Eoin puzzled over what his Grandfa had said about fate for hours. He hadn’t said much at evening meal down in the great hall.
The word reverberated in his head, in English and Gaelic.
Was Ashlyn his…fate?
He was well educated in the family legends regarding the women who’d married into his clan from other centuries, but had never considered them more than stories from the past. As much as he time traveled, he’d never contemplated a lass for himself being from the future. Hell, he hardly ever contemplated a lass for himself at all.
Being a man, he had needs, but he always found a woman to assuage them. Eoin was a considerate lover, making sure she had pleasure, too, but he never stayed beyond his purpose, and had never been tempted for more.
Marriage was always in the back of his mind, of course. He needed an heir, and would have to wed eventually, but Angus only mentioned it every so often, not really pressuring him.
He was only thirty. Eoin had time.
Ashlyn was seated next to him as an honored guest, and his lass hadn’t said much since they’d climbed up the dais to take their places, either. Perhaps she was contemplating what Angus had said as well, or mayhap she was still taking everything in.
She’d pushed the venison around on her plate, too, but Nessie had fussed her into eating a portion of it after a while.
Fiona laughed loudly at something someone said, and he shot his sister a look, but she flashed a grin, unrepentant as usual, with her dimple showing.
She hadn’t cornered him regarding the MacDonald lad, so the fact she was of a pleasant disposition could mean she was scheming, or that she felt their grandfather would help fulfil her wishes.
It wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t change his mind.
Eoin could feel someone watching him, and swung his eyes around until they collided with Angus’, as if the man had guessed he’d been thinking of him. Maybe he had. Grandfa had the uncanny ability to sense emotions, but he wasn’t quite the empath his mother was said to have been.
At least he couldn’t read minds, like some of their cousins with Fae blood. That would’ve been disastrous.
He offered a nod and Eoin returned it, but the elderly man’s gaze didn’t waver. He was watching the lass next to Eoin, too.
Fate?
He shook the thought away. Was likely to drive him mad if he didn’t let it go.
Fiona was chatting with her—but at least Ashlyn was talking, then smiling. Even the occasional laugh.
His little pest had seemed to have charmed his honey-haired lass like she did everyone else. Maybe she had magic after all, and it lay with her interactions with others.
He didn’t like the feeling of jealousy that lingered. His sister had made her laugh, instead of him. Eoin tried to subtly watch her, but that melted into a full-out stare. Ashlyn was enchanting as she gestured and shared words with Fiona as well as his grandfather.
So beautiful he couldn’t breathe. She was still clad in the green gown, and sitting pressed her breasts higher, their perfection giving him more nourishment than the food he’d consumed.
“Eoin?”
He jumped when Angus called his name. From the concern on his grandfather’s face, it hadn’t been the first time.
“What?” He winced. He’d not meant to bark.
“Nessie has been tryin’ ta hand ye a plate, ye big oaf,” Fiona snapped.
Heat kissed the back of his neck. His cheeks burned and he wanted to curse. He was probably red. When was the last time he’d blushed? Eoin threw what he hoped was an apologetic look to the housekeeper. Wanted to rub his embarrassment away, but didn’t.
“Yer favorite, my laird.” The older woman lifted a trencher full of cakes, tarts and sweet breads to him.
He muttered thanks and returned her smile. Maybe it would help him feel less like he’d gone daft.
“Try these.” Fiona was bright again, as she reached and put two pieces of sweet bread on Ashlyn’s plate. “Apple is Eoin’s favorite, I prefer tha spiced.”
His lass turned a wide smile to his sister that again made him feel a stab in his gut. When would she give him a smile like that?
Eoin couldn’t tear his gaze away as Ashlyn brought the slice of bread to her lips and took a bite, then her little pink tongue darted out to catch a morsel at the corner of her mouth.
She closed her eyes as she took another bite. Her little moan of appreciation was his undoing.
He ordered his manhood to stand down. Then again, stand was the wrong choice of words. Eoin cleared his throat and averted his gaze. Forced his fingers to close around the apple tart, then shoved it into his mouth and chewed. He couldn’t seem to appreciate the flavor bursting on his taste buds like he usually did.
“Oh my. This is awesome!”
“She likes it!” Fiona grinned, and Nessie beamed.
“Thanks, Nessie,” Ashlyn said.
“I doona do all tha cookin’, bu’ no one can match my sweets,” the housekeeper said.
“I believe it!” his lass exclaimed.
The meal couldn’t end soon enough.
Eoin couldn’t sit still, and his family—especially his grandfather—kept throwing him knowing looks. The glances from Fiona were annoyed, but he couldn’t very well tell his sister all the blood in his body had settled below his waist.
When the lasses started removing the trenchers, he shot to his feet.
Angus arched a furry white eyebrow, and even Ashlyn sent him a questioning look.
“C’mon, lass. I’ll walk ye ta yer quarters,” Eoin told her.
“Oh. Okay.” She looked at his sister and grandfather. “Thank you for the lovely company and the good meal.”
“G’night, lass.”
His sister smiled as if she’d made a fast friend, and with his little pest, that was probably true. She echoed Angus’ evening wishes, and finally Eoin was alone with Ashlyn.
He resisted the urge to rest his hand at the small of her back. Touching her was a bad idea, especially since he couldn’t get the taste of her mouth out of his memory. Watching her eat Nessie’s famous desserts had been a mistake.
Eoin had meant to take her to the rooms next to his. The rooms that would be his wife’s when he finally wed, and had a connecting interior door to his own. However, the entry he stopped outside of was the laird’s chambers. He pushed the door open and gestured for Ashlyn to enter in front of him.
Her brow was knitted. “But…this is the room I was in earlier. The room I bathed and dressed in.”
“Aye,” he croaked.
“I thought…I thought…these were your rooms.”
“Aye.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I can’t stay with you, Eoin.”
Instinct was for him to shout, ‘Why not?’ or worse, order her to do just that, but he couldn’t. She’d be angrier with him than she already had the right to be. “There’re rooms adjoining ta my own.” He pointed to the nearby door. “Ye’ll stay there.”
“Oh. Then why—?” She indicated her surroundings. His things.
He couldn’t confess he just wasn’t ready to part from her company. An unmanly shiver traversed his limbs and he cleared his throat. He’d lost track of how many times he’d done that all evening. “I needed ta speak wit’ ye before we retire, s’all.”
Ashlyn cocked her head to one side, studying him. “About what? We’ve been talking all day.”
She was right, and it was nothing that couldn’t wait until the morn.
It didn’t matter; he couldn’t let her go, even if she’d be close by, sleeping in a bed that was not his own.
Eoin frowned.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Nothin’.” It was too quick, if her expression was any indication. “I’m tryin’ ta apologize ta ye,” he blurted. That was only half true. He shifted in his deerskin boots at the end of his bed, and his calf bumped the trunk where he kept his clothing. Eoin avoided looking at his oversized four-poster bed. If he gave the MacLeod tartan and lush furs too much notice, Ashlyn would think he wanted her in his bed.
Which he did, but surely she wouldn’t be agreeable.
“What for?” Her pretty was face open, honest.
Wasn’t she angry at him for kidnapping her?
“I brough’ ye here, lass. Against yer will.” Eoin held his breath, awaiting her answer.
****
“I’m not mad.” Ashlyn caressed the smooth carved wood of the closest bedpost and tried not to look at him. “I mean, I probably should be. Scratch that, I know I should be…but this is a gift, really.”
She was probably crazy after all, but sometime over the evening any anger she had for Eoin had melted into enchantment for where—when—she was. She couldn’t put her finger on the why, but didn’t want to examine it, either.
“A…gift?”
She nodded. “I’ve been writing about seventeenth and eighteenth century Scotland for years. I could’ve never fathomed that I’d see it with my own eyes. For real. Magic…is real.”
“Aye, ‘tis.”
Ashlyn laughed and shook her head. “Time travel. And the Fae. Wow.”
“Are…are ye sure yer…well?”
When she finally met his gaze, the laird looked confused. She’d never seen Eoin MacLeod unsure. She didn’t like the look on him or the instant urge to make him feel better.
Yup, I’ve lost my mind.
She closed her eyes and sucked a breath that pulled against the corset of Fiona’s gown. She sensed Eoin’s presence, felt the heat coming off his body.
He’d come closer to her.
Ashlyn opened her eyes and found his.
He was standing only inches away, and she wanted to reach for him. When she should still want to smack him and shove him from her, all she could do was look at his mouth and remember what it was like to kiss him.
Dammit.
“I should want to go home now; you kidnapped me.”
Eoin winced when she said the K-word. “Lass, I—”
“It’s okay, Eoin. I…want to stay, at least for a little while. Could I get some paper—parchment—and something to write with?”
If he was surprised by the request, he hid it well. “Aye, lass. Anathin’.”
“Do you think Angus would…tell me stories? Answer questions? I could write some things down…”
“Aye, I know he would.”
“I was kinda hoping he’d enjoy it, really,” Ashlyn whispered.
“Aye, he would.”
Her heart skipped at the intensity in his eyes. “Are you angry that I want to…document the real Clan MacLeod? I’ve done a lot of research. Written about your clan and the Isle of Skye, even the MacLeods of Lewis. I just…talking to Angus would be the real thing. I could see what’s true and what’s not. Plus he can tell me about the Fae. And…magic.”
Eoin shook his head. “Nay, lass.”
“Then…is something wrong?”
“Why do ye ask?”
“You’re looking at me…funny.” Awareness skittered over all her nerve endings and made her heart stutter. She swallowed. Tried to make herself stand still.
“Ye…lass.”
“Eoin?”
“Ye are tha gift, lass.”
Heat suffused her face and neck for the millionth time. Ashlyn went to shake her head, but Eoin reached out, dragging two fingers down her cheek and it took all she was made of not to erase the small distance between them and burrow into his chest.
He must’ve bathed before dinner, because his hair was damp and he smelled so good. Fresh sandalwood and sage washed over her senses.
She stood there like an idiot, next to the big bed she should probably move away from, before she did something stupid, like grab his hand and drag him to it. Beg Eoin to kiss her again, touch her all over, and make love to her.
You don’t even know him, idiot.
Angus said fate had brought her to 1755, and the idea had haunted her brain since that afternoon.
What was fate? Meeting Eoin?
Wanting him with a passion she’d never felt for another man?
Ashlyn wasn’t a one-night-stand kinda girl. She’d had lovers, all of whom she’d been in relationships with.
If she went there with the laird, it’d be no better than a few nights. She was going home to the future; she’d leave him behind. It wasn’t like they could have a real relationship. Could she kiss him and see where it went?
Who are you trying to kid? You know where it’d go. Them. Naked. Entangled. With a likely repeat.
He’d be as good as one of her romance novel heroes.
Ashlyn trembled.
They couldn’t be together long term. It was impossible, but the idea that they were doomed before they could start hurt somehow. Which didn’t make sense.
How can I feel so much for him?
Nothing made sense, even though she’d processed the time travel part. The 1755 part, the magic part. She was still working on understanding all Angus had said about the Fae.
She’d bought a picture of Eoin, then met him that very night.
If that wasn’t fate, what was?
Just magic? Ashlyn fidgeted in Fiona’s slippers.
Stop staring at him and say something before he thinks you’re the idiot you are.
“I don’t know why I want to say this, but I do,” she whispered.
“What’s tha’, lass?”
“Thank you, Eoin. For bringing me here.”
He shook his head, making his sable locks dance over his shoulders. “Nay, lass. I doona deserve tha’.” His expression was serious, with a touch of sadness, but there was more there, too. Something that darkened his eyes.
Ashlyn burned to run her fingers through his hair, then caress his face, touch his neck and chest, then more. Desire settled low and hot, making her legs shake and her core throb, and she tried to shake free, but couldn’t look away from the intensity in his sapphire gaze.