Angel of Skye (27 page)

Standing to squeeze the water from her long mane, Fiona paused and found herself wishing him here.

True, she was tired of riding in the grimy wake of Alec and his warriors, but she wanted to ride with him, talk to him. She had missed his attention, his wit, the lingering looks that made her skin come alive while those warm, liquid feelings filled her insides with longings she had never known.

And there were so many questions that she had. So many that she hoped Alec would answer. But he had been surly, ill-tempered, and had not been very receptive to her very civil advances.

Safety, my eye, she thought. What she’d already put up with was more than any reasonable person could possibly be expected to endure. Quietly, that is.

Today, she’d reached the end of her patience. She’d felt tired, filthy, and quite fed up with being treated like a cow on the way to market.

But she felt differently now.

Wading back to the edge of the pool, Fiona quickly pulled the wet chemise over her head and dried herself with her cloak. She was shivering uncontrollably by the time she put her dress back on. She tried to dry her hair as best as she could, then ran her fingers through the wavy mass. She hung her chemise on a nearby branch to dry. Then she sat on the cloak, leaning back on her hands, her head tipped back, her hair a blanket spread around her. She felt good, relaxed.

It was true, she had called him a few names. Good ones. They all seemed to fit. Well, she thought with a smile, not exactly.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the invigorating air. She certainly had not made life very easy for him today. She sighed, again wishing him here.

“Alec Macpherson,” she called out softly, smiling at the sound of the name in the serenity of the glade. The name suited him: strong, colorful, noble, beautiful.

“Aye, m’lady,” the voice responded from the rocky ledge above the pool.

She leaped to her feet. “You!” Fiona blurted, watching him perched comfortably on the rocks. “You scared me half to death.”

Alec stayed where he was, captivated by the sheer beauty of the woman before him. His hard ride up from the loch had been faster than Fiona’s climb, and he’d arrived at the base of the tower in time to catch glimpses of Fiona working her way up the face of the bluff. When she hadn’t gotten to the tower when he judged she would, Alec had started down, only to find her going into the clear waters of the pool.

When she’d begun to swim, he considered calling out to her, but then had quietly settled on the rocks, content to watch her at her simple pleasures, enraptured by the exquisite charm of the scene.

But then, when she had walked out of the water, her chemise clinging so provocatively to her perfectly sculpted body, Alec had stopped breathing. And when Fiona removed the thin wet undergarment, the young laird had thought his heart would burst through the wall of his chest.

She was a vision. Like some wood nymph, like some unearthly being, some goddess, gracing the waters of the glade with her beauty, with her very presence.

Suddenly, involuntarily, Alec averted his eyes. Etiquette called for him not to watch, to turn away, to offer this solitary Diana in human form the privacy she had obviously sought. But then Alec’s gaze swept back, drinking in the scene. For this was Fiona, the woman he loved, cherished, and desired. Solitude be damned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fairy in her element before,” Alec said. “And I’m sure I’ve never heard one call my name under a greenwood tree.”

Fiona stood looking at him, her hands at her sides, unsure of whether she should deny the suggestion or not.

“Have you been...” She flushed. “Have you been there long.”

“Ages.”

With a nimble movement, the warlord leaped from his ledge to the bank beside the bubbling waterfall and strode to where Fiona stood.

“You weren’t watching me,” she declared hopefully. “You wouldn’t. Would you?”

Alec took her swiftly in his arms and drew her tightly to him, stopping her questions with a hard and thorough kiss. He drew his lips back from hers.

“You tell me, love.”

Fiona gasped for breath, her heart racing at the suddenness of his embrace. Where he held her waist tightly against his own body, she could feel his arousal hard against her.

“You are a scurvy rogue, Alec Macpherson,” she whispered. But the sound of her words lacked any sign of conviction, even to Fiona. Something within tingled at the thought of his eyes on her, of his hardened manhood pressing against her so intimately. She knew she was blushing madly. She grasped for something to say. Where is your wit now, she thought to herself. “It’s... it’s lovely here, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” Alec responded, never taking his eyes off of her. “It is lovely, indeed.”

Fiona’s eyes and his locked in an exchange of longing. Then the reality of the moment sank in, astonishing her. She wanted him. And the want was more than spiritual. It came to her plain and simple. It was physical. She wanted him to hold her, to run his hands over her, to kiss her...and more.

She had to step away, to clear her head, to calm the violent pounding of her heart. She gently pushed at his chest, and he released her.

Alec stepped back. Then, with a quick movement, he unfastened his sword from the leather belt at his waist, dropping the sheathed armament to the ground beside Fiona. She glanced up at him hastily, startled by the suddenness of the act.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Alec grinned mischievously, undoing the clan broach that held his tartan in place. He dropped them both onto the sword. “I’m going for a swim.”

“With me here?” Fiona blurted.

“With you here,” he repeated seductively.

“You’ll do no such thing. You can find your own place.”

“Don’t they even teach sharing in that convent?”

“What?” She watched as he kicked off his boots, exposing his muscular calves.

“Sharing, Fiona.” He stole a quick kiss. Then, straightening, he started pulling the shirt out of his kilt. “Sharing. Of course you could, if you like, go swimming with me.”

“Swimming? With you?” Her voice trailed off as Alec removed his shirt, and she was confronted with his muscular chest.

Like a god he stood framed by the glowing light of the sun behind him. Like Phoebus Apollo he loomed. Magnificent. Fiona ached to reach out to him, to run her fingers across the rippling lines of his powerful warrior’s body. As if the wind had been knocked from her, she stood. Breathless.

“With me.” He slowly started taking off the thick leather belt that held his kilt in place.

“With nothing on?”

“Stark naked.” Alec whispered. “Would you like to?”

“What...what happens if someone comes by?”

“Nobody will,” he responded, finding himself aroused beyond belief at the possibility of Fiona taking him up on his offer. “There is only one way to get up here, and that’s blocked by my men below.”

Fiona couldn’t believe that she was actually contemplating his offer. And she was tempted. His mouth came down on hers again for another fleeting kiss. “Do you want me to help you undress?”

Fiona shook her head, looking at him wide-eyed. Her throat was as dry as an old bone. “Alec Macpherson, you’re a...you’re a rascal.”

“Only when it comes to you, love.”

She took another step back, gathering her hands behind her. “I can’t. I shouldn’t. Swimming...with no clothing.”

“I suppose if you’re feeling shy, you could wear this,” he whispered, pulling the wet shift off the branch and holding it up. The setting sun shone clearly through the translucent material. “And I promise, I won’t watch you put it on.”

Wide-eyed, Fiona took in his hopeful expression and snatched unsuccessfully at the chemise. As she did, she saw his other hand, with a flourish, come away with his belt.

Tempted as she was to see if his kilt remained on his hips, she whirled and started quickly for the rock trail leading up from the pool.

“Where are you going?” he asked, grinning.

“I’ll see you up at the tower,” she called back to him.

Lifting her skirts she clambered up the rocks, pausing halfway up to glance back at Alec. He was hanging her chemise on the branch again, and his wedge-shaped back was to her. The sight of his naked body jolted her like a bolt of lightning, and Fiona gaped at his flawlessly powerful physique, at the muscular curves of his buttocks and legs. As he started to turn, she whipped around and scampered up over the top of the rock face.

Fiona made her way along an overgrown path the short distance to the ruined tower above. Reaching the landing, she saw Alec’s horse, Ebon, grazing the soft grass in what seemed to have once been an enclosed garden. On seeing her, the massive charger moved in her direction and nuzzled at her palms softly.

“Some warhorse you are,” Fiona whispered, stroking the soft mane of the animal. “The size of a giant, but the gentleness of a lamb.”

Fiona made her way through the overgrown gardens toward the entrance of the keep. From where she stood, her view of the pool was blocked by the giant weeping elms that surrounded the outer parameter of the glen.

Entering the dark tower, she could just make out the flights of stairs that ran up, along the stone walls.

She ran all the way to the top, breathless when she reached it. The views from the top were spectacular.

Alec had been correct in saying that there was only one easy way up to the tower. Perched atop a peak with steep bluffs and rocky cliffs on three sides, the edifice commanded panoramic views of the Great Glen and the lochs that traverse it. The sun was resting in a notch beside the magnificent profile of Ben Nevis, and with every turn, Fiona felt her heart flutter at the beauty of the scene.

Moving to the edge of the tower, Fiona stepped out between the high block of the outer wall. Peering down into the glen below, she felt a pang of disappointment that Alec was nowhere in sight.

I should have gone swimming with him, she thought with a sigh. I should have.

Suddenly Alec’s swimming form moved casually into the center of the pool. Fiona grasped the stones beside her, steadying herself against the sudden quiver that threatened to buckle her knees. He was truly beautiful, and she could no more tear her eyes from him than she could lift this tower from its foundation. Perched on the ledge, the breeze lifting her fiery tresses, Fiona watched as he slowly emerged from the pool and disappeared beneath the leaves that overhung the bank.

She took a deep breath and sat back against one of the great blocks, closing her eyes momentarily. All she could see, all she could feel, was him. She wanted him. She needed him.

She was a woman now, and she would have him.

His hair dripping down his back, Alec looked up through the darkness from the ground level of the ruined tower. Sections of the two burned-out floors were dangling precariously above him. Strangely, only the top floor of the structure seemed reasonably intact. The stone stairs that ran upward hugged the outside walls of the keep.

Fiona was nowhere to be seen.

“Fiona!”

At first, only silence answered the resounding echo of his call.

“Here, Alec,” she answered from somewhere above.

Holding their cloaks and the packet of food under his arm, Alec started the long climb up the four flights to the roof.

The swim in the cold water below had done a lot more than just cool Alec’s burning desire. It also had cleared his thoughts, his mind. One of the things that had nagged at him from the moment he’d discovered Fiona’s true identity was the inevitability of having to reveal his past relationship with Kathryn, her cousin.

Lazing in the pool, the sunlight flecking the surface, Alec had come to a decision. She had to know, and he was going to be the one to tell her.

He loved Fiona, and it was important that the trust she put in him not be unjustified. He was certain that, knowing everything, she would understand, before the truth of what had occurred was twisted into another lie.

Climbing through the murky shadows of the last flight of stairs, Alec looked up at the light streaming like a mist through the opening to the tower’s roof.

Momentarily blinded by the brilliance of the setting sun, he shielded his eyes as he stepped into the fresh air.

Straight ahead of him, standing on the parapet of the crenelated tower, a vision eclipsed the blinding rays. Her red hair was flying about her in endless waves, framing a face of angelic perfection.

Alec could just make out her eyes, but they were clear and warm. Dazzling. Radiating a warm invitation. They drew him to her with a promise of fulfillment. He moved silently toward her, suddenly feeling as if his entire life had been one steady movement toward this moment. Toward this woman.

This angel.

“Alec,” she said softly, closing the distance between them. Lifting her arms and encircling his neck, she smiled up at him. “I’ve never seen a place more beautiful.”

“It suits you,” he whispered huskily, gathering her in his arms.

She looked around them while still holding him, not letting him go. “I feel as if I am perched on top of the world.”

“You are,” Alec whispered.

Fiona gazed at him steadily. “Is this the way a falcon feels?”

“Aye, I think it is,” he murmured. “Just before she takes flight.”

“Then I know why she comes back.” She reached up and pushed back a tendril of hair that had fallen across his face. “Why she always will.”

“And why is that?”

“Love,” she said simply, warmly, her hand delicately tracing the line of Alec’s jaw, his chin, his full lips.

Alec shuddered involuntarily at the erotic sensation of her touch. He couldn’t wait any longer. He knew something within him would burst if he didn’t tell her how he felt. About what her simple touch did to him.

“I love you, Fiona.”

At the sound of his words, her heart took flight, soaring above into the golden heavens.

Their lips met, and hers parted as his tongue penetrated the soft recesses of her mouth. Her own tongue swept against his, matching his actions, learning and loving the taste of him. As they clung together, she could feel the breezes lifting her, lifting them, higher and higher into the evening sky. Taking them aloft to a realm, a sphere, no two mortals had ever reached.