Spell of the Highlander
Page 93

“Nay, but we’re clothed,” Cian purred.
Jessi laughed. He certainly wasn’t decent. The man was shamelessly indecent. He was an animal in bed. And out. A great, big, hungry, uninhibited animal.
And she adored it.
Gwen hurried into the library first, trailed by Chloe. Their sexy husbands brought up the rear. Jessi studied the twins with interest this morning. She’d been too tense and worried about Cian last night to look at them much. Now she examined them at a sexually-induced-endorphin-drugged leisure.
They were magnificent men, with identical, chiseled Celtic features, golden skin, strong noses, and chiseled jaws dusted by the same dark shadow-beards.
Though they were twins, there were significant differences.
Dageus’s long black hair was free this morning and spilled in a sleek fall of midnight silk to his waist. Drustan’s stopped about six inches past his shoulders. Dageus’s eyes were tiger-gold, Drustan’s sparkled like shards of silver and ice. Though both had powerful physiques and stood well over six feet and several inches, Dageus was leaner, ripped with muscle; Drustan was slightly taller, broader, and packed with it. Both were extraordinary men, but Jessi was willing to bet all Keltar males were. All those dominant-male, exceptional qualities that shaped Cian so uniquely were still there, present in his descendants, centuries later. There was simply something extra in their blue blood, programmed into their regal genes.
Gwen smiled warmly at her. “We thought you might like some clean clothes. Chloe and I rummaged through our closets and brought you a few things. We had a few other items taken to the Silver Chamber for you.”
Surprised and delighted, Jessi pushed to her feet. Clean clothes! The morning just kept getting better and better. As she hurried across the patterned rugs, Dageus and Drustan hastened past her, their fascinated gazes locked on the mirror.
“What make you of the runes on the frame, Dageus?” Drustan asked.
“I doona ken the language, do you?”
“Nay,” Drustan replied.
Jessi accepted the small pile of clothing, forgetting about the men for a moment. Gwen and Chloe hadn’t just brought “a few things,” they’d brought her everything she needed. There was a pair of low-ride, button-fly Paper Denim & Cloth jeans that she could never have afforded herself, a delicate pink tank with a lacy scooped neckline, and a matching, soft woolen cardigan. They also brought panties, socks, boots, and—wonder of wonders—a bra! She wasn’t going to sag prematurely after all. She fingered the plain white spandex appreciatively.
Gwen stepped closer and said in a low voice so the men wouldn’t overhear, “I know it’s not very pretty, but it’s the only one I had that I thought might fit. I wore it when I was pregnant.”
“Oh, it’s perfect,” Jessi said fervently. “It’s a bra. I couldn’t be happier. Thank you. Both of you.” She smiled at them.
“If you’re going to be staying with us awhile,” said Chloe, “we can go shopping. Or if you need to stick close to the castle, we can order some things off the Internet.”
Jessi blinked, feeling humbled by the two gracious women. Just like that, they’d accepted her. She’d burst into their home, unannounced and uninvited, they didn’t know the first thing about her, yet they’d made her welcome. They’d brought her pretty clothes. They cared that she had a pretty bra. “Thank you,” she said again, with heartfelt sincerity.
“There’s a half-bath just down the hall to the left, by the great hall, if you’d like to change there.”
Nodding, Jessi hurried off, looking forward to wearing clean clothes again.
When she returned to the library, the MacKeltars were seated near the fire.
They’d moved the Dark Glass from where it had been slanted against the bookcase, to the wall next to the mantel, facing them.
Cian stood, his powerful jean-clad legs widespread, his palms braced on something at the outer edges of the glass—she guessed a stone wall on each side—staring out into the library.
He was wearing the black Ironman T-shirt again, and the muscles in his tattooed arms rippled beneath the short sleeves with his slightest movement. She’d had those arms around her in just about every way imaginable last night. She was greatly looking forward to more of the same tonight, or whenever he could be freed next. An ottoman was propped at the base of the mirror to keep it from sliding on the polished wood floor.
On a nearby coffee table was an appetizing spread of iced scones, assorted fruits, cheeses and pastries, and three gently steaming carafes.