Page 17 of Here in Your Arms (Far From Home: A Scottish Time-Travel Romance #10)

If anyone had asked her—days ago, weeks ago, even this morning—what she’d want most before leaving this time behind, she might have said something grand. To see Edinburgh Castle rise from Castle Rock in its earliest glory. To glimpse William Wallace in battle or exchange words with Robert the Bruce. To witness history where it happened, as it happened.

But none of that seemed to matter now, not here, in this room, at this moment.

Truth be told, she wasn’t interested in history at the moment, not the kind etched into monuments or recited in lecture halls. She wanted this. Just this. Something small and fleeting but somehow enormous. Tiernan looked at her as if she mattered in this world, the one that insisted she didn’t belong. His presence made the storm outside irrelevant. His kiss quieted the noise in her head at the same time it caused her pulse to race.

She’d thought it earlier and it returned to her now: Tiernan felt safe, like the only thing she could trust or depend on in this time.

That was the irony of it. The great, brutal irony. That in this world, in this century where nothing made sense and nothing belonged to her, he was the one thing she trusted. He was danger and fire and stubbornness incarnate, but somehow, he was also comfort. He was certainty. And though she knew he’d leave in the morning, return to Druimlach, to a life weighed down by duty and mourning, for tonight, she could have one more taste of him.

He knew nothing about her, not really, certainly not of the desire she felt for him, as she’d never felt for another man. He didn’t know that his nearness warmed her or that the sound of his voice made her heart skip a beat. And maybe he didn’t need to, not for this, just one more kiss. One last kiss.

Tiernan kissed her with surprising gentleness. With his hands on her cheeks, he kissed her again, holding her face up to his. His breath was sweet and honeyed, and his tongue filled her mouth in a slow, silky caress that made her pulse jump. Rose slid her hands further up his rock-hard chest to encircle his neck, her fingers sliding into the tousled hair at his nape. He groaned and deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring with mounting intensity. She was imprisoned against the solid wall of his chest, felt his heart knocking against her breasts. A sensation of expectant heat filled her as he brought her closer, one of his large hands settling on the top of her butt to keep her close.

Rose kissed him with her own increasing ardor, her tongue stroking and dancing with his, wringing murmurs of approval from him, deep and low, and Rose had never felt so womanly in all her life. Suddenly, she was older, experienced, seductive even. At the same time, all notions of reason dissolved. There was only Tiernan.

And then, he was gone, his kiss taken away from her. He lowered his face and tasted her neck, drawing in the sensitive skin there, her pulse hammering against his lips. It was not until his hand touched her breast that she realized the plaid that had enveloped her was gone, dropped, forgotten. Rose felt the heat of his caress through the thin linen of her shift. It was profound, intoxicating, and her blood began to boil there, under his touch. Tiernan’s lips moved over her neck and collarbone as his hands moved across her breasts, his rough fingers kneading and caressing until her nipples lifted and hardened. He rolled the peaks gently between his fingers and Rose trembled, desire filling every inch of her body.

When one hand abandoned her breast, rising to push the wide strap off her shoulder, first the left side and then the right, and the shift fell and held at her hips, her aching breasts exposed to his hungry gaze, Rose knew then what was about to happen.

Holy crap, I’m about to lose my virginity in the fourteenth century! To Tiernan!

There was no apprehension, no shame, no hesitation, only want and need, and an enormous degree of certainty—this is what she wanted.

Tiernan straightened to his full height, his gaze drifting over her body, pausing at her breasts.

Brazenly—a word she’d never have ascribed to herself—Rose slid her thumbs inside the soft linen hung at her hips and persuaded the shift down over her hips until it pooled at her feet.

He swallowed, his Adams apple undulating up and down while muscles corded in his neck as his hot gaze slowly trailed down the naked length of her.

For the first time in her life, Rose didn’t feel small and insignificant—she felt powerful. It was a heady feeling. Only a small decision to be made then, when to tell him that this would be her initiation to sex. But that concern was stripped from her as well when Tiernan moved.

With one swift step, he closed the distance between them, his mouth taking the place of his hands at her breast. Rose moaned and arched against him, lost in pleasure she didn’t know existed. Desire, previously, had been a warm emotion stirred by rare kisses and even less frequent petting. Second base was as far as she’d ever gone, but oh, what she’d been missing. Almost immediately on the heels of that thought came another: she’d missed nothing until now. This was Tiernan, and any other hands and mouth on her breasts would not have flooded her with such emotion, both physical and emotional. Threading her hands again into his hair, feeling the heat of his mouth, the possession of his teeth and tongue, Rose drew in a ragged breath. Again and again his mouth closed over her breast, his tongue stroking the nipple, his teeth pulling at the taut prize. Rose swallowed back a cry, stunned by the sensations overwhelming her.

“They are perfect, Rose,” he whispered hoarsely, his breath hot on her nipple. “Firm, round, so bluidy eager.”

A grin and thought came unbidden. “They are very happy boobs,” she told him and immediately thought herself an idiot for saying so ridiculous a thing.

But her embarrassment was short-lived. Tiernan lifted his head and met her frozen, mortified gaze. Slowly, his beautiful lips lifted at the corners, a rare smile evolving miraculously before her eyes.

Stunned, nearly breathless, she confessed, “Every inch of me is eager.”

His smile turned wonderfully wicked. “My aim is to make every inch happy .”

She nodded jerkily. “Yes. Please.” He could do that. Tiernan had that power, she knew.

He ducked his head and kissed her again with a slow, burning intensity, simultaneously scooping her up in his arms, and conveying her to the bed.

Rose knew a moment of panic and tore her lips from his. “Your shoulder,” She reminded him, even as she was quite sure he was well aware and reminded of his injury.

“Aye, and a week-old wound to the back of my arm,” he acknowledged, “and I dinna feel a thing, nae in those places.”

He lowered her onto the bed he’d only vacated moments ago, and followed her down, gathering her into his arms. Rose sank back easily, allowing his weight to press her into the soft mattress, welcoming his kiss once more.

She moved her hands hungrily over him, scraping her palms and fingers over his shoulders and back, delighting in the feel of the hair at his chest brushing against her sensitive nipples. She might have wished to be more coherent, to be more in control, wondering madly how one could achieve that when his kiss was so spine-tingling. Any diminishing wish for self-control evaporated completely when Tiernan began moving his strong hands, stroking the curve of her waist and sweeping his rough palms over the swell of her hips before he eventually explored the susceptible flesh of her inner thigh as he nipped at her shoulder and moved his lips again to her breasts.

Fire raged within her as he possessed her with his mouth and his hand delved further between her thighs. With apparent expertise, he found the small hidden nub and gently circled it with his thumb. Rose’s breath caught and she squirmed against his hand, aware of an instant, unbearable tension deep in her womb. Of their own accord, her legs fell wide open to him, and she moaned.

“I’ve...I’ve never done this before,” she whispered in a weak, passion-shrouded voice. “Gone this far, I mean. I’m not saying that to stop this. I just thought you should know,” she thought to clarify.

That gave him pause—but only for a breath. He lifted his face from her well-loved breast. “It will be on ye to stop me, Rose, if that should truly be yer wish,” he said, his voice rough, barely leashed. “For such power is nae longer mine.”

He wanted her. Wanted her so fiercely, so completely, that he was beyond the ability to resist. And somehow, those words—gruff and unguarded—struck her more deeply than anything else he’d said. More than even any look he’d given, or any touch he’d thrilled her with. They were neither sweet nor tender, but raw and honest. The desire in them, the vulnerability, the warning... it was its own kind of seduction.

If she’d had even a flicker of doubt—she did not, she knew—it would have been gone now, swept away by the overwhelming truth of what she saw in his deep blue eyes.

Wanting to assure him of her devotion to this moment, Rose said the first thing that came to mind. “I want you. Everything.”

With a low growl, Tiernan covered her mouth again, claiming her as his. He slipped a finger inside her and Rose’s eyes opened wide with wonder. As I live and learn ! she thought, her vision filled with Tiernan’s face, his closed eyes, the perpetual furrow in his brows.

His eyes opened before her, mere inches from hers.

“ Jesu , but ye are wet, and so bluidy tight,” he groaned.

“And...” she searched for the word, what she felt right now. “Desperate.”

He kissed her again, his tongue sliding in and out in the same lazy, provocative rhythm as his finger. Rose lay happily helpless under him, her only awareness being that of his hands, the press of his body, the way his tongue filled her mouth. She moved in natural rhythm against him, lost in the thrill, wanting this to never end even as she ached for fulfillment. Tiernan kissed her mouth, her breasts, her neck and continued his decadent assault, sliding his fingers deeper and faster, each stroke taking her further from reality. She groaned and threw her head back and....

Tiernan removed his hand. Deprived of his touch and swiftly turned into a shameless beggar, she opened her eyes and instinctively reached for him, but he had fled the bed.

No words of complaint erupted, however, as Tiernan stood and quickly removed his breeches and hose. Instead, her pulse leapt in her chest as he faced her boldly as he stripped. The flickering light thrown by the fire rippled across the muscular contours of his powerful body. His shoulders and arms flexed gorgeously as he tossed his clothes onto the floor beside the bed.

Rose’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, staring at a fully aroused, completely naked Tiernan only a few feet away from her. His thighs were as huge as she’d imagined, marked and marred with dozens of scars, old and some new. His erection she could not have imagined, but he...he was a big man, so it only made sense that he’d be big all over—but frankly, she’d simply never thought about that part of his anatomy.

An errant, wayward thought of, Well, that’s not going to fit, was quickly forgotten as Tiernan returned to her.

He lowered one knee to the bed and bent over her, taking her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, and Rose felt the excruciating pleasure return to her again. In the next moment, he shifted, coming on top of her until he lay cradled between her legs, pressing the tip of his erection where his hand had been. Slowly, he rolled his hips, sliding his hard length against her opening, probing, preparing her. Rose, aware of her emptiness, could have wept with a desire to be filled. She arched against him, wanting to be his.

“Tiernan,” she begged.

“Open yer eyes, lass,” he commanded.

She did so automatically, having been so lost in sensation she hadn’t been aware they were closed.

His jaw set like stone, Tiernan took her face in his hands, compelling her gaze.

Breathless with anticipation, Rose met his blue eyes, hardly able to conceal what might have shown in hers, all her want and need and so much more that she hadn’t bargained for.

Clenching his teeth, he surged forward slowly but relentlessly until Rose gasped as pain seared her when he possessed her completely. Tiernan responded by kissing her, though with little tenderness. He kissed her hungrily, as if a man long starved, his tongue seeking, teasing, tormenting. After a moment, he moved again, shifting his hips, sliding out and then in, and Rose gasped against his lips.

“I dinna want to cause ye pain, Rose...”

“It’s not,” she started, pausing to assess. “It hurts, yes, but...how does it also feel so good at the same time?”

He received this with another primal growl, and Rose closed her arms around him, her fingers digging into his back. At his instruction, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his tight buttocks. And as she clung to him, he began to move again, faster and deeper. Rose took all of him, happily, heartily. She caught his rhythm and rocked against him until that beautiful pressure built again, and she reveled in the pleasure and the pain, having some ancient, primordial sensation that she belonged to him now, that this was exactly what she wanted.

He thrust harder and deeper, coiling the tension so tightly inside her she thought she might lose consciousness. A spiral of desire rose and rose until she nearly cried out and then a swelling sensation burst within her, eliciting a whimper as her entire body was rocked by a violent explosion. The orgasm crashed over with an unexpected intensity, shattering her—she had no idea, couldn’t have imagined such a thing. Her body shuddered and spasmed and clutched him tightly, pulling him even deeper inside her.

A primal, guttural groan erupted from Tiernan as his passion crested, filling her. He held her tightly, his arms and chest as rigid as steel against her at the same time she struggled to rise back to consciousness.

Tiernan dropped his head against hers and she became aware of their breathing, ragged and hot.

Neither moved for a long time until Tiernan gently slid away from her, dropping onto the mattress beside her, drawing her into his arms.

***

Rose didn’t know how long they lay there, tangled together in the furs, their bodies still warm and her heart still strumming. The fire in the hearth had burned low again, and the storm outside had faded to a distant hush against the thick stone walls, but inside the chamber, the air felt dense—heavy with heat, with breath, with the quiet aftermath of what had passed between them.

She had never imagined herself here—curled in the arms of a medieval warrior, her body aching in ways that felt wholly unfamiliar and yet somehow right. She’d never pictured what it would feel like to be seen this way, touched this way, with a kind of reverence and hunger that hadn’t come from tenderness, exactly, but from something more intense. And now, with his weight still lingering in her body and the memory of his touch fresh on her skin, she felt unsettled, knowing something had changed, though she wasn’t sure how it would play out, what it would mean.

Drowsily, she considered that it had been inevitable, this thing between them. Hadn’t it been? The slow, volatile build, the friction that sparked every time their eyes met, the tension thickening in every breath they shared, every time they’d clashed, sometimes as brutally as striking flint to steel.

Of course it had led here.

Another part of her—a less quiet and more unwelcome part—knew it couldn’t last. He had said he was leaving in the morning. She’d known that, even before he’d kissed her. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe this meant more than what it was: a physical connection, a beautiful collision.

But for now, just for a little while, she allowed herself to rest in it. To lay still in his arms, her body flush against his, and pretend—just for tonight—that he was hers and she was his.

Tiernan, unwittingly or not, derailed the happy flush of her thoughts, his voice cutting through the silence, rough and low, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Is it true?”

Rose blinked, her hand going still mid-stroke against his ribs.

“Is... what true?” she asked softly, lifting her head slightly to look at him.

He wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was angled toward the foot of the bed, or just beyond it, lost in the fire. She thought there was a tightness in his jaw, and now something hesitant in the way his thumb absently traced the curve of her hip.

She felt a flicker of unease, a sudden alertness. For a fleeting second, she wondered if he was asking whether she’d really been a virgin, if that was what this was about. But his voice didn’t seem to be filled with either accusation or disbelief. He sounded... cautious, as if he didn’t quite want to ask at all.

“That ye come from another time.”

His thumb continued its slow, absent movement over the curve of her waist, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. That small, thoughtless touch should have reassured her, but it only made the knot in her stomach tighten.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice low, uncertain. “It’s true. I was born hundreds of years from now. Nineteen-fifty-seven.” Laying her head on his arm again, she stared at the wooden beams above them, choosing her words carefully. “Where I come from, the world is faster. We’ve learned how to travel great distances in hours, how to light entire cities with a flick of a switch. Food can be kept cold without snow or ice, heat comes without fire, and messages can be sent instantly, even to people across an ocean.” A sinking feeling turned her stomach, and she rose onto her elbow, facing him again. Her mouth pulled downward with faint displeasure while she looked at him, searching for something in his expression. “But... you don’t actually believe me, do you? Did you ever?”

Tiernan didn’t answer right away. His fingers brushed against her skin once more, slow and deliberate, his grip shifting slightly as if adjusting his hold.

“I canna say,” he admitted after a long moment. “It sounds mad. But then... nae anything about ye has ever made sense.”

Rose let out a breathless, humorless laugh, more bitter than she had intended. “And yet, you just slept with me.”

Tiernan’s silence in that moment was more telling even.

Something cold began to settle in her chest, spreading outward like frost, replacing the warmth she’d felt only minutes before. She’d thought she understood what tonight was, had told herself she could separate the emotions from the physical, that she wasn’t na?ve. But now, with the air thick with the truth between them, she wasn’t so sure. Because the truth she’d blithely ignored, the one she was staring down now in this awful silence, was that she hadn’t done this just for comfort or curiosity. Not even for connection. She’d slept with Tiernan because somewhere along the way—whether she had meant to or not, whether she had realized it or not—she’d started to feel something for him. Real feelings. Tangled and complicated and with timing so wrong, but real all the same.

And now she was beginning to understand that for him, it had been so much less, nothing more than release—simple, uncomplicated, forgettable. Maybe she had just been... convenient.

She swallowed hard, blinking against the sting behind her eyes.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the soft crackle of the fire, the distant patter of rain. She didn’t want to ask the question, didn’t want to hear the answer she already knew. But she couldn’t stop herself, she needed to hear it from him.

“Why?” Her voice cracked, but there was steel beneath it. “Why would you sleep with me if you thought I was lying? That I made it all up—or worse, if you thought I was just mad?”

Tiernan sat upright, the muscles in his jaw working. “I dinna plan it, Rose,” he said forcefully. “But I looked at ye and....”

The words landed softly, but they struck with force, quiet and devastating.

And saw Margaret , she assumed he meant. Rose’s breath caught.

More gruffly, defensively, he said, “I’ve done naught but try to stay away from ye. I dinna... It should have been....”

Should have been Margaret.

Rose gasped, the sound sharp and stricken. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stare at him as the truth settled over her, a tight fist around her heart.

Oh, God. How had she missed it? No. No! She hadn’t missed it. She’d chosen to ignore it for those brief hours tucked in his arms. Her stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in her throat, choking her.

She scrambled away from him, out of the warmth of the furs, not caring that the cool air licked at her bare skin, raising gooseflesh or that she was naked to his gaze.

Margaret. It had all been because of Margaret.

The realization burned through her, searing hot and humiliating. She had been so stupid. So utterly, completely stupid. Her hands shook as she yanked her shift over her head, the fabric tangling in her haste. She could feel Tiernan watching her, could feel his gaze boring into her back, and through the tangled fabrics she saw him rise swiftly from the bed, tall and towering.

“Rose,” he ground out, his voice rough.

She recoiled. “Don’t,” she snapped. “Just—don’t.” She let out a brittle, mirthless laugh, still fumbling to right her shift, which she’d put on backwards. “Jeez,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as the shift finally fell into place. “Maybe it’s a good thing I came to this stupid century after all.” Her lips twisted, bitter and angry as she faced him, holding his gaze, refusing to let her gaze stray lower over his magnificent body.

His eyes flashed with confusion and anger. “Why does it matter what I believe about where ye came from? I wanted ye in my bed. I make nae apology for that.”

“Of course you don’t. You just needed a ghost to cling to, didn’t you? You know, I actually thought—” She stopped herself, jaw locking tight. No. She wouldn’t say it. Wouldn’t give him that power. Wouldn’t tell him that she had actually, foolishly let herself believe that what had happened between them had meant something, had in the aftermath hoped that it had anyway.

She’d wanted him. Not because he reminded her of someone else, not because she was afraid and he had made her feel safe, but simply because she had wanted him.

He hadn’t wanted her. He had wanted a ghost.

She clenched her teeth so hard it hurt. “You’re just like them,” she whispered, her voice trembling with rage. “Like Leana and every other ignorant person at Druimlach—you don’t see me. You see her.”

Tiernan’s throat bobbed, and fury narrowed his eyes. “What the bluidy hell are ye—”

“Oh, stop!” She cried, spinning, snatching the MacIntyre plaid from the floor. “You got what you wanted—a na?ve, trusting fool. A perfect stand-in!”

Tiernan stepped forward, confusion now etched severely on his face.

“Don’t you touch me,” she growled at him, only made angrier by his sudden pretense of oblivion. He didn’t get to feel bad, not when she was the one standing there, shaking, furious, humiliated.

To her relief—and her broken heart—he didn’t move as she stormed toward the door, and then through it.