Highlander in Her Dreams (23 page)

A muscle jerked in Aidan's jaw. “Right. Peas,” he said, not looking entirely convinced.

“Don't worry. I know what I'm doing.” Kira reached to touch his plaid, willing him to trust her. “We'll soak the sacks of peas in the icy water,” she explained. “When they're cold enough, we'll place a cloth-wrapped sack on Kendrew's forehead, leaving it there until the sack isn't cold anymore. We'll apply a new sack every two hours, so someone will have to keep bringing chilled water from the spring.”

“Tavish! Mundy!” Aidan swung around to the other men. “See that her orders are followed,” he said, nodding in satisfaction when they took off at a run.

He glanced back at her. “Aught else?”

“Only that we need to get the icy sacks onto Kendrew's forehead as quickly as possible.”

“It will be done.” He looked at her and something flared in his eyes.

Something heated that went straight to her toes.

“Aye, it will be done,” he repeated. “Whate'er you want.”

She blinked, her heart pounding. What she wanted was to continue what they'd started in the solar.

But now was clearly not the time.

So she touched a grateful hand to Nils the Viking's sleeve and gave Ella and Etta her best smile, hoping they'd accept a truce if poor Kendrew's goose egg went down as quickly as she hoped.

Aidan looked hopeful, too, and that pleased her more than she would have believed.

Folding his arms again, he raked his men with a triumphant stare. “Soon, Kendrew will be well,” he announced, his voice ringing.

Almost as if
he'd
suggested the chilled pea sacks.

Not that she minded.

O-o-oh, no, she didn't care at all. Not as long as he made it up to her the instant they were alone again. Then she would tell him exactly what she wanted.

Judging by the way he'd just looked at her, he was more than ready to give it to her.

She smiled. For a night that had soured so quickly, things were definitely looking up now.

 

Several hours later, Kira sat alone at a heavy oaken table in Aidan's room, frowning at a stack of parchment sheets. Moonlight slanting through a nearby window arch and two large wax candles illuminated the unwieldy scrolls. Her efforts to record her time-traveling experiences for Dan. Everything that had happened to her since arriving in Scotland, up to and including Kendrew's mysterious scuffle and how she'd subsequently introduced ice packs to the good folk of Castle Wrath.

Unfortunately, she couldn't yet write about whether they'd worked or not, having gladly let Aidan usher her from the hall when Nils the Viking placed a smooth bit of wood between Kendrew's teeth just before the birthing sisters set to work with their bone needles and horse-tail thread.

She shuddered, certain she'd been wise to leave.

At least, thanks to Aidan's nod and the healer's open-mindedness, the sisters had used sterilized needles.

Not sure that they would make much difference, all things considered, she helped herself to a small sip of the wine someone had thoughtfully left sitting beside her parchments. Still not fond of the rather piquant taste of medieval spirits, she wrinkled her nose, restricting herself to a very small sip.

A cloud passed over the moon, dimming her vision. She blinked and edged the two candles closer, needing better light to see. Ink splotches blotted some of her words, the sight of them making her head pound with annoyance. Rubbing her temples, she peered down at the squiggled lines, not sure if she should credit the messiness of her scribbles to the awkwardness of using an inkwell and quill or if working on a keyboard had just ruined her handwriting.

Either way, she could only hope that if ever the parchments reached Dan, he'd be better at deciphering her script than she was.

She also hoped Aidan would return soon.

The moonlight was making her ache for him, its pale glow spilling not just across the table and her blasted parchments, but across the luscious coverings of his great timbered bed on the other side of the room as well. Every time she glanced that way, a delicious curl of anticipation warmed the deepest part of her, making her tingle with excitement. He'd promised to hurry back, the swift, heated kiss he'd given her at the door suggesting even more.

Shivering, she took a deep breath, her scribblings forgotten as his words from earlier circled through her like heady, honeyed wine.

Whate'er you want
.

Chills sweeping her, she smiled. The words sent heat coiling through her even as her body trembled. Her breath quickened, and her heart began to thump with a slow, erratic beat. She could almost feel him striding into the room, claiming it and her as his own as he crossed to her. Possession in mind, he would yank up her skirts and settle himself beneath them, telling her that he knew what she wanted so badly and that he wanted it even more.

Hot and cold in turns now, she bit her lip, not wanting to get too worked up before his return. She also needed to write more. Now, with everything so fresh in her mind. But it was hard to concentrate, and the squiggly lines were beginning to look even squigglier, some of them seeming to dance and swim before her eyes.

“Was your father truly a healer of kings?”

“Oh!” She jumped, her heart skittering. She looked up, the quill slipping from her fingers, its ink splashing across the parchment.

Pushing to her feet, she swayed, nerves or the lateness of the hour making her clumsy. “Sheesh!” She frowned and grabbed the chairback, grateful for its support.

She swallowed hard, pulling up all her strength to stand tall and look normal.

Unfazed by tiredness and immune to moon glow. Wholly unaffected by his dark, penetrating gaze, or whatever it was that had her mouth so dry and her legs feeling like rubber bands. The way he changed the very air just by being there.

She blinked, her fingers still clutching the chair. “Is Kendrew okay?”

To her relief, he smiled.

“The lad sleeps.” He looked pleased. Equally good, holding her gaze as he did, he didn't seem to notice her death grip on the chair. “Nils gave him a strong sleeping draught after Ella and Etta did their stitching. I doubt he'll wake till the morrow's noon.”

“And the lump on his forehead?” She was almost afraid to ask. “Did it go down?”

Bemusement lit his eyes. “Och, aye. With remarkable speed, much to everyone's astonishment.”

Kira released a ragged breath. “Thank goodness.”

“So tell me, lass.” He stepped back and folded his arms, once more assuming his most lairdly tone. “Was your father truly a healer? And of kings?”

“Ahhh…” She trailed off. She'd meant to tell him the truth, but her tongue wouldn't form the words, even felt too big in her mouth.

She swallowed and tried again. “No, he isn't a healer. It just seemed like the most diplomatic thing to say. He's a ceramic tile salesman.”

One raven brow lifted. “No royal connections?”

Kira shook her head. “Only through a name. He works for a man named King.”

His smile returned. “Hah!” He gave a short laugh. “I thought as much.”

“You aren't mad? Not even a bit…disappointed?”

She'd thought he would be.

At least until she explained herself.

Instead, he stood looking at her, his smile slowly broadening into a grin. A
warm
grin that slid right into her, wrapping around her heart and making her rubbery knees even more unsteady.

“You, lass, could ne'er disappoint me.” He spoke softly, his voice almost a caress. “And, nay, I'm no' mad.”

“You didn't want me to interfere. I saw it on your face in the hall.” She swallowed again, still finding it hard to form words. “Then…then I lied, making my father something he's not.”

He touched a finger to her mouth, tracing the curve of her lips. “You delighted me this e'en and have won o'er my men with naught but a few sacks of dried peas and icy water from a spring.”

“What?” She blinked. “They're no longer calling for my head?”

“They think you most wise. Even Ella and Etta paid you grudging respect.”

“The birthing sisters?” She could hardly believe it. “What about the redheaded woman? The one with the milk-white skin?”

He frowned, looking puzzled. “Ach,” he said after a moment, “you must mean Sinead, the laundress?”

Kira nodded, even now feeling the stab of the woman's resentful stare. “She doesn't like me at all.”

“She isn't fond of any women.” He gave a half shrug, dismissing her. “Especially beautiful ones who are far more desirable than herself.”

His words made her heart soar. “I think you are a flatterer.”

“I speak but the truth,” he said, leaning close to lightly kiss her brow. “Sinead is of no consequence. You needn't fret about her.”

“Then why is she here?”

He sighed. “She is laundress, and…more. In a castle with so many unmarried men, such women are a necessity. She means naught to me.”

“Oh.” She should have known.

Wishing she'd never mentioned the woman, much less
seen
her, she took a deep breath. As deep as she could with her chest feeling so tight and achy. She pressed a hand to her breast, trying to ease the pressure.

“Forget the woman. There are one or two others like her here. You needn't pay heed to any of them.” He kissed her again, on the cheek this time. “Every man in Wrath's hall drinks to your health this night. Even Ross and Geordie.”

“They were that pleased to see Kendrew's swelling go down?”

“Och, to be sure, though I'd wager their pleasure is more self-serving.” He drew her to him, sliding his arms around her back. “You wouldn't believe what they're doing just now. Nor would I, had I no' seen it myself.”

He pulled back to look her, a smile hovering on his lips. “If you were to slip down there, you'd find at least half of them lying about with chilled sacks of dried peas pressed to whate'er body parts they claim ails them. The others are glaring at them, impatiently waiting their turn because there aren't enough pea sacks to go around.”

Kira let go of the chair to wrap her arms around his neck. His smile was getting to her, the dark gleam in his eyes making her breath hitch.

“You look surprised.”

His voice was deep, low and soft with a richness that strummed her soul. Holding fast to his shoulders, she leaned into him, certain she'd melt at his feet if she didn't. Her legs
did
feel seriously like rubber.

She frowned. “I think there's something wrong—”

“Naught for you to fash yourself about.” He caught one of her hands, bringing it to his lips. “My men are no' bad, Kee-
rah
. I knew they would warm to you in time.” Releasing her hand, he smoothed the hair back from her face. “Any who still bear doubts will lose them soon. I promise you.”

Not so sure, she looked at him, trying to focus. She wished the clouds would stop blotting the moonlight. Or the candles on the table would burn brighter. At times, his face seemed to blur, lost in the darkening shadows.

She blinked, then squinted, relieved when the dimness receded. “Maybe I should tell your men about hot water bottles?” she offered, her voice sounding far away.

Almost
tinny
, as if she were speaking in a drum.

“Hot water bottles?” He looked amused. “Are they another future healing method?”

She nodded, regretting it instantly for the swift movement nearly split her head. “They are like the heated stones you put in beds to warm them, only better. You need only fill a small leather pouch with boiling water to have soothing heat wherever you need it.”

His smile turned wicked. “I can think of a different kind of
soothing heat
.” He took her hand again, this time pressing a kiss into her palm. “A slick, slippery-wet heat I've been hungering for all e'en.”

“Oh.” Kira caught her lip between her teeth, the
heat
he meant pulsing in hot response. “I—”

“I need you naked,” he finished for her. “Need us both naked. I've an urge to kiss and lick every inch of you.”

“Oh, God, yes!” She leaned into him, the hot tingles between her legs so intense the room began to spin. Heavens, she tingled everywhere. Even her mouth and lips, her fingers.

This was what she wanted, needed
.

His smile positively wolfish now, he reached for the large Celtic brooch at his shoulder, unclasping it faster than her eyes could follow. He whipped off his plaid with equal speed, his sword belt, tunic, and everything else vanishing in a blur until he stood naked before her.