Page 32 of Wild Highland Rose (Time After Time #4)

Slowly, slowly, she began to come down, her body still trembling. She opened her eyes and found him watching her. She smiled tentatively, suddenly unsure. He reached for her face, caressing it with the back of his hand. "You're beautiful."

Her heart soared.

"There's more. Can I take you there?"

She nodded, unsure if she could survive any more pleasure, but afraid to not take the chance.

He pushed up onto his elbows and bent to kiss her, the taste of her still on his lips.

His tongue ravaged her, sliding into her mouth and thrusting with a rhythm that matched her own.

She felt the fire building again and marveled at the power of her need.

She wanted him now more than ever before.

And this time she wanted to be together.

"I want you." She hadn't realized she'd spoken the words until she saw the answering desire flash in his eyes.

With a quick twist, he positioned himself above her, his eyes never leaving hers, and then he pushed himself into her. She opened her legs, welcoming him, wanting to take him deeper and deeper still, to sheath him in her heat, to make him hers, forever.

Slowly, he began to move and she felt a rhythm begin.

Matching her body's movements to his thrusting, she met him stroke for stroke, feeling a burst of fire with every pulsing beat.

Body against body, soul against soul, she felt them unite as they rose higher and higher on each wave of pleasure.

Together, they rode the wind, each stroke taking them nearer to the sun until, with a blinding white light, she felt herself break into a million pieces, felt his arms tightening around her as he found his own release.

Lost in a cloud of ecstasy, she drifted slowly back to earth, feeling the warm security of his arms and knowing that, for once, the demons could not get to her. With a sigh, she snuggled into his side and allowed herself to sleep.

Waking, Cameron shifted, trying not to disturb Marjory. She was beautiful. Not in the artful, bottle-it-and-sell-it kind of way so common in his century, but in a natural, what-you-see- is-what-you-get kind of way.

He'd wanted so much to please her. To prove to her that a man and a woman coming together could be a joyous thing. It had been hard to contain his own desire. To pleasure her first. But it had been more than worth it.

Marjory was amazing. She had given him more than her body. She had gifted him with a part of her soul. It was the most precious gift he had ever received.

A niggle of guilt tugged at the back of his mind.

He shouldn't have let it happen. The little voice in his head chided him for his callousness.

He had taken from her, but what had he given in return?

A night to remember? No, Marjory wasn't like that.

Last night had been a commitment of sorts, a commitment that he couldn't afford to make.

He had to get back to his own time. He had to face himself, to discover for better or worse who he really was. Everything else was secondary. He had to find a way to make her understand that.

The little niggle of guilt blossomed into full-fledged culpability. With a sigh, he disentangled himself from her sleeping form, smoothing back a stray strand of silky black hair. She smiled in her sleep. Dear God, what had he done?

He stood, shivering in the cool morning air.

His muscles were sore from their ordeal on the lake, and he stretched, trying to work out some of the stiffness.

First the swim, then the hike to the cottage, and then…

he smiled despite his worries. The night might have started on a bad note, but it had definitely ended as a perfectly orchestrated symphony.

He laughed at the poetic turn of his thoughts, pulling on his trews.

He tugged his shirt over his head, then stared at his plaid, shaking his head ruefully. It looked dry, but that didn't mean he'd be able to get the damn thing on.

"Cameron?"

Happiness rippled through him at the sound of his name on her lips. He turned to find blue eyes gazing at him sleepily. "Good morning."

She yawned, stretching like a cat, and glanced at the sky. "We should have been on our way ages ago."

"I guess we got a little sidetracked." He grinned, remembering in vivid detail the exact nature of their detour.

She sat up, smiling, pushing her hair back from her face. He felt his body tighten as he drank in the sight of her luscious curves. Suddenly, aware of his scrutiny, she blushed pulling the blanket up to her chin.

"I'm sorry, I forgot…" Her face grew redder. "I mean…"

"Hush, princess. It's all right. Here, put this on." He handed her the shift, turning his back so that she could dress. The irony of his actions didn't escape him, but he felt, perhaps absurdly, under the circumstances, a powerful urge to protect her, even from himself.

Especially from himself.

"You can turn around now. I'm decent." She had not only donned the shift, but had managed to tie the blanket securely back into place. It gave her an exotic look. Not that 15th century Scotland wasn't exotic. "Do you have any idea what time o' day it is?"

"No, not exactly." He glanced at the sun, wishing for his Rolex. "But I'd say it's almost noon."

"I beg your pardon?" She looked at him quizzically.

"I think it's nearly midday." He corrected, wondering if he'd ever get used the language barrier. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't be here long enough to worry about adjusting his speech permanently.

Marjory made her way to the doorway, fastening her sporran around her waist as she walked. "We'd best get moving then."

"I can't go anywhere until I get this thing on." He pointed at the length of wool still hanging from the tree limb.

She stood with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised in question.

Cameron actually felt himself blush. He shrugged. "I can't get the damned thing on without help."

Her laughter peeled out across the room, punctuating his embarrassment. "Come here then, I'll give you a hand."

He grabbed the wool and held it out to her.

She wrapped it around his waist, neatly gathering its bulk into pleats.

At the feel of her hands, he caught his breath, his heart rate accelerating.

He tried grabbing the material from her.

A mistake, skin against skin was even more compelling.

They stood holding hands, staring at each other, their breathing coming in gasps, the plaid falling forgotten to the floor.

Sunlight streamed through the hole in the roof, pulling Marjory from the contented lethargy of sleep. Opening her eyes, she nestled closer to Cameron's radiating warmth. He groaned in his sleep, one arm thrown possessively across her waist.

She stretched, pointing her toes, feeling her body come fully awake.

She closed her eyes against the intrusive sun and allowed herself to relive the night and morning's discoveries.

The second time had been even better than the first, and her body hummed at the just thought of Cameron's lips and hands touching her.

She shivered with delight at the memory.

She probably ought to be feeling remorse, or, at the very least, regret, but the plain fact was she didn't. Perhaps those feelings would come later. She pushed the thought aside. Right now, she simply wanted to enjoy the moment. Time enough, later, for concern.

She rolled slightly, turning toward Cameron. His eyes flickered open sleepily. She smiled, self consciously. It was one thing to remember their lovemaking on her own and quite another to think of it with him watching. She felt herself blush and bit the side of her lip. "We fell asleep again."

Cameron grinned, pulling her close. "Well you have a way of wearing a man out, Marjory mine."

Her face grew even hotter. "I…I…that is…"

Her voice seemed to have deserted her. Fortunately, she was spared having to try and summon it.

His mouth covered hers, opening for a long deep kiss.

Marjory felt the heat building inside her again.

She pressed against him, feeling his arms lock around her.

She reveled in the feel of him, giving and taking as the passion of the kiss intensified.

He pulled back, a question burning brightly in his golden eyes.

But before she could answer a loud rumble erupted from the beneath the blanket.

"What was that?" Cameron sat up, holding his hand to his chest in mock terror.

"'Twas my belly." She admitted, fighting embarrassment. Cameron reached to run a hand down her cheek, smiling with tenderness. Marjory felt her heart skip a beat.

"Well, I suppose if I were a true warrior, I'd go and kill something for us to eat, but I'm afraid my skill set doesn't extend that far."

Marjory had never heard the phrase, but she understood the meaning. And again it reinforced what Cameron had claimed last night. Ewen had been a great hunter. Evidently, the new, and greatly improved she might add, Cameron, wasn't.

Not a problem. She'd been hunting since she was a wee lass. "I could try and snare a rabbit."

Cameron shot her a look of open amazement. "Beautiful and a huntress, too? What luck."

Marjory blushed at the compliment. Even after the morning's extended intimacy, she felt shy around him.

He smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I guess we really ought to be getting back." He looked at the sky through the roof.

She followed his gaze, shocked to discover that the day had progressed well into the afternoon.

"I think perhaps 'tis too late to try and make Crannag Mhór this day.

'Tis quite a distance on foot. The loch stretches from one end o' the valley to the other, climbing up into the mountains at either end.

Without horses 'twould take more than a day.

We're better off waiting until the morning.

" She ducked her head, her mind already imagining another night spent in his arms.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to make the best of it, then." He bent and dropped a kiss on her cheek. "But, first, I suggest we find something to eat."

Nodding her agreement, she rose from the makeshift bed, dragging one of the blankets with her.

Picking up her scattered clothing, she turned her back and began to dress, imagining his amused stare boring into her backside.

With a last tug at her ensemble, she turned back to face him, only to find that he was gone. "Cameron?"

"Over here." He stepped out from behind a pile of rubble, a wooden dipper held triumphantly in his hand. His plaid was slightly askew, but he had managed to secure it in place, without her help. She smiled.

"What have you found?"

"Water."

She frowned in confusion. "Here?" She walked over and looked into the dipper. It was filled with water. She smelled it. It seemed fresh. He offered it to her and she drank thirstily.

"More?" He turned and gestured to an odd contraption behind him that was made of wood with a metal handle sticking out of the top.

It looked like a giant urn of some kind with a spout on one side.

She watched as Cameron moved the handle up and down.

Water flowed from the spout. She crossed herself. What magic was this?

"Marjory, what is it? You act like you've never seen a pump before." His concerned gaze embraced her and some of her panic receded.

"What did you call it?" She took a step toward the contraption, curiosity overcoming her fear.

"A pump. You know, it brings water into the house. I'd guess from the stream we followed."

She tentatively touched the handle. The metal was cool to the touch. "I've never seen anything like it. A pump, did you say? Does it work by magic?"

"No, physics."

"Physics." She repeated the strange word and, holding her breath, lifted the handle bringing it down. Water spewed from the spout. With a start, she jumped backward, then stepped back to the pump when she was certain nothing else was going to happen.

Cameron came up behind her, turning her to face him. "Are you saying you've never seen one of these before?"

"Nay, never." She pulled away, moving the lever up and down again, fascinated with the resulting fall of water. "Will it run out, do you think?"

"No, not as long as there is a sufficient amount of water in the creek."

"How does it work?" She couldn't pull her eyes away from the magical water maker.

"I don't know that I can explain it all, but, basically, it forces the water from the stream, through a channel of some kind, to the reservoir. Moving the handle makes the whole thing work and the water comes out the spout. It's got something to do with pistons and valves."

"'Tis no' magic?" He sounded so blasé. Surely he wouldn't be so calm in the face of sorcery.

"Absolutely not." He laughed. "It's just basic technology."

"Perhaps wherever it is that you come from, but we have no such techno…" she stumbled over the unfamiliar word, "…thing at Crannag Mhór."

He frowned at her response. "Who did this cottage belong to, Marjory?" He stared at her, his expression intense, as if her answer held the key to a puzzle.

"Why, it belonged to Grania. She lived here until the storm cost her her sight.

After that, she couldna manage on her own, so she came to live with us at Crannag Mhór.

" She waited for him to say something, watching as different emotions washed across his face, confusion, then shock, then something that looked like amazement.

"Well, I'll be damned."