To Conquer a Scot (A Time Traveler’s Highland Love) Page 9

  Abby bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at her own thoughts. She was in a bizarre position, so it was only fair that she enjoy herself.

  ...

  Aedan sat next to his oldest and closest friend Ben and broke a piece of bread apart. His time traveling houseguest sat next to Gwen and Mae from Clan Scott, her laughter continually pulling his attention toward her.

  “Stop looking at the lass. The other women will become jealous.”

  Aedan scoffed at Ben’s words, but did as his friend advised. After Ben’s arrival, he’d told him everything that had happened over the last few weeks. Ben was privy to Gwen’s abilities, but his hilarity over the current situation wasn’t helpful. “I was merely keeping watch to ensure she didn’t cause trouble or offend any of my clansman.”

  “Leave her be. It’s yer sister’s fault she’s here in the first place. You ought to be nice to her. She could be of help, knowing what’s already transpired in history and all.”

  Aedan frowned, having not thought of that possibility. His gaze, with a life of its own, sought her out again, and he wondered what she did know of the past. Of what was going to happen to his beloved Scotland over the next few hundred years. He wondered if she’d ever heard of Clan MacLeod and what had happened to his people and home.

  “Now look what you’ve done, the lass from Clan Grant has spotted yer marked attention to Mistress Abigail. I don’t know why you’re always needing to cause trouble.”

  Aedan laughed. “If any one of us causes trouble, ’tis you, not me.” He took a sip of wine, spooning more stew into his bowl. “Ach, there’s something about the lass that—” He paused, wondering if he should tell his friend how much the woman haunted his dreams. Worse was the fact he’d wake up, sweating and aching for her touch. Something told him with her life experiences, she’d be no lady when it came to sleeping with a man.

  Perfect for tupping.

  He shifted on his seat, his body hardening at the image the thought conjured in his mind. Damn it. He needed to find a wife, a suitable woman who’d do her duty, run the castle, and produce his children with little fuss. He needed to stop thinking about Abigail. He needed to stop wondering what the repercussions would be should he throw all his ideals—the determination to marry well, to a woman who could bring him more power—over the battlement’s walls. Blast it.

  “She seems nice enough to me. Why not look to her for yer wife, since you’re so adamant you require one.”

  Aedan ignored his friend’s mocking tone. “Aye, and ye need one as well, might I remind ye. Perhaps ye ought to look for a wife while yer here. It’s about time someone pulled ye into line to produce some lads of yer own.”

  “Aye. Mayhap I’ll seduce yer lovely Abigail, if yer not going to. Ye wouldn’t mind, would ye? She’s not planning to stay, ’twould fill in me time well having her warm my bed at night.”

  Every muscle in Aedan’s body hardened to stone. Just the thought of Ben and Abigail together caused a red haze to pass over his vision. He met his friend’s contemplative gaze and felt panic rise in his chest. Did he truly mean to seduce her? “Don’t touch the lass, Ben. We’ve been friends a long time, but she’s not for you. Do ye understand?”

  Ben smirked and then grinned. “Aye, we’re friends, and I see how ’tis between you two, even if ye don’t. Not yet, at least. I’ll not touch your lass, I promise, but if you’re interested in the girl, you need to tell her. Now, while she’s here, before she’s not.”

  “I’m not interested in her.” The words turned his gut for the lie they were. Deep down, even he realized that Abigail Cross was unlike any woman he’d ever known. Other than his sister, she was the first person he’d been honest with about his wishes for the future, his plans. She may have not agreed with how he’d set out to achieve those goals, but she was willing to help him, in any case.

  In fact, her strong will and independence attracted him the most. She didn’t cower around him, wasn’t scared to share her opinion. So why do I want a wife who is the exact opposite…

  He frowned, delving into his meal with zest, not wanting to debate why he’d think such a thing. He never used to. What he said and thought were always the same, but since Abigail’s arrival, everything had turned upside down.

  Again, the word “trouble” floated through his mind.

  “She’s a beautiful lass. She actually reminds me of someone, but I can’t think of who at the moment.”

  Aedan looked at Abigail and then to Ben. “She’s never been here before, you know that. Why would ye think she reminds ye of someone?” He paused. “Have ye been talking to Gwen?”

  Ben shrugged, taking a sip of mead. “I’d have to agree, but that’s not it. It’ll come to me, but like ye said, it matters little. We know she’s not native.”

  No, she wasn’t. She stood up from across the table and bid the ladies good night. Aedan rubbed his jaw, the stubble on his chin reminding him to see his servant about a shave. Perhaps he ought to seek out his man before it became too late and the instruments wouldn’t be brought up to his room in the morning. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  He stood and walked from the hall. Soft footfalls sounded ahead of him on the stairs, and he took them two at a time to catch up with Abigail. His eyes widened when he caught her pulling at the strings of her bodice before she’d even made her room.

  “What are ye doing, lass? ’Tis hardly a private location.”

  Abigail gasped and jumped against the wall, knocking her head. “Oww.” She rubbed her skull. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You scared me half to death.”

  Her bodice gapped, and the smooth, plump mounds at the top of her breasts were visible. He swallowed and shut his eyes, willing the vision to disappear from view, only to be bombarded with the reminder in his mind sight. He forced his eyes to reopen. “I apologize,” he said, meeting her gaze and holding his attention there and not lower on her person. “I wanted to catch my servant before it was too late. He’s old, I don’t use him at night normally.”

  She started up the stairs again. “Well, good night then.”

  Aedan fisted his hands. “Did ye find out anything interesting with the lasses today? Anyone appropriate that may be suited to be my bride?”

  She came down the stairs and stood on the one up from him, placing her at eye level. He wanted to clasp her hips, pull her against him, do a lot of things he shouldn’t want to do.

  “I did. I met Mae from Clan Scott today. She’s sweet, but unfortunately in love with someone else, so you’ll have to content yourself to being her friend only. Actually, her brother wants her to marry someone she’s not fond of, and we’ll need to discuss this at another time.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, the smell of jasmine wafting from Abigail’s skin. Hell, she smelled sweet. “Aye, well that’s a pity, but I didn’t much like her openness and straightforward manner.”

  “What do you mean?” She was frowning at him again, the action only making her more tempting.

  “Mae Scott is very opinionated. I doubt such a woman would raise the amorous feelings you’re so adamant I use when choosing a wife.” Aedan didn’t know why he was teasing the lass so. Did he want her to react to him, to chastise him, remind him he was among the living but letting life pass him by?

  He never used to be so dull. When he was a child he would’ve been in the thick of things, ready to do battle and protect his own. What a fool he’d been.

  Inheriting the land, being Laird MacLeod, was not a light burden to carry. He’d sworn on his father’s grave to bring order, rules, and peace throughout his lands. That he would never allow the threat of others to impact his clan’s people, if he could help it. A laird guarded with his trust, guarded with his heart and home, and never allowed anything to threaten that peace.

  And he’d lived by that decree to this day. Right up to the moment Abigail Cross had entered his life and brought nothing but chaos to his secure, regimented world.

  She placed her hands on
her hips, the action lifting her breasts closer to the top of her gaping gown. “That’s it, from now on, whatever stupid thoughts are flying about in that brain of yours must stop. How are you going to know if you have feelings for a woman if you don’t even talk to her, have fun, learn to be their friend and confidant? Never mind kissing the girl to see if you enjoy it.”

  “So now you want me to kiss all the women I think could be a suitable bride? I don’t want to be married to all of them.” Not that this would occur, if he was careful, but still, kissing a lass when one was a laird wasn’t as easy at Abigail seemed to think. Many clans would demand a handfasting ceremony without delay.

  “Do you even know how to kiss?” Her gaze flicked to his lips and his body tensed. “Have you ever kissed a woman? And I mean, really kissed her, as if she was the world to you?”

  “Don’t be daft, woman. Of course I’ve kissed a lass, but had I kissed her like that I would be married already.” He’d even enjoyed the action a time or two, especially with the kitchen wenches who were more than willing and wanted no promises in return.

  “And when you kiss, do you allow yourself to take pleasure in it? Do you let that stoic character of yours relax, and fall into the moment with abandonment?”

  He raised his brow. “Are you going to start spouting poetry next?”

  Her hands came up and lay on his shoulders. Her touch burned through his tunic, and he fought not to give in to his desire, the fire that blazed in his gut threatened to consume him.

  Her fingers glided into his hair, pulling him close. Her lips were a lean away, their breathing intertwined like the moon and stars in the night sky.

  “If I started reading poetry would you listen to me?”

  He clasped her hips, unable to keep his hands off her. She didn’t pull away, or start at his touch, if anything she came closer, teasing him with the notion of tasting her. Of kissing her.

  “Perhaps,” he said, losing the point of their conversation.

  “And if I kissed you, Aedan MacLeod, do you think you’d enjoy it? Or are you scared you’ll suffer from that terrible, scary notion called regard for the wrong woman for your perfect plans.”

  She was teasing him, making fun of his rules and regulations, but as her tongue came out and wet her pink, soft bottom lip, all he wanted was to devour her, damn if she didn’t care for it. “Shall we find out?”

  Their gazes locked, and he could see the excitement and determination in her golden brown eyes. Then their lips touched.

  The lightest melding of mouths, a brush, no harder than a flutter of a feather. He stood motionless for a moment, completely shocked to his core by what her miniscule touch did to him.

  A hunger he’d never known roared inside. A hunger that was no longer willing to be denied. He brought his hand up around her nape, the skin on the back of her neck soft and smooth, and pulled her mouth hard against his.

  He angled her head and deepened the kiss. She gasped, and he used the advantage to slide his tongue against hers. Desire exploded through his veins, hardening every ounce of his being. He kissed her long and deep, the feelings, the emotion her kiss ignited in him addictive and new.

  Aedan knew in that moment, when she kissed him back with as much force, with as much need and desperation, that he wanted her. Only her.

  They didn’t move, but kissed to the point of madness. Both of them clinging to each other, a mating of mouths, with small bites that were driving him insane.

  Where had she come from? Well, he knew where, but by God, how was he to survive her time here when after tonight everything would change? One kiss would never be enough. He wanted more. Much more.

  He tore away and stepped back, giving them space. She swayed and caught the small stone railing on the wall to steady herself. Her lips were wet, swollen, and red from his kiss.

  But he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think, for that matter. It was all about that kiss, and the woman in front of him who’d proven how much trouble she was going to be.

  “See, Aedan? When you give yourself up to the act, it can be quite fun. Nothing to it. I’m sure if you kiss the woman you find yourself wanting as your wife, just like you kissed me, you’ll be married in no time.”

  Her dismissal of what they’d shared irked, and he narrowed his eyes. “Aye, thank ye, Abigail. I’ll be sure to give ye a full account when I do.”

  “You do that,” she said, turning about and walking up the stairs and out of sight.

  Aedan leaned against the wall, the cold stone doing little to diminish the fire burning inside him. He wanted to follow her, tempt her into his bed so the need, the want of her, was sated.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he turned and walked back down the way he’d come, needing the company of his clan and old friends to distract him from seducing a woman who had no part in his future.

  Abigail Cross was not for him. Not in this life or the next.

  Chapter Ten

  The next day of the games began with congenial weather. The nights were still cold, dew sat on the trees and ground, the roofs of the cottages that dotted the lands looked wet, but the sun that rose in the east promised warmth, and clear Highland air.

  Abby sat on a wooden platform that gave the women and a few older clansmen a good view of the field and settled in to watch the day’s competition. Abby welcomed Gwen as she came to sit beside her, the woman’s excitement over the forthcoming event almost palpable.

  “Is Braxton competing today?” Abby asked, knowing already he was. In fact, he was going up against Aedan and his team of clansmen in a tug of war. Little lads she’d seen about the village were busy throwing buckets of water into a pit, while others sloshed about with their feet, making it as muddy and slippery as possible.

  “Yes. He’s competing with Clan Ross and Black Ben since they were short of men. Apparently, he has a plan that will beat my brother. Of course, I hope he does. I’d love to see Aedan fall in a puddle of mud.”

  It was obvious that Gwen adored her brother. Abby laughed, knowing she spoke in jest. “That’s not very sisterly of you. How could you think so cruelly of the man who, for all his perfectionist qualities, loves you dearly?”

  Gwen scrunched up her face in thought. “Seeing him fall in mud, getting dirty, which he hates by the way, does not make me love him less. But it won’t hurt to see him live a little, too. He’s so serious. He could use some fun in his life.”

  Abby couldn’t agree more, and yet, the thought of their kiss, how much fun they’d had the night before, bombarded her mind and she shifted on the seat, feeling a little warmth on her cheeks.

  Last night after she’d made her room, she’d done nothing but pace for a good hour. No matter how much tread she’d worn on the wooden floor, it didn’t change the roiling emotions he’d created within her.

  She watched him on the field, the men about him listening intently, some flapping their arms about in preparation for the tug-of-war to come. They were all so serious. Anyone would think they were about to go into battle.

  “Are they playing for anything of value today?”

  “Aye.” Gwen nodded toward the front of the platform where a man stood beside a wooden square box. “’Tis a bag of coin. The clans place an equal amount each into the winnings, which is distributed evenly between the events. If a clan were to win all bouts, they’d walk away with a wee fortune. ’Tis nothing to sneeze at.”

  “Well, no wonder they all look so serious.” The crowd started shouting as the men in the two teams took their positions on either side of the muddy hole. “So every clan will have a turn and eventually, the two strongest teams will compete for the prize money?”

  “Aye.”

  The tug-of-war started and shouting ensued, not only from the people sitting around her, but the two teams. Feet slipped, arms strained under the pressure, faces turned bright red as the men, all of similar weight, tried to pull one another over.

  Abby’s attention snapped to Aedan’s legs, his kilt doing nothing to
hide the strong, corded muscles that ran up their lengths. His arms flexed, tightened, and it was hard to imagine he’d held her against him with nothing but care and softness.

  The bout went on for some time; both teams feeling the strain, as they seemed well matched in strength. But a member of Clan Ross slipped onto his bottom near the front, making some of the men lose their footing. It wasn’t long before Aedan’s team used the men’s disadvantage and pulled them over the allotted line.

  Gwen swore as Braxton landed on his ass, his kilt covered in mud.

  “That’ll be a bastard to wash,” her friend said, making Abby laugh.

  “I should imagine so.”

  Aedan clapped his men on their backs, joining them in ribbing the following team that they’d be next to end in the mud pit. Abby laughed and found herself enjoying the day immensely. What wasn’t to like? She was in the Highlands, surrounded by good people, even if they weren’t of her time. Everything was crystal clear here, the air, the people’s morals, likes and dislikes.

  It was quite refreshing and not a little addictive.

  Aline ran up to Aedan, her enthusiasm over his team’s win seemed a little overdone, even for her. The young woman gushed, practically re-living the event, while smiling up at Aedan with obvious longing.

  Abby inwardly cursed the girl before putting a stop to such thoughts. Why shouldn’t Aline look at him like that? He was a good-looking man, certainly one who pulled many female gazes his way. He leaned down and said something in the woman’s ear, her face flushing a little, making her more attractive than she already was.

  Abby looked away and concentrated on the hills in the distance. She should be happy he was forming an attachment to another woman. She wasn’t staying to fill the position. As soon as she could, she’d be returning home, back to her own life.

  It may not be the most extravagant life, but it was hers, nonetheless. The thought of her tiny apartment in Salem, and the amount of friends she could count on one hand, made her a little sad when surrounded by people born centuries before, who seemed to have hundreds of people who cared, loved, and looked out for one another.