Page 4 of Her Scot of Bygones
Now I really did wish I had asked Aspen about Willow and her other sisters, but I suspect she wouldn't have shared much. Not until she knew me better, because if there was one thing I knew for sure, she was fiercely protective of them. Nevertheless, I was willing to hold a one-sided conversation if it prompted Willow to open her eyes.
“If you trulyarea cook ‘twill be interesting to see how good you are at it, Willow.” I set the Viking blade aside and kept eyeing her, wondering if I could goad her. “Aspen never mentioned your abilities, so that’s not promising.” I shrugged and considered it. “And one would have thought she would have, given how much she enjoyed the fare at MacLeod Castle. ‘Twould have made sense considering how much she loves her sisters.”
Nothing, not even a blink of her eye, so some might say Willow wasn’t prideful.
Or she knew Aspen would reveal little about her sisters.
Mayhap it was better to come at this from another angle, given I knew Aspen’s sisters had not embraced their dragons yet. They’d only recently confirmed their father trulywasa dragon. Not only that, but I sensed she and her dragon were relatively unfamiliar with each other because it had been so repressed.
“Would you cook for me?” I wondered. “I dinnae eat much outside of what my dragon hunts, so mayhap ‘twould be wise to shift and hunt because I am hungry indeed.”
Fully aware of her rising tension, I stood and kept up the charade. “I hope you dinnae mind if I shift into my dragon here, as this is my lair and ‘twould be risky to do it elsewhere.” I moved a tad closer, making sure she caught every last word. “’Tis my fondest hope my inner beast takes kindly to your presence, but I’m sure if he doesnae I will be able to control him this time.” I let my voice drop in dismay. “’Twas rare how he acted last time someone ended up here he wasnae familiar with, but I’m sure ‘twas just the once, may God forgive—”
“Don’t,” she murmured aloud, her soft voice cutting to my core in a way I didn't anticipate.
That, however, paled in comparison to what happened when her eyes finally fluttered open and met mine.
CHAPTER THREE
Scottish Highlands
1375
–Hazel–
IWASN’T SURE when I nodded off after hours of chatting with Willow, but clearly I had because when I sensed an intruder close by, I stirred awake. Then, just as swiftly, I sank back into oblivion until a forest awash in purple twilight rose around me, and I found myself searching. Sad. Overwhelmed by a sense of loss, followed by a desperate need to find something or someone.
Moments later, the forest vanished, and I was afloat in darkness and fear until a sense of warmth and safety enveloped me, and I swore I heard wings. Or were those footsteps? Either way, they seemed to sync up with my heartbeat, or perhaps with another heartbeat, because suddenly, I felt the heavy, dependable thud of a heart all around me. A comforting lull that carried me until my mind seemed to brush another’s, and blazing cat-like eyes,dragoneyes, met mine in the darkness, bringing me to awareness.
And bybringing me, I mean trapping me in a semi-awareness I couldn’t seem to break free from.Stay calm and focus, I preached to myself, doing my best to pay attention to what was happening around me so when the opportunity came to flee whoever had taken me, I could seize it. I might not know how to fight, but I was a survivor.
Or so I could only hope when I allowed my other senses to take over in place of my eyesight, as I too often did without realizing it. In this case, however, I wasn’t sensing anyone else's needs.
Instead, I became acutely aware of who held me.
More specifically, I became aware of hot, hard muscles and a strong, steady heartbeat that seemed to synchronize with mine. Aware of the masculine, spicy scent of his heated skin and the occasional catch of his breath, as if something caught him unaware. I became aware of the light tread of his swift, steady footfall on what I now realized was rock, somewhere cavernous, hinting at someone not just fit but stealthy and quick on his feet.
A fighter, I would say.
Based on everything going on with Aspen and the fact that I must have time-traveled, he was undoubtedly a seasoned warrior who could be any of Broderick’s brethren.
He could also be any of his enemies.
Yet when he crossed some sort of threshold, a cool breeze blew over my skin, and those same dragon eyes rose in my vision again, not sinister but welcoming, I suspected he was no enemy. At least not one of Broderick’s. When he called me by my sister Willow’s name and referred to Aspen, I knew he was a MacLeod.
Which MacLeod, though?
And why had he taken me when my tree was supposed to lead me to safety, but had warned me ahead of his arrival?
I tried to think clearly and assess what Adlin MacLomain had told me about Aspen and Broderick’s journey back to each other, but it was hard, if not impossible, when I was laid down in a sea of softness that immersed me even more in my captor’s scent. He smelled like a combination of things. I couldn’t say what they were, other than they were unique, and I, alarmingly enough, couldn’t get enough of it.
That is, until his voice’s deep, rich timbre came through more clearly with a Scottish brogue I sensed wasn’t as thick as it usually was, despite its rolling R’s. He used the wordyouinstead ofye, making it clear he was an ally, because I knew they spoke that way to make twenty-first-century time travelers feel more comfortable.
While his voice and scent already had me far too aware of him, it was his taunting about my apron and profession that made me finally speak. Or more specifically, his threatening to shift into his dragon to hunt for food forced me to open my eyes despite my best efforts to bide my time. To learn the lay of the land so I could form an escape plan.
Instead, I allowed myself to be baited.
Fearing being near an actual dragon, never mind that he was a stranger and I was someplace I’d never been, possibly six hundred years in my past, I opened my eyes and saw the last thing I expected.
