan, her hands tightened on the reins. She pursed her lips and studied her husband’s brooding scowl. The possibility of spending eight years with this mortal became more appealing by the day.
Damn, the man knew how to pleasure a woman. He was by far the most exhilarating mortal she had ever had. The others had been enjoyable. However, pleasure with them had been much like craving a certain food. Once you satisfied the craving, you no longer desired the much sought after treat. But Faolan had turned out to be quite different indeed. He whetted her appetite for more.
Ciara frowned a bit at this disturbing insight. She stole another glance at her husband’s stormy face while he stared down the road ahead. She tried explaining away this uneasy realization by deciding it was the fact he remained a challenge. A sigh escaped her. This seduction had proven a lot more difficult than she had thought it was going to be.
Since he wasn’t a man prone to an easy tumble, perhaps she should target his heart. If she could figure out a way to win his affection, conceiving his child could prove easier. If he would simply stop being such an ass and fall in love with her, things would go so much simpler. Perhaps then, she wouldn’t have to keep stalking him to bring him to her bed.
And therein lay the root of the problem. Faolan was no fool. She knew he was onto her thinly veiled pretense of posing as Gordon Sinclair’s daughter. He hadn’t figured out who or what she was but she was certain he would never let down his defenses until he found a way to explain her existence. She was going to have to find a way to ease his mind or she’d have to keep trapping him into her bed.
As she eased her horse closer, Ciara took the lead and forced Faolan to look her way. “Since it appears we have a few hours of riding before we reach the next village, I think we should get to know one another better. Why don’t you tell me your history, Faolan MacKay? Tell me a bit about your past.”
His stony glare fixed on the road ahead, Faolan guided his horse in sullen silence as though he hadn’t heard her. His plaid hung loose about his shoulders. Against the dropping temperatures, he had also donned a thick, furred vest, making him resemble a large, sulking bear. The dark stubble of his beard made his face seem even fiercer as his black hair whipped loose in the wind. His eyes narrowed against the bite of the winter air, their color a mirror of the muted blue of the mountains in the distance.
A shiver tickled up Ciara’s spine as Faolan’s calculating gaze shifted to her with a narrowing of his eyes.
“I would prefer to learn more about my wife and her past. I think ’tis time ye answered my questions, Ciara.”
He had called her Ciara. Well, that was a start. It was the first time he hadn’t used his usual detached formal way of addressing her asLady Ciaraorwife. With a slight bow of her head, she encouraged him. She could play a little game of cat-and-mouse. After all, she had centuries of experience. “Fair enough, husband. Ask away. I shall play your game of twenty questions.”
Ciara thought he would never speak; Faolan stared straight ahead as though he’d forgotten they conversed. Finally, he sidled a glance her way; thunder rumbled in the distance as he spoke. “Ye have a strange way of speaking, wife, such as what ye just said about some sort of game of twenty questions? Ye dinna have the lilt or brogue of a Scot. Your speech isna accented by any region I have ever traveled. Where are ye from and better yet, how did ye come to be here and call yourself a Sinclair?”
Ciara worried the leather reins between her thumbs. Well, she hadn’t really expected one regarding her lack of accent. The man was no fool. However, she had to admit it was a legitimate question. Now how was she going to answer it? She’d traveled through so many worlds and through so many times, she’d lost any particular accent long ago. “I guess you could say I was born in this area but I’ve traveled quite a bit throughout my life. I’ve never stayed in one place long enough for any particular dialect to take hold. My unusual sayings also come from my travels. I must’ve picked them up from the people I was around. And as for how did I come to call myself a Sinclair? I guess you could say the Sinclair clan more or less adopted me. Even though I’m not related to the Sinclairs, I am very close to The Sinclair’s daughter.”
An uneasiness roiled in the pit of her stomach at sharing so much information. She stole a glance over at Faolan; his stormy features told her he was reasoning through all she’d said. Her mouth became drier as she realized by admitting she wasn’t Dierdra Sinclair, Faolan could have their marriage annulled. The rhythm of her little elusive dance had just geared up from a waltz into a Highland fling.
Faolan avoided her gaze and stared over the top of his horse’s head. “Ye say ye were adopted by the Sinclair clan, but ye’re no’ the chieftain’s daughter. Then why would he be so willing to pay such a bride price in order to marry ye off?”
Okay. Very good question, Laird MacKay.How was she going to explain that one? Fidgeting in the saddle, Ciara loosened her scarf. All these questions made her warm. Where were Cerridwen and Brid when she needed them for a little ad-lib here and there? Highlanders and their pride.That’s it!You could always tie everything back to a Highlander and his pride.
“Gordon Sinclair needed an alliance with the powerful MacKays. The Sinclair clan has grown steadily weaker over the years. He felt sure once you met Dierdra and saw her delicate condition, you would refuse to marry her and ally with his clan. But he was a proud man and couldn’t bear to tell you the truth about his daughter’s condition.”
Ciara bit back a smile as Faolan relaxed in the saddle and turned to her with a slow nod of his head. “So, the rumors are true. Dierdra Sinclair is truly one of the touched?”
Ciara peered a bit closer at him; the sneaky beast was plotting something. She could see the color of his aura shimmer and change. She was no fool. She knew this meant his mood shifted in another direction. Faolan’s mind was a whir with some sort of plot regarding her fate. What he planned for her destiny she couldn’t tell. Since he had already sensed some of her powers, she feared to join with his mind. She hoped whatever he thought would somehow align with her plans.
Tucking her chin, she filled her voice with compassion and pulled her scarf tighter about her chest. “Yes. Dierdra Sinclair is blessed as one of the touched. She doesn’t see things as other people do.”
Faolan pulled his horse to a stop in the middle of the road and turned in his saddle to face her. “Then ye are not my wife. My contract was to wed Dierdra Sinclair, not some woman named Ciara.”
Ciara feared Faolan would come to that conclusion, but she had a very strong alternate attack ready. Since seduction didn’t seem to hold his attention, maybe an insult to his pride would smack him right between the eyes. “Your statement is true. We both know you agreed to wed Dierdra Sinclair so your advisors would stop nagging you to take a wife. Apparently, you also did this to bow to your own cowardice, since you are afraid to find yourself in a marriage with a real woman.”
