A Highlander's Obsession (Highlander's Beloved) (22 page)

His other hand cupped her bottom and pulled her against his erection.

She ground against him, compelled by the sheer size and hardness of his desire, and relished both the pleasure and the sweet pain of being so close to a climax—and yet so far.

When she trembled with need for him, he pulled back and covered her face with gentle kisses. “From the moment I set eyes on ye, I’ve tried to come to grips with loving ye.”

“You … you don’t mean that.”

“Look in me eyes and see the truth of me words. There’s nothing ye can say to me that would change how I feel.” He kissed her jaw and his teeth grazed the column of her throat. “Nothing.”

Tears tumbled from her eyes. If he laughed at her, she’d have to deal with it. Maybe it was time to be more open about what she could do. “I … I can communicate with animals.” She swallowed and gauged his reaction. There was none. “Did you understand what I said? I can hear animals speak. We can communicate in a kind of telepathic way.”

“ ’Tis a gift and a curse ye’ve been given, then. Many people have scorned ye, have they not?” He kissed her forehead. “Never me. Nay, never me.”

Déjà vu swept over her. “I’ve heard you say those very words before. When?” That annoying headache she’d had off and on all day returned. She touched her fingertips to her temple. “Why do I feel like I’ve forgotten things?”

He cupped her face in his large hands. “Now ’tis time fer me to share secrets with ye and confess.” His dark, thick eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I only hope what I’ve done willna upset ye. I did it fer yer own good, fer yer peace of mind. I did it out of love.”

Cold dread seized her heart. What was he talking about? He’d shown no reaction whatsoever to her confession, almost as if he already knew. She shivered in her down coat.

“Are ye cold? We can go back if ye like.” He squinted as some gnats flew around his
face.

“No. I’m not moving from this spot until you tell me what it is you have to say.”

The gnats circled Creighton’s neck and he waved them away with his hand. “Ye are not the only one with a gift or an unusual heritage. I have many. Mine are scarier than yours. I hope you’ll be able to—” Larger bugs joined the gnats swirling around his head. He took her elbow. “Let’s move away from this spot. I’ll have to tell Bryce to spray this area to get rid of all these feckin’ insects.” He slapped his neck. “Is it my imagination or are they only coming after me?”

Paisley fought the urge to laugh. Not a single gnat buzzed around her. “Maybe it’s that fruity cologne you put on when you changed into your kilt. I didn’t smell it on you earlier.”

A scowl marred his handsome face and his eyes widened. “Una and her fukin’ love potion. Bloody hell! Never trust a one-toothed witch.”

They walked closer to the moat while questions played leapfrog in her mind. Love potions? Witches? Scary secrets? She stilled and moved in front of him. “What secrets do you have? You act as if mine is no big deal. Why is that? Do you really believe in witches?”

“Aye. Ghosts, witches, animal communicators. I believe in all of them.” He slapped his neck again. “Now, love potions, I’m not so sure I believe in their worth. I think maybe Una got her recipe wrong.” He jumped back and batted at his crotch. “Sweet Jesus, they’re eating the hair off me fukin’ balls. Meet me in me office in fifteen minutes. I need a shower to get this stuff off me.” He jogged toward the lodge, the bugs and gnats swirling around him. At one point, he yelped.

Pew! That human has an odor problem
.

Paisley pivoted in the direction of the voice.

A deer with a wide rack stood regally at the edge of the woods. Head high, he slowly ambled toward her.
You’re her. The gifted one all the animals have been talking about
.

Yes. I’m her. Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you
.

The deer stopped three feet from her and dipped his head once, almost in silent tribute.
So I’m told
. He swung his head toward the lodge.
He told me about you early this morning when his bear was out for his run. It wasn’t the first time he’s mentioned you, either
.

What are you talking about? Who is he? Who has a bear?

Not who has a bear. Nearly every human here is a bear, two beings in one body. I’m talking about the leader, the head of the bear sleuth who was just with you. Why did he smell so
sweet?

What in the hell was the animal talking about? Creighton was both man and bear?
He mentioned a love potion
.

Ah, Una has been brewing ancient recipes again
. The deer nodded.
That explains it
.

A white owl circled overhead three times before landing on the deer’s back. His beady eyes, first black and then changing to an orangey hue, bore into hers.
The entire kingdom at Mathe Bay is glad ye’ve finally come. They sent us to welcome ye
. The owl’s head swiveled so it could keep its eyes on Paisley as the deer turned and trotted into the brush, where it was quickly camouflaged by bare branches and pines.
I kept ye safe in the storm on yer arrival. I am yer protector, just as I am the bears’
. Wings flapped and the owl hooted from a nearby tree.
We’ve welcomed her. We’ve welcomed her
.

A shiver shuttered through Paisley’s system. “So much for a relaxing stroll before dinner. Wait ’til I tell Gram about this. We’ve landed smack dab in the middle of the Scottish
Twilight Zone
.”

Creighton tugged on a pair of black boxers and winced when the knit fabric met and chafed Big Barney and the twins. He’d scrubbed them nearly raw in the shower. Someone knocked at his door. “Yeah.” He was in too foul a mood to disguise his annoyance.

“Don’t ye bark at yer mum like that. I’ve only come to deliver a message. Una just called. She said she forgot to tell ye not to wear the potion if ye were going outside. What potion did ye get from her? Are ye feeling poorly, son?”

He stretched the boxer’s band of elastic away from his body, holding a fistful of ointment in his other hand. “No, mum, I’m fine.”
Me cock and balls are effing bit to hell, but I’m fine
.

“Okay, then. Dinner in forty minutes. Ye know how I dislike people coming tardy to me table.”

He rolled his eyes. As if he hadn’t been raised with his mum’s insistence on schedules all of his life. “Thank ye. I willna be tardy.”

A few minutes later, he stepped into his office, expecting to find Paisley. She wasn’t there. He glanced out the window overlooking the driveway to the lodge. A blonde-haired figure in black stood on the bridge over the moat.
She’s upset. Go to her. She needs us
.

Creighton shoved his arms into his leather jacket as he ran across the gravel toward the moat. He winced at the movement. His groin was still raw, ball balm or no. He’d put on his oldest, softest pair of jeans and they still scratched like barbed wire against his skin. What he really needed most was something to ease his wounded ego. The lass must think him a buffoon for the way he acted earlier, swatting at his neck and feckin’ balls like a mad man. He’d have to deal with that blow to his male pride. Projecting a macho image was hard when bugs and gnats were practically eating him alive. This was one story he’d not share with his brothers.

He slowed at the beginning of the bridge. Paisley leaned with her palms on a stone edging the bridge. As he approached, she glanced his way, her face pinched with an emotion he couldn’t identify. With dinnertime fast approaching, there was no way he could tell her his secrets. This important conversation would have to wait until later.

“Paisley, I thought to find ye in my office. ’Tis getting chilly out here.”

She folded her arms and pivoted toward him. “I want some damn answers.”

Aye, his lady was well and truly pissed. “I’m sorry I ran off like that. I’m sure I looked like a fool.”

“You looked like a man possessed, but those aren’t the answers I want.”

He stood in front of her. “Ye see, Una, the woman who wove yer scarf, is also a witch, a maker of potions and poultices.”

Her eyes narrowed. “A witch?”

“Aye.” He reached to sweep a strand of hair from her cheek and she jerked back. His heart crumbled a little. What was the cause of her reaction? “ ’Tis not such a stretch, is it? Ye can hear animals speak and Una is in communication with the spirits around us.”

She shifted her shoulders. “No, I suppose not. You mentioned a potion.”

“Aye. A love potion. Without my prior approval, she mixed a jar of love potion and told me to rub the liquid on me neck and groin.”

Paisley’s jaw dropped.

“She neglected to tell me not to use it if I was going outside. The bugs and gnats nearly chewed the skin off me body.”

Her hands went to her hips and her stormy blue eyes narrowed. “Why did you think you needed such a thing? I haven’t exactly been immune to your advances. Do you think you’re not man enough for a woman?” She pushed her glasses up her nose, a gesture he’d come to adore. Hell, the lass had him so besotted, he’d even come to love those ugly owlish spectacles. “Or are you harboring some bizarre secret you fear I’ll never be able to accept?”

Pride warred with guilt. “I’m man enough fer
any
woman, but there’s only one woman I desire. I suppose I am hesitant to tell ye what I am.”

“Life has a way of making a person ask questions. I’ve been standing here trying to open my mind to all the possibilities around me. I think I’ve been so focused on keeping my gift a secret I blocked the conduit to all the potentialities of our metaphysical world.” She flicked her hand through the air. “Like witches, ghosts, and curses.” Her blonde head tilted. “Even shape-shifters.”

His mouth went dry and his stomach cramped.
Christ, she knows. How did she find out?
His inner bear assured him he hadn’t exposed himself.

“When was the last time you spoke to a stag with twelve points on his rack, Creighton?”

He closed his eyes.
Hornsby, ye’ve got a bloody big mouth
.

“Well?” She squared her shoulders as if readying for battle. God, the woman was glorious when she was pissed. Golden strands glowed in the orange rays of the setting sun. Sky-blue eyes were transformed by anger to the indigo of Mathe Bay in the midst of a tempest. And attitude? Dear God, the Scottish attitude that shimmered off her blinded like the most exquisite of diamonds. Whether she came to love him or not, he’d love her forever and a day.

“Too chicken to talk, huh?” Her chin jutted in challenge.

He stepped closer. “Ye go too far,
leannan
.” The temper of his bruised pride reared its arrogant head. He had the strongest urge to tug her to him and prove to her how bravery was an innate part of his nature—and how much he needed her for his next breath.

“Okay, then. Suppose we indulge in some idle chitchat while you work up the courage to tell me why there are blank spots in my memory and why a deer and an owl insist you are both bear and man?” She poked the toe of her boot against the ancient rocks lining the edge of the bridge. “Do you know what I was doing before you came? I was allowing the history of these grey rocks to seep into my soul. They whisper of tragedy.” She stooped to lay a hand on a flat-topped boulder. “They almost weep with it.”

“Here is where an ancestor leaped to his death after he lost his
leannan
. They’d been married for eight years when she died in childbirth, she and the wee
bairn
.”

“Yes, I sense his agony. His despair. How sad for him. Did he have any other children?”

“Aye. Me da.”

She straightened and turned toward him. “How traumatic for your dad. Who raised him? How old was he when this happened?” Cupping her hands together she blew a warming breath into them.

He lowered his jacket zipper, took Paisley’s hands and slid them around his waist. Then he enveloped her in his arms and pulled her into his warmth. “Me great-grandparents, Ainsley and Broden, stepped in as his parents. Just as I would fer Colleen if anything befell me brother.” Creighton settled his chin on the top of her head, his voice an intimate whisper. “I’m sorry ye are upset. I promise to tell ye the entirety of it after dinner.”

“I shared with you. I expect the same in return.”

He nodded. “Aye. ’Tis only right to have things open and honest between us.”

She exhaled a long sigh as if she were releasing her annoyance. “Tell me more about your dad.”

“Me da was five and plagued with nightmares for years afterward. No doubt the whispers of the Matheson curse reached his tiny ears and frightened his young soul.”

“What is the Matheson curse? Ainsley mentioned it.”

“When the Vikings invaded our shores, scaling the cliffs of Mathe Bay, our ancestors fought them off.”

She pulled back and looked into his face. “Why do I feel as if I already know this?”

Because ye do, but I’ve erased yer memory of it. I hope ye forgive me when I confess to it
.

“What happened? Who won this ancient battle?”

He pressed a kiss to her hair and inhaled her cherry-blossom fragrance. “After days of fierce fighting, me ancestors wounded the Viking’s soothsayer. Before he passed through the veil, he placed a curse on the Mathesons. The eldest child of each ruling generation would die before he reached thirty unless he took a Norse bride and bedded her. Not just any Norse bride, but one with the right percentage of Scottish and Norse blood.”

She pressed both palms to his chest. “What is this mix, this ratio?”

“No one knows. The Viking died before he revealed it.”

“How old was your grandfather when he died?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“But he took his own life. His death can’t be blamed on the curse.”

“ ’Tis true enough. I dinna put much stock in it. I’m not superstitious, like the generations before me. We’ve moved out of the Dark Ages. Accidents happen that canna be the result of some centuries-old curse.”

“Your mother said your father died a month after your sister. How old would that have made him?”

“Me da died weeks before his thirtieth birthday.”