Page 25 of Cottage in the Mist (Time After Time #3)

Straddling his hips, she smiled down at him, her green eyes flecked with amber fire, her black hair a wavy curtain as she leaned forward to kiss him again. His hands closed around her breasts and he kneaded as they drank from each other, their tongues delving deep.

Then with a toss of her head, she sat back, lifting her hips and settling herself over the tip of his erection, the suction of her wet heat enveloping him as she slowly slid down.

His hands still on her breasts, he waited until he was buried inside her, then slowly began to rock as she slid upwards again, setting the rhythm for their ride.

Despite his burning need to possess her, he allowed the torture of her slow, sensuous movements simply because he was spellbound by the beauty of the passion reflected in her face. Passion for him. For their joining.

She slid down again, taking him deeper as she moved her legs wider. Then suddenly he sat up, taking her breast in his mouth, tugging her nipple as she tightened her sheath around him. Sensation stretched, both of them captured, and then he grabbed her hips and the dance began in earnest.

In and out. Up and down. Her head thrown back in abandon, she arched her back.

A goddess on fire. His body tensed as they rode higher and higher.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin.

She rode him harder and harder as he thrust inside her.

Deeper and deeper until they were bonded together, not just physically but somehow intrinsically. Body to body. Soul to soul.

The excruciating joy ratcheted higher still and Lily tensed, then called his name as her body contracted around him, stroking and caressing, urging him to follow.

Still holding her hips, he plunged up as she moved down.

One last thrust and his mind exploded into sensation and light, his seed spilling deep inside her.

As unlikely as it might seem, they belonged together. Here between worlds. And now that he held her again, he never wanted to let her go.

Lily lay in the flickering firelight listening to the steady beat of Bram’s heart. Her cheek nestled on his heavily muscled chest, she sighed and wiggled closer, grateful when his arms tightened around her. They were lying there, boneless, the power of their climaxes still an almost tangible thing.

He smelled of wood smoke and leather. And something uniquely Bram.

The essence sent her emotions tumbling, her body tightening with desire all over again.

It made absolutely no sense. But this man, this Highlander, had touched her in a way that no one else had ever done.

It was as if he’d touched that part of her she’d always kept hidden away.

The one that feared being hurt. Feared taking a risk.

And yet here she was. Surrounded by his warmth. Lying on a bed that hadn’t existed in her world for hundreds of years. It was insane. It was miraculous. And she never wanted it to end.

“Are you comfortable?” His deep voice rumbled up through his chest, and she nodded, still content just to feel him breathe.

“I am. More than I think I’ve ever been. If you can believe that.”

“Aye, ’tis the same with me.” He smoothed back her hair and she tipped her head so that she could see the stark planes of his face. It would be so easy to let herself get lost in the cool blue of his eyes. It made her think of the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Clear and deep and full of promise.

“So,” she began, “not that I’m complaining, but I thought you’d be at Duncreag. With Iain and Katherine.” The names came out almost a whisper, as somehow in saying them out loud she’d break whatever spell bound them.

“I wanted to be with you. And the cottage seemed the obvious place. But you know them both? You ken who they are?”

She nodded, lacing her fingers with his. “Katherine is like me. She traveled through time.”

“For Iain.” Bram nodded. “The two of them belong together.”

As do we . She wanted to say it but again she found she was afraid. “I’ve met her brother. Jeff. He’s the new laird at Duncreag.”

“And that’s where you’ve been staying?”

“Yes. Valerie is friends with Mrs. Abernathy. She and her husband look after Duncreag. They’ve been helping me—all of them—as I’ve been trying to make sense of things.”

“Sometimes there is no sense to be had. You just have to take it all on faith.”

“So says Mrs. Abernathy. Would that it were that easy.” She smiled up at him. “But it’s all been a lot to deal with. You. Me. The gap between your world and mine.”

“Ach, but despite the incongruity, we fit together, you and I.” He ran a hand over the curve of her breast and across the taut skin of her belly. Desire flashed, heated and strong.

“We do. At least when we’re together.”

“You said you’d been to Dunbrae.” His brows knitted together, his hand still idly stroking her skin.

“I was trying to find you. Or at least some proof that you didn’t just exist in my head.”

“And were you successful in that?”

“Yes. I mean yes and no. It was all a really long time ago.”

“In a manner of speaking.” His smile was slow and a bit crooked. Her heart hitched and her breath caught. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then his expression sobered. “And my father’s holding?”

She paused, chewing on her bottom lip, her gaze locking with his. Then on a sigh, she shook her head. “There’s nothing much left. Only stones and overgrown rubble.”

He was still for a moment, and then he nodded. Accepting her words as truth. “As you say, there are many years between the two of us. I canna expect that any legacy of mine would survive forever.”

“Were there two towers when you were there?” she asked, still watching him.

He frowned. “Nay, only the one.”

“Well, there were the remains of two. One older than the other. It was the older one that gave me the vision. The one of you in danger and the tower burning.”

“That would be the bastards who attacked my father. And tried to kill me.”

“They’re the ones behind everything? Your father’s death? The men at Iain’s tower? You said it was the son of your father’s enemy.”

“Aye, Alec Comyn. He and his father have always hated me and mine.”

“And you’re sure what I saw was the past?” She swallowed a rising bubble of hysteria at the absurdity of the question.

“ My past. Yes. And I was most certainly in danger. But I escaped. And as I said, we killed the men in the pass as well.”

“All of them?”

“It couldna be avoided. I would have preferred one or more of them had lived so that we could question them. But ’twas no’ possible.”

“But you recognized some of them?” She rolled a little bit away, so that she could see him more clearly in the flickering light.

“No’ specifically. But they were wearing Comyn colors. And if that isn’t damning enough, one of my clansmen escaped and found his way to Iain’s. Frazier swears they were Comyns as well. And he’d know better than I.”

“Frazier?”

“My father’s captain. He’s a good man. I trust him with my life. So yes, I’m certain it was the Comyns.”

“Were there others? Who escaped, I mean?”

Bram’s blue eyes clouded with pain. “Nay. There were no survivors. My oldest friend almost made it. He fought alongside Frazier, but, in the end, the Comyns killed Robby too.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, knowing words were inadequate. “I know what it’s like to lose all your family.”

“Aye, and what it means to make a new one,” he said, his gaze meeting hers as one finger traced the line of her lower lip.

She swallowed, worry tearing at her heart. “Now that you know about Alec Comyn,” she asked, “what will you do?”

“I’ll destroy him. After all that he did, he canna go unpunished.”

“How? How will you punish him?” She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the answer and yet she knew that she needed to know.

“Iain, Ranald and I are riding for Alec’s tower tomorrow.”

“Ranald Macqueen? Your cousin?”

“Aye.” He smiled, the gesture warming her to her toes. “You were able to glean that much, I see.”

“It wasn’t hard really. Elaine is related to Ranald. And Jeff was here once. He met Ranald then. Thinks of him as a friend, actually.”

“Ah yes, Katherine told me about Jeff. About how he helped Iain save her.”

“They were very close, I gather. He misses her terribly.”

“I think the same is true for her.”

“It can’t be easy. Living in one time with memories of another.”

“To hear Iain and Katherine tell it, nothing would do but for them to be together. And having seen them so, I canna say I see the wrong in it.”

And having shared what she had with Bram, Lily couldn’t either. But she was still afraid to put voice to the thought.

He reached out to cup her chin in his hand. “Some things, Lily, are just meant to be.”

“Like us?” she whispered, holding his gaze.

“Mayhap. I canna say what fate has in store for us. But were I to have my way, I’d keep you with me forever.”

A shudder of potent pleasure washed through her. “Then don’t go. Stay here, with me.”

Regret flashed in his eyes. “You know I canna. I have to take back what is mine.”

“Even at the risk of losing what we’ve found?”

He nodded. “Even so.”

“But why? Why is it so important to make him pay?”

“Because, thanks to Alec Comyn’s treachery, my uncle has been given my holding.

The lands that should now belong to me have been taken away, my name tarnished with lies.

There are some among my kin who believe I killed my father.

I canna let that go unanswered. I have to prove my innocence and bring the real culprit to bare. ”

She covered his hand with hers, fighting against her fear. “Then take me with you when you go.”

“A battle isn’t a place for a lass, mo ghràidh .”

“And that’s what it’s going to be—a battle?”

“Aye. I see no way around it. Nor do Iain and Ranald. The only way now is to stand against Alec. And I canna fight if I’m worrying about you.”