Highland Fling. JENNIFER LABRECQUE
glow.
“You’ve seen that painting before?” Darach asked her.
“Yes. It was in a traveling exhibit, Sex Through the Ages, in the Atlanta museum.”
“Sex Through the Ages?” Darach frowned at her.
“I didn’t name the thing,” Kate snapped back at him. “I just showed up for the viewing.”
Hamish jumped in to get the conversation back on track. “And the draw was so strong you couldn’t stay away?”
“Yes. Did you do that to me? Did you cast some kind of spell?”
“No. What you felt was between the two of you. That’s the way it works. I don’t pick anyone. If you weren’t supposed to be here, if on some level you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t.”
“Wait a second. Something’s obviously gotten screwed up somewhere along the line. I definitely don’t want to be here. I want to be home. You’ve got the wrong gal. I think you meant to snag my friend Jordan. She’s a history major. Trust me. She’d much rather be here, well, maybe not tied to the bed,” she glared in Darach’s direction, “but she’s into history and this would be right up her alley. Trust me on this. I’m not the person for this. I don’t do history. I’ve never even been to the Renaissance festival ’cause I don’t like that stuff. I’m a techno freak. I love the conveniences of modern life. Electricity. Running water. Flush toilets. CAT scans. Penicillin. Starbucks.”
“Aye. A mocha latte grande is a thing of beauty.”
“See. You understand. You have to send me back.”
He upended his palms in a gesture of helplessness. “I can not. Only you can send yourself back.”
“No. That’s not true. ’Cause I’d be home right now if I could. And I tried to go through the picture earlier.”
“No, lass, ’tis yourself that has brought you here. You wanted to be here so much you were willing to come as bare as a bairn. And once you have taken care of what you came here for, you’ll return.”
Darach stood, arrogant, commanding, smug. “So the lass wanted a tumble with me that bad, did she?”
“Actually, your need for her was so strong that she felt it coming through.”
“Now I know you are daft, man. I don’t need her.” He eyed her stretched out on his bed, clad in his plaid. “Now, there is no denying I want her. I’m willing to tumble a comely lass, but I don’t need her. There is any number of lasses willing to warm my bed.”
“You are the most arrogant, pig-headed, macho, blustering bag of hot air. Whatever faint glimmer of attraction I felt at one point for a man in a picture has totally dissipated having experienced your lack of charm first-hand.”
Darach’s mouth tightened. “Aye. And I can do without a viper-tongued wench.”
“Wench? Wench? Lass is one thing, but did you just call me a wench? I’ll have you know I’m a doctor. No one calls me a wench. I passed my boards with flying colors. I could take you apart and put you back together with my eyes closed.”
“That may all be well and true, Katie-love, but while you are here, I’m the laird.”
Hamish let himself out of the room. For the time being, his work was done.
4
“NOW, DO YOU THINK you can untie me?” Kate said. “I can prove to you I’m from the twenty-first century.”
As fantastical concept as it was, she was convinced she’d somehow time traveled. The old guy who now looked young and satellite absence had made a believer of her. However, she thought that business about her wanting to be here was a load of horse manure. In no way, shape, form or fashion did she want to be here.
Maybe that conductor guy had smoked some crack. Did they have crack in 1744? She knew virtually nothing about historic mind-altering drugs. For that matter, she knew precious little about historic anything. It wasn’t her deal.
“I will unbind you if I have your word you’ll remain in this room, otherwise, for your own good, I’ll keep you bound to my bed.” He stood at the end of the bed, strong legs braced apart, thick arms crossed over his massive chest.
He wasn’t blustering. He was giving her a choice. She didn’t doubt for a moment he could and would keep her tied to the bed if she didn’t cooperate. In fact, she could scream herself silly and it wouldn’t matter. He was in charge and no one would cross him. She didn’t have to know jack about history to know that. She recognized absolute power and in this world, Darach MacTavish was literally a law unto himself.
“I promise. I’ll stay in this room.”
He moved with a grace uncommon to a man of his size and knelt on the bed. Sensation fluttered low in her belly. His scent, the same that had drawn her over and over again for the past several weeks, was even more potent and alluring up close and personal. Dark hair was sprinkled tantalizingly along his legs and forearms, and she knew for a certain, blood-stirring fact that he was naked beneath his kilt. Muscles corded in his arms as he worked loose the knot binding her left hand. His hair swung forward, a dark curtain drawn on the harsh line of his nose, the bold line of his jaw, and the sensuous curve of his lips.
His fingers pressed against her wrist and palm as he worked at the knot in the material. She touched people all day, checking pulses, feeling for abnormalities, but this…this was different altogether. Her pulse leapt and tingles spread through her.
Kate flushed at his touch and the heat it evoked. She should look away—study the ceiling and mentally review the last cases she’d seen at work. But she couldn’t look away, couldn’t redirect her attention because that incredible surge of heat and lust and want drew her to him. It was a yearning born from deep within that surpassed attraction and even will. She didn’t want to feel drawn to him. She didn’t want to ache for more of his touch.
The fabric gave way, releasing her wrist…until he recaptured it in his hands. He stroked her pulse point, performing a sensual massage with his thumb. “I hope it didna hurt you.” The low timbre of his voice thrummed through her. He looked at her and there was no denying the heat smoldering in his gaze. Without looking away, he slowly brought her wrist to his mouth until his warm breath whispered against her flesh.
Her heart thundered in her chest. She ought to snatch her hand away but, God help her, she wanted to know the feel of that exquisitely sensual mouth against her skin. Wanted to know if the inherent promise in those well-shaped lips was real or merely fantasy’s fodder.
He pressed a kiss to her wrist and sweet heat poured through her. He nuzzled and suckled the flesh as if he were savoring a delicate treat. Instinctively she curled her fingers against his cheek. He lifted his head. “You would think me naught but a brutish Highlander were I tae bruise you.”
She reclaimed her hand and wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “I’m fine. If you would just untie my other hand now.”
“As you wish, Katie-love.” She fully expected him to walk around to the other side of the bed. Instead, Darach MacTavish, with a wicked smile, climbed atop and straddled her. Powerful thighs braced on either side of her, he leaned forward and worked at the other knot.
What she’d felt outside that portrait now increased exponentially. She was wantonly, wickedly aware that except for two soft bits of cloth, she and this magnificent male specimen were naked. The heavy length of him pressed against her hip as he leaned over her. Stretched above her at the angle he was, the scar she’d daydreamed about earlier was slightly visible.
She reached up and traced her finger down the puckered line marring his back. His skin was warm and supple on either side of the scar’s hard ridge. Did she imagine the small shudder that ran through him?
“That must have hurt.”
He