The Legend Mackinnon (43 page)

“What does this have to do with finding the key?”

She stopped and turned to face him. “I’m not talking
about the damn key.” She placed her hands on her hips, opened her mouth, and then closed it again. With an aggrieved sigh, she let her hands fall to her side and shook her head. “Never mind. Maybe you’re the type who has to have a picture drawn.” She strode across the room, her expression so intent and determined, his immediate instinct was to back up. He had no desire to end up tossed on the floor again. She was upon him before he could match thought to deed.

She reached for his head before he could duck and he found his mouth welded to hers an instant later. He gripped her arms, intent on putting her off of him, but just then a low groan issued from her throat and her dominant kiss turned pliant and wondrous. And just like that, he was once again lost in the infinite pleasures of Delaney Claren’s delectable mouth.

He held on to her arms, as she did his head. Her fingers kneaded his scalp, making him tighten his own grip against the overwhelming need to pull her against him, to feel her body flush up along his, to hold her in his arms as they took one another. And it was a joint taking, of that there was no doubt. Perhaps all the more intoxicating for their lack of contact beyond that of their hands and their mouths. She tasted sweet and salty and he discovered, to his astonishment and pleasure, that he rather enjoyed the fact that she wasn’t shy in enjoying his mouth every bit as much as he enjoyed hers.

He was quite breathless when she broke free and stumbled back a step. She stared up at him, her eyes deep violet now, and her lips sweet and puffy from his kisses. He found himself reaching for her, but her reflexes were sharper than his and she danced back just beyond his reach.

“Cailean is right, you MacKinnons do pack a wallop.”

“Yer looking at me like ye’ve never seen a man before.” He was as fascinated by his reaction to her as she apparently was by him. She was a warrior just as he was. His
brothers had talked of her antiterrorist background and it had only served to increase his fascination. A woman who understood the mind of a broad range of warriors, who comprehended battle strategy in all its forms?

Had he not already met her, not squared off against her, he would have doubted that someone of her stature and sensibilities could play such a delicately balanced role in the violent world of political and religious warfare.

He had no doubt of it now.

She had passion for what she believed in and it infused her with an energy that was infectious. Och, that someone with her strength of conviction could believe in him, stand for him and by him. With her by his side, he would feel unconquerable. The revelation stunned him.

“Maybe I’ve simply never seen a man like you.”

“Am I so different from the men in your world? I know of your career and I would think you’ve gone up against warriors before. I would think one such as you would seek them out, as they would you.”

She seemed stunned herself by his statement.

He stepped closer and was mightily intrigued when she instantly retreated a step. “Haven’t you?”

“I … I said before, it’s a ritual I have no patience for. Strength, both physical and intellectual, and femininity make an odd mix, I’ve discovered. But as you said, it’s what I am. I can’t change that. For anyone.”

“Perhaps you simply haven’t met the warrior who understands and appreciates those traits. A man who would revel in that power rather than attempt to diminish it.” He took another step. Her eyes widened somewhat, but not in fear. And this time, he noted, she stood her ground.

“Perhaps not,” she said, a slight, unsteady thread weaving through her voice.

What was he saying? That
he
was that man? Preposterous. And yet, the very thought of another man attempting
to join his life force with hers sparked a reaction inside him that was so virulent, he could scarce contain it.

But she hadn’t approached another man. She’d come to him. She’d stormed his castle and staked her claim on him. Surprisingly, the idea of being claimed by her fortified him.

He stepped closer and heard her soft intake of breath. He reached up and traced the delicate line of her cheekbone and jaw. “Why me, Delaney?” His voice was a dark whisper. “Do ye think I am your match?”

“Maybe I was wrong after all,” she said shakily. Then a slow smile curved her lips, shocking him into an instant state of almost painful hardness. She stepped closer and ran her fingers along his lips as well. “You did read the signs.”

His heart pounded beneath her touch. His body screamed for release. “ ‘Tis a dangerous journey we embark on here.”

“Answer me one question.”

Surprised but curious, he nodded.

“Right now, if you were given the chance to walk away from me and never go beyond this moment together, would you take it?”

With his gaze steady on hers, he shifted his mouth and slid his lips over her fingers. He pulled them into his mouth, then pressed his teeth slowly into the soft pads of flesh. She held his gaze boldly, then curled her fingers, skimming them across his tongue, deliberately scraping the length of them along the edges of his teeth as she slid them free … and then she placed them in her own mouth.

He groaned and muscles locked as desire the likes of which he’d never felt slammed through him. “I canno’, would no’, walk away from ye, Delaney. We are well and truly matched. Maybe too well. Perhaps ye are destined to be my doom.”

“If I am to be your doom, than you may well be mine. One thing I do know is that we are bound—through time,
through the past, through the present.” Then she moved into his arms and took his mouth even as he was taking hers.

A
lexander had no idea of how much time had passed when a sharp clearing of a throat brought him jarringly back to earth.

It was Duncan. “I am sorrier than ye know to ruin this moment, but the others were gettin’ worried.”

“About which one of us?” Delaney asked, forming an easy smile despite her less than steady breath.

Duncan laughed. “That is still under discussion. I was elected to enter the lion’s den.” Duncan’s grin grew wider, if that was possible. “I see you two are still grappling with the issues of control and leadership.”

Delaney grinned in return. “And quite enjoying the power struggle, too, I might add.”

Alexander felt his cheeks begin to heat, but Delaney held fast to his arm and would not allow him to step away. Damn the woman! He should have known better than to allow her to weave her faery magic on him, mortal or no. But even as the thoughts warred in his brain, he knew he had no real desire to be anywhere other than right where he stood.

“What is it, Duncan?” he demanded, willing his warming cheeks to cool. Duncan missed nothing and was obviously enjoying his older brother’s discomfiture.

“Well, it has been some time since you sequestered yourselves. Even Balgaire was getting restless.” His smile dimmed somewhat. “We are all gathered to discuss what is to be done.”

Delaney squeezed his arm, then released him and stepped away, far too easily for his peace of mind. “I think you are right,” she told Duncan.

Suspicions formed, unwanted but undaunted in his
mind. Had she thought to cloud his mind with desire, hoping to cloud his judgement as well? He placed his hand on her shoulder, holding her still, but turned his attention to Duncan. “Tell the others we will be there shortly. Send my apology for keeping them waiting.”

“No apology necessary. I’ll tell the others you will be along.” He looked to Delaney and winked. “Don’t be overly rough wi’ the man, Delaney. He’s no’ accustomed to a strong female who knows her mind—and his.” At Alexander’s gargle of outrage, Duncan flashed him a victorious smile, but spoke with full sincerity. “It’s no’ a thing to consider lightly, brother.”

He was gone before Alexander could put together a coherent response. Delaney broke free from his grasp and turned to him. “You cannot retreat into your laird mode every time your brothers do something to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Alexander pulled his attention away from the empty doorway and looked at her with honest surprise. “I was not retreating into anything of the sort! I am their eldest sibling as well as their clan chief. They look to me for guidance and leadership in both roles. I was merely—”

“You were merely feeling threatened by what we were sharing and by the fact that Duncan obviously pegged it so you assumed the cold laird pose and issued orders and took control of the situation.” She stepped closer and patted his shoulder. Patted his shoulder!

“I am not a pet or a small child to be placated with a pat to the head.”

“No, you are a man who is dealing with some very serious issues, not the least of which is handling your family. Which, I see now, might not be the easy task that you envisioned. Am I right?”

He blustered for a few seconds before releasing a deep sigh. He broke away from her infernally reassuring touch
and paced the room. “Aye,” he said, filled with disgust. “Aye, yer right.”

She walked up behind him. “Things have changed for them, Alexander, they are changing for you, too. Your brothers aren’t the men they were before. They aren’t second and third in line to the chieftainship, or even loyal clansmen, worried about the fate of their clan. They are dealing with other, very difficult realities. You cannot simply command them to follow you wherever you think it’s best for them to go. What is best for you, for your clan, for the past you want to return to, may no longer be what’s best for them.”

Her words pummeled him like arrows and stones. They stuck, they hurt, they got his attention.

She took hold of his arm and turned him to face her. “But you are and always will be their elder brother. They will always want to do what is right by you and for you. If you think this is an easy task for them, to make this decision on what to do, you are wrong. They are as pained by it as you.”

“Yer sayin’ I am makin’ it harder for them still?” He leaned away from her touch, frowning. “I canno’ shake my loyalty to what I was born and bred to do, which is to do whatever I must to save my clan. If I have a chance, no matter how narrow, I must try. And as their brother and their chief, I must insist they return with me. The date on the calendar, the realms of this world that they exist in, matters naught. Their loyalty to their clan, mine too, shouldna waver in the face of anything. If ye canno’ understand that—”

“Oh, but I do,” she said quietly. “Sadly, I do.” She dropped her chin and was silent for a moment. “I deal with fanatics all the time.”

“I am not lunatic or despot,” he exploded, stunned by the accusation and startlingly hurt by it.

“Ask yourself who you are really doing this for, Alexander.” Her eyes were flashing now. She stormed closer. “For all intents and purposes, you are dead in the past. You disappeared from that time and time marched on. It is history now, fact and final. For you to even consider going back and changing, or attempting to change the outcome, because it enrages your personal sense of right and wrong, is arrogant and selfish in the extreme.”

“And what of your quest? This one you embark on with your cousins? What if you are able to lift this curse? What if you are able to give my brother Rory his mortality? Will that not change some future sequence of events? Isn’t the very fact that my brothers and I are existing in a place out of time already a sleight to nature and history? Who are you to determine what is okay to toy with and what is not?” His chest was heaving by the time he finished his tirade. He fully expected her to erupt in return. To his further amazement, she did not.

The fight left her. She looked like that small, fragile woman she so vehemently denied wanting to be. He wanted to rage at her to fight back, to argue the point with him and loudly. He wanted her to give him a dozen reasons to make him believe she was right and he was wrong.

He wanted her to give him a reason to stay.

That truth rocked him so hard he could not think, could not speak, could not move. Panic rushed to fill the gaping holes she’d just blown wide within him. If she’d wanted to cloud his judgement, it seems she had well accomplished her goal.

“Perhaps we should take this discussion back to the rest of the group,” she said quietly. Too quietly.

He turned what he was very much afraid was a wild-eyed, desperate look in her direction. “Delaney—”

She didn’t answer; she merely turned and left the room.

Everything he’d ever believed in had just been turned
upside down. He needed this time alone to piece it all back together, to right the world she had so swiftly and easily upended.

Dammit, don’t walk out on me now. Come back
.

Dear God, come back.

P
ART
F
OUR
T
HE
K
EY

“… Love is indestructible.”

—
ROBERT SOUTHY

“… And all that life is love.”

—
JAMES MONTGOMERY