Part 2 (2/2)
He upended his palms in a gesture of helplessness. ”I can not. Only you can send yourself back.”
”No. That's not true. 'Cause I'd be home right now if I could. And I tried to go through the picture earlier.”
”No, la.s.s, 'tis yourself that has brought you here. You wanted to be here so much you were willing to come as bare as a bairn. And once you have taken care of what you came here for, you'll return.”
Darach stood, arrogant, commanding, smug. ”So the la.s.s wanted a tumble with me that bad, did she?”
”Actually,your need forher was so strong that she felt it coming through.”
”Now I know you are daft, man. I don't need her.” He eyed her stretched out on his bed, clad in his plaid. ”Now, there is no denying I want her. I'm willing to tumble a comely la.s.s, but I don't need her. There is any number of la.s.ses willing to warm my bed.”
”You are the most arrogant, pig-headed, macho, bl.u.s.tering bag of hot air. Whatever faint glimmer of attraction I felt at one point for a man in a picture has totally dissipated having experienced your lack of charm first-hand.”
Darach's mouth tightened. ”Aye. And I can do without a viper-tongued wench.”
”Wench?Wench? La.s.s is one thing, but did you just call me a wench? I'll have you know I'm a doctor. No one calls me a wench. I pa.s.sed my boards with flying colors. I could take you apart and put you back together with my eyes closed.”
”That may all be well and true, Katie-love, but while you are here, I'm the laird.”
Hamish let himself out of the room. For the time being, his work was done.
”NOW,DO YOU THINK you can untie me?” Kate said. ”I can prove to you I'm from the twenty-first century.”
As fantastical concept as it was, she was convinced she'd somehow time traveled. The old guy who now looked young and satellite absence had made a believer of her. However, she thought that business about her wanting to be here was a load of horse manure. In no way, shape, form or fas.h.i.+on did shewant to be here.
Maybe that conductor guy had smoked some crack. Did they have crack in 1744? She knew virtually nothing about historic mind-altering drugs. For that matter, she knew precious little about historic anything. It wasn't her deal.
”I will unbind you if I have your word you'll remain in this room, otherwise, for your own good, I'll keep you bound to my bed.” He stood at the end of the bed, strong legs braced apart, thick arms crossed over his ma.s.sive chest.
He wasn't bl.u.s.tering. He was giving her a choice. She didn't doubt for a moment he could and would keep her tied to the bed if she didn't cooperate. In fact, she could scream herself silly and it wouldn't matter. He was in charge and no one would cross him. She didn't have to know jack about history to know that. She recognized absolute power and in this world, DarachMacTavish was literally a law unto himself.
”I promise. I'll stay in this room.”
He moved with a grace uncommon to a man of his size and knelt on the bed. Sensation fluttered low in her belly. His scent, the same that had drawn her over and over again for the past several weeks, was even more potent and alluring up close and personal. Dark hair was sprinkled tantalizingly along his legs and forearms, and she knew for a certain, blood-stirring fact that he was naked beneath his kilt. Muscles corded in his arms as he worked loose the knot binding her left hand. His hair swung forward, a dark curtain drawn on the harsh line of his nose, the bold line of his jaw, and the sensuous curve of his lips.
His fingers pressed against her wrist and palm as he worked at the knot in the material. She touched people all day, checking pulses, feeling for abnormalities, but this...this was different altogether. Her pulse leapt and tingles spread through her.
Kate flushed at his touch and the heat it evoked. She should look away-study the ceiling and mentally review the last cases she'd seen at work. But she couldn't look away, couldn't redirect her attention because that incredible surge of heat and l.u.s.t and want drew her to him. It was a yearning born from deep within that surpa.s.sed attraction and even will. She didn't want to feel drawn to him. She didn't want to ache for more of his touch.
The fabric gave way, releasing her wrist...until he recaptured it in his hands. He stroked her pulse point, performing a sensual ma.s.sage with his thumb. ”I hope it didna hurt you.” The low timbre of his voice thrummed through her. He looked at her and there was no denying the heat smoldering in his gaze. Without looking away, he slowly brought her wrist to his mouth until his warm breath whispered against her flesh.
Her heart thundered in her chest. She ought to s.n.a.t.c.h her hand away but, G.o.d help her, she wanted to know the feel of that exquisitely sensual mouth against her skin. Wanted to know if the inherent promise in those well-shaped lips was real or merely fantasy's fodder.
He pressed a kiss to her wrist and sweet heat poured through her. He nuzzled and suckled the flesh as if he were savoring a delicate treat. Instinctively she curled her fingers against his cheek. He lifted his head. ”You would think me naught but a brutish Highlander were I tae bruise you.”
She reclaimed her hand and wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ”I'm fine. If you would just untie my other hand now.”
”As you wish, Katie-love.” She fully expected him to walk around to the other side of the bed. Instead, DarachMacTavish , with a wicked smile, climbed atop and straddled her. Powerful thighs braced on either side of her, he leaned forward and worked at the other knot.
What she'd felt outside that portrait now increased exponentially. She was wantonly, wickedly aware that except for two soft bits of cloth, she and this magnificent male specimen were naked. The heavy length of him pressed against her hip as he leaned over her. Stretched above her at the angle he was, the scar she'd daydreamed about earlier was slightly visible.
She reached up and traced her finger down the puckered line marring his back. His skin was warm and supple on either side of the scar's hard ridge. Did she imagine the small shudder that ran through him?
”That must have hurt.”
He straightened and despite his arrogant grin, his eyes held the same hard glint they had when she'd made her stupid Queen of England quip. ”'Twas just a scratch. I found the wrong end of a sword.”
”How were you st.i.tched up?” Her training left her curious. She was certain it wasn't a couple of shots of Lidocaine to numb it and thenvicryl andethilon sutures to close it up.
”We were a night's ride fromGlenagan . My father poured a measure of whiskey in it and then sewed it back together with horsehair.”
Whiskey in an open wound of that size must have been excruciating. ”And you rode the next day?”
He shrugged. ”We had a pressing need to get back.Sima applied a poultice when I returned and it was nary a problem. I was but a lad and healed quickly.”
He'd released her other wrist, absently rubbing her flesh. Kate needed to get herself out of this situation-both the immediate situation of being flat on her back withBraveheart sending her into a hormonal meltdown and the situation of having lost a century or two. And that meant focusing on something other than this man's powerful thighs braced on either side of her legs, the shattering slide of his fingers against her skin, his scent, the fact that she was in his bed.
She swallowed and tried to project the decisive, I'm-in-charge voice that worked so well in the ER. ”I'd like to get up now that you've untied me.”
He s.h.i.+fted off of her without saying anything but his arrogant smile spoke volumes, telling her he knew exactly how he affected her.
She stood and double-checked the knot holding her makes.h.i.+ft toga-kilt in place. ”The sooner we can figure out how to get me back to where I belong and out of your hair, the better.”
KATIEWEXFORD CROSSEDto stand before the waning fire and dug in her satchel. To be certain, it'd be much simpler if she weren't here, but he didn't want her gone. Yet. He'd thought to taunt her when he'd straddled her but he'd been effectively hoisted by his own petard. Her skin had felt like the finest wool beneath his fingertips. Her skin had tasted like a draught of the smoothest whiskey that lit a fire in his belly and left him wanting more.
Even if she was touched. And Hamish seemed to have caught her madness. But 'twas a fact that the daft were touched by G.o.d and it was his job to protect both Kate and Hamish, now more than ever. Best to humor them both until he could decide on a plan of action.
But 'twas also obvious Kate and Hamish were not strangers. Were it any other man, he'd have them both under guard. But more than once Hamish had proven himself loyal and trustworthy. Twice he'd covered Darach's back in a skirmish when a dagger finding its home would have made Hamish laird since Darach had no offspring. Nay, perhaps both Kate and Hamish suffered from a fever that had affected their reasoning.
He followed her and tossed more peat onto the fire. The flickering light danced across her naked shoulders and the length of her neck bared by her shorn hair. Her scent, clean and fresh, like the moor on a sunny day, stirred his senses. Mayhap he was in danger of catching the same fever to be affected this way by a daft la.s.s.
Footsteps pounded up the stone stairs and Hamish burst into the room carrying a young lad of no more than five. The lad, son ofAnice and Grahame, lay still, his eyes closed, his face blue, water dripping from his hair and body. Hamish's chest heaved and he spoke between great gulps of air. ”I found...the lad...in the burn. Ye'll have to tell his parents.Anice will near grieve herself to death.”
”Give me the boy,” the woman said, freeing the knot and yanking off theMacTavish plaid as she spoke, leaving herself naked once again.
The woman was truly mad.
”For G.o.d's sake, I'm a doctor. This is what I do. Give him to me. I think I can save him.”
Without waiting and without regard for her naked state, she wrapped the plaid about the child and placed him on the floor. Without pause, she bent and blew a breath into his mouth. Again she repeated the action. The third time around, the lad retched water and blinked his eyes open.
By all that was holy...the lad had been dead and now he was alive. ”What kind of magic are you?”
The woman looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and disgust. ”It's not magic. It's medicine. I told you, I'm a doctor and that's called resuscitation.” She smoothed a hand over the child's brow. ”He'll be fine.” She stood and looked at Hamish. ”Get him into dry clothes and let him sleep a while.”
Hamish left with the lad and Darach dug out yet another plaid for Katie. He studied her anew as she once again wrapped herself in the red and blueMacTavish colors.
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