The Dark Highlander
Page 103

He glanced at her, drinking her in. For their return, they’d donned the clothing they’d worn in the twenty-first century, and she stood in her slim blue trews and creamy sweater, her tousled curls spilling down her back. Desire quickened in his veins. Anon he would be loving her, and every minute betwixt now and then was a minute too long.
He’d warned her how opening the bridge would affect him.
I won’t be … quite myself, Chloe. You remember how I was when we came through the first time?
I know, she’d said firmly. I know what you’ll need.
He’d gritted his teeth. I may be … rough, love.
I’m tougher than you think. A pause, then those words he would never tire of hearing: I love you, Dageus. Nothing will change that.
She was so wee, yet so strong and determined. She was, quite simply, everything he’d ever wanted.
“Son,” Silvan’s voice shattered his thoughts, “I’d have a word with you before you go.”
Dageus nodded and made his way toward Silvan, who led him toward the castle. He’d already said his good-byes to his da, Nell, and his brothers, and was impatient to go, lest someone weep again and tear at his heart.
“When you return, son, you must tell Drustan about the chamber library.”
Dageus blinked, perplexed. “But he’ll know. We opened it again, and you’ll be passing the knowledge to Ian
and—”
“I’ll be doing no such thing.” Silvan said calmly.
“But why?”
“I spent some time last eve pondering the possibilities. If the chamber library is made known to the Keltar, it may affect too many things over the next centuries. It must be forgotten. ’Tis too risky for us to restore such a wealth of knowledge to successive generations and think naught else might change. I plan to seal it this very eve and will no’ enter it again.”
Dageus nodded, instantly seeing the wisdom of it. “Ever clever, you are, Da. I hadn’t thought of it, but you’re right. It could indeed cause inestimable changes.” ’Twas good, he realized then, that he and Chloe weren’t remaining in the past any longer. He could trust his father to tidy up any loose ends, if aught were to be found.
Unable to endure a prolonged leave-taking, he turned back toward Chloe and the stones.
“Son,” Silvan said, his voice low and urgent.
Dageus kept his back to him. “Aye?” he said tightly.
There was a long pause. “If I could be there with you, I would. A father should be with his son at such times.” He swallowed audibly. “Lad,” he said softly, “Give my love to Drustan and Gwen, but know you carry the bulk of it with you.” Another pause. “I ken a da shouldn’t have favorites, but—och, Dageus, my son, you were always mine.”
When, a few moments later, Dageus returned to the center slab and began to etch the final symbols, he noticed Chloe staring at him strangely. Her eyes got misty again and her lower lip quivered a bit.
He didn’t understand until she pulled his head down to hers and kissed the tear from his cheek.
Then, as the white bridge opened, she flung herself into his arms, clasped her hands behind his neck and kissed him passionately. He pulled her legs around his waist and held her tightly. It became a battle of wills for him then: It was him against the devastating, shifting, dimensional storm. He felt as if—if he could only make it through the chaos of the white bridge without losing hold of her—he could make it through anything.
He held onto her for all he was worth.
“Oomph!” Chloe gasped as they hit the icy ground, still in each other’s arms. A fierce little smile curved her lips—they’d made it without letting go of each other! She didn’t know why it seemed so important to her, but it did, as if it somehow proved that nothing could ever tear them apart.
A low growl, a rough rumble more animal than human, was the only sound Dageus made as he rolled her beneath him and slanted his mouth hard over hers. His body was rock-hard against the softness of hers, his hips grinding into the cradle of her thighs, and in a heartbeat she was breathless with lust. The man had only to look at her to make her feel weak with desire, but when the hot, thick hardness of him rode between her legs, she became mindless with need. Every single time, her mouth went dry, and she felt shaky from head to toe, anticipating all those delicious things he would do to her. All those ways of touching and tasting, all those very specific demands he made of her that she so loved filling.
She yielded, greedily taking all of him, locking her arms around his strong neck, burying her fingers in his wet hair. They rolled and tumbled across the hail-covered ground as the rain poured down and the wind shrieked deafeningly, numb to all around them but the searing intensity of their passion.