A tortured moan escaped Taggart as he buried his face in his arms. “The moment had passed. She asked me so many blasted questions about how I came to be. The magic of the kiss left us.” He had always had terrible timing with females of this world and those of Erastaed. Such complicated creatures, they were. Draecna had it easy. A Draecna mate never became an issue. Genetically matched at birth, nothing was left to chance. Unless, of course, they were unwiseenough to wander from tradition as his mother had done with his father.
“This is so verra sad,” Gearlach said. He blubbered like a new hatchling and propped his snout on the edge of the table.
With a jerk of his head in Gearlach’s direction, Septamus rolled his eyes. “Did you have to lift his silencing spell?”
“I couldna verra well leave him silent forever.” Taggart gave a defeated shrug. He might as well let Gearlach speak. After all, sweet Hannah was probably finished talking to him.
“I refuse to understand why not.” Septamus nudged the snoring Gearlach with his tail, shoving him farther down the bench.
“Well, ye better sober up because she is on her way down here and wants to see ye, Taggart.” Thaetus banged a wooden spoon on a copper pot as he burst into the room.
“Coming down here?” Taggart jumped up from his seat. Sheer panic exploded through the numbing effect of the grog. What in the goddess’s name could she be coming down here for? Why did she wish to see him?
“Gearlach! For Hades’ sake! Wake up you drunken oaf!” Septamus whacked the snoring Draecna with his tail and sent him tumbling in to the floor. Pottery rattled in the cupboards as weighty Gearlach crashed hard onto the marble tiles.
“All of ye, out. Out of here, now!” Taggart pounded on the table and pointed toward the rear kitchen door leading to the outer pantries.
“We are trying! This one is shamefully sotted and it is doubtful he’ll wake until late tomorrow afternoon. If then!” With a jerk of his head, Septamus hooked a claw around one of Gearlach’s horns and started dragging him toward the door. “Grab the lumbering ox’s tail, Thaetus. You can help me wedge his girth through that door.”
Taggart surged forward. “Here, move out of the way, Thaetus. Ye will throw out yer back again.” Edging past the wiry Scot that was currently straining so hard he had turned a shade of purple, he grabbed Gearlach’s meaty hind legs at the bend of his leathery knees. Gads, the beast weighed a bloody ton. Gearlach must’ve alreadypacked on his winter weight. “Now, Septamus, lift him now. Thaetus, get the feckin’ door.”
Thaetus scurried around the table in front of Septamus and swung the door open wide while they shoved the snoring Draecna across the tiles. Once the inert mass of Gearlach crossed the threshold, Taggart slammed the door, then smoothed his hair back from his face. As he wiped his sweaty chin against his shoulder, he cringed and wrinkled his nose. By the fires of all of Erastaed, he reeked of ale, and much worse. He would surely repulse the lass before she entered the room.
In a panic, he glanced around the ancient kitchen. The indoor spa built into the side of the room was his only hope. He couldn’t greet her smelling like a Highland goat. With a clap of his hands, he lit the fires beneath the stone spa entrenched along the wall. He ran to the door, pressed an ear to the wood, and listened for the sound of footsteps. Good. Only silence. For now. With any luck, he would finish bathing before she came down from her rooms. Now that the ale had worn off, he couldn’t even stand his own stench.
He checked the door again, then turned back to watch the waterline as it inched its way up the stone enclosure. The water needed to flow faster into the tub. He thanked the gods for the ancient spring flowing directly beneath Taroc Na Mor and the spa from one of the earliest Guardians. As the legend went, the woman complained of a constant chill even on the balmiest of Highland days. So, the Draecna built her the spa. Chiseled stone blocks mudded together created an inviting tub in what she deemed as the warmest room in the castle. She had ordered it built in one corner of the overly large kitchen. Heating pits surrounded the perimeter of the tub. Roaring fires kept the magical spring water inside the stone tank comfortably warm for as long as the fires burned. The complex system of ancient piping no longer functioned, but the original sluicing mechanism had been quite impressive indeed. Stripping off his clothes, he hesitated before stepping into the water. He had always heard the spring had strange powers. Unexplained energies from this side of the portal. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t time; he had to get clean.
After a deep breath, he eased down into the steaming hot water. He knew he didn’t have to light the fires to keep the water warm. He could always use his powers. But he had to admit, he liked the sound of the crackling flames.
“Taggart, are you in here?” Hannah shouldered open the door, her dinner tray in her hands.
Holy blazes. She had gotten down here quicker than he thought. He grabbed the sliver of soap wedged in a niche of the tub, submerged, scrubbed his armpits, then slid back above the surface of the water. “Aye, lass. I’m over here in my bath. Would ye mind handing me a fresh cake of soap and a rag?”
She stared at him; her knuckles whitening to reveal a tighter grip on her dinner tray. “There is a bathtub in the kitchen?”
As he slicked back his dripping hair, he leaned back into the recessed seat of the tub, forcing a nonchalant air. He gave a teasing wink and propped his feet on the edge of the tub. “’Tis a long story.” He scrubbed a bit more, then stretched farther back in the tub.
She slid the tray onto the marble countertop, muttering under breath as she searched the shelf above the sink for a bar of soap. “Is there anything about you thatisn’ta bit of a long story?” She bent to rummage through the cabinet.
He pulled in a deep breath and rubbed a wet hand across his face. Bloody hell. The woman had a fine, round bottom. His hands itched to cup its firmness. “Hannah.”
“What?” She came across the room but maintained a healthy distance from tub. She stretched and held out the soap and the small towel.
“Come closer.” Leaning over the side of the tub, he reached for her, ignoring the bar of soap she offered. He would not miss his chance this time. The woman wanted him. Yearning filled her eyes. Fiery passion danced in the darkness of their depths, and he smelled her need.
“I . . .” She paused, then licked her lips as her gaze raked across him. “I don’t want to get wet.”
With a wicked chuckle, he crooked a finger and summoned hercloser. “I can tell by the look in your eyes, lass, it’s a little too late for that.”
Color flared on her cheeks as his thinly veiled meaning hit her. “You know what I meant!”
He chuckled again and hooked his finger in the front of her jeans. With a gentle tug, he pulled her to him. He lowered his voice as he reached up and caressed the curve of her cheek. “Aye, Hannah. I know exactly what ye mean.” Their yearning blazed hotter than the fire pits heating the water. He refused to deny himself any longer, and the tenets could just be damned. “Come to me, Hannah. Let us end these games. I am weary. Lonely. And I need ye with a vengeance.”
“I see.” She wet her lips again, finding herself trapped in his gaze. He had said everything she needed to hear. Convinced her. His deep, rasping voice, paired with his battle-hardened flesh, filled her with fire. She retreated a step, peeled off her shirt, and shucked her jeans. All the while reminding herself to breathe. She tried to stop shaking and failed. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, drowning out all else. She had only been with one man before, and there had been none since. But heaven help her; she wanted Taggart. Ached to wrap her legs around him and ride. The clarity of the water revealed all his body promised. He was right. She was already wet.
And then he stood, pulled her into his arms and cradled her against his slippery, hard chest. The coolness of her flesh pressed against his steaming-hot skin stoked her need. He settled them into the hollowed-out corner of the tub. Without hesitation, she straddled him, rubbing against his long, hard shaft, but not yet brave enough to mount him. “It’s been a while,” she whispered. “I might be a little rusty.”
“I verra much doubt that.” He cupped both her breasts in his calloused hands, teasing her nipples into aching, hard pearls. He swallowed her moans with a claiming kiss. She shuddered, clenching him tighter with her thighs. A glorious ache thrummed through her body, threatening an imminent, mind-reeling explosion. How could he make her climax so quickly? They hadn’t even consummated the moment. She ground her hips, mimicking the motion she neededwhile locking her legs around him. Merciful heavens; she needed more, and she needed itnow.
